Year of the Golden Ape (17 page)

^{It was Winter who had chosen the Czech Skorpion .32 pistol for arming the terrorists. LeCat would have preferred a heavier-calibre gun. The version which slipped inside a shoulder holster carried ten rounds; another version which would not fit inside holsters carried twenty rounds. It was, up to a point, like a small sub-machine gun. Winter had issued the strictest instructions that there should be no shooting, but in case something did happen a heavier-calibre weapon would have been more dangerous; after all, they were landing on a floating oil tank.}

^{'Going down...'}

^{The ocean came up to them hungrily, a grey, white-capped ocean, cold and forbidding. Winter was descending towards the water as the tanker came on at fourteen knots, and it looked as though they could be submerged - with the massive steel bow riding over them. LeCat leant sideways, saw the unstable water coming up.}

^{He disliked the sensation because he was wholly at the mercy of another man's skill. Slipping the Skorpion back inside its shoulder holster, he pulled his parka front together to hide it. Behind him another thirteen men crouched together nervously, not enjoying the experience, not looking at each other for fear their nervousness showed. There was Andre Dupont, who had flown with Winter the day they had attacked the Italian Syndicate motor cruiser in the Mediterranean, who had phoned through LeCat's order to Hamburg that Sullivan must now be killed. There was Alain Blancard, a veteran of Algeria and a skilled sniper. And there were eleven others.}

^{LeCat, ignoring the intense vibration, the thumping beat of the rotor overhead, pressed his cheek hard against the window. Where was the bloody tanker? They were almost in the sea. Had Winter, despite his pilot's skill, mistimed it? LeCat's stomach ached with the strain and his hands were sweating. Where the hell was the ship ? Grey steel slid past below them, so close he felt he could reach out and touch it. There was a bump. They were landing.}

^{'Text book landing,' Bennett observed as the US Coast Guard helicopter hit the deck.}

^{The pilot cut the motor, the rotor-whizz faded, the blades appeared, spinning fast, then more slowly before they stopped moving. The three seamen on the forecastle with fire-fighting apparatus ran down on to the main deck as the machine's door opened and a tall man jumped out, landed in a crouch, straightened up and headed along the catwalk for the bridge.}

^{'Doesn't waste much time, does he?' Bennett remarked. 'Big chap, must be six feet tall...'}

^{The pilot was still wearing his helmet and face shield over his eyes and this gave him a sinister appearance as he half-ran along the catwalk, glanced up at the bridge, saluted and disappeared. In the distance Bennett saw two more men jump out of the machine and then start talking to the three seamen. It all seemed very normal, a routine rescue 'Five more men have come out of that machine,' Bennett said sharply. 'How many is the damned thing carrying?'}

^{Mackay strode to the front of the bridge and stared along the main deck. He counted five more men coming out of the helicopter while he watched, but they were all staying close to the landing point, chatting with the three seamen as far as he could see. 'Send the bosun down there,' he said. 'Send him with a walkie-talkie...'}

^{'Stay exactly where you are, gentlemen. If anyone moves the captain dies from a bullet - instead of from old age —'}

^{Mackay spun round. The pilot stood in the wrong place - he was standing at the entrance from the starboard wing deck. He must have dodged along under the bridge when he was out of sight. He held a pistol in his right hand and the muzzle was aimed at Mackay's stomach. The gun, with only one-and-a-half inches of the barrel protruding from the body of the weapon, had a highly lethal look.}

^{'This is a hi-jack,' the pilot warned. 'We shan't hesitate to shoot...'}

^{'Who the hell are you ?' Mackay demanded.}

^{'The Weathermen. Stop asking questions. You . . .' The pilot gestured towards Bennett. 'Go and stand at the front of the bridge where my men can see you. Then wave to them - swing your arms round like a windmill.'}

^{The helmsman, a man called Harris from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, gripped his wheel and kept the vessel on course. He had received no fresh orders from the captain. By the window Betty Cordell froze. 'Do as he tells you,' Mackay said quietly to Bennett.}

