Titanic 2020 t2-1 (14 page)

'What — what is it?' Jimmy shouted up. But she could only stand and stare. Jimmy heaved himself up on to the top of the wall. Claire handed him the camera. All she could say was, 'The ship . . .'

Jimmy took just a moment to focus in. The ship . . . the gangplank . . . and hundreds . . . no
thousands
of people packed around it, trying to force their way on board. There were flashes of light — gunfire — both from the ship and from the quayside. Jimmy raked the camera right along the length of the dock and back towards the city . . . people were emerging from houses carrying suitcases and bags and pushing prams loaded with possessions, all of them moving as quickly as they could in the direction of the
Titanic.

He swung back to the ship and saw the gangplank begin to move backwards, hurling a number of people into the water. As it was drawn fully on to the ship there were several more gun flashes . . . and then there was a mighty blast of the ship's horn that seemed to roll towards them across the city. First Officer Jeffers looked up from the rampart.

'What is it, Jimmy?'

'It's the
Titanic!
She's leaving!'

T
here was no doubt about it, the
Titanic
was
definitely
leaving. Her sleek white form was slowly making its way out of San Juan harbour, much to the distress of all those left behind on the dock — not to mention those watching from the ramparts of the fortress of San Cristobal.

'Do you think it was a trap?' Jimmy asked. 'They set fire to lure us in, waited until we docked, then rushed to the ship?'

First Officer Jeffers, who was watching the scene through a pair of binoculars, shook his head. He could see that thousands were still making their way through the streets of the city towards the dock. 'I would be surprised if it was that organized. I think they were all hiding out of fear of catching the plague: they've probably been without food or power or water: and maybe word spread that we'd come to rescue them and they couldn't help themselves.'

'Well
shouldn't
we be rescuing them?' Claire asked.

'I'm sure Captain Smith took the first few on board, but there's no way we could cope with
that
many — it would be a disaster. He's quite right to sail away — and we'd be with him if it wasn't for a certain
idiot.'
Jeffers turned and glared at a sheepish-looking Petty Officer Benson, who was supposed to have maintained contact with the ship, but had instead dropped the only radio and smashed it — and then hadn't confessed in the hope that they'd get back on board without anyone noticing. Jimmy was just relieved that for once he wasn't getting blamed for something.

'They're not just going to leave us, are they?' Claire asked.

'They might leave me,' said Jimmy, 'but they
definitely
won't leave you.'

They took a final look down at the massive funeral pyre, then Jeffers led them back out of the fortress to the vehicles. They took the emaciated guard, Miguel, with them. He kept saying
thank you, thank you, thank you.
Eventually one of the squad said, 'Thank us if we get back to the ship.'

'Thank you,' said Miguel.

***

Instead of heading for the docks, Jeffers, with a map folded out on his lap, led them out of the city and on to a road heading west towards a town called Dorado. The plan was to get to what would hopefully be a less crowded harbour there and commandeer a boat capable of getting them out to the
Titanic.

They had travelled less than a mile when Benson said, 'Sir, we're being followed.'

Everyone looked back. There was no mistaking it. Three cars.

'Maybe they're just out for a drive,' said Jimmy.

A moment later the first gunshot
pinged
into the road just to their left.

'And may be they're not,' said Claire.

'Step on it,' said Jeffers.

The two Jeeps accelerated, and their pursuers followed suit. It became a race, twisting through abandoned vehicles and careering across sidewalks. Jimmy and Claire were glad that they'd swapped Jeeps, as their original vehicle, now at the back, seemed to be attracting most of the gunfire.

'What do they want?' Jimmy shouted.

Before Jeffers could respond he suddenly swung the Jeep to one side. The road ahead was blocked by several cars. At first this seemed like just another obstacle to get round — but then a shot shattered their windshield. Claire screamed and ducked down. So did Jimmy. They weren't abandoned vehicles — they'd been deliberately placed there!

The second Jeep braked too quickly — veering up on to two wheels and then toppling over on to its side. The four crewmen scrambled out and tugged Miguel after them before racing across towards Jeffers' jeep. But just as they reached it another shot rang out and one of them fell, clutching his leg. Jeffers stood up in his seat, drew his gun and fired three times towards the road block, then swivelled and fired twice at the small pursuing convoy as it bore down on them. The shot crewman was picked up by two of his comrades and helped on board. Then they sped off in the direction they'd come, hopelessly overcrowded now and heading straight for their pursuers. Jeffers kept his foot on the pedal, refusing to budge until the very last moment when he threw the Jeep to one side. It mounted the sidewalk with a heavy thud but kept going, passing by the line of pursuing vehicles at speed, with all of them doing their best to keep their heads down and limbs tucked in as gunshots peppered the vehicle.

