Year of the Golden Ape (37 page)

^{At the first mention of a Marine boat, Gen. Lepke went into the next room, picked up the phone. There were Marine assault craft - full of Marines, too - hidden at strategic points behind Alcatraz Island and further back along the waterfront, well away from the tanker. But none of them could have been seen, none of them could have put out into the Bay. Lepke was appalled, intensely worried as he spoke to the Presidio, told them to check immediately while he waited.}

^{He returned to the main office in less than two minutes to hear the sound of a shot coming over the speaker. LeCat was playing the same trick a third time, the sadistic bastard. MacGowan, shoulders hunched forward, sat staring at the speaker. He raised a hand to stop Lepke saying anything. A voice came over the speaker. Mackay's, very subdued, the voice of a man stunned with shock.}

^{'They have just shot Foley...'}

^{Lepke scribbled on a desk pad, pushed the note in front of MacGowan, who glanced at it, looked back at the speaker.
No Marine craft has left the shore. Positive. Impossible LeCat could have seen one.
Mackay was speaking again in the same disembodied voice.}

^{"They are putting his body out of the bridge window ... it just went down ...' The voice changed, became something between a strangled roar and anguish. 'No! For God's sake, not again ...', Sounds which might have been a scuffle, then LeCat's voice faintly... 'Stay where you are, Bennett-or we shoot Mackay...', Another shot, deafening, very close to the speaker, then another, strange, younger voice.}

^{"They've shot Wrigley . . . the steward . . . the fuckers. For Christ's sake, MacGowan, storm the ship before it's too late ...' The voice ended in a grunt, a groan, as though its owner had just been clubbed on the head. Then there was a terrible fusillade of shots, a whole magazine being emptied. Lepke scribbled another, shorter note.
Storm the ship!
MacGowan shook his head. He could count. Two men dead, but twenty-seven hostages still alive -unless that fusillade ... LeCat came back on the air.}

^{'Those last shots went out of the window. Mackay!'}

^{Mackay's voice came over the speaker again. 'They shot Foley and Wrigley ...' His voice was firmer. 'The other shots went out of the window. There are twenty-seven of us still alive. LeCat says he will not shoot any more...'}

^{'Not yet!' LeCat again. 'The Marine boat has turned away. If it does not come back the hostages are safe. I warned you, MacGowan, I warned you again and again ...'}

^{'No Marine boat has approached the
Challenger,'
MacGowan said in a steady monotone, keeping the fury out of his voice. It could be that LeCat's sanity was trembling in the balance. 'No boats at all are in the Bay. The Port Authority will not permit any craft to leave its berth...'}

^{'You are lying! You were testing me! Had I not shot those men your Marines would have stormed this ship! You have killed those men...'}

^{MacGowan sat quite still, his face blank as he listened to LeCat raving on. He didn't sound insane, he decided, just savage, a terrorist, a man from a world the public found hard to take in, so he had the advantage - the advantage of brutality. LeCat suddenly seemed to calm down. The unexpected switch to reasonableness was in itself unnerving.}

^{'Why have the lights gone out all round the Bay?'}

^{'Massive power failure...'}

^{'Is the bus waiting for us on Pier 31 ?'}

^{MacGowan clenched his fist, digging the nails into the palm. 'It has been there for many hours,' he said in the same monotone.}

^{'And the plane? At the airport?'}

^{'Like the bus...'}

^{'They are considering my demand in Washington ?'}

^{The President is holding a special Cabinet meeting at this moment . . .' Soothe him down, play up to his monstrous ego, keep his mind on something else - while twenty-seven hostages are still living. LeCat went off the air quietly, and even that was disturbing.}

^{In the tension - made worse because none of it was seen, it was only heard, coming through the metallic, neutral speaker - no one noticed MacGowan's personal secretary, sworn to secrecy, slip inside the room and leave the met. report in a tray.}