^{'Move!' The pilot elevated his pistol, aiming it point blank at Mackay's chest. 'Do you want to get your captain killed?'}

^{Bennett moved, went over to the window and swivelled his arms in a windmill motion. A group of men came running down the catwalk at a fast trot, leaving two men behind with the seamen at the landing point. Bennett counted twelve men running down the catwalk, all of them armed, the man in front very nimble in spite of his short height and wide shoulders. They vanished under the bridge.}

^{The pilot waited, holding the pistol very steady, and twice he glanced at the bridge clock as though checking the elapse of a
specific number of minutes. The helmsman, a short, dark-haired man with quick eyes, stayed frozen behind his wheel. Betty Cordell stood stiffly, her hands clenched as she stared at the eyes behind the shield. They were stunned, all of them except perhaps Bennett whom Mackay had ordered to obey the pilot, sensing that he might have done something dangerous; so easy to make a quick gesture of resistance, and so easy to get shot when the other man has the gun.}

^{There was a clatter of feet and two armed men appeared from the same direction the pilot had come - from the starboard wing deck. They took up positions on either side of the bridge, aiming their pistols so they had the prisoners in a potential crossfire. The pilot spoke to one of them in French, which Mackay understood. 'Has LeCat gone straight to the engine-room? Good. When I leave the bridge these people are to stay exactly where they are -including the woman.' He looked at Betty Cordell, speaking in English. 'Why are you on board?'}

^{'I'm Betty Cordell, a reporter. I came for a story. It looks as though I've got one...'}

^{The pilot smiled bleakly. 'You may wish you had stayed at home. You will remain here on the bridge until I decide where to put you. You are a problem I didn't anticipate.' He looked at Mackay. 'Get your ship back on course, Captain.'}

^{'On course?'}

^{'Yes, for San Francisco. And be very careful what instructions you give. I have a man who can shoot a sextant and plot a course as well as your first officer.'}

^{Mackay grunted. 'You know the penalty for piracy on the high seas?'}

^{The pilot walked towards the captain, stopping when he was a few feet away, leaving a clear field of fire for the guards at either side of the bridge. Stripping off his helmet, he looked down at Mackay who was five feet eight tall, inches shorter than the thin, bony-faced Englishman. 'My name is Winter. I seem to remember I asked you to issue a certain order.' His voice was soft and menacing and Mackay stiffened. 'You do value the lives of your crew, I take it?'}

^{'Mr Bennett,' Mackay said crisply. 'Put the ship back on course for San Francisco. Increase speed to seventeen knots.'}

^{Bennett issued the order to Harris, the helmsman, and then the bridge phone rang. 'That may be the engine-room chief, Brady,' Winter told Mackay. 'At this moment there are four armed men in that part of the ship. Warn Brady that he is to carry out any instruction they give him - and that he will continue to receive all navigational orders from you.' He smiled bleakly. 'Engine-room chiefs are notoriously men with minds of their own ...'}

^{Mackay said nothing as he lifted the phone, then personally gave the order to increase speed. He added his own warning: 'These men who have come aboard are armed and dangerous - do nothing that could affect the welfare of the crew, Chief...'}

^{'Very good.' Winter turned to Betty Cordell who had been watching him for several minutes as though trying to assess what kind of man this was. 'I say it again, Miss Cordell - you will not leave this bridge without my personal permission. You are a problem I shall have to work out...'}

^{'She is an innocent passenger,' Mackay broke in with a rasp in his voice. 'She is also an American citizen and I would advise you...'}

^{'When I require your advice I will request it. If you had let me finish what I was saying I would have said I am concerned for her safety.' Winter glanced at the French guards who did not understand what he was saying. 'Some of these men are not the best of company for women, so you must not do anything foolish. Later, I will decide whether you should be confined to your cabin for the rest of the trip...'}

^{Winter left the bridge abruptly and Mackay stared at his first officer. 'I don't understand that man, Winter, at all. And who the hell are The Weathermen ?'}

^{'A particularly savage bunch of American underground terrorists. They blew up a lot of banks in the States a few years ago. I thought they were all dead...'}

