The man had to die. Conall knew that. But Argent seemed to treat killing as a game.
The engineer got to work on the generators. It wouldn’t be enough to turn them off. They had to be sabotaged, put beyond repair, and quickly, because once the electricity went down, guards would come running.
The engineer took time to study the machinery, scratching his head, frowning intensely and taking notes on a wad of paper he’d kept for this moment. He waved at the three of them, summoning them to the guard’s office at the front of the building. He swung the door shut, cutting off the noise so they could talk.
“We switch ‘em off, then cut all the cables, hack the electricity wires where they exit the building. Remove the fuses, take ‘em with us. Tip the diesel out on the floor. There’s petrol here too, we set light to it as we leave.”
“What about the coal generator?” Jonah tugged on his beard thoughtfully.
“It’ll take a while to start that up again, once it’s off. I’ll take some parts out, put the casing back. Take ‘em hours to work out what’s been done. Then they’ll need replacement bits, and that won’t be easy.”
“This is going to take a while,” Jonah said. “Too long. They’ll be here, the moment the power goes off.”
The engineer unfolded a piece of paper on the desk. “We do it in this order,” he said. “Coal generator first, power’ll stay on. Fix the diesel, anything else we can think of, then we hit the power, smash everything, cut the wires, grab the fuses and go. Throw a match, last of all.”
Half an hour later, they were in position. Jonah held his cane in the air, and when he lowered it again they struck. Each had his task, and between them they pulled switches, took fuses, cut wiring, removed parts and contaminated fuel. The engineer threw a spark onto the petrol, it flamed into life, and they fled.
Outside, the artificial lights had gone dead. Only the ghostlight of the aurora borealis cast any shadow. Guards yelled at each other, and gunshots rang out near the main gate. A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him sideways.
“In here,” Jonah hissed, and pulled him into an alleyway between two buildings. Moments later, a group of slavers ran past. The four men waited, getting their breath back.
“We can’t stay here,” Bagatt said.
“Aye, we can. We must,” Jonah said. “Until the wildmen arrive. That’ll give the guards something to think about.”
At that moment, an engine spluttered into life. Lights went on in the main office.
“Damn,” Jonah said. “Emergency generator. You didn’t tell us nothing about that,” he said to Proctor.
“Didn’t know of it, but it won’t power the fences or the searchlights,” the engineer said.
“Needs taking out, all the same,” Jonah said. “And there was me, hoping to get away without much of a fight.”
A scream drifted across the fjord, a war-cry, a signal that something was about to begin. “Here they come,” Jonah said. “Tugon’s right on time. One way or another, we settle this tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
RIVALS
Gunfire crackled in the night air. Shouts of alarm drifted from the direction of the main gate as the guards yelled for reinforcements. Three shots, a breath of silence, then a roar, the sound of hundreds of men, charging, relentless and unstoppable. The Oduma stormed the fences and the slavers took potshots at shadows.
Conall took cover in the alley between two buildings, along with Jonah, Bagatt and Proctor. A group of guards hurried past them, heading towards the gatehouse. The compound was in darkness except for the green glow of the northern lights across the arctic sky and a handful of dim bulbs flickering in the company offices.
“Let’s get to that emergency generator.” Jonah drew his sword from the cane, held it front of him. “You got that gun?”
Bagatt showed him the pistol taken from the guard in the generator room.
“Don’t hesitate to use it. With me.” Jonah set off across the compound, and Conall followed, running openly, not caring about the guards. They reached the office building and Jonah tried the door. It was locked but the first mate smashed into it with his shoulder. A gruff voice from the other side demanded to know who was there.
“Stand back,” Jonah hissed. “They’ll shoot through it.”
Faro was in there, shouting instructions, trying to sound in control. But Conall recognised the fear and stress in his brother’s voice. Faro had grown used to giving orders, relying on a chain of command to keep him safe. But faced with death at the hands of the Oduma, he must know the guards could break and run at any moment.
