Part 23 (1/2)

'How do you know for certain that the pig Cross is on board the s.h.i.+p?' Adam demanded insistently.

'Mustapha saw him on the deck, with his wh.o.r.e, Allah be praised.'

'All praise to G.o.d and his Prophet. But there is no mistake? It is the Bannock woman? Are you certain?'

'It is certain, my Sheikh. Her head was uncovered. Her hair was yellow. It is her! The s.h.i.+p is fully laden and low in the water. Her cargo is worth almost as much as the vessel itself. The stupid infidel sailors have left rope ladders hanging over her side. It will be very easy to take her, my esteemed and beloved nephew and Sheikh.'

'If you do so you will make us both very rich, my uncle. When will you reach the prize?'

'She is on an interception course, sailing directly towards us at twenty knots. If Allah is kind we will be alongside her in less than five hours. By dawn tomorrow the s.h.i.+p and all its contents will be in your hands. The blood debt can at last be settled in full. As you do also, I mourn the murder of my father and your grandfather.'

'May Allah and Muhammad his Prophet bless our enterprise, revered uncle. Make certain that the infidel dog Cross and his wh.o.r.e are brought to me alive. I wish to talk with them before they die.'

The only sounds in the situation room in the covert section of the Golden Goose Golden Goose were the soft rush of the sea along her hull, the thumping and wheezing of the gas pumps in the adjoining holds and the low hum of the electronic equipment. Hector, Paddy and David Imbiss were seated at the long table facing the computer screens. Tariq had pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. They spoke seldom and when they did it was in whispers. Hazel was curled up on the narrow padded bench at the rear of the cabin with a blanket around her shoulders. She was sleeping quietly. Most of the lighting came from the glow of the multiple CCTV screens. The clock on the wall above them showed ten minutes before midnight. Infrared sensors in each of the hidden cameras detected any live movement around the s.h.i.+p. When they did they automatically switched the camera on and gave it precedence on the screens. At the moment one screen showed the bridge and Cyril Stamford pacing up and down the deck, staring out into the darkness over the bows. The screen beside it showed two of his crew sitting in the mess, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Another screen abruptly switched over to the camera in the bedroom of the owner's suite. The suite was in darkness, but the camera was in infrared mode. The images on the screen were in monochrome. Nastiya Voronova threw back the bedclothes and stood up. She wore a dark one-piece jump suit. As she crossed the deck to the door of the bathroom there was a glimpse of Vincent in the background. He was sleeping alone on the sofa against the far bulkhead. were the soft rush of the sea along her hull, the thumping and wheezing of the gas pumps in the adjoining holds and the low hum of the electronic equipment. Hector, Paddy and David Imbiss were seated at the long table facing the computer screens. Tariq had pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest. They spoke seldom and when they did it was in whispers. Hazel was curled up on the narrow padded bench at the rear of the cabin with a blanket around her shoulders. She was sleeping quietly. Most of the lighting came from the glow of the multiple CCTV screens. The clock on the wall above them showed ten minutes before midnight. Infrared sensors in each of the hidden cameras detected any live movement around the s.h.i.+p. When they did they automatically switched the camera on and gave it precedence on the screens. At the moment one screen showed the bridge and Cyril Stamford pacing up and down the deck, staring out into the darkness over the bows. The screen beside it showed two of his crew sitting in the mess, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Another screen abruptly switched over to the camera in the bedroom of the owner's suite. The suite was in darkness, but the camera was in infrared mode. The images on the screen were in monochrome. Nastiya Voronova threw back the bedclothes and stood up. She wore a dark one-piece jump suit. As she crossed the deck to the door of the bathroom there was a glimpse of Vincent in the background. He was sleeping alone on the sofa against the far bulkhead.

'No cause for anxiety there, Paddy,' Hector murmured. Nastiya entered the bathroom and closed the door. The camera in that particular bathroom had been deactivated on Hazel's orders. It was like watching one of those reality TV programmes such as Big Brother Big Brother, Hector thought, and every bit as boring. Paddy closed his eyes and put his head down on his folded arms on the table top in front of him. Hector stood up and stretched. He went to pour himself a mug of black coffee from the thermos flask and returned to his chair.

'Not much longer to wait. I can almost smell them,' he said softly to Paddy, who opened his eyes and nodded, then lowered his head again. Hector looked back at Hazel, and almost as though she could feel his eyes upon her she opened hers and smiled at him. Then she changed her position and adjusted the pillow under her head. In the owner's suite the door of the bathroom opened and Nastiya returned to the emperor-size bed. She pulled the cover over her head and disappeared from view.

'Does she always sleep like a mole in a hole?' Hector asked.

