Deadly Impact--A Richard Mariner nautical adventure

by Peter Tonkin

  The momentum of her disastrous tumble swings her right round until her back is to the flare of the forecastle head, nearly dislocating both wrist and shoulder in the process. Her rifle bangs against black metal at her side. She has a single horrified glance across the vastness of the ocean that begins so terrifyingly close below her feet. All movement stops. Her heart thunders in her ears. The wind buffets across her face. The waves hiss and roar against the foot of the ship’s sharp bow, rolling off the bulbous torpedo shape like surf off a reef.

  And the door into the chain locker slams open behind her. A rough voice with an accent frighteningly similar to her own calls, ‘Who’s in there?’

  18 Hours to Impact

  Macavity relieved Richard immediately after dawn. He put another helmsman beside the helm and set another of his men to stand watch while the computers were in command. Then he returned the almost comatose Richard to the cell in engineering from where he had been brought up the better part of twelve hours earlier to bring the ship safely through the typhoon. As the pair of them went down from the command bridge to the lower engineering decks, Richard saw none of the men he had brought aboard with him and assumed they were still in captivity too, unless they were in the makeshift clinic or had switched sides. Or, like Rikki Sato, seemingly, both. But the truth was he was far too tired to think straight. As soon as Macavity pushed him in through the door he used the latrine in the corner and, finding a sleeping bag on the floor – a pleasant surprise – he slept like a dead man for the next seven hours.

  Macavity woke him at four in the afternoon, ship’s time, and Richard realized immediately that something was seriously wrong. ‘Out!’ ordered the South African, and Richard obeyed warily, his eyes narrow, his gaze shooting everywhere. Unlike Robin, he had the ability to spring awake firing on all cylinders, and it looked as though this ability was likely to serve him well in the immediate future, though he took his time in obeying Macavity’s peremptory command, letting his mind clear just that little bit more as he assessed the new situation and checked his naked left wrist, looking for the time. Nearly all the men he had brought aboard were assembled in a line down the corridor leading towards the engine room with almost all of Macavity’s command standing opposite them, guns on show. It was like a scene out of a war film: Colditz or The Great Escape. Richard glanced down the line on his left. Aleks Zaitsev was there. Konstantin Roskov, his right-hand man, stood at his shoulder. Then it was a straggle of Russians and Japanese. Of course, Master Sergeant Vasily Kolchak was with Rikki Sato and the others in the makeshift clinic with a couple of Macavity’s men keeping an eye on them, no doubt. And there were at least two more pirates up on the bridge as well, Richard remembered, which explained why the two commands were of almost equal size, especially given that Richard’s men had suffered fatalities so far – Yoichi Hatta and the unfortunate Boris Brodski.

  But the problem for Richard was that he felt he could not trust these men. Ryzanoff was there, as were Theo Gerdt and Pavel Kosloff. The latter two had close associations to Italy, like Aleks and Sato – and who else? Then, last but not least, there was Ivan Karitov, the unit chef. Richard wryly wondered whether he specialized in the sort of Italian cuisine that would commend him to the Pitman while his suspicions were roused even further. Paranoia’s setting in with a vengeance, he thought. The other faces in the line of soldiers were familiar but Richard hadn’t had much to do with them personally. Engineers Murukami and Esaki were there with the rest of the computer men and the shipbuilders. And the last few relative strangers must be the NIPEX LNG men. Then, of course, there were Dom DiVito and Steve Penn – Steve now also high on Richard’s list of men he suspected of playing a double game. He felt the back of his head automatically. His paranoia was well grounded on a painful swelling there. But it was not Richard who was first to express his disquiet.

  ‘Right,’ said Macavity. ‘Now that we’re all here, will someone please tell me just what in hell’s name’s going on?’

  Richard simply gaped at the angry South African. His hand dropped to his side. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ he demanded, his face blank with genuine astonishment an instant before suspicion of the truth stabbed through him.

  ‘There’s someone else on board!’ snapped Macavity. ‘I’m almost certain of it. And if there’s someone else on board then one of you people knows all about it.’

  ‘Have you seen anyone?’ demanded Richard as his mind raced. ‘Anyone other than the people here or in the medical room or on the bridge?’

