He watched the oncoming vessel, counting the seconds, the life jackets tied around him, stuffed up under his chin.
He became aware of a distant hum. Engines. He took it to be coming from the oncoming cargo ship. Then he realised the bulker was too far away to produce such a sound.
He turned in the water and saw the pirate mother craft heading towards him. As he stared at it in horror, he judged that it wasn’t in fact on a direct line towards him but to the cargo ship.
Stratton looked between the two vessels to gauge their relative tracks. Both were going to cut across his line but from opposite directions.
And it looked like the pirate vessel would snag the line first. Stratton’s choices were limited indeed. He could think of two in the time he had. He could cut the line and hope the pirates didn’t see him as they pursued the bulker. But then he would be stranded. Or he could try stopping the pirate boat from snagging and take his chances from there.
Only the latter had an element of a possibility to it.
Stratton shot his arms into the air. He waved and shouted, and ripped away his sweater to reveal the bright orange life jackets beneath. He knew the Somali vessel would pass by him considerably closer than the bulker but the eyes on board would be focused on their prey. He untied the outermost life jacket, pulled it off and started waving it around in the air.
Almost immediately, the front of the pirate vessel dipped as its engines decelerated and the nose came around to aim directly at him.
He stopped shouting and watched it approach. An unqualified success, for the time being. He glanced at the cargo ship. It was still coming on. If its crew had seen the pirate vessel and were in any way suspicious, it showed no outward sign of it.
The pirate vessel slowed as it approached. Men gathered in the prow to look at him.
The engines suddenly roared as they went into reverse and the boat came to a stop a stone’s throw from him in the light swell.
The fishing line ran away from Stratton only a couple of metres in front of the boat’s path.
The Somalis had lined the side of the vessel, looking down on him. Stratton recognised one or two of them and suspected from the way they were gesticulating, that they had recognised him too. They looked surprised to see the Englishman. They appeared to be more curious than angry at the sight of him. They could afford to be.
A shout went up and passed to the back of the boat. Then a familiar-looking big man strode along the deck and stood in the prow to look down on Stratton. The tall, strongly built African wore camouflage uniform and dark sunglasses. He looked quite amused with his find. The grin didn’t last very long though.
‘Well, well, well,’ the pirate chief said in his deep voice. ‘You are a slippery fish to hold on to.’
Stratton had no immediate reply. All he could do was look at the man.
‘You have nothing to say!’ Lotto called out.
‘It’s a pleasant morning,’ Stratton called back. It felt like the right thing to say under the circumstances.
Lotto grinned again. He said something to one of his men who came forward and handed him an AK-47 assault rifle. Lotto pulled back the working parts to cock it and as he did so a round flew out of the breach but another was reloaded.
He aimed the end of the barrel at Stratton. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t invite you on board,’ he said.
Stratton glanced at the bulker. It suddenly seemed miles away from the line. ‘I have a deal for you,’ he shouted, not knowing what the hell he was going to say next.
‘What can you possibly have that’s of interest to me?’ Lotto shouted back, keeping the weapon on aim.
‘Information,’ said Stratton. ‘Valuable information that could save you a lot of money.’ That was the right thing to say, Stratton thought. Lotto was all about money. Stratton tried to focus on Lotto’s trigger finger. If he could see it start to squeeze the trigger, he might be able to move enough to avoid a lethal strike.
‘I think you’re wasting my time,’ Lotto called out. ‘I have work to do.’ Lotto made the weapon more comfortable in his shoulder and narrowed the sights on Stratton again.
‘We know you’re using the ships to move drugs around the world,’ Stratton shouted. He didn’t mention he knew about the weapons. ‘You’re playing a very dangerous game.’
Lotto pulled the carbine’s trigger and the AK-47 bucked against his shoulder.
For a fraction of a second, Stratton thought he was a dead man and was stunned to find himself still alive. The round had smacked into the water close by his head. He glanced at the cargo ship. The front of it looked to be where the snag line should have been.
‘Let me explain,’ Stratton shouted. ‘It will only take a minute and then you can shoot me if you want to … Hijacking ships is one thing,’ he pressed on. ‘It affects economies only a little and is more of a nuisance than anything else—’
Lotto fired the Kalashnikov again, this time the round striking the water even closer to Stratton.
Lotto chuckled, as did his men. They knew how their master often liked to toy with victims before he killed them.
The operative couldn’t help wondering if it was best out of three. He kept up his tirade. ‘Even smuggling drugs is small in comparison. But aiding international terrorism is a big deal. It’s going to get you into a lot of trouble.’
Lotto fired for a third time. The round shredded Stratton’s life-jacket collar an inch from his neck. Lotto made a show of moving the gun a little to one side to take a better look at his target. ‘Did I hit you?’ he called out, not in the least concerned.
‘I don’t think so,’ Stratton replied with equal calm. ‘Perhaps just a nick. A good shot if you intended to aim so close.’
‘I was aiming for your ear.’
‘Not bad at all then.’
‘From your left ear. I was aiming for your right.’ Lotto laughed and came back up on aim. ‘Now unless you have anything of real importance to tell me, I need to go and catch myself a nice, fat cargo ship.’
Stratton felt a tug on his harness. The reel on his chest began to turn, slowly at first, then faster.
But he could also feel Lotto’s cold eye on him through the rifle sight, his finger tightening on the trigger. In a second he would feel the bullet smash into him.
The reel spun hard. Lotto squeezed the trigger. ‘Goodbye, Englishman. Finally.’
The reel locked. The line went taut as it stretched and Lotto fired as Stratton was jerked towards the front of the pirate boat. The bullet slapped into the water where he had been less than a second before.
Lotto looked utterly confused as he watched Stratton suddenly zoom unnaturally across the water on his front like he was Superman. The Englishman disappeared beyond the bows of the boat and Lotto hurried over to the other side. He watched open-mouthed as Stratton continued away at speed. All the Somalis joined their chief, all looking dumbstruck by the sight.
Lotto had no idea how Stratton was doing it but he couldn’t live with the man escaping once again. ‘Full speed!’ he roared. ‘After him!’
Immy floated in the vast ocean, all alone but strangely not feeling alone. She had been more isolated in the prison hut surrounded by the others, the only girl, waiting in fear for Lotto or one of the others to come and take her away and rape her. There was no danger of that where she was now.
She lay back so that she could see nothing else but the wide open sky. The waves lapped over her, swamping every now and then. But she didn’t care. She was in a zone. Alive for longer than she had expected to be. The reprieve from suicide had been somewhat emotional. It was quite something to come to the difficult decision to end your life and be determined to do it. She had become utterly convinced it was all going to be over in mere minutes. Then that character Stratton went and pulled yet another rabbit out of his hat.