'Mind your own b.l.o.o.d.y business, Cross,' Paddy replied in mock indignation. Hector grinned and watched the red second-hand of the clock click relentlessly around the dial. It was now fifteen after midnight. Then suddenly one of the darkened screens at the end of the array lit up. It showed an infrared image of the tanker's main cargo deck. Hector straightened up in his chair, and his expression changed, his eyes narrowed and his lips compressed into a hard line. This camera, which was sited on the top of the stern tower, had detected live movement, but the image of the foredeck was dark, monochromatic and distant.

'Dave!' Hector said curtly. 'Pull focus on Number Four camera. There is movement there at the port deck rail.' Dave Imbiss blinked the sleep from his eyes, and tapped a message into the keyboard of the camera controls. He zoomed in on the deck below. Now they could make out the gantry from which the rope ladders and the workmen's cradle were suspended. Abruptly a man stepped out from behind the cable winch where he had been concealed. He was dressed all over in black and his features were hidden by a scarf wound around his face. He turned his head and looked behind him. He must have given a command or made a signal because immediately a string of similarly dressed figures swarmed up over the rail and raced down the deck towards the stern tower. Every one of them carried a weapon.

'The Beast has arrived,' Hector said softly. Paddy, Tariq and Hazel sprang up and crowded forward to the desk, from where they stared up at the screen in silence. Hector pressed the 'Send' b.u.t.ton on his Falcon hand-held battle radio.

'Bridge! Cross!' he said into the microphone, and on one of the other TV screens Cyril Stamford stood up from his command chair and reached for his own set.

'Cross! This is Stamford.'

'They are on board,' said Hector, still staring up at the screen. 'Fifteen of them already, but more are coming up the ladder every second. I am losing count. Make no response. They must believe that they have achieved total surprise.' The order was redundant; Stamford and his crew had rehea.r.s.ed this drill many times.

'Roger,' he said. 'Minimum retaliation and quick submission.'

'That's the medicine, Cyril,' Hector agreed and changed frequency on the radio. On another screen they saw Nastiya sit up from under the bedclothes and reach for her radio set.

'Voronova.'

'The pirates are aboard. They will be in your cabin in a few minutes. Do not switch on the lights. Get Vincent into the bed with you. Hurry.'

'Hokay!'

'Remember, no fighting back.'

'Hokay!' she said and Hector again changed the frequency. He grinned at Paddy.

'That wench of yours is a regular little chatterbox, isn't she?'

'One of her many virtues,' Paddy replied seriously. They turned their full attention back to the TV screens as they lit up in quick succession, following the pirates as they stormed up the companion-way of the stern tower towards the bridge. Five of them burst into the crew's quarters. The two men seated at the mess table were clubbed to the deck, and the others were dragged from their bunks and forced to their knees while their wrists were pinioned in front of them with nylon cable ties. Another gang of pirates swarmed into the bridge house howling threats and orders in Arabic.

Cyril Stamford sprang up and ran towards them shouting, 'Who the h.e.l.l are you? You are not allowed here. Get out, d.a.m.n you. Get out!' One of the pirates knocked him to the deck with the b.u.t.t of his AK-47 and two others pounced on him and bound his wrists together with cable ties. The helmsman and the radio operator received the same treatment. One of the pirates went quickly to the control console and closed all the throttles.

'It will take at least ten miles for the s.h.i.+p to stop,' he said in Arabic, and removed his mask to reveal his face. His features were fierce and forbidding, his beard tinged with grey.

'It is Kamal Tippoo Tip!' Tariq exclaimed, staring up at the image. 'He is Adam's uncle and the commander of the pirate flotilla. I would know him anywhere.'

'We were expecting him,' Hector said. 'The one I'm worried about is Uthmann Waddah. He's the only one of the gang who will know that Nastiya is not Hazel, and that Vincent is not me. Keep an eye out for him.'

On the screen Kamal was still giving orders to his men. 'Find the Bannock wh.o.r.e and the Christian a.s.sa.s.sin. They will certainly be in one of the cabins in the deck below us. Secure them but do not hurt them. If you value your own life make sure they stay alive.' Five of his men hastened from the bridge to obey him. Kamal turned to his remaining men.

'Split up into groups of five. Spread out and search every part of the s.h.i.+p. Make certain there are no more of the infidel crew hiding anywhere aboard!' From the situation room they watched the pirates on the CCTV as they rampaged through the s.h.i.+p. If a door was locked they smashed it open. They tore the doors off the life-jacket lockers and storage bins. They fired AK bursts into the locked cupboards in the cabins. In the crew's quarters there was a crucifix fixed to the bulkhead above one of the bunks. A pirate ripped it off laughing and dumped it in the toilet bowl.