^{'Someone resurrected them,' Mackay muttered. 'And keep your voice down. I'm not convinced these two thugs with us on the bridge don't understand English. I also don't understand why
Winter has Frenchmen with him when you say The Weathermen were Americans...'}

^{'The same thought had crossed my mind.'}

^{Mackay looked across at the swarthy, tanned ruffian who was leaning against the starboard bulkhead, one ankle crossed over the other, his pistol barrel resting on his left forearm. The barrel was aimed at Bennett but it was the amused, insolent way the Frenchman was studying Betty Cordell's figure Mackay found most disturbing. 'One thing puzzles me, Bennett,' he said softly. 'Winter said this was a hi-jack - and yet he still wants us to continue on course for San Francisco. Doesn't make sense.'}

^{'It shouldn't be long before they tumble to the fact that something's wrong here, sir -I mean the people on the mainland,' Bennett murmured. 'Kinnaird got that signal off before these swine came aboard - reporting that we'd picked up a Coast Guard chopper. If Winter hi-jacked the machine as well, the Coast Guard will know where to look for it now.'}

^{'So maybe in a few hours we can look forward to a US cruiser looming over the horizon. In which case we shall have a lot to thank Mr Kinnaird for ...'}

<sup>Within fifteen minutes of landing aboard the
Challenger
- as soon as he left the bridge - Winter proceeded rapidly with certain precautions. He called Bennett down from the bridge to accompany him on his swift tour of the ship. His first trip was to the dispensary next to the galley. The poisons cupboard, containing drugs - including sleeping pills - was locked up and Winter pocketed the key. 'I wouldn't like the cook to start mixing something with our food,' he told Bennett. 'Most unprofessional...'</sup>

^{He then demanded that Bennett hand over the pass-key which opened every cabin door on the ship. Escorted by a guard, the first officer fetched the key from his cabin. Winter pocketed this key and then made his way to the boat-deck with Bennett and a guard. He waited while the guard climbed up into each of the two large boats and heaved the hand-cranked radio transmitters, part of the standard equipment of a lifeboat, overboard.}

^{'For God's sake,' Bennett protested, 'if something happens to this ship.. .'}

^{'Something has happened to it,' Winter reminded him. 'And I don't want spare transmitters hanging about where some quick-witted seaman can send out an SOS. Now, I want all the walkie-talkies you use when you communicate with each other while the ship's docking...'}

^{Winter also reserved the captain's day cabin for those of the ship's crew not on duty to be kept inside. This reduced the limited manpower at his disposal which had to be employed on guard duty. As Winter had foreseen two months ago when he met Ahmed Riad in Tangier, the most suitable ship for a hi-jack was a large oil tanker - with no passengers, a compact crew of twenty-eight men, and the living and working quarters concentrated in one part of the ship, in the island bridge, a fact which gradually dawned on Bennett. 'You've been planning this for a long time, I see,' he commented grimly as the walkie-talkies were locked away in the cabin Winter had reserved for his headquarters.}

^{'I worked the whole thing out in three days,' Winter told him. 'You must admit we're reasonably well-organised now. You can't poison us, you can't unlock a single cabin on the ship, you can't communicate with the outside world. Have I forgotten anything ?'}

^{'If I think of something,' Bennett replied grimly, 'I won't let you know.'}

^{'I'm speaking from Seattle,' Sullivan told Victor Harper when the chairman of Harper Tankships came on the line. 'I tried to call you from Anchorage...'}

^{'Miss Herries told me. Have you talked to Mackay?'}

^{'No. The ship left early...'}

^{'I know,' Harper interjected irritably. 'There was a fire at the oil terminal so Mackay cleared out - with two tanks empty . . . Oh, bugger it. Wait a minute . . .' There was a pause. 'Just knocked over the damned candle. You wouldn't believe it but we're out of oil for the lamps - and I'm in the oil business. Power cut here, of course...' At 3.30pm in Seattle it was 10.30pm at Harper's home in Sunningdale. 'What's all this about the
Challenger?'
Harper demanded.}