  ‘No. But …’ Macavity wasn’t giving much ground in spite of the negative. His eyes were narrow and, although Richard would never know it, his mind was filled with the disquieting suspicion that he had come within a whisker of discovering a stowaway in the starboard chain locker.

  Richard followed up at once. ‘Then how can you be sure? Has any of your men seen anyone?’

  ‘No.’ Grudgingly now, a little less certain.

  ‘So it’s just a feeling. Nothing concrete …’ Richard tried to sound dismissive without being challenging. He wanted to undermine Macavity’s confidence and allay his suspicions without making matters worse. Ivan, Harry and the Pitman represented the only edge he had. They were his only real chance of working out exactly what Macavity was up to, who on board was helping him and of countering their plans. Without his Rolex or his Galaxy Richard had no notion of the time, and so wasn’t sure how long they had to outwit the pirates, but without Plan B they were dead in the water.

  He rounded on the men beside him. ‘Aleks,’ he demanded forcefully – calculatedly – ‘have you or any of your men seen anyone else on board?’

  ‘Well, you said you were going to bring Harry Newbold and the Pitman …’ answered Aleks sharply. Several of his men nodded, frowning.

  Richard heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. He could almost feel Macavity’s icy gaze stabbing between his shoulder blades. His heart was thudding. I’ve got to play this hand very carefully indeed, he thought. ‘Right,’ he agreed, keeping his voice steady and reasonable by a sheer effort of will. ‘But did they ever come aboard? Did you see them arrive? Have you seen them at all during the last few days? Did any of you see anyone other than the people here at any time since we arrived?’

  ‘Well …’ Aleks frowned.

  Richard thanked God that Ivan, Harry and the Pitman had been so careful and stayed completely invisible. ‘Except for the people we already know about?’ he persisted. ‘Any strangers?’

  ‘No,’ Aleks shook his head, eyes downcast.

  ‘And has anyone noticed anything unusual? Anything that’s moved unexpectedly, except for things that have been tossed about in the storm? Has anything been open when you thought it had been closed? Have you heard anything? Suspected anything?’ Richard swung round, raising his right arm to include the whole line. ‘Dom? Steve?’ Both shook their heads.

  Richard turned right round to face Macavity once again. ‘You see?’ He shrugged. ‘We’re a few men on a huge vessel. We’re all tired and strung out, not to mention lucky to be alive after that typhoon. It’s easy to get a bit paranoid under ordinary circumstances, let alone under these—’

  ‘Right,’ snarled Macavity, quickly shutting Richard down, ‘what we’re going to do is this. We’re going to split you into teams. And there’ll be a couple of my guys with each team – armed and with orders to shoot at the first sign of trouble. We’re all armed with hollow-point bullets – manstoppers that won’t go through to do any damage to the gas tanks.’ He tapped his chest meaningfully. ‘They’ll go in the front but they won’t come out the back. Just make a horrible mess inside. And, all together, we’re going to search this vessel from the sharp end to the blunt end; from the top to the bottom. Mariner, Zaitsev, DiVito and Penn, you’re with me and Mr Verrazzano here. And let me just repeat: any trouble from any of you and we’ll shoot you dead where you stand.’

  NIPEX’s new building was a modest skyscraper on the waterfront in the Ohash
icho district of Choshi. It towered beside the city offices, in the middle of what in Blackpool would have been the promenade overlooking the port, the river mouth and the brand-new LNG facilities out beyond the point. Although the building itself faced northwards, the boardroom on the top floor had panoramic windows on three sides that commanded views stretching from Moromochi in the west across the Tone River to Kashmarosai on the isthmus of the far bank and then out across the ocean beyond to the space-age NIPEX installation dead ahead, and to the bustling city of Kujukuri across the bay down in the east. A horizon the better part of twenty miles distant, Robin thought.

  As the board members of the huge Japanese energy company assembled, Robin and Anastasia were courteously shown the view by the company’s chief executive, Mr Ikeda Hiroshi. ‘The view is one of the benefits of this poor building,’ he explained. ‘Here we are forty-five metres above the ground. We can in consequence see more than thirty kilometres in every direction. You observe the aeroplane making its approach low over the ocean to the north-east of us. It is heading into Narita, and if we were to go to the observation platform at the rear of this floor, we would be able to observe it landing. By the same token, theoretically in sixteen-and-a-half hours’ time on the horizon beneath that very aeroplane, thirty kilometres north across the water, we should be able to see Sayonara making her final approach to our LNG facility. But therein lies the problem we are gathered here to discuss, I’m afraid.’

