Tanker (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 1)

by Nicholas E Watkins

  Four boats separated from the pack and opening the throttle the loan driver of each headed for the hull of the tanker. The dinghies continued to accelerate not varying from their course. The suicide bombers impacted with the hull almost simultaneously. The explosives went off within split seconds of each other. The men and boats exploded on impact. The hull was weakened and damaged and four ISIS members were dead.

  “Here they come again,” shouted the Captain.

  Four more dinghies lined up with their suicidal skippers and accelerated towards the hull. The Jihadis were unflinching and unwavering. The aimed their vessels at precisely the same spot as the first wave. Again four explosions ripped through the tanker. This time the outer skin was breached.

  Eight suicidal bombers had died so far, but it was not to stop there. The third wave attacked the beaches and ripped into the hull enlarging the gapping wounds on the tanker. Twelve dead, sergeant Bootle wondered if they would continue in the same vain until they all died in a vain attempt to sink her.

  The other dinghies kept up RGB and small arms fire, raining bullets and shrapnel onto the deck. One of the defenders took a bullet but it was merely a flesh wound and a crew member got hit by flying glass. All in all the attack was seemingly ineffective. The Lynx helicopter launched by HMS Defender was having a little success firing on the swarm of boats.

  Then four more boats headed for the tanker. There was a difference, not one but two were on board. They weaved their way in and did not aim to crash into the hull but matched the speed of the tanker. The passenger seemed to be wearing a suicide vest. As each of the four dinghies manoeuvred along side the suicide bomber climbed into hole created by the previous bombings in the hull. It was not an easy task two managed to board on the first attempt. The third fell into water once, was picked up and boarded on the second attempt. The last one took two swims before he finally boarded.

  “I don’t understand. Can they get on board?” Bootle asked.

  “They are between the twin skins of the hull. Even if they blew a hole through they are above the water line,” said the Captain.

  “But the oil?”

  “We are not carrying any. We just took on board seawater ballast to make it look like we were loaded. The owners did not want to risk the pollution.”

  “So what does happen if they blow a hole into the storage tanks?”

  “Nothing, we will have a few holes to repair and I pump out the sea water. As the water is dispelled the tanker will rise higher above the water line as the ballast decreases. It was how the tanks were cleaned when the industry was less environmental sound. Washing the oil out with seawater,” said the captain. Four blasts interrupted them as the bombers blew themselves up. The small dinghies raced to shore having accomplished their mission.

  The watched as the boats disappeared. Then the SS Rust Bucket exploded as a shell from the defender blew it out of the water. The captain and crew were long gone and the ship abandoned.

  “Well we haven’t sunk,” said Bootle, “one in the eye for ISIS.”

  The radiation from the four dirty bombs was spreading throughout the tanker. The crew would start soon to feel the first signs of radiation sickness. The contamination would turn out to be so great that the tanker would eventually be declared a Total Loss. Two months later it would be towed out to the deep ocean where the sea cocks would be opened and would sink to its final resting place. The sea would dilute the effects of the radiation as it rusted into oblivion.

  Chapter 38

  “Come on,” Jeff popped his head round the corner of Tim’s office,” Elaine wants us.”

  Tim secured the contents of his desk and put his Jacket on. They made their way to the lift. He was beginning to learn his way around the building and had only become lost twice that week. They knocked on her door and were called in.

  “Morning boys” she was in cheery mood. She moved from behind her desk and they sat round the coffee table. Tim noticed that she was wearing a new pair of shoes. This he had learnt from past experience meant good mood. In fact most of the staff had picked up on the mood shoe correlation. The arrival of new footwear would be spread around the office and people would greet their arrival by seeing her with anything that had gone wrong. Of course you had to be quick as by lunchtime the shoe effect would be on the wane.

  They sat and she volunteered to pour the coffee. She was definitely in a good mood. “Did you see the reports on the attack in the Gulf?”

