Andy closed the door, a smirk on his face, Spike at the top of the steps looking at him. ‘Does the first officer know you’ve put ’im in ’is room?’
Andy stepped over with a conspiratorial grin. ‘No, but he’s a wanker anyway. And SAS-man needs it more than ’e does.’
‘Nice one,’ Spike said, chuckling.
‘What’s he gonna do? Kick the SAS out of bed?’
The two men laughed heartily as they descended.
Stratton looked in on the coffin-sized shower room and turned on the water. Within seconds steam filled the room. He pulled off all of his damp clothes and immersed himself in the hot water. The wound on his back stung a little. Several minutes later he pulled on a clean pair of overalls he had found in the cupboard.
He looked down on the bed. On the one hand he wanted to fall on to it. On the other he felt like he should be doing something to speed up the next phase of the operation. Someone had to go back into Somalia and sort out those missiles. Bombing them was his first thought. But it wouldn’t be clinical enough. They had to be sure the weapons got destroyed.
He felt his eyes growing heavy. He lay down on the bed. Within seconds of closing his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep.
16
He walked in a dark and distant place, wandering through black, cold-looking hills but finding sanctuary among the gloom. Rain had soaked his straggly hair, his unshaven face. He pulled the thick coat he wore about him. He could hear a distant banging. It just kept on and on. Reached right into his subconscious. It began to irritate him and he looked back over his shoulder at the clouds rolling towards him. He stopped and turned to face them, certain he could see a figure hidden within their broiling plumes. Stratton controlled his fear, as always, and turned it into aggressive calculation. He took his hands from the deep pockets of the trench coat and squared up to the oncoming mystery.
As the cloud came on, a figure inside revealed itself. It was black, from head to toe, a man, his shiny skin taut, his head bald, his limbs and torso powerful. In his raised hand a whip several metres long. Lotto the pirate commander bore down on the operative, menace in his eyes. The whip lashed in the air. Stratton stood his ground, clenched his fists and teeth, eyes darting in search of an advantage. He could see none to hand.
He took a step forward. Lotto, who was twice as tall as him now, reached out a powerful hand to grab him and lifted the whip to strike him. As the commander’s large hand touched Stratton, he awoke and sat bolt upright in his bed, his face sweating, his eyes wide.
‘Sorry, mate.’ It was Andy, the security guard. He had shaken Stratton and then jumped back as the operative reacted. ‘I was banging at the door for ages but you didn’t answer.’
Stratton stared at him as he came out of the dream, breathing harder than a waking man should.
‘There’s someone here to see you,’ Andy said.
Stratton put the dream out of his mind, dropped his feet to the floor and ran his fingers through his hair as he got up.
‘What time is it?’ he asked, seeing the daylight through the porthole and wondering how long he had been asleep.
‘It’s just gone four. In the afternoon. You were dead to the world. You must’ve been knackered.’
Stratton still felt exhausted. A sound permeated the cotton wool that seemed to fill his head. ‘Is that a chopper?’ he said, looking to the porthole but not seeing anything but ocean.
‘Yeah. Royal Navy. They’ve come for you.’
Stratton understood. He needed to get going. Still in a bit of a daze, he looked around like he knew he had something to put on but he wasn’t sure what.
‘Did you want any of those clothes back you had? They were pretty manky.’
Stratton shook his head and looked down at his bare feet. That’s what was missing.
‘You want some sandals?’ Andy said, indicating a new leather pair beside the bed. ‘The first officer won’t mind. He said you could ’elp yourself to anything. He’s a good lad.’
Stratton tried on the sandals. They were a perfect fit.
He went to the door and into the corridor. Andy stepped out behind him. ‘They’re waiting for you in the galley,’ he said.
‘Has the girl surfaced?’ Stratton asked as he reached the stairs.
‘She left a few hours ago.’
Stratton stopped and looked at the guard, wearing a puzzled expression. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She took a lifeboat.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Andy stood there.
‘You dropped her off back in the middle of the Gulf of Aden?’
‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ Andy countered. ‘She was pretty knackered, more so than you were. She asked about you and we said you’d got your head down. I offered her a room but she said she wanted to look about the ship. The outside part. Then she asked about the lifeboats and how they were launched. Then we ’ad something to eat. She was quite hungry. Then she went for a walk on deck. She must’ve spent a bit of time loading the boat up with food and water. Next thing we realised, the boat was gone and so was she.’
‘She lowered a lifeboat on her own without you knowing about it?’
Andy looked like he had been cornered. ‘Not quite. You said she was Chinese government. We took it she was working with our side, because of you. So we let her pretty much do what she wanted. Plus she was very nice.’
‘How’d she lower the boat on her own and cast off?’
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly on her own. I ’elped her,’ Andy said, looking embarrassed. ‘Are you saying we shouldn’t have ’elped her?’
Stratton wondered if he was being serious. ‘Where was she going?’
‘I asked her that. She said she was going to RV with a Chinese ship. I asked her how she was going to RV with it without any comms. She didn’t have a radio or anything. She then looked me in the eye, a bit fearsome like, and said she had unfinished business. I was in an awkward situation. I couldn’t come and get you. She’d’ve been gone by then anyway. So I thought, Bollocks, she’s a government operative, even though Chinese, and working with our side. So there you ’ave it. I ’elped her lower the boat.’
Stratton thought hard about the information, his immediate concern whether she could compromise his side’s intentions, based on their respective goals. As far as he had understood her goals, he could see no real issues, no massive ones anyway. The two governments might clash on how they would handle the situation. The Chinese would be less concerned about human rights and international protocols. The UK might be sensitive to China’s embarrassment at letting the weapons slip through their hands in the first place. Ultimately the two countries wanted the same thing, which was to put a stop to the use of the missiles. The two countries would go about that in different ways, but Stratton couldn’t see anything to panic about.
The fact was she was gone and he could do nothing about it. He wondered where she was headed. If she’d loaded up with food and water, it wouldn’t be to RV with any nearby Chinese naval vessel. And if she wanted to get to somewhere in the West, her best bet would have been to stay with the bulker, especially since she had no money and no identification.
So maybe she had gone back to Somalia. The comment about unfinished business could suggest that much.
The girl was without doubt ballsy. Stratton could only wonder what was driving her. Whatever, it was far beyond the call of duty, particularly after what she had been through. Maybe she wanted revenge. It seemed extreme to him, but he wasn’t a woman. ‘Did she have enough fuel to cover a hundred and fifty miles?’
‘No,’ the guard replied. ‘But the boat’s got a good sail system.’