Hellfire (28 page)

The cargo ship itself was rocking heavily in the waves, and the rungs of the caving ladder felt flimsy beneath his feet. Several times, Danny felt like he was in freefall, or as if the rungs had disappeared entirely. He gripped the ladder
very
firmly.

He was a third of the way up when it happened. The air seemed to boom and there was a sudden downward lurch from the
Golden Coral
.
Danny was losing height. For a moment he thought he’d fallen: his body was swinging away from the hull of the ship, and water was approaching fast from below. He had a fraction of a second to reassure himself that he was still clutching the ladder when his body slammed into the ocean and he found himself completely submerged.

He had to suppress a moment of panic. If the grappling hook at the top of the ladder came loose, he was fucked. His life vest was inflating and his ears were full of the deadened grind of the ship’s engines.
Hold on
, he told himself.
Just hold on
 . . .

And then, just as suddenly, he was yanked back up out of the water as the cargo ship straightened up. He flew through the air and his body slammed hard against the side of the ship. All the wind was knocked from his lungs, but he forced himself to keep on climbing, his cold hands gripping the narrow tubing that formed the rungs for all they were worth, the metal digging hard into his hands.

The ship yawed a second time, and the sea rose, but now he was high enough up the ladder that he only skimmed the surface of the water. He carried on climbing, and thirty seconds later he was clambering over the railings of the cargo ship.

Danny was the first on deck, though he could see the grappling hooks of the other two ladders spaced at ten-metre intervals towards the front of the ship, and it only took a couple of seconds before he saw Goldie climb over the railings, dripping wet. The deck itself was wet and slippery, and the yawing of the vessel felt even more pronounced up here. He immediately checked up and down the bridge for hostiles – none, but he knew he wasn’t more than twenty or thirty metres from the bridge, so he remained hyper-alert – then unclipped a carabiner and loop line from his ops waistcoat and used them to clip the ladder more permanently to the vessel. Then he gave two flashes of his Surefire torch over the side to indicate to Caitlin and Tony that the next of them could board.

Goldie did the same, then crouched down in the firing position, his weapon pointing forward. Danny pulled off his wet, inflated life vest then crouched down and covered aft, his eyes picking out the main features of the vessel. It was heavily laden with storage containers. They were three units high, and the closest of them was just five metres from Danny’s position. The bridge tower – which Danny knew housed both the crew rooms and the engine room down below – loomed above them, the lights from inside glowing bright in the darkness. He raised his NV goggles, and took a moment to acclimatise and work out the geography of their position.

To reach the bridge tower, they would have to move along the deck twenty metres from Danny’s position, then take a left where the line of storage containers ended. He tried to calculate the odds of there being any guards on deck. Minimal in a high sea state like this, but still a possibility. They would need to be very careful. At least, he thought to himself, the massive grind of the ship’s engines and the crashing of the sea would entirely camouflage any gunshot, if only while they were out on deck.

He looked over his shoulder. All three teams were aboard. Danny raised one hand above his head and sharply jabbed his finger forward twice. Silently, Team One – led by Goldie – moved past him, their weapons engaged. When they reached the end of the cargo containers, one of them swung round the corner, then made a hand gesture to indicate the all-clear. Their movements were sharp and efficient. Danny could tell that the Aussies were good soldiers.

At another hand gesture from Danny, Team Two moved carefully in the same direction. Covered by Team One, they turned the corner. Ten seconds later, Goldie raised one hand. It was time for Danny’s unit to move.

With the butt of his rifle still pressed hard into his shoulder, Danny led Tony and Caitlin along the deck. They swung round the corner towards the bridge tower. Team Two were in the firing position ten metres along. The entrance to the bridge tower was fifteen metres beyond them: a grey steel door with a circular porthole window near the top. As they approached, Danny saw that the inside of the window was misted with condensation. Three metres out, he turned to Tony and Caitlin.

‘Cover me.’

Caitlin stepped towards the door, ready to open it. Tony positioned himself behind Danny, ready to fire if necessary as Danny crossed the threshold. Danny nodded at Caitlin and she swung the door open.

A blast of hot air from inside the ship slammed into Danny’s face. No personnel. Four metres beyond the door, a spiral steel staircase, much like the one they’d used in the frigate. Danny stepped towards it. Checked up. Down. No sign of the crew. He spoke into the radio. ‘Stairwell clear. Team One advance.’

It took fifteen seconds for Team One to leapfrog the others and arrive at the stairwell, by which time Tony and Caitlin were inside the bridge tower. Without waiting for any further instruction, Team One headed down the stairs towards the engine room, which it was their role to secure.

Danny felt his jugular pumping. A minute passed. Ominous creaks and groans echoed from the body of the cargo ship. It sounded as if it was going to break up any second, but Danny knew that there was movement and give in these old vessels, especially in rough seas. He kept his attention focused on the stairwell, ready to drop anyone who appeared from the top of the bridge tower.

A radio communication burst into his earpiece. ‘
This is Team One leader
,’ said an Australian voice. ‘
We have the engine room secured. Three crew members down
.’ And before Danny could ask the question, he added: ‘
No Chinese. But one of them managed to put a Mayday through to the bridge. They’ll be expecting you up there
.’

Shit
, Danny breathed. Then, louder, into his radio: ‘Can you kill the lights on the bridge tower?’

‘
Give me thirty seconds.
’

They waited. The ship creaked and groaned.

The lights died.

Danny immediately clipped down the NV goggles on his helmet. The world turned hazy green. ‘Team Two, go,’ he instructed into his radio.

