The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults)

by Robert Scanlon

  “We must intercept him after he gains the information, but before he accesses the device.”

  “You understand correctly. Is the Russian ready to set sail?”

  The younger man nodded. “Actually he is already under way.”

  The balding man frowned. “In this weather? I thought he was reluctant to leave?”

  “He’s a stubborn Russian who doesn’t like to be ordered around. But that old nuclear carrier is built to last.”

  “It could be embarrassing if they encountered difficulties and had to request official assistance.”

  The younger man smiled. “I’ve thought of that. We can sink them at will. It could be useful if we don’t want any witnesses.”

  The balding man eyed his associate. “Sometimes you shock me.”

  The other man laughed. “Your reputation would suggest I’m only doing what you yourself have orchestrated many times in the past.”

  “Perhaps. I am grateful for your thorough approach. There is no margin for error. If we do not succeed ...” he held a finger to his throat and made a slicing motion.

  “I will not fail. The plan is sound. We leak the ship’s location to Blanchard’s men and wait. We allow Harrison to access the boy and the girl and record the information. Then we intercept and force our smart Professor to cooperate and take us to the device, or we sink the kids. Or we make life very unpleasant for them. Either way, we hold all the cards—”

  The hotel room door buzzed. Both men exchanged glances. “Are we expecting someone?”

  The younger man shrugged, and got up to open the door. A hotel concierge waited outside to deliver an envelope. The man collected it, tipped the messenger and closed the door. He returned to his seat and opened the message. His eyes widened.

  “The fool.”

  “What is it?” The older man tapped his fingers on the table.

  “The Russian has deceived us. My men have intercepted a badly encrypted message from the ship, apparently from the young boy. He has sent it to Harrison, with their coordinates and a request to provide helicopter rescue as soon as practicable, sufficient for fifty kids.”

  The balding man stood. “Then we have no time to waste. We must arrive first. Call your men and arrange for our own helicopter transport.”

  “You would risk being caught?”

  “In this circumstance, if I fail, being caught is the least of my worries. No, I must accompany you and your men and see this through to a successful conclusion. We will force the Russian to let us board. Make sure we have sufficient firepower. After we collect the girl and the boy, you’ll have the chance to use your contingency plan. I want no witnesses.” He thumped the table. “Blast that Russian! Someone powerful got in his ear—or more likely his wallet. I will find them and they will regret it.”

  The younger man nodded, already punching numbers into his phone. He waited for an answer and looked at the other. “It won’t be a pleasure trip. This weather has us all in its grip.”

  “Do you have an alternative?”

  The younger man shook his head, then held up his hand for quiet and started to issue a barrage of orders into his phone.

  The older man walked to the window and looked out at the driving rain, and the bedraggled people struggling to and fro, their umbrellas whipped by the wind. He looked up at the sky. “What is all this rubbish about the moon falling anyway? Complete nonsense.” He turned back to his colleague, who had set light to the message and was getting ready to leave.

  The man nodded. “We can leave immediately. I’ve found us a fast chopper. Fast enough to beat them to the ship. Best if you leave first. Have your driver drop you at your office, then meet me in the underground car park.”

  The bald man said nothing, and made his way to the door. A glitch, perhaps, and the stakes raised a little more. But he would make these unfolding events work to his advantage. He held all the cards, and Harrison had no idea who he was up against.

  ~ 38 ~

  Russian Sympathy

  Nathan gripped the handle to head out onto the viewing deck overlooking the helicopter pad, when a strong arm reached from behind and turned the handle back.

  “Is not good idea,” Captain Ilia’s voice boomed over his head. “Weather not good, clever boy might slip and ... whoosh”—the big hand waved across the porthole—“is gone. But you come to bridge with Captain, I give permission. Is safe.”

  Nathan twisted around and looked up at the Captain, who was smiling. “My name is Nathan, sir, if you please. And yes, I’d be honoured to come to the bridge. I wanted to watch the Prof come in. It’s going to be a bit tricky in these conditions, isn’t it?”