  “We did,” said Jeff.

  “It is odd to think that we are celebrating the failure of the Navy to protect an oil tanker though,” said Tim.

  “I know but it as all turned out so well. I have just heard from our insurance friends they are very happy. Even though the tanker has not sunk as it is effectively been rendered unusable due its radioactive state, they have deemed it a Total Loss. The dodgy middle east insurers put in their claim and were immediately hit with twice the amount in counter claims” she said

  “And?” prompted Stiles

  “And, four insurers could not pay and are out of the market for good. Three backed by their Government’s Sovereign Wealth funds have had to stump up an extra two billion dollars to meet the liabilities.”

  “So what was the bottom line?”

  “The UK insurance market as a whole ended up nearly a billion and a half up in extra profit, the owners of the boat got there insurance paid in full and ISIS and their backers lost a few billion dollars.”

  “Everybody wins,” said Tim.

  “The Navy looked a bit rubbish though,” said Stiles

  “Well they are working on sorting the overheating problem out but it could take a year or two.”

  “Well we can all sleep safely knowing if we are attacked by arctic penguins our ships will be able to repel them,” Stiles joked.

  Back at his desk Tim felt a sense of nervousness as he contemplated his intentions. He sat for a long while analysing his emotions. He knew what he wanted to do but was it morally right? In the final analysis he knew he was after payback and he knew that it was a base emotion but there had to be a price to pay for your actions.

  He picked up the phone and waited while it rang. “Jason, Tim,” was the acknowledgement followed by silence. Tim had to remind himself that as far as Jason was concerned he could not be aware of the extent of his betrayal to Mehmet and the Turks. He certainly did not know that Tim had the video of the murder of that innocent child.

  Tim controlled his emotions and contrived to sound friendly. “I know that matters between us are a little tense but I have been asked by my bosses to normalise the situation between us so to speak.”

  “What do you suggest?” was the terse reply. Jason had hoped to avoid this conversation but he realised that having an enemy in MI5 would permanently scupper any chance of getting back on the diplomatic gravy train.

  “How about I pop over after work and we go out for a bite to eat and go through matters. Clear the air so to speak?”

  There was a pause. “I am at the London flat tomorrow night, about eight?”

  Tim put the phone down.

  The rush hour had abated by quarter past seven the next evening, when Tim emerged from the underground at the Barbican. The Barbican was a complex of flats, restaurants, music and a performing arts venue in the City of London. He made his was into the complex and walked in the direction of London Wall, which was where Jason’s flat was located.

  The complex had been built in the heart of the City essentially as Council Housing. Very up market Council homes let from the start to Companies and the wealthy. When the right to buy policy was introduced they had been snapped up by the wealthy tenants at bargain prices and today they were worth in their millions.

  Tim put his hand in his jacket pocket and felt the cold butt of the Makarov. He felt nervous and excited. In his trouser pocket he had the USB card with the video of Jason’s guilt tucked in the fold of his trouser pocket. He felt his legs slightly shaky beneath as his passed the res
taurant and Arts centre and headed to the Tower block’s entrance.

  It was a little early so he paused to look at the water feature. He watched the fish swimming and the ducks, which had made this inner city sanctuary their home, paddle on the surface. A very tranquil scene, calming with glistening flecks of gold being reflected on the water’s surface from the setting Sun. He was questioning himself. Could he really go through with this? He knew if he went further he would be changed for ever. Taken to a part of him that once entered could never be un-entered. He would have crossed a line that very few men do.

  It was all so peaceful here. He looked at his watch, time to go. He walked to the entrance, selected the appropriate bell and pressed it. He waited.

  “Hello,” said Jason s voice over the intercom.

  “It’s Tim.”

  “OK, I’ll buzz you in.”

  He took the lift and stepped out into a narrow corridor, He determined the way the identical doors were numbered and taking a deep breath went in the direction of Jason’s flat. He pressed the buzzer and waited. He heard movement from behind the door and the sound of the lock being turned, the door started to open.