Screams from the gates mingled with shouts from the quayside. The wildmen were coming across the water. The engine of the patrol boat kicked into life. Then from behind Conall came a woman’s voice, calling his name. Heather stood twenty yards away, waving. She pointed at the side of the building.
“Best see what she wants,” Jonah said, and the four men ran to her.
Conall reached her first, grasped her by the shoulders and urged her out of the light into the shadows against the wall. “What are you doing here? Get back to the hut. You’ll be safe there.”
“A way in,” she said. “A side door. I work here, most days. I know it better than you.”
Jonah thumped Conall on the back in a gesture of triumph and joy. “Good for you Miss Hudson. Should have had you involved in the planning from the start. Take a note Mr Bagatt, remember to consult the womenfolk in future. Now where’s this door?”
She led them along the side of the building. “In there, it’s the guard’s canteen, empty at night, I’m sure of it.”
The engineer fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door.
“I’ll go first,” Jonah said.
Conall put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t hurt Faro.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” Jonah said. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
“He’s still my brother.”
“Tell him to surrender then, though I doubt he’ll do it. And I don’t reckon those wildmen will show him much mercy either. I can’t protect him, or you if you get in the way.”
Inside the building the floor reverberated from the sound of the generator in the basement below. Heather led them across the darkened canteen to a wooden door that stood ajar. “Stairs to the basement are through there, down the hall, and on the left,” she said. “They can’t see you from the front door. You should make it.”
“All right, we get their power first, in case they’ve got a searchlight, or tricks up their sleeves,” Jonah said. “Then I guess we fight anyone we find. Time for you to go, Miss Hudson, not safe for you here.”
Conall saw an opening. “I’ll see her back to the huts, you don’t need me now.”
Jonah glared at him suspiciously. “Mighty chivalrous of you, Mr Hawkins. Don’t get lost.” He led his men through the door, his sword raised, and Bagatt with his gun ready, pointing over Argent’s shoulder, using the first mate as a human shield.
Conall waited for them to get out of earshot. “He’s right, you have to go. Can you make it alone?”
“You lied to him.”
“I’ve got to find Faro.”
“He won’t listen.”
“I have to try. Will you be all right, can you find your way?
“Let’s see. I got here alone, and I come here every day to work. I think I’ll manage.”
He kissed her on the cheek, without thinking. He’d never done it before, and as his face flushed red he was glad of the darkness. But she touched his arm and kissed his cheek in return, so light and fast he barely knew it. Then she turned and was gone.
Conall stood by the door listening. Jonah and his men were heading down stairs. He crept along the hallway and peered round a corner. It was deserted but for two guards by the main door. He could slip by, make it to the stairs to the first floor and the offices where he’d seen his brother. He had to beat Jonah to it, and the wildmen. He had to get to Faro
first.
≈≈≈≈
Conall made it half way up the stairs to the first floor offices when the lights flickered and died, plunging the building into darkness. Jonah must have got to that emergency generator. Shouts echoed through the building, guards calling to each other, and he made out Faro’s voice among them. Footsteps thudded on the stairs above him and two shapes loomed out of the dark. He stood motionless, pressed against the wall. The men passed by, unaware of his presence. He held his breath until they reached the bottom of the stairs and then inched upwards, a step at a time, finding his way by touch alone. A yell came from below, grunts and a shout of pain, followed by a single gunshot that reverberated up the stairwell. The crack of it stung his ears, mingling with the muddied thuds of distant gunfire from the main gate.
He reached the first floor and crept along the hallway in the dark. Pausing outside one of the rooms, he listened as two men argued over how to open the door to a safe. These men were still obsessed with their property and possessions, even when their lives hung by a thread.
Conall made for the room where he had spoken to Faro, weeks before when he was first captured. He opened the door, wincing as the hinges creaked and squealed. The green blaze of the aurora through the windows gave just enough light that he could make out the table in the middle of the room. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Faro?”
There was no answer. He ran his hands over a desk against one wall, searching by touch alone until he felt cold, smooth steel and the familiar shape of his binoculars. He grasped them like a long lost friend, his only thing of value in all those years on Shetland. That, and his brother’s friendship.
He crossed to the window and put the lenses to his eyes, contemplating the dance of light across the northern skies. Behind him the door opened. Conall stood motionless, not making a sound. He sensed someone standing, watching him, felt eyes on the back of his head. He made an easy target, silhouetted against the glow of the aurora.
“A thief in the night,” Faro said. He stepped into the room and the door clicked shut behind him. “Risking your life, just to steal back your stupid binoculars. They never did you any good. All those years thinking Mum and Dad would come looking for you. Forget that. Grow up.”
Conall turned to face his brother. “I’m not here for the glasses. I’m here for you. You’re in danger.”
“That’s good of you.” Faro’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “I think I can manage, don’t need to be saved by my little brother.”
“The wildmen are coming. I can hide you, get you out of here.” He paused. “Dad’s here, he’s one of the slaves. The old-timer, they call him.”
“Yeah, I know.”
So his father had been right about Faro, all along. He’d known but done nothing and didn’t care. “Mum’s alive too, she’s with the wildmen.”
“What a pair.”
Conall’s hand went to his belt. No knife. In the middle of a battle, he still had no weapon.“We can get out, the four of us, be together.”
He waited for Faro. A moment of silence. Somewhere in the room a clock ticked. One second, two. The battle had gone quiet. Ten seconds ticked away, then a gunshot from outside, the screech of a man in agony.
“It’s a bit late to play the happy family.” Faro turned on a torch and fumbled for something on his desk. He pulled open a drawer and took out paperwork, stuffing it into a bag that hung from his shoulder. “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t need a mom and dad. Go run to them if you want.”
“The Oduma will kill you for what you did today. And Jonah, he’ll do it as thanks for the torture. The slaves will lynch you. They all want you dead. I’m your only chance.”
“Things aren’t that desperate.” Faro shone the torch into Conall’s eyes. “The company will look after me. Better than my parents ever did.”
Conall held up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the torch. “It’s over. The wildmen are taking Svalbard back.”
“They can keep it,” Faro said. “I can’t wait to get out. The company’s everywhere, that’s what you don’t understand. I can go to Greenland, we’re building cities there. Alaska, Siberia. We’re rebuilding the old world. I’m part of that. What are you doing? Running around with a bunch of savages, clinging to your mother’s coat-tails.”
Conall took a step across the room, paused, then another. Faro swivelled, moved back to the door. “I’ve got a gun,” Faro said. “Stay back.”
“You’d use it too.”
“If you get in my way.” Faro opened the door. He paused.
“Where will you go? You can’t get out. Come and see Dad, speak to him. Make things right. We can get you out alive, I promise.”
“Sorry,” Faro said, “company business to deal with.”
“Forget the damned company.”
“Stay here or the guards will shoot you. I’ll shoot you, if you get in the way.” Faro clicked the door shut as he left, with not a word of goodbye.
Conall crossed the room, opened the door and blundered through the darkness calling to his brother. Faro’s voice drifted up the stairs, yelling orders to the guards, telling them to follow him. Three shots were followed by more shouting, and Conall heard Jonah bellowing, angry and defiant. Conall stumbled down the stairs, clinging to the rail and feeling for the steps with his feet.
He was near the bottom when he sensed a figure ahead of him in the darkness.
“Hold it,” Jonah said. “Or I’ll shoot.”
“It’s me.”
“Mr Hawkins, you’ll get yourself killed, sneaking around in the dark. I thought you were lying about taking Miss Hudson to safety. Left her alone, I guess, not the night for it. Looking for your brother? You won’t save him, not like this.”
“He wasn’t here.”