Several hundred metres further along, and with their enemies, whoever they were, already turning their own vehicles to continue the pursuit, Jeffers steered them into a side road. He was hoping to find an alternative means of escape — but immediately they saw that it too was blocked, this time by a large truck, lying on its side, its cargo of hundreds of crates of bottles lying smashed around it. The entire area stank of alcohol. Nor was there any going back. The convoy in pursuit was just turning into the side road as well, and had spread out to cover both lanes. Jeffers remained admirably calm — he saw a large set of closed iron gates on his right, topped by a giant
Bacardi
sign and set into a wall at least two metres high which ran as far as they could see in either direction.

Jeffers aimed the Jeep and roared towards the gates. 'Hold on!' he shouted.

Jimmy felt his whole body jar as their vehicle crashed through the gates and then skidded to a halt.

'OK!' Jeffers shouted. 'Close them up quick! Prepare to repel!'

Two of the crewmen dashed for the gates even as the pursuing convoy raced towards them. The others took up shooting positions and began to fire at the onrushing vehicles. One immediately veered off and crashed into the overturned truck, another braked suddenly, causing two cars following behind to crash into each other and it.

With their immediate entrance blocked, the remaining vehicles came to a halt on the far side of the road. Drivers and passengers slipped out and took up more protected positions behind them. Jeffers drew his crewmen back from the gate to the Jeep, and they all crouched in behind it. Behind them there was a steep grass bank which boasted several thick bushes, and it was behind one of these that they laid the shot crewman. Claire ripped off part of his torn trouser leg and turned it into a rough bandage. Then, not forgetting her new job, took some photographs of her handiwork.

The private road they were on led back towards a large group of buildings, several hundred metres away. Jeffers was peering towards them, trying to decide if they might make a better hiding place, when Jimmy nudged his arm.

'It's where they make Bacardi rum,' he said. 'I wrote about it for the paper. It's famous all over the world. It usually costs ten dollars to take a tour and you get two free drinks.'

'Thanks, Jimmy,' said Jeffers, 'you're a mine of useless information.'

'HEY!'

The voice came from beyond the gate. A man was approaching, with his hands raised.

Jeffers told his crewmen to keep him covered then walked forward to the gate. Claire tried to stand up to take a photo, but was hauled back down. The man on the other side was heavily built, with a short black beard, and he wore a T-shirt which had once been white. He nodded at Jeffers then snapped, 'We want the girl.'

'Why?'

'We know who she is. You give us the girl, we let you go. Otherwise, we come in and take her.'

'You can try.'

They locked eyes. 'OK, sailor boy, if you want. But I tell you this, we raided the city armoury. We have weapons here that will blow you to pieces, man.'

The man behind him nodded. Jeffers saw someone else step out from the cover of one of the cars carrying some kind of missile launcher. He wasn't really sure what type — he was First Officer on a
cruise
ship. There wasn't much demand for heavy weapons there.

Behind the Jeep, Jimmy glanced at Claire. She looked very pale indeed.

'How would they know who you are?' Jimmy whispered.

Claire shook her head.

Back at the gate, Jeffers asked the bearded man why they wanted Claire.

'Why you think? Her daddy owns the ship. We have her, they'll bring it back. You have food, you have medical supplies, you can take us somewhere that's not dying.'

Jeffers shook his head. 'We have the plague on board as well.'

'Anything's better than here. We want off this island. So you give her up now or we'll blast you.'

'If you fire that thing, you will kill her as well.'

The man shrugged. 'Then we're no worse off. So you hand her over, now.'

Jeffers glanced at his watch. 'We need to talk. Give us one hour.'

'Fifteen minutes.'

'Thirty.'

'This ain't no car showroom, man! No bargains. Fifteen, or we start shooting.' As he finished speaking, three more cars, full of heavily-armed men, drove up.

Jeffers looked at them warily, then slowly backed away.

***

Claire immediately said, 'Please don't give me up.'

'How did they know?' Jeffers asked.

