‘I thought maybe you could do with a little help,’ Ben said.
Before Jude could reply, Jeff Dekker joined them. He was suited up in the same frogman kit as Ben, his goggles and breathing apparatus dangling from his neck, and grinning all over his face.
‘Got your email, mate. Felt like a trip anyway. So here we are. In the nick of time, too, looks like.’ Jeff glanced down at the trussed-up prisoner at their feet. ‘Who’s the arsehole?’
‘Luckiest man on earth,’ Ben said. ‘Nearly ended up like his friend with the machete here.’ He waved the muzzle of his gun at the corpse at their feet. The rain was already washing the deck clean of Zolani’s blood.
‘That one’s called Zolani,’ Jude said. ‘And that one’s called Khosa. He’s their leader.’
‘Funny kind of get-up for a pirate,’ Jeff said, eyeing Khosa’s military fatigues. ‘Love the tribal scars, too. Looks like a fucking Klingon. Bet the girls love it.’ Jeff’s relief at finding Jude intact and safe had put him in a jovial mood, one that Ben wasn’t ready to share just yet.
‘I will kill you all,’ Khosa said from the deck.
‘I’ve had pretty much enough of this guy,’ Ben said.
Jeff grinned. ‘Be my guest.’
Ben knocked him out with a sharp kick to the head. Khosa’s skull bounced off the deck and he went as limp as a dead fish.
‘Don’t hurt him any more,’ Jude said. ‘We’re not like them.’
‘You’re right,’ Ben said. ‘We’re nothing like these people.’
‘Bad news for them,’ Jeff said.
Jude could see a third frogman stalking the deck from one trussed-up prisoner to another, checking their bonds and collecting all their weapons, unloaded and made safe, into a heap that looked like a terrorist arsenal. He blinked as he recognised the face behind the goggles. ‘I know him. That’s Tuesday.’
‘On-the-job training, the Le Val way,’ Jeff joked.
‘The plane,’ Jude said, still incredulous. ‘That was you? How did—?’
‘We can talk later,’ Ben said. ‘We have a lot to do.’
Jude ran and found the rest of the crew gathered in a small crowd inside the main entrance passage to A Deck, where they were sheltering from the weather. Gerber, Hercules and everyone else except Scagnetti inevitably had a thousand questions about what the hell had just happened and who these three guys were that Jude had apparently summoned to their aid, just like that – but Jude had little time to explain. Nobody had yet mentioned the diamond. Jude sensed that would come later, too.
More pressing matters were at hand for the moment. Ben, Jeff and Tuesday joined them for a lightning conference, during which it was decided that getting the engines put back together and running again was a matter of urgent priority. The pummelling rain was falling even harder and the waves had grown up into towering mountains crested with white foam that rolled relentlessly towards them and shook the Andromeda with every crashing impact.
‘We don’t get powered up fast,’ Cherry warned, ‘we’re gonna drift side-on to one of these big sumbitches and we’ll broach and flip right over.’ He and Peters had been Diesel’s assistants in the engine room and they knew every twitch of every switch down there. It was quickly voted that Scagnetti should go with them, being a dab hand with a spanner. Jude was pleased to get Scagnetti out of the way. In the meantime, Trent and Lorenz, who both had experience, were to run up to the bridge, assess the amount of damage up there and take over the helm once the power was back on.
Other duties weren’t going to be so pleasant. Jude and Gerber picked Hercules and Condor to help clear the bodies of their fellow crewmates that the pirates hadn’t already slung overboard. That left Allen and Lang, who were assigned to help their rescuers take care of the prisoners. Ben issued them each a rifle from the captured store of arms, just in case of trouble.
The crewmen all hurried to their separate stations. As he and the other three in his group set about gathering their dead, Jude began to wish he hadn’t volunteered for the grisly detail. It was sickening, but he felt partially responsible for what had happened to Diesel and the guilt spurred him to get on with it in grim silence. They carried the chief to the ship’s tiny medical clinic, which housed an even smaller refrigerated morgue compartment. The body of poor Park was next. As they heaved the Korean up from below, they talked about what to do with the dead pirates still sliding around the deck.
‘We can’t just leave them there,’ Jude said.
‘Well,’ Gerber told him, ‘unless you want to wrap each one up in a Somali flag, say a prayer for his immortal soul and consign him to the depths with a full honours and a three-volley salute, I’d say we oughta dump their filthy carcasses over the side like they were going to do to us. Same goes for that sorry sonofabitch Carter, or Pender, or whoever he was.’
Jude was dead set against the idea. ‘We’re not animals. As for Pender, his body should be handed over to the police along with the rest of them. He’s evidence of a crime.’
‘Not the only evidence,’