The radio crackled to life. ‘I’ve spoken to your pickup vessel; she’ll be at the rendezvous point in forty-six minutes. You asked about the weather – expect some heavy rain showers.’
The commander looked at his watch. Yes, that should give him enough time so long as neither of the fighters got their act together and took off within the next three or four minutes. It was going to be a very close call. He called across to Jim, ‘Get me Clive and the two SAS chaps here; we need a council of war. Tell Lieutenant Steiner to see how many life rafts she can find and ask her to take them to the aft deck. And get Lieutenant Gregson to see if she can find an inflatable dinghy, an outboard, and some life jackets, and to put them on the aft deck as well.’
The commander spoke into the radio. ‘Do you have any news for us?’
‘Yes, as good planning would have it, they kept back one of the Harrier jump jets that flew you and your wife to Gibraltar. She’s fully armed and took off two minutes ago. Her ETA is forty-one minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ replied the commander. The seconds were ticking by.
The longer it was before the fighters took off, the better their chances. He could pick out dark rain-laden squalls in the distance. A small smile crept across his face.
The Chancellor was in sombre mood. He was explaining to the House the consequences of the terrorist attack at Stratford and was setting out his proposals to persuade the public and industry to make the best use of energy and to encourage the diversification of the UK’s energy resources.
‘I shall be announcing a range of tax incentives to encourage the production and use of efficient and renewable energy sources, and to progress carbon sink technology to enable coal-fired power stations to move to zero emissions…’
At this point, Rafi’s attention was pulled back to the big screen and the running commentary from the command centre.
Jim had returned to the flybridge with Clive and the two SAS men.
‘Right,’ said the commander, ‘we’ve got ourselves a spot of bother. Two Moroccan fighters have been scrambled to intercept us and a frigate with a Eurocopter on board is putting to sea. In the short term it’s the two fighters that concern me.’
The commander pointed at a spot on the map. ‘The Trident submarine will reach our rendezvous point here in forty-two minutes. The Moroccan Mirage could be there in nineteen minutes and an elderly Northrop Tiger should follow a couple of minutes later. That will leave us unprotected, with nowhere to hide, for around twenty minutes. How many life rafts do we have?’
‘Two,’ came the reply from Jim.
‘Excellent, get Lieutenant Steiner to inflate them and tell her to keep them tied down! Also, find out from Lieutenant Gregson what’s happening with the search for a dinghy and an outboard.’
‘She’s found a twelve-foot inflatable with a ten horsepower outboard,’ called back Clive.
‘Perfect! Get it inflated and ready for sea – and make sure that the outboard has petrol in it,’ said the commander. He turned his attention to his charts. ‘We’ll reach international waters in five minutes. A couple of minutes later we should reach…’ he pointed to the group of black clouds over the bow, ‘That weather front, then we will launch the life rafts and I’ll change Golden Sundancer’ s course and head her north, on autopilot, towards the two fighter jets.’
Clive raised his eyebrows.
The commander turned to the four special forces men around him. ‘Here is the plan. You’ve got seven minutes from now to get the terrorists into the life rafts. Jim, you and Lieutenant Gregson will remain on board with me and my wife. The rest of you will go with the terrorists in the rafts. Once the rafts are in the water, we’ll need to put as much distance as possible between the rafts and the fighters.’ He paused. ’Let’s hope that their attention is drawn to Golden Sundancer and they don’t even think of looking for us elsewhere!’
The commander looked at Jim. ‘Have you got anything more in your bag of tricks?’
All the special service men nodded in unison.
‘Before I jump ship, could you wire up an explosive device, for which I can set the timing?’ asked the commander.
‘No problem,’ replied Clive.
‘Plus another bomb which can be detonated from the dinghy? And can you arrange for there to be a radio so that I can talk to the fighter pilots?’
‘No problem.’
‘Will one of you please disable the tracking devices in both life rafts and put a radio in each?’ ordered the commander.
‘Consider it done,’ said Jim.
‘As soon as the dinghy is fully inflated we will launch her, abandon ship and leave Golden Sundancer on autopilot heading at top speed up the coast. I’ll come back in the inflatable and meet up with the two life rafts. If we can buy ourselves ten minutes before the first fighter spots Golden Sundancer, she’ll put over eight miles between us and the fighters. Anything more is a bonus and will make it harder for them to find us.’
‘Four minutes to international waters.’ The commander’s wife called out,
The commander turned to Clive, ‘Time to get a move on.’
The four special servicemen ran down the steps to the lower deck to fetch the captives, who were bundled on to the floor of the rear deck.
‘The two Chechens, Chindriani, Hartnell, you and I,’ said Clive pointing to Colin, the nearest SAS man, ‘Will go in one raft. The sheikh, Basel, Jameel, their captain, Lieutenant Steiner and Mark, the SAS major will go in the other.’
A minute and a half after they’d entered international waters, they reached the edge of the squall. The sea around them had darkened and the wind had strengthened – the telltale signs of looming heavy rain. Moments later the downpour hit them. The commander brought the vessel to a stop.
The terrorists were manhandled quickly into one life raft, then the other and, with their guards safely on board, the rafts were cast off.
The commander pushed the throttles forward and majestically Golden Sundancer lifted her bow out of the water.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Gregson had the inflatable fully functional and Jim had rigged up two incendiary bombs.
‘We will leave the precise timing until we know the status of the fighter planes,’ said the commander.
‘Of course, sir,’ replied Jim.
The radio crackled back into life. ‘The Northrop Tiger has completed its taxiing and is taking off as we speak. ETA thirteen minutes and counting.’
‘Right!’ shouted the commander. ‘Life jackets on. I’ll slow the boat down, let you get off, set the autopilot and come and join you.’
Jim looked at the commander. ‘Old man, you realise that falling into the “oggin” at fifty knots will feel like hitting wet concrete?’
‘Jim, get on your way and set the bomb to go off in twenty minutes. Your concern is noted,’ replied the commander.
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘Throw me a life jacket, and shout when you’re ready to leave ship.’
Seconds later came the call, ‘Ready to disembark.’
The commander eased the throttles back. From the flybridge he watched the three quickly and safely climb into the small inflatable dinghy and fire up the outboard engine. He picked up his small hand-held compass and tucked it into his trouser pocket, set a new course on the autopilot, pushed the throttles forward to their top setting, turned and bolted down the stairs, heading for the swimming platform.
The commander stood for a moment on the edge of the platform, watching the water churning at his feet. With a sharp intake of breath, he held his nose, knelt down and rolled slowly side first into the water. The compass in his pocket dug into his thigh as he hit the rushing water. He felt like a human skimming stone. Then there was darkness. The next thing he knew, he felt a strong pair of hands holding him as he gasped for breath. The inflatable dinghy was bobbing at his side in the pouring rain. Lieutenant Gregson and Jim, using his one good arm, grabbed him and dragged him on board. His wife put the small outboard into gear, turned the little dinghy and headed for the two life rafts.