Fifteen seconds later, Team Two were moving into the bridge tower. Danny, Tony and Caitlin kept their weapons trained on the stairwell as their three Aussie colleagues, who also had their NV engaged, advanced up to the first floor. Once more, they remained in position, listening to nothing but the storm outside and the creaking of the ship.

This time it was a full two minutes before they had a communication. ‘
Team two leader. First floor clear. No personnel.
’

‘Roger that. Team Three moving to the bridge now.’

Danny nodded at Tony and Caitlin. It was time to move up.

Tony went first, weapon and NV engaged. Eight steps before he reached a winder on the metal stairwell. He stopped and covered the next flight while Danny and Caitlin advanced. Danny grew warier with each step. Whoever was on the bridge, they knew someone was coming. There would be resistance. Probably armed.

They passed the main entrance on to the first-floor crew quarters, then continued single file up the stairs, Danny following Tony’s grainy green figure, his finger resting lightly on the trigger of his HK.

They found themselves on a metal landing, a single door leading off it. Danny knew from his study of the ship’s plans that this was the entrance to the bridge. He could make out rivets in the door which told him it was made of sturdy steel. If there were shooters behind it, it would act as a shield, of sorts.

Tony had taken up position by the door, lowered his gun and removed a flashbang from his ops waistcoat. He squeezed the lever, then pulled the pin. Danny and Caitlin stood three metres from the door, covering it with their assault rifles. Danny raised three fingers.

Two fingers.

One.

Go.

Eighteen

Tony kicked open the door, just a couple of inches. Danny immediately heard two sounds.

The first was the ocean. Even though they were indoors, the sound of waves was loud.

The second was gunshot.

There was a burst of fire from the bridge. Danny estimated four weapons. There was a tinny sound as the rounds ricocheted off the metal door, immediately followed by a deafening crack as Tony chucked in the flashbang and stood clear as it exploded. Danny closed his eyes momentarily to stop himself being blinded by the flash, but opened them as soon as he heard the noise, and started to advance.

The grenade had killed the gunfire. Now Danny could hear nothing but panicked shouting. Tony kicked the door open.

The doorway framed a picture of chaos. In the green haze of his NV, Danny saw three figures – ten metres from his position, at the far side of the bridge, backs up against the window that surrounded it. It was clearly pitch black for them, here in the middle of the ocean with no light to see by: they were staring at different angles across the room, obviously totally disorientated by the blinding flash and deafening crack of the flashbang. They all had weapons, though – pistols – and were waving them around wildly, evidently wanting to fire but not knowing in which direction to aim.

They couldn’t see the Regiment unit, but the Regiment unit could see them. From his brief glance, Danny didn’t think any of them were Mr Chiu. But they could start shooting any second, so they needed to be put down in any case.

Danny and Caitlin had clear shots. Two from Danny, one from Caitlin. The targets were on the floor less than a second after the door was opened.

As soon as the three targets were down, Danny saw why the noise of the ocean was so loud. Someone had smashed the reinforced window opposite the entrance to the bridge. Impossible to do without a sturdy tool, and sure enough Danny saw a fire axe lying on the floor just in front of it. Someone must have escaped.

He stepped over the threshold of the bridge. The needed to move fast while any further occupants were still disorientated. A metre into the room he scanned left, then right. He quickly picked out the one remaining person there: a figure crouching down to his two o’clock by a panel of instruments.

It wasn’t Chiu. A single shot from Danny’s HK and he was neutralised. Danny ran to the broken window and looked out. It was a drop of seven or eight metres to the deck – doable, with a lucky landing. And luck had been on the side of whoever had jumped from the bridge. The aft deck was an open space of about fifty square metres, leading up to a high railing that overlooked the water. Danny could make out shattered glass on the deck. But no sign of anyone.

He spoke immediately into his radio. ‘All units, the bridge is clear. We have personnel on deck, most likely armed. We need a full sweep of the deck, from aft forward.
Go!
’

He turned to Caitlin and slung her the orange portable VHF radio. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Make contact with the ops room. Update them. Tony, with me.’

Caitlin caught the radio with one hand as Danny and Tony hurried back through the darkness of the bridge tower. Danny tried to tread as lightly as he could so that his feet didn’t clatter down the metal staircase.

On the ground floor, they pushed through the heavy door and manoeuvred themselves on to the aft deck. The six Aussie SF guys were waiting for them there, evenly spaced across the open deck, weapons engaged. A quick examination of the broken glass from the bridge window revealed a puddle of blood. Someone had injured themselves jumping out. As there was no sign of enemy targets here, they needed to check all points on the vessel forward of this position. ‘We sweep the top deck first,’ Danny said, ‘then we move down. Remember, we need Chiu alive. If you see him, hold your fire and apprehend him.’

Danny ran to the starboard side of the vessel, while Tony stayed port. Since the central part of the vessel’s top deck was taken up by storage units, to sweep the ship they would need to move forward in two groups, one along the deck on either side.

They did this with quiet, clinical efficiency. Danny and his three Aussie colleagues moved four abreast, the butts of their weapons pressed sharply into their shoulders, safety switches on semi-automatic. Danny’s ears roared with the noise of the ship’s engines, and with the sea crashing against the hull. But he kept his focus laser-sharp on the deck in front of him, sensitive to any unexpected movement that would give him a split warning of an incoming threat.

They moved forward twenty metres. To their left, a three-metre-wide gap in the storage containers. Danny made a gesture with his left hand and one of his team headed silently down this corridor. The remaining three kept moving forward.

Tony’s voice. ‘
There’s a trail of blood on the deck. Someone came this way.
’

‘Keep following it,’ Danny instructed.

Another twenty metres. They were about halfway along the vessel. A second corridor to the left. Another member of the team – Goldie this time – peeled off to secure it. Danny and his remaining colleague moved forward.