^{What everyone had hoped for, prayed for, was happening. The siege train was returning. It moved past Mile Rocks lighthouse -which sent the report - filled Golden Gate channel with dense fog, reached the bridge, surged under it to spread out into the vast Bay beyond, along the Marin shore to the north, then it advanced southwards and to the east, heading for Alcatraz - for the point where
Challenger
was at anchor half a mile from Pier 31. Judging by its progress, it would envelop the fo'c'sle first.}

^{Winter, grimy with dirt, his jaw stubbled with beard, had the hatch open a few inches when he heard the first shot. With very little food in his aching stomach his hearing was exceptionally acute and he thought he heard a moment later a distant thud, like a body hitting the main deck, dropped from a height. He decided he had imagined it when he heard the second shot, then a fusillade, much louder than the previous muffled reports, so loud he instinctively ducked thinking they were firing at him. He waited, felt Cassidy's hand impatiently tugging at his thigh. He waited a little longer, then closed the hatch and went back down the ladder.}

^{'Not yet...'}

^{'What the hell is going on? Are they shooting hostages?' the American demanded. 'By God, we'd better make a move ...'}

^{'Not yet,' Winter repeated. "The foremast lights are still on, the lookout is in his perch, there's no fog yet to cover us ..."}

^{'I agree with Cassidy,' Sullivan said. 'I don't like it...'}

^{'You don't like it!' Winter exploded. 'You believe I like it? I think they just shot two hostages to show MacGowan they mean business. But I can count. That means twenty-seven people are still alive...'}

^{'There was a fusillade,' Cassidy snapped.}

^{'Which was a whole magazine being emptied out of the window, I'm sure. It was much louder than the first two shots. Look, there are only three of us. It doesn't matter what happens to any of us, but we have to do the job first time or we're dead - and so are the hostages. We've been stuck in this stinking hole for over eighteen hours - we can stick it out a bit longer ...'}

^{The carpenter's store did stink by now. The stench of stale urine mingled with the stench of sour sweat. All three men were filthy, thirsty, bone-weary. Whatever awaited them, it would be a pleasure to get to hell out of this cesspit. Winter checked the hatch five minutes later, came back down the ladder, shaking his head, but Sullivan thought he saw a change of expression. 'Is something happening?'}

^{'Give it a few more minutes...'}

^{'Come back to the bridge immediately, Andre ...'}

^{Having recalled the foremast lookout, LeCat put the walkie-talkie down on to the table he had had brought on to the bridge. He was eating all his meals up here now, living in the wheelhouse. Since the
Challenger
entered the Bay the Frenchman had slept no more than MacGowan, and like the Governor his face was pouchy-eyed and strained, but his eyes were still alert.}

^{They would be leaving the ship within an hour. LeCat looked at the miniature transmitter resting on the table beside the walkie-talkie. That would be his last job before they left, to turn the switch which would activate the timer mechanism. LeCat also had been waiting for heavy fog to obscure the ship; under its protecting cover they would leave in the Zodiac which was now waiting on the main deck with the outboard motor attached.}

^{Most of his team, like LeCat himself, had now changed into wet-suits. Several of them stood around on the bridge, sinister figures in the gloom - only the binnacle light gave a faint glow, otherwise the bridge was in darkness. LeCat was confident his plan was working. Two hostages had been shot, which would deter MacGowan from launching any attack - he still had the remaining twenty-six hostages to think of. And it was twenty-six, not twenty-seven, but only LeCat knew that Monk, the man he had pushed over the side, was dead.}

^{It would take fifteen minutes to reach the seaplane waiting in Richardson Bay. But first, the rest of the crew had to be taken
to the day cabin. That was where it would be done. He looked round the bridge. Mackay was standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back as he watched the fog rolling in. Bennett, the man who had shouted into the speaker, warning MacGowan that Wrigley had been shot, was lying near the wheel, still unconscious. LeCat checked his watch as Andre Dupont, the lookout on the foremast, came on to the bridge.}

