“I don’t know who you are or what you want but leave us alone,” came the Scottish accented reply.
“We have received an SOS from your vessel. Is everything OK aboard?” Big J responded as planned.
“Yes, yes we’re OK. Sorry you’ve been troubled,” the Scottish accent insisted.
“But we’re still receiving the signal!” Big J persisted. Then he whispered into the handset. “Have you been hijacked or something? If so just flick the transmit button twice — we’ll understand.”
“No there’s nothing wrong here I assure you,” the chief engineer tried to assure Big J.
In fact he was sure there was something definitely wrong but he also knew that outside help was the last thing they needed.
Big J skilfully eased the overhanging bow up to the stern rail of the cargo boat until it was close enough for Alex, John and Ling to jump unseen onto the deck of the smaller vessel. They each landed safely then spread out around the stern deck as the tug pulled away in the frothing wake.
The unarmed captain and the surviving Syndicate executive, who had produced a small but nonetheless dangerous looking revolver, worked their way cautiously below and towards the crew accommodation.
The armed man took the lead from the captain whispering,
“I think I had better go first,” and waving the revolver purposefully. The captain happily let the man pass.
As he stepped from the stairwell, the Syndicate man almost collided with Sing, who had been sent back to cover the exit. They glared at each other for a millisecond but Sing did not hesitate this time and shot the startled man in the chest. The Syndicate man’s own gun fired as his finger flexed on the trigger, the hollow point thirty-two slug blasted into Sing’s groin. They both collapsed in a heap on the floor. Sing tried to reach the searing pain spreading through his lower abdomen but the weight of the dead Syndicate man prevented any movement. The captain held back; he needed help and the guards should be in the cabin around the corner. He stepped cautiously over the prostrate men and ran straight into Chang, who had run back to see what the shooting was about.
“Don’t move Captain,” Chang commanded. The captain froze in his tracks and raised his hands.
“It’s OK I’m unarmed, so what’s going on?” he demanded, bravely holding on to his power of command.
The answer came from the surviving armed guard, who had been temporarily held hostage in the cabin. Chang’s attention had been on the captain so he did not hear or see the door ease open. The shot from the un-silenced Browning forty-five was ear splitting in the confined corridor. Chang’s knees buckled as the nickel-plated slug shattered his lower spine and tore through his body to slam into the steel wall in front of him. He collapsed at the captain’s feet, and then toppled onto his side. He was still alive but the pain was already attacking his nervous system; near black blood started to pump unhindered from his perforated liver and severed arteries.
“Who are you?” the captain asked. Bending to make the dying man hear, he shook him, trying to force a reply.
Chang looked up at the captain. The pain had suddenly gone away.
“You won’t get paid for this one Captain,” he smiled weakly, and then closed his eyes and exhaled his last breath.
The guard who’d fired the shot dashed to the captain’s side then furtively looked around the corner at the other two bodies. Sensing no danger, he stepped towards the two men stretched out on the floor and prodded the diver.
“This one is still alive, let’s see if we can get something out of him.”
He pulled the man into a sitting position. Then, squatting in front of him asked,
“So who sent you and what do you want?” He emphasised his question with a prod just under Sing’s eye with his semi-automatic pistol.
“I did!” The icy answer came from behind the kneeling man, who turned in surprise to face Alex standing at the foot of the stairwell, his gun pointing menacingly at the guard’s chest.
The guard dived instinctively, firing wildly in an attempt to throw off the unexpected danger, but he wasn’t quick enough. Even as the guard started the roll towards the side of the corridor, Alex deliberately fired into the large body target. The man grunted as the heavy slug punched into his heart and lung and he lay twitching and trembling from the terminal shock.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex spotted the movement of the surviving wounded guard, who had crept from the cabin to help his colleague. Alex swung his gun arm and fired but the shot missed; the bullet ricocheted around the steel panelled walls before coming to rest in the insulated ceiling material near the man’s head. The terrified guard dropped his weapon and threw his hands up in the air in surrender.
“You had better do the same!” Alex ordered the captain, who had been trying to conceal himself in a doorway only a metre or so from the mayhem.
“I’m not armed,” he pleaded with his hands held up and out in front of him.
John clattered down the stairs.
“Christ what’s going on down here?” He looked in awe at the carnage.
“Use a belt or something and tie that one up. I want him on the bridge with the captain here.”
“Ling must have secured the bridge,” John confirmed as the engine note diminished, indicating that the ship had slowed down.
Alex looked down at the dying guard; he was unconscious but still breathing noisily through his shattered lungs.
“He isn’t going to last long,” Alex concluded without emotion. “Come on let’s get the others up to the bridge.”
The cargo vessel had almost stopped and was rolling gently in the ocean swell. The two remaining crewmembers appeared meekly on deck following an order from the captain.
“I want our boys carried gently up to the deck then passed across to the tug. The other bodies are to be brought up and laid out deck, understand?” Alex ordered the captain.
The captain instructed the men, who nodded meekly and scurried below, not really wanting to have any part of it but realising that they had no choice.
The wounded guard was also transferred to the tug; he would need hospital treatment for his wounds. Ling was uninterested in the man’s discomfort and pulled him along like a dog on a lead. The guard limped behind without protest.
“So Captain, I think you’re in a very precarious position here. We know that you have an illegal cargo of arms and ammunition and we know where it is bound.” Alex raised his hand as the captain started to protest. “Just let me finish OK?” he smiled, “then you can consider what you want to say.” Alex seated himself in the captain’s swivel chair. The captain folded his arms in defiant attitude.
“Unfortunately for you, we have been watching every move aboard this ship for the last two weeks. We know about your Syndicate connections and, I have to say, to have had two senior members of the organisation aboard, in what will have been assumed by their masters to be your ‘safe care’ will not be well received at all will it!” Alex raised his hand again as the captain rose in defence. “In addition you are about to lose a most valuable cargo.” Alex looked forward where he could see Big J and some of the crew already trying to operate the heavy deck hatch opening gear. The captain’s eyes followed Alex, a look of horror in his eyes when he saw the men hammering at the hydraulic clamps with heavy sledgehammers. “In short Captain they will be very disappointed to say the least. Yes or no?” Alex questioned sarcastically. “Now I’ll also bet that you have a large maritime mortgage on this vessel and I’d take an even bigger bet that it’s with your Syndicate partners?” he added quickly.
The captain slumped into the navigator’s chair.