  He became aware of a sudden movement from the periphery of his vision, then pain and black.

  Chapter 39

  He awoke feeling his way to consciousness. First confusion, vision blurred, mouth dry, pain in the head, a dull ach and then a feeling of nausea. Blind panic as he found he was unable to move. He tried to lift his arms then his legs something resisted his attempts to free his limbs. He couldn’t understand. Where was he? Then Tim’s memory returned.

  The room came into view. It was large with a galley kitchen at one end and a French window at the other. Two ducks were settling down for the night on the balcony beyond the window. Behind them he could make out the skyline of the City. The room was expensively furnished in a minimalist style, themed black and white. The floor had been tiled in obviously very expensive Italian marble and the uncomfortable chairs were clearly of designer origin as was the glass and gold metal table.

  He realised he was inside Jason’s flat and tied to a chair. Further, on his left he realised Jason, completely naked was also tied to a chair. He looked down. He at least had his clothes on. Although given his present predicament he was not altogether sure if that gave him any advantage. On the sofa facing him sat a lithe, powerful looking individual of obvious Arab decent. It was not a kind face looking at him but Tim notice that it was a handsome face with large oval eyes. The man was holding Tim’s gun and his wallet.

  “Welcome back Mr Burr,” Annubis spoke. “Thank you for the gun by the way,” he waived it from side to side.

  Tim noticed that Jason’s chest rose and fell as he breathed. At first he had thought him dead but realised that he had also been knocked out. “Who are you?”

  Annubis ignored the question and continued to look at Tim’s wallet. “Mr MI5, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Jason,”

  “So you are friends?”

  “Hardly,” said Tim.

  “Mr MI5, I think you should know what you tell me and say in the next few moments will determine if you live or die. I will not waste a great deal of my time asking you questions. When Mr Delonge awakens I shall be fully occupied, so you have a few moments only to convince me to let you live. Whilst I am a killer I am not a homicidal maniac I only kill for a reason. Please be frank and honest. I ask you one more time, are you friends with this man?”

  Tim thought through his options and concluded there were none. He concluded that his only hope lay with the truth. Now in normal circumstances you do not admit to planning to murder someone but given the fact that his captor seemed to have the same fate in mind as he did for Jason, he decided to be frank and honest.

  “I am not friends with him. I hate this man. I came to kill him,” he admitted to Annubis and to himself. He had not really considered what he had come to do was cold bloodied murder until this point. Hearing himself say it, out loud, changed something in him. He realised that he was capable of murder and that he was a different sort of person than he had lived his life believing he was.

  “Why do you want to do that? Was it an order from MI5?”

  “No it is personnel,” Jason groaned and Annubis looked over at the naked figure in the chair. “I suggest you tell me everything quickly, time is running out for our conversation.”

  “He was responsible for the death of a friend of mine called Yosuf and he betrayed us both to Turkish Intelligence.”

  “How did your friend die,” the mention of the Turkish Secret Intelligence Service had intrigued Annubis. After all it had been less than seventy two hours since he had killed their highest ranking field officer, Mehmet.

  “Shot by a man called Mehmet Yildirim and his thugs on the streets of North London.”

  “You say this bit of shit in the chair over there is responsible?” Annubis waived the gun towards Jason.

  “He betrayed me, left my out in the cold at the mercy of this Mehmet. Yosuf got me to England safely. He did not need to. He could have run and saved his own skin.”

  “You have a lot of hate Mr Burr for this man,” reading his name from the ID he held. “But I cannot let you kill him before I ask him some questions. Depending on his answers I may have to kill him my way.”

  “There is something more you should know about this man.”

  “I know a lot more than you think. For example I knew your late friend Mehmet.”

  “Late?”

  “Oh yes, he came to terrible death a few days. Tortured, mutilated and killed”

  “By you?”