  The stocky Russian nodded. “Need good pilot. We hope they have one, eh? Come to bridge—First Mate Piotr think gap in weather is lucky for us, but time tight.”

  Nathan followed the Captain along the closed-in passageway, throwing out a hand every now and then to steady himself as the ship bucked and rolled. They climbed a set of steps and appeared on the bridge, where despite the weather and the squally rain lashing the windows, there was calm. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief. These guys seemed to know what they were doing. Every now and then, a man would lean across and make some small correction, then settle back, his eyes on the instruments. The freighter had the appearance of being old, but there was nothing old about the equipment on the bridge. He guessed the Russian Captain had invested a lot of his ill-gotten gains in his ship. No wonder he took exception to someone sneaking on board and planting explosives. He wouldn’t like to be in their shoes when the Captain’s men tracked them down. Actually, he’d like to be as far away as possible—

  The thought was interrupted by Piotr calling to Captain Ilia. “Kapitan. Smotri.” He pointed at the colour radar screen he stood at.

  Nathan followed the Captain across the lurching ship’s bridge, wondering how they all appeared to stay attached to the floor. He made a mental note to examine their boots for magnets. The Captain stopped and looked at the same screen. “Da.” He turned to Nathan. “We hope friend is early. Is calm after storm, then before storm, but for little while only.” He grinned. “English expression, yes?”

  Nathan nodded and peered over at the screen. At the centre of a maelstrom of colours was a small, calmer-looking dark area, which he presumed was the centre of the storm they were about to sail into. He turned around to look behind them and out of the rear window of the bridge, high up on the freighter.

  “Here.” Piotr took off his binoculars from around his neck and passed them across to Nathan. “Make sure to hold on when using, or fall over.” Both men laughed, and the Captain slapped Nathan on the back, almost knocking him off his feet.

  Nathan slipped the binocular straps over his head. “Thanks. Er ... what direction will they come from?”

  Piotr pointed out through the rear window. “You pick correct port. They come from behind. But difficult for pilot to see. Maybe dangerous.”

  “How long before we get into the calm? And how long will it be calm for?”

  “Maybe we in centre in next twenty minutes. Maybe last for thirty-five, forty minutes.” The man shrugged. “Is weather. Not predict.”

  Nathan nodded grim-faced, and made his way close to the rear window, and found a railing to wrap one hand around, while the other held the binoculars. The window wasn’t super-clean and he was looking out into black clouds and torrential rain, but it felt good to be doing something to stop the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach growing. They wouldn’t have long to get everyone off, and even adults would have trouble staying calm in these conditions. He hoped Sarina and Rona were doing a good job of rallying the kids. He kept scanning the skies and looking at his watch.

  Twenty minutes later, they emerged into calmer waters, as Piotr had predicted. The constant rolling and pitching abated. Nathan hadn’t realised how disconcerting it was until it stopped. He let go of the railing—no need to steady himself now—and held the binoculars stable. Come on, Professor Harrison
—it’s now or never. He swept his search across and back—then something. A small black dot. “I see something!” He waved his hand up to attract attention while keeping his eyes glued to the binoculars.

  “Da. I see too.” Captain Ilia lowered his own binoculars. “Now please go with men and bring children to access hatch. Children must be brave, like you and brave girl. Not much time.”