  They all assembled round the boardroom table and Mr Hiroshi made the necessary introductions. The names of the board members were all relatively familiar to Robin, but there were a couple of extra men there. One was in the uniform of a NIPEX engineer and the other was in the uniform of the Japanese coastguard service. These were the men she looked at most particularly as she sat on Mr Hiroshi’s right and Anastasia sat on his left, beside the young man recording the conversation for the company minutes. Mr Hiroshi then brought the meeting to order. ‘Our purpose in meeting today is to discuss the Sayonara,’ he said quietly in flawless English. ‘We are pleased to welcome Captain Mrs Mariner from Heritage Mariner who co-owns the vessel with us and who can represent Greenbaum International, who will soon complete the sale of the cargo to us. And Miss Anastasia Asov who represents Bashnev/Sevmash, who also have a stake in Sayonara and who is of course currently working with us to supply the power needed to complete the floating city of Kujukuri in the bay to the east and south of us. In courtesy to our guests we will conduct this meeting in English. I hope that is acceptable to everybody.’ There were nods of agreement from around the table. ‘That is agreeable to you, Engineer Watanabe? Captain Endo?’ Again, both men nodded. ‘Very well then, let us proceed.’

  Engineer Watanabe rose and gave a tiny bow. ‘The board may not be aware of my duties. I am the engineer in charge of the team whose duty it is to communicate with Sayonara, to override her on-board systems under certain circumstances, and to take remote control of her on Mr Hiroshi’s direction. Now, you will be aware that communication with Sayonara has been partial. Incomplete. Intermittent. No more, in fact than the standard information from her black box recorder and occasional bursts of further information which seem to suggest something akin to a series of accidents. We have found this worrying, of course, for many reasons – most immediately because we need to rely on constant, unbroken and accurate communication with more than just the black box recorder when the ship docks tomorrow. Also because this means that whoever has gone aboard for whatever reason has interfered with the computer programmes on which we also rely, and Captain Mr Mariner and his A Team have not been able as yet to resume regular service. We ourselves have been unable to override the computers and take control of the vessel as we would like to do, even having used the master control codes. We cannot, therefore, guarantee to have control over her tomorrow morning when she approaches the terminal. We most strongly recommend that all on-board computer controls except the basic propulsion and ship-handling controls – engine and helm – be shut down, if such a thing can be guaranteed, and a crew with an experienced pilot be sent out to her as soon as she comes to the eighty kilometre mark. Unless we have control, that is.’

  ‘It would seem sensible to send out an experienced crew and pilot whether you have control of her at that point or not,’ suggested Mr Hiroshi. ‘There is a European saying, is there not? Better safe than sorry.’

  ‘Indeed, sir. That would be the wisest course. But it brings us to the next difficulty, which is this. Although our intermittent communications with the computers have closed down once again, we are in possession of the latest GPS position that the vessel’s black box recorded. It was sent to us an hour ago. At that time, according to the ship’s information, she was at forty degrees north latitude and one hundred and forty-four point four degrees east longitude. That is precisely where she is programmed to be, despite the fact that she has suffered some damage and been forced into some necessary deviation from her route by the recent typhoon.’

  ‘This might seem to be a very positive thing,’ observed Mr Hiroshi. ‘If she can have returned so rapidly to her course.’

  ‘But, with respect, sir, we at the coastguard do not believe she has,’ interrupted Captain Endo. He did not stand up or bow, but he commanded the complete attention of the board. ‘At about the same time as Engineer Watanabe received his information as to Sayonara’s location, our vessel the Hida observed her. And at that time, she was at thirty-nine point five degrees north latitude and one hundred and forty-four point one degrees east longitude.’

  ‘That does not sound like very much difference,’ said Mr Hiroshi.

  ‘It’s forty kilometres or twenty-five miles,’ said Robin. ‘What are the implications of that?’

  ‘Well, there’s a time implication, of course,’ said Captain Endo. ‘It means she is well over one hour closer to the facility than Engineer Watanabe thought she was. So when Mr Hiroshi observed that she might be coming over the horizon in just over sixteen hours, she might in fact be there in fifteen, which in turn has implications governing when we need to alert any pilots or crew you might want to send out to her.’