  “Yes I killed him,” Annubis had no worry of admitting murder to Tim, because he could easily kill him and silence him forever. “He abused me has a child. He was a paedophile.”

  “I know,” said Tim.

  Annubis was surprised. “What else do you know?”

  Tim realised from his admission that he had chance of surviving as the man in front of him was on a revenge mission. Looking into those sad oval eyes a suspicion began to form in his mind. “I know that Jason was also a molester of small boys and murdered one. That was the control Mehmet had over him.”

  Annubis hands began to shake. This man in front of him was more or less confirming that Jason had murdered his young brother. He hardly dare ask “How do you know this for sure?”

  “I have a video of the murder.”

  “Annubis was becoming almost uncontrollable with emotion. “Where is this video?” his voice was shaking.

  Tim thought, he now knew for certain that this man in front of him was a relative of that small boy, brother, or a cousin. The more he looked at him the more he could see the familiar resemblance. Knowing this he had to somehow get himself out of this alive.

  “I came here to kill this man for my friend and for the dreadful things he has done to an innocent child. It was not my plan to die doing it. I do not wish to do die but I am sure you will not hesitate to kill me.”

  Annubis put the gun down beside him and put his hand in his pocket, he pulled out a single feather. “I will not kill you,” he said simply and blew the feather up towards the ceiling, “Lighter than a feather.”

  Tim looked at him baffled. It was clear though that this man was not completely sane. “Untie me and I will give you the video. “

  “You will get the video and bring it to me? If I let you go you will flee and go to the police.”

  “I may do the former but I would be pretty stupid to do the latter,” said Tim. “What should I say, “Dear Mr Policeman, I was just about to murder a high ranking diplomat when I bumped into someone else who got there first.” That would not be the greatest idea in the World, would it?”

  “That would be pretty stupid,” Annubis agreed. He sat quietly and thought. He decided. He crossed the room to the kitchen area. Carrying a large knife he returned to Tim and cut his hands free. Tim rubbed his wrists and waited for the blood supply to return.
He bent down started to untie his ankles. Annubis retreated to the sofa and pointed the Makarov at him.

  “You will retrieve the video and post it to me if I give you an address?” he asked

  “That will not be necessary,” said Tim, “I have it here.”

  Tim reached into his pocket and retrieved the USB memory stick. Annubis looked surprised. He has searched him thoroughly. The old magician’s trick had worked again thought Tim seeing the puzzled face before him.

  Tim handed Annubis the stick and he handed Tim his wallet. “I shall keep the gun,” Annubis said.

  Annubis’s hand was trembling as he put the stick into Jason’s laptop which was sat on the overly ornate dining table. Tim turned away as the video loaded. He did not have the stomach to watch it a second time. Annubis let out a sort of anguished wailing noise as the small boy’s image came onto the screen. He then sat unmoving as the horror unfolded before him. The tears slowly ran down his cheeks.

  They sat in silence for a long while. Tim was unsure what to do next waiting to see how this grief stricken man in front of him would react. Annubis was struggling to control his rage, his blood lust.

  He spoke, “You need to go. I shall be here a while and you need to have an alibi. The City of London is covered by more CCTV than anywhere on the Planet. You will have been captured on video coming here. You must be seen leaving before he dies and you should make sure you have witnesses to your being elsewhere when he dies. Say, if asked, that you came to visit and when you left he was alive and well. Do you understand?”

  Tim nodded and picking up his wallet left. The last thing he saw was Annubis starring at Jason with hate in his eyes.

  Chapter 40

  The humidity of earlier in the day had dissipated as Tim stepped from the Tower block. He looked at his watch it was just before one in the morning. He made his way past the lake. The ducks were no longer present but to the side he saw two glowing eyes. It was a fox on its nightly rounds scavenging for food. He decided to retrace his route and headed across the complex. He would need a taxi at this time of night. He was aware now of the many CCTV cameras capturing him as he walked.