  Nathan whipped off the binoculars, thrust them at Piotr with a brief smile and nod, and hurried to the men, one of whom held the bridge door open. He stepped through and followed them, his heart already pounding.

  ~~~

  The Consortium’s helicopter’s rotors fought the strong winds, and the balding man tightened his harness against the buffeting. Despite his considerable connections, the lack of time meant his request for sufficient firepower to board the Princess Alexandria had not been successful, and the chopper itself was unarmed. His younger associate sat between him and the pilot, and behind them were two extra men the younger man had called in at the last minute. He sighed. He’d hoped for more. But never mind, because while they battled the atrocious conditions and severe squall, he’d thought of a more persuasive argument for the Russian than mere brute force.

  The helicopter bumped and jolted, keeping the pilot busy with corrections and checking instruments. He glanced at the younger man in between him and the pilot, and smiled to himself. The man’s hands were clasped and his knuckles were white. Obviously not enjoying the trip. As for his own anxieties, they had nothing to do with the bumpy, and sometimes hair-raising flight. He’d had his fair share of similar flights in his past life as a paid mercenary in South Africa. The life of a government minister was a breeze by comparison.

  No, what was eating at him was their failure to have the situation under control. The Consortium would not be impressed, and when they were not impressed, they became impatient. And when they became impatient, no one was exempt from punishment. He shivered, remembering certain events that would have been best unremembered. He spoke into his headset. “ETA, Captain?”

  “Five minutes, sir. Also I think we have a little luck supplied by mother nature.” He tapped a small radar screen in the middle of the cockpit, while keeping his eyes on the weather in front of him. “There is a lull we can take advantage of.”

  The balding man nodded. “Good. Tell me when you have visual confirmation.”

  “No need, sir. There she is.” The helicopter pilot pointed in front of them and slightly off to his right.

  The two other men peered through the front bubble of glass at the speck below them in the water. They had emerged from the dense cloud and were in the relative calm. “Patch me in to the Russian.”

  The pilot nodded and flicked some switches, then held his thumb up.

  “Captain Ilia of the Princess Alexandria, I’m sure you know who this is. Do your read me?”

  The scratchy sounding voice replied into his headphones. “Da. You crazy. Why not meet me at port? Is dangerous fly helicopter in storm.”

  “You know, why, Captain. You have some cargo I need. And I need it now.”

  “Why so much hurry?” the scratchy voice replied. “Cargos are safe with Russian. Is dangerous to land on ship. You meet me in Stockholm, I deliver cargos as agreed.”

  “Captain Ilia, if you do not allow us to board and collect the cargo we need, the Consortium will be forced to terminate your services. Permanently. Of course, if you make our transaction run smoothly, I will ensure the speedy transfer of funds agreed.”

  There was silence from the other end. The older man knew the Russian was trapped. If he didn’t allow them to board, the consequences he had so diplomatically called ‘terminate your services’ would be a lot more unpleasant. The Russian had no choice—and knowing the wily man’s usual motivation, the added carrot of fast money would tip him over the edge. He sighed. Little did the Captain know, his services would be terminated no matter what. Once he had given them their cargo.

  The scratchy voice returned. “Okay. If Captain Ilia have no choice, and crazy chopper pilot is good enough to land ...” The Captain’s Russian shrug was almost audible. “We will be at your service and transfer cargo.”

  The balding man nodded at the pilot, who flicked off the communication channel to the ship. He looked at the younger man beside him, whose hands had unclasped, now that the helicopter’s buffeting had subsided. “You have your men briefed? They know which two we need?”

  The other man nodded.

  “Good. Once we are in the air and away from the ship, you may deploy your device.” No witnesses. And he’d save the considerable outlay on the Russian. He grinned to himself as he watched the freighter grow bigger below them. Sometimes you had to understand how to turn a situation to your advantage.

  The helicopter connected heavily with the freighter, jarring its occupants. They may have been in the calmer centre of the storm, but calm was not the best adjective to describe the seas around them. He glanced up at the sky, noticing the dark clouds gathering back around them. “Let’s go. With luck we can be out again in front of that.”

  The pilot remained in the chopper with the engine idling, and the four other men ducked below the blades and ran across to the door into one of the ship’s passageways. A stout, red-faced man in a uniform and cap greeted them with an impassive expression.

  The balding man smiled. “Captain Ilia.”