Claire looked at the ground. Benson looked down as well.

'OK, let's have it. One of you.'

'It's my fault,' said Claire. 'When we were at the City Hall I asked Mr Benson if I could use the radio. He said not without permission. But I told him my daddy owned the ship, which meant that 
I
had permission. So he let me. I just wanted to know how my daddy was, but the radio operator on board didn't want to check for me because he'd been told to keep the frequencies clear for emergency signals, so I had to explain to him just exactly how important I was and . . . well, I suppose those guys . . . maybe were listening for radio signals and . . . well . . .'

Jeffers sighed. Then he looked at Benson. 'Not having a real good day, are you, Benson?'

'No, sir.'

'And you know you're going to pay for it, don't you?'

'Yes, sir.' He cleared his throat. 'Ahm — how?'

Jeffers smiled.

***

The gunmen watched as the crew from the
Titanic
argued loudly amongst themselves. At one point they began to place bets as two sailors exchanged punches and wrestled each other to the ground. They didn't notice Jimmy dart from one bush to the next up the high bank, and then disappear down the other side. They weren't aware that he was running as fast as he could towards the rum factory, while crouched down, undercover.

He had less than ten minutes to find what he was looking for. He had been given clear instructions. It was a massive factory. It stank not only of fermenting alcohol, but also of death. He passed six bodies, horrendously bloated and blue. He charged along corridors, bursting through doors; through a museum, a tourist cafe, then across a courtyard.

Bingo!

A warehouse full of bottles of Bacardi.

OK. Now — in Jeffers' exact words: 'Choose a battlefield.'

First Officer Jeffers may not have been familiar with heavy weapons, but he knew a thing or two about strategy. This wasn't due to any military training. It was due to a misspent youth playing with toy soldiers and organizing war games amongst his friends. There was hardly a campaign in the history of warfare that he hadn't recreated in his garage at home, from the grandest battle involving hundreds of thousands of men to tiny exchanges involving guerrilla fighters.

So he had been able to explain to Jimmy very quickly and in precise detail exactly what was needed. They were only a small unit with few weapons, facing a heavily-armed, numerically superior force. They had to adapt. They needed the element of surprise, the advantage of high ground and the ability to lure their enemy into the trap.

Jimmy spotted what he thought would be the best place to make their stand. There was a narrow alley running between the museum and one of the warehouses, which led on to a courtyard. It was a dead end, with walls on three sides and first- and second-floor windows overlooking it.

Jimmy hurried to the end of the alley. The Jeep, with Claire and the crew still gathered behind it, was about three hundred metres away. He put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Jeffers heard it immediately and waved back.

***

The leader of the gunmen was called Mendoza. He had already lost three sisters and two nephews to the plague. Before you start feeling particularly sorry for him, though, you should realize that before the plague came to Puerto Rico he was a gangster and a drug dealer. That is not to say he deserved to lose family members he loved, just that he was not a particularly nice man to start with. Even before the plague, if there was profit in it, he would happily have held hostage the daughter of a wealthy ship owner. His idea of charity was to give the sailors sixteen minutes to give the girl up, rather than fifteen.

Just as the second hand on his expensive watch — stolen from the dead wrist of a plague victim — came round to complete the sixteenth minute, the Jeep behind the gates suddenly started up, the crew crowded on to it and it took off at speed towards the factory buildings.

Mendoza and his gang — now twenty strong — immediately fired off a fusillade of shots after it, but to no effect. They sprang towards their vehicles and crashed through the gates after them.

The Jeep was built for rough terrain, not for speed: while Mendoza had had the pick of the city's abandoned sports cars, so his expensive little convoy was soon gaining ground. The Jeep turned off to the right and disappeared down an alley between two of the factory buildings. Mendoza smiled. He lived nearby and was familiar with the layout of the complex. He knew that this was a dead end; that the Jeep was trapped.

Good. He would enjoy this.

Mendoza led his cars up the alley and out into the courtyard. He saw the Jeep straight ahead — abandoned. The men —
the cowards!
— had clearly run away, but the girl he was after was standing in front of the vehicle, her head bowed in submission, her face hidden by a baseball cap and her skirt blowing in the cool breeze.

The cars pulled up a dozen metres short of the girl and the gangsters piled out, bristling with weapons. Mendoza signalled for them to stay back.

'She is for me!' he shouted.