Grainger took a small silver box from his waistcoat pocket, removed a couple of tiny pills and washed them down with the water. ‘I’ll be fine… Need to deal with this situation. I’ll be fine. Thank you, Commander.’
‘Can I get you anything else, sir? Should I get a medic?’
‘No, I’m fine, Commander. Really. Thank you.’
Dowling took his seat and said, ‘Any idea who the hell these people are, sir?’
Grainger sucked in another deep breath. ‘Terrorists… and we have just given them access to the most powerful warship this country owns.’
Chapter Six
At eleven-thirty, the sound of the engines being fired up caused Frank Baine to rise from his bunk. Patel was working on his laptop. ‘Sounds like we’re about to get underway,’ said Baine.
Patel turned and smiled. ‘Good, the sooner we’re out at sea, the safer we’ll be.’
Baine stood up and stretched the muscles in his back. ‘Right, let’s go find Grainger and the Captain.’
Patel put the laptop back in its case. Baine picked up his bag, ‘Okay, Rav, let’s go to work.’
They left the cabin and stepped out into the companionway. Baine stopped the first submariner he saw and said, ‘Excuse me. Could you help us find the Captain, please?’
The young sailor stood up straight. ‘Yes, sir. Please follow me. Oh, and it’s Commander, not Captain, sir.’
Baine smiled. ‘Yes, yes, of course, Commander Dowling,’ then under his breath said, ‘whatever.’
‘He’ll be on the tower, sir, we’re about to cast-off.’
The two hijackers followed the young seaman through the vessel. Each area they passed through was busy with officers and men going about their duty, in preparation for departure. They eventually arrived at the main control room, just as the First Officer was about to ascend the ladder to the conning-tower. The young seaman saluted and said, ‘Sir. These gentlemen are looking for the Commander.’
Pike returned the salute and said, ‘Thank you. I’ll see to them. Dismissed.’
The control room was as busy as the other areas. A dozen or more seamen, of various ranks, worked away monitoring screens and systems in preparation for sea. Pike noticed the two hijackers were taking in the scene before them. There was an almost unperceivable nod between Baine and Patel, then the big man said, ‘Very impressive, Mr Pike.’
The First Officer looked Baine straight in the eyes, then pointed upwards. ‘The Commander is on deck. You can leave your bags here.’
Baine gave a sickly smile. ‘We’ll hang on to them,’ he said, then nodded to the ladder, ‘after you, Mr Pike.’
The three climbed the ladder in turn and came out at the top of the conning-tower. Commander Dowling, along with two other seamen, was supervising the manoeuvre from the quayside. Sir Anthony Grainger was also there. All wore hooded weatherproofs; protection against the rising wind and falling rain. No offer of coats was extended to Baine and Patel, who looked somewhat foolish standing in nothing more than designer suits.
Dowling nodded to his First Officer, as Pike emerged from the hatch. Then, into a hand-held radio, Dowling said, ‘Clear stern-lines.’
A voice from the radio confirmed the order. ‘Clear stern-lines, aye, sir.’
A few moments later all lines securing the warship, were released and pulled from the water. The engines increased in volume in response to Dowling’s command, ‘Starboard thrusters to ten percent.’
As HMS Poseidon moved slowly away from the sea-wall, Grainger watched Baine tap out a message on his smartphone.
In the old Welsh farmhouse, Rick Washington smiled as he read the message. UNDERWAY.
Chapter Seven
It took a little over an hour for HMS Poseidon to sail from its Faslane Base, down the length of Gare Loch and out through the Firth of Clyde, into the Irish Sea. Another hour saw the vessel off the coast of Northern Ireland.
Soon after the boat had departed, Baine had called Grainger and the two officers into the small mess room. After the room had been cleared of catering staff, Baine stood up and smiled his sickly smile, then began in a quiet voice. ‘Now, gentlemen. You’ve all done well to this point. Your families are safe and will, as we have promised, remain so, as long as you co-operate.’
‘Get to the point. What the hell d’you want?’ said a stern-faced Commander Dowling.
There was no mistaking the tension in the room. The big man continued and the smile disappeared. ‘Yes, thank you, Commander. I’m coming to that.’ Baines eyes narrowed. He stepped back from the table and unbuttoned his shirt. This time Patel had the smile, when he saw the look on the faces of Grainger and the two officers.
‘What the hell is that?’ said the minister.
Around Baine’s waist was, what looked like, a normal light canvas money belt. Three small pockets were secured with Velcro. All eyes in the room were on the belt as Baine carefully opened one of the pockets. The only sound was the noise of the Velcro fasteners being pulled apart. Gently he removed a small glass vial, about the size of a man’s thumb. The overhead lighting sparkled benignly on the glass as Baine held it, almost reverently, between his fingers.
‘Oh, my God. What is that,’ said a pale-faced Grainger.
Baine looked at the faces of the men in front of him, and then turned his gaze on the glass container. ‘This, Mr Secretary of Defence, is one hundred grams of Ricin. And I have two more like this.’ Baine pointed to the belt around his waist.
‘Oh, God,’ said Grainger again.
‘I’m sure you all know what this can do, but just in case you don’t, I’ll explain. Ricin may be ingested or inhaled and the slightest amount, the slightest miniscule amount, is capable of killing a man within a few hours. If these vials are broken,’ he turned the container carefully around in his fingers, ‘and the spores enter the atmosphere, they will pass through this vessel’s air-conditioning system in seconds and infect every person on-board.’
‘Including you,’ said the First Officer.
‘Yes, including me… but I’m being paid a very large amount of money to take that risk, Mr Pike. But hopefully it won’t come to that.’
‘Paid?’ said Dowling, ‘What the hell kind of terrorist are you?’
The sickly smile returned to the big man’s face. ‘Who said we were terrorists?’
‘So, not terrorists?’ said Dowling, ‘hijackers then?’
Baine frowned. ‘What need is there for titles? Let’s just say we’re businessmen, negotiating the return of this very expensive submarine, for an equally large amount of money.’
‘Money? So, you’re just common thieves?’ said Grainger.
Baine’s frown deepened. ‘Common? Oh no, Sir Anthony, I think we are exceptional thieves.’
Patel stood up and said, ‘I need to get started.’
Baine returned the vial carefully to the belt, then fastened up his shirt. ‘Yes of course. Now, Mr Pike. Would you be kind enough to show Ravinda here, to Weapons Control, please?’
Both officers stood up. This time it was Commander Dowling’s turn to smirk. ‘That will do you no good. There’s no way you can get control of any of our weapons. Even we can’t do that, unless we are sent pre-arranged launch-codes. Our missiles are totally useless without those codes.’
Baine smiled and placed his hand on Ravinda Patel’s shoulder. ‘My young friend here is one of the top computer programmers in the world. In fact you may have heard of one or two of his more audacious hacks?’
The little Asian grinned as Baine continued.