  The man nodded. “Da. Welcome aboard. You in hurry, so we go straight to check cargo. Follow me.” He turned and strode down the passageway, beckoning behind him for the four men and the three of his own to follow.

  They descended below decks, along two more passageways, then through a door and into an enormous, dimly-lit hold, stepping further down metal steps from the entry-gantry. The hold appeared empty. The balding man turned. “Where is the cargo, Captain Ilia?”

  The stocky Russian pointed to the darker area of the hold. “Children frightened by storm. They huddle in corner. Come, we find them.”

  The group walked across the deck toward the opposite corner, when the balding man’s well developed intuition made him look back. The Captain and his men had stopped a few metres back, allowing the others to continue.

  He looked around. “What—? Where are the children?”

  A shadowy figure rolled into view, revealing a long-haired woman in a wheelchair. “I’m so sorry, Minister Denning. The children had to leave.” She raised her hand, which held a small device trailing a cable, and pressed a button.

  Something whistled through the air above him, and he looked up just in time to see a bulky web-like shape fall from overhead, then he and the others were entangled on the deck in what he now saw was a heavy industrial fishing net. The three Russian men separated themselves from the Captain and moved across to pin down the two henchmen. Several more men moved in from the shadows to relieve the trapped men of their weapons and secured the net. Captain Ilia came forward.

  The balding man pressed his face into the net’s ropes and looked out at the stocky man. “You won’t get away with this, Ilia. The Consortium will track you down. You know that.”

  The ruddy Captain shrugged. He held out his hand behind him and one of his men dumped a cylinder trailing wires into his palm. He shoved the device close to the net, and the balding man flinched.

  “You have three problem. Problem number one: nobody get away with bomb on Russian ship. Nobody. Problem number two: blowing up little children is work of devil-man, and not even Russian Captain with big wallet permit this. Problem number three is big problem for you. Consortium will not be happy. Maybe little bit angry when they see government man exposed as weapon dealer on news program.”

  The Captain called out some instructions in Russian, and men appeared with ropes and cable-ties. The men got to work, and dragged the balding man and his accomplices from the net, and forced them to their knees. He felt strong hands tighten ropes around his ankles, and his arms were wrenched back behind him. He flinched as his wrists were pull
ed tight to the ropes and roughly cable-tied.

  Now immobilised on his knees and bound tight, the balding man watched the Captain walk away, then stop and turn to face him.

  The Russian was smiling. “Small bonus problem—courtesy of Russian hospitality. Weather not so good on trip to Stockholm, but Russian have sympathy for passengers.”

  He laughed and kicked a pile of stacked buckets towards the prisoners.

  ~ 39 ~

  The Shadow Comes Out To Play

  AN OBSCURE HOTEL IN PRAGUE: THE PENTHOUSE SUITE

  The swarthy man dressed in an expensive suit hung up from his call and looked around the table at the five other men and one woman. “We have now verified the information. Our man in government decided to take matters into his own hands and was outwitted by the Russian. We have temporarily lost our hold over the key players required to obtain the device.”

  A frail old man leaned onto the table. “What will we do with the Russian?”

  The swarthy man shrugged. “He’s proved to be clever enough. I will keep him as an asset. He will know he has used up another one of his nine Russian lives. Better to keep him on his toes. But I have moved some men to intercept the ship at Stockholm. We will have words with the government man before we turn him loose to the media. In return for keeping his life, he will take steps to take the attention away from what he was pursuing on the ship.”

  “Which we still do not have, Mr Placid. Make sure your men do not fail us again, there is much at stake.” The woman fixed a steely gaze on the man and he shifted in his seat.

  “Ms Tranquillity, I want that device as much as you do—as we all do. Patience will reward us, however. At this point we must still be discreet. If our competitors get any hint—”

  “Yes, yes. We’re not imbeciles, despite the stupid names you assign us.” The woman’s expression was frosty. “But tell me—we still have The Shadow tracking this project, do we not? My suggestion is we have him do as his name suggests. From what we already know, the children and their beloved Professor will lead us straight to it. Let them think they have escaped and thwarted the threat. Stir the media up over the government spy and ensure he is named as the ringleader of a powerful weapons-trading group. The Professor will think himself safe and forget all precautions. The Shadow has never failed us before—we should have entrusted more to him this time than just playing the part of a henchman kidnapper.”