^{Betty Cordell was ready. She had opened her shirt down the front, exposing her breasts. Get on with it, she told herself, don't think about it or you'll never do it. She walked to the cabin door, started rattling the handle. 'Come quickly! Please! Do come quickly! For God's sake open the door...'}

^{She was hysterical, terrified - so it sounded to the guard in the alleyway. He fumbled for the key, shouted back at her in French, words she didn't understand as she went on calling out, begging him to open the door. His first thought must have been that the cabin was on fire.}

^{He pushed the door open, his pistol drooped in his hand. She was a woman, useful for cooking, for bed, so he had no fear of her at all. He came in and stopped, gaping at her open dress, then his mind churned. She threw the open pepper pot from her lunch tray full in his face and he took the powder in his eyes. He cried out, dropping his pistol, pressing both hands against his agonised, burning eyes, stumbling about. She grasped the wine bottle LeCat had left, the bottle she had never thought of opening, so it was a lethal weapon - she grasped it by the neck. Without even a hint of hesitation she smashed the bottle down with a terrible force on the back of the guard's head and the fury of her blow split his skull.}

^{He collapsed on the cabin floor. There was wine like blood all over him, mingling with the blood of his smashed skull. She looked down at him coldly, watching only to make sure he didn't move. Then she dragged him further into the cabin like a sack of dirt, left him in the bathroom and ran back to close the cabin door. It was the fusillade of shots which had jerked her into action and she was in a hurry.}

^{It took only a few seconds for her to button up the shirt, to slip
on the coat, to grab the assembled rifle from under the bedclothes. She kicked the shattered bottle out of her way and opened the door again. The alleyway was empty, the key still in the outside of the door. Without knowing it, she had chosen the perfect time for her killing run - LeCat had called many of the guards to the bridge. She closed the door, locked it, pocketed the key and went slowly down the passage, listening, the Armalite rifle held in both hands at waist level. She was heading for the bridge, LeCat, she felt sure, would be on the bridge.}

^{Winter stood clear of the hatch cover as the other two men came up behind him. The fog was thick now, pressing down on them like a smothering blanket. They went down off the forecastle cautiously, one man behind the other as Winter had suggested; Cassidy behind Winter, Sullivan behind the Marine colonel. Their DeLisle carbines were at the ready, Winter had the smoke pistol tucked inside his belt, they went down on to the main deck.}

^{Winter avoided the catwalk, kept to the port side of the huge tanker where the deck was less cluttered with piping and valves, moving along close to the port rail. It was very silent in the misty darkness, the fog drifted in their faces, the only sound was the slap of water against the hull where the two dolphins, Mac and Jo, had earlier pressed their snouts up against the steel plates. Winter kept moving, creeping forward on his rubber-soled boots, alert for the slightest sound which might tell him something about the situation sixty feet above him at bridge level. Then something loomed up in the fog.}

^{It was the port-side derrick, which told him he was close to the island bridge, still lost inside the swirling grey vapour. He waited for Cassidy to draw level with him, then looped the carbine over his shoulder and pulled the smoke pistol out of his belt. The fog was thinner, ebbing for a moment, and by now their faces and hands were chilled with the touch of the clammy moisture. The island bridge loomed above them as an insubstantial shadow.}

^{They were within twenty feet of the five-deck bridge and these twenty feet were a death-trap. With the thinning fog any terrorist above, leaning out of the bridge window, could pick them off as
they moved across the exposed space. And there would be more than one terrorist waiting up there. Possibly even LeCat himself. Then Cassidy plucked at his arm, pointed. A huddled corpse lay only a few feet away at the base of the bridge. Foley's.}

^{Winter took his time, raised his left arm, using it as a rest to steady the smoke pistol, took careful aim, sighting the muzzle of the pistol at the centre of the bridge, away from the smashed window. The bridge was a blur, very high above him, and the angle of the shot was steep. He remembered looking up at the roof of Cosgrove Manor from the steps below, so many thousands of miles away, so many years away, so it seemed. He steadied his aim. He fired...}