  ‘It also means,’ added Watanabe, ‘that there will be some uncertainty about what her position will be when she reaches the point at which the computers have been programmed to allow us to take over her control. How close will we need to let her come before we are forced to take more drastic action if that point never arises?’ He looked at Mr Hiroshi for an answer, but the chief executive frowned and failed to meet his eye.

  ‘And, of course, if I may interject a thought here, gentlemen,’ added Robin, ‘it raises the question of whether Sayonara will stop at your facility out there as programmed. Or whether she might sail on those extra kilometres right into the middle of the floating city.’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ said Anastasia suddenly, her gaze intense. ‘If she doesn’t stop, then just before she reaches Kujukuri she’s going to run straight into my nuclear power station, Zemlya.’

  12 Hours to Impact

  Surrounded by the five men on board he trusted least, under the threat of two AR 15 short-barrelled rifles whose load he already knew all about, Richard led the way down the length of the ship. His path was by no means straight, but he knew the vessel well enough by now to follow it unhesitatingly. This was not the weather deck. He was walking swiftly along the corridors and through the work spaces that made up the second engineering deck, Engineering Deck C. Fortunately, the area Richard had been held in and which they set out from was forward of the engine space itself, or an already long and fairly complicated trek would have been a good deal longer – and more complicated. But, watchful though Richard was, he never felt any temptation to try to slip into a side corridor or go dashing up or down a companionway. The others crowded around him. And, if Macavity and his sidekick stayed aloof, Aleks, Dom and Steve were always close at hand. Macavity had decided to start at the bow, and Richard knew intuitively that this was where the pirate had come across whatev
er aroused his suspicions. But of all the locations he might have guessed at, the starboard chain locker seemed the least likely.

  They arrived at the chain-locker door at the end of the final corridor on the deck he had been following and assembled there because they could go no further. Richard noticed the way Macavity eyed the apparently unremarkable entrance before he began to speak. ‘We’re going to search this deck,’ said the South African. ‘Every nook and cranny. And we’ll also take a look at the deck below – and perhaps the one below that if I think it’s necessary. But the other teams will also be working above and below us, so take care and move slow. If anyone gets shot I want it to be done on purpose.’ Even as he spoke, Richard could hear another team beginning to assemble on Engineering Deck B, immediately above them. Above that team there was only the open forecastle head, the helideck between the anchor winches and the forepeak. In all probability there would be another team at the vertical front of the whaleback containing the five huge LNG tanks, also starting as far forward as possible and working methodically back towards the bridge.

  Richard had gone through the logistics of all this himself more times than he liked to think. It had been the basis of many of his discussions with Aleks, whose reluctance to vary from the predictable, methodical approach now looked more sinister than ever. Was he in with Macavity? But, from what Macavity was suggesting, he, like Richard, was also going to favour the occasional unlooked-for departure from the predictable search pattern – the unexpected foray down on to the decks below where his ghostly enemies might be lurking. Richard hoped that the three of them had removed themselves and every trace of their presence to a place Macavity would never think to search, and would be content to wait there until the danger of discovery – or worse – was past. ‘We start here,’ rasped Macavity. ‘In the chain locker. Open up, Captain Mariner.’ Richard opened the handles and swung the metal door wide, marvelling at how silently it moved on its brand-new, well-greased hinges. Then he held it, feeling its weight shifting in his grip as Sayonara continued to ride uneasily over the moderating westerly set of the sea. Macavity slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped up, swinging in and round to stand for a moment on the nearest rung of the ladder just inside the door. Then he stepped down on to the chain and motioned for Dom to follow him. Richard, of course, was calculating the odds of surviving any attempt to slam the door and go for Verrazzano’s gun. Had he felt for an instant he could rely on Steve and Aleks to back him up he might have given it more careful thought, but as it was he dismissed the idea out of hand. It served to keep his attention largely focused outside the chain locker, however, so he never really took as detailed a look inside as he otherwise might have done. He simply registered that Macavity prowled suspiciously if a little unsteadily over the pile of chain as Sayonara’s head dipped and the chain stirred. He watched him going almost as far as the hawse hole and pausing there, leaning on his rifle to steady himself as he looked down at the anchor secured against the flare of the forecastle.