In the meantime the men Kamal had sent to the owner's suite had battered down the door with kicks and blows of their rifle b.u.t.ts. Once it was down they swarmed into the suite and raged through the cabins. With insensate violence they destroyed furniture and ornaments, until at last they burst into the bedroom where Nastiya and Vincent were huddled in a corner, feigning abject terror. Like the others they were hauled out and bound with cable ties. Then they were forced to squat on the floor in the middle of the main cabin. Two Arabs stood over them with their AKs pointed at their heads, while one of the others rushed back to the bridge and jubilantly reported to Kamal.

'Revered Prince, it is with great joy that we can inform you that we have captured the murderer of your sainted father and his wh.o.r.e. All thanks and praise to Allah and his Prophet!' Kamal glanced at the control panel to make certain that the s.h.i.+p was hove-to and drifting easily broadside to the wind, then said, 'I will go down to inspect the captives.' When he entered the cabin in the owner's suite he went directly to Vincent Woodward and kicked him in the face.

'You are the animal who killed my father and three of my brothers. When we reach port you will meet a death so exquisite that at the end you will go to it whimpering like a puppy and pleading for release from your agony.' Kamal spoke fluent but heavily accented English. His kick had broken Vincent's nose and a trickle of blood snaked over his lips and dripped from his unshaven chin. Vincent showed no emotion and stared back at Kamal. This irked Kamal unendurably. He yelled into Vincent's upturned face, 'You are silent now, but you will squeal loud enough when you feel the red-hot iron going up your a.n.u.s.' He kicked at his face again, but Vincent dropped his chin and took it on his forehead. Kamal left him, went to where Nastiya was kneeling and stood over her. He took a handful of her thick blonde hair and twisted her head back. He stared into her face. His expression was gloating and vindictive. In the situation room Hazel watched what she had dreaded most beginning to materialize. She seized Hector's hand and shook it violently.

'We have to stop this! He's going to kill her,' she blurted.

'No! He won't do that. He's too much afraid of Adam,' Hector a.s.sured her. She suppressed her next protest, but her grip on his hand tightened with her anxiety as she watched Kamal stoop to stare into Nastiya's face.

'Her eyes are blue,' he said in Arabic. 'The eyes of a devil. This is what I was told to expect, but Uthmann Waddah should be here to make certain of this sow's ident.i.ty.'

In the situation room Hector nodded and smiled grimly.

'Well, that takes care of my chief concern,' he said to his wife. 'Uthmann is not with the boarding party. There is n.o.body on board the s.h.i.+p who can recognize us.'

'How do we know that some of Kamal's thugs have not seen you and me on TV or seen our pictures in the press?' Hazel asked anxiously.

'We don't have to worry about that. There's no television coverage in Puntland, and no English-language press. Adam Tippoo Tip has all the media under his control, on pain of death.'

They all watched Kamal spit into Nastiya's upturned face.

'Look at her insolence, the b.i.t.c.h! I think I should let a few of my men drive the devil out of her with their meat rods.' The men around him smiled expectantly and moved closer to peer into Nastiya's face. She looked back at them so coldly that they dropped their eyes and backed off from her again.

'Dirty little wh.o.r.e!' Kamal put his hand over her face to shove her backwards. As fast as a crocodile s.n.a.t.c.hing a drinking buck from the edge of his pool, Nastiya darted her head forward and clamped her teeth into his hand. Kamal howled with shock and pain. With his free hand he struck her across the face, trying to loosen her hold.

'You poisonous b.i.t.c.h. Let go or I will kill you!'

She smiled through her clenched teeth and his blood mingled with her saliva as it ran down her chin. He raised his free hand for another blow, but suddenly his wounded hand came free and he staggered backwards clutching it to his chest. He stared at it in horror. The two top joints of his little finger were missing. She had bitten them clean off.

'You cow! You pig sow,' he sobbed, 'you filthy animal.' Nastiya opened her mouth and spat his finger at his feet. She smiled at him again and his blood stained her teeth.

'She is a devil from h.e.l.l.' Kamal backed away. 'Kill her! Cut her head off and feed it to the dogs.' Two of his men drew their daggers, but Kamal steadied himself and only just in time stopped them. 'Wait! No, do not kill her,' he panted. 'The Sheikh has commanded that she be brought to him alive.' He grimaced as he took the keffiyeh from around his neck and wrapped it around the stump of his finger. 'We will not kill her yet, but I will humiliate her and punish her. You men, draw lots and the winners will cover her as a dog does a b.i.t.c.h in heat. But first I will speak with the Sheikh. Now lock this man Cross in a separate cabin. Leave five men to guard the wh.o.r.e. Then I must get the s.h.i.+p under way again and on course for Gandanga Bay.' Kamal turned and holding his injured hand against his chest he left the owner's suite and returned to the bridge. He walked slowly and awkwardly, like an old man.