At that point the man made his move to escape. Oscar, having calmed down from his one-man invasion, was off guard when the man suddenly kicked out, catching Oscar painfully in the groin before leaping over the sofa, across the room and out of the open door. The man with the shattered arm, seeing his opportunity, followed him.
Oscar, still doubled up in pain, looked up to see Greg standing over him.
“I told you there wouldn’t be much excitement on this trip!” Greg grinned painfully.
Oscar grabbed the outstretched hand and heaved himself up from the floor.
“Come on then, let’s get out of here before it gets really interesting!”
The Syndicate leader sat at his large polished desk absentmindedly rolling a solid gold fountain pen between his finely manicured fingers as he reflected on the current position of their arms contract.
He had sent the youngest, though most experienced of his remaining directors to personally manage the final stages of the shipment. He mulled over the consequences if anything should happen to him or the goods. It would mean that there would be only two of the original team left and if the shipment were lost, well, he didn’t like to think of that for the moment. He knew however that such a possibility existed because he’d just received the news that their most senior Hong Kong cell had lost one of its three members, yet the cargo was reported to be safe, with the other two Syndicate operatives travelling personally with it to ensure its safe arrival. Yet he could not dismiss that uncomfortable feeling that the murder of their man out there was more than just coincidence.
“Perhaps,” he thought, “it’s time to pull the plug on the whole business and finally enjoy the rewards of our phenomenal historic success!” He sat almost motionless for about an hour. Finally he made a decision, sat upright in his chair, reached for the telephone and called his surviving partner.
“I have a serious proposal to put to you, how about a bit of lunch?”
It was almost one-thirty in the morning. Alex, Ming-Ho and Ling were waiting near the dry dock for the deckhands to return to the ship. Although she was afloat she was still locked into the flooded dry basin. The captain had allowed the crew to go ashore for a final night out but had insisted that the guards remain on board.
Two of the unwary crew staggered along the road chatting noisily. As they turned onto the quay, Alex and Ling, armed with the electric stun guns provided by Hans, pounced; the effect of the low amperage shock was instantaneous. There was no resistance — just a mild gasp before they collapsed, temporally incapacitated. Ming-Ho rushed in with his prepared plastic ties, securely strapping their hands behind their backs then taping their mouths.
“Keep an eye on them. If they’re sick they’ll drown themselves,” Alex whispered his warning.
“Couldn’t happen to nicer people,” Ling responded quietly.
“OK let’s get them out of here,” Alex ordered quietly.
They dragged their captives to Ming’s old van and bundled them into the back.
“OK you can leave them to me now,” the old man smiled.
Alex patted him fondly on the shoulder,
“Thanks again my friend. The captain will be looking for crew in the morning, so all we have to do now is ensure that our two ex-marine Chinese divers are conveniently selected!”
“Don’t worry,” Ming-Ho assured him, “there won’t be anyone else available.” He waved and drove away.
He was right; at six in the morning the captain discovered that two of his crew were missing. He tried all the usual places such as the police station and hospital but they were not to be found. He needed the full crew to avoid using shore-based Dockers. Angrily, he telephoned the Port Offices and asked if there were two deckhands available.
“If you are not too choosey at such short notice, it might be possible. I’ll call back in five minutes,” the superintendent told him.
Manuel gave him the thumbs up.
“Exactly as predicted; call him back and tell him I’ll let him have two of my divers as unpaid crew in exchange for their passage with their equipment to Manila.”
The arrangement was made and the men were delivered to the ship with their large crate of “equipment”. At almost the same time, the lock gate had miraculously been repaired and the cargo boat, with the aid of the harbour pilot, pulled out under her own steam and into the basin, before headed through the teaming waterway to the open sea.
Alex and Big J watched as the cargo boat finally disappeared through the narrow entrance.
“So far so good — it’s the next stage that is still a bit hit and miss,” Alex admitted.
“We’ll be ready to sail in less than a couple of hours; that will put us about twenty miles astern of her. So with the added benefit of the locator beacon we planted on board we should have little trouble staying within striking range. Let’s go and see if they are transmitting yet.” Big J led the way to the radio shack.
John was already in there watching the chart plotter.
“There they are.” He pointed happily to the latitude and longitude boldly displayed at the bottom of the screen. “We’ll have them on the electronic chart in a couple of seconds. There they are!” John pointed to the flashing cursor on the screen. “Now we’ll be able to track their exact position continuously, course and speed.” John looked up. “ So what’s next skipper?”
Big J looked serious.
“Next!” he emphasised, “we check our passenger list and get ready to leave here.”
Ming-Ho was waiting on deck when they emerged from the radio shack.
“Hello Alex may I have a word?”
Alex moved over to the old man.
“Of course, how can I help?”
“Alex, my wife and I have decided not to accept your offer to take us with you. We’ve thought about it all night. Basically we came to the conclusion that we are too old to move now. We believe we can survive the new regime mainly because our family and lifelong friends are all here.”
He raised his hand in protest as Alex tried to persuade him to change his mind.
“Its very kind of you but the rest of our lives should be spent with our old friends whatever the politics. What I have to ask though, is would you consider taking my daughter and her young child instead?” He turned and looked at two people standing on the quay. “My daughter has a little boy; her man was killed in a ferry sinking tragedy. They deserve the opportunity for a free life.” He turned back and looked expectantly at Alex.
“Ming-Ho you are a very wise old man and I am proud to have been your friend. Without your help, we might never have been able to delay the shipment of those arms.” Alex looked at the two forlorn figures standing with just one suitcase between them. He moved over to the rail and gestured to them.
“Over here, you are needed on board.”
They hesitated.
“Quickly please, your Father wishes to speak with you.”
The woman picked up the case and hurried up the gangway.
“Thank you friend.” The old man took Alex’s hand in both of his. “Thank you,” he repeated and bowed respectfully.
“Just go and tell them — and, hey, you stay out of trouble!” Alex called back as the old man scurried, arms outstretched in welcome, towards his daughter and grandson.
The passengers remained out of sight of prying eyes as, precisely on Big J’s schedule, the tug sailed out of the basin. The pilot hardly spoke a single word as he negotiated the heavy seagoing tug through the mêlée of local vessels. Once they reached the open sea the pilot cutter edged expertly along side and the pilot handed control back to Big J.