“Don’t lie to me boy.” Jonah’s voice rattled with anger. “I know he was here, heard him plain as day and he told his men to shoot us, so I reckon we’ll return the favour.”
The breeze of the night air drifted along the hallway. The main door was open. Faro must have fled but the wildmen would surely catch him.
“You know where they were going? Tell us straight,” Jonah said.
He had to lie. “I don’t know, towards the main gate, I think.” It wasn’t a good lie, but the best he could manage. But he knew which way Faro must have gone. To the quayside. He’d get out by boat. There was no other way. “I need to find my father.” He slipped past Jonah.
“Don’t believe you for a minute,” Jonah said. He called for Bagatt and Proctor. Their replies drifted up the steps to the basement. Conall glided through the main doors. The first glimpse of dawn had appeared to the east. He ran to the quayside, ignoring the shouts of slavers and wildmen. The battle must be nearly done. The guards had fled or died.
When he reached the quayside the patrol boat had already sailed. The shape of it was still visible, heading across the dark waters of the bay, the chug of its diesel engine receding as it made for the open water of the fjord.
Conall stalked the quayside peering at the boats in the dawn light. He could take one, try to follow, but he didn’t have the seamanship. And Faro wouldn’t listen. If he hadn’t listened back there, he wouldn’t now, once he’d made his escape. Let him go. At least he’d be alive. He’d surely flee Spitsbergen and never return.
Conall turned to walk along the dock. Jonah, Bagatt and the engineer prowled the harbour. They were looking for a boat. Did they mean to follow Faro? Did revenge mean so much to them?
As he strode towards them Jonah turned suddenly, his sword raised. “Still sneaking around Mr Hawkins. I swear you’ll get yourself skewered or shot before the night is done. Be a shame to be killed by your friends, after all you’ve been through.”
“You’ll never catch them, they’ve got an engine, and a boat big enough for the open sea. They’ll be half way to Greenland.”
“Good luck to ‘em and good riddance,” Jonah said. “You coming, young Hawkins? Want you
r share?”
“You’re going after the treasure? After a night like this?”
“No better time, what with all the confusion,” Jonah said.
Bagatt and the engineer were in a sailboat, getting her oars ready to pull away from shore. Jonah clambered in. “What’s it to be?”
Conall paused for a moment. Would Faro go to the treasure? No, he’d never be that stupid. “I have to find my dad, and Heather, Rufus.”
“Aye well, take care lad. But there’s no share, except for those that find it.”
The boat pulled away from shore. Conall watched them go as the light grew in the east, a clear day dawning. The first day in months that he hadn’t been a slave.
He walked along the quayside to a stone tower, fifty feet high. It served as a storehouse and a lookout and a lighthouse to guide ships towards the harbour. Steep steps circled the outside of the building, taking him to the vantage point with a clear view of the fjord in the early dawn light. He put the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the ocean, hoping for one last glimpse of Faro’s boat before it disappeared. There was no sign of it, and he guessed it must be hugging the southern shore, out of sight around a spit of land. But there, in the distance, beyond the headland on the northern shore, the faintest gleam of white. He focused the binoculars, watched, waited. There is was again. A mast. Three masts. White sails. The Arkady had come to take them home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
BURIED DEEP
By the time The Arkady sailed into the harbour, the battle was over and the compound secured. The remaining slavers, those that hadn’t fled with Faro, were either dead or in chains.
“She’s a beautiful sight to be sure,” Adam Hawkins said as the ship slipped towards the quayside. “You were crew on her? A good choice, son.”
“Faro’s idea.” Conall scanned the faces that lined the deck. The captain and his wife stood on the railings, their eyes devouring the crowd on the quayside, searching for their daughter. The makeshift crew looked like a mix of settlers and Oduma tribesmen. Conall had only a few weeks of sailing time, but he could tell they were green and untrained. “He’s a good captain, bringing her all this way, with a raw crew.”
In The Wreckage: A Tale of Two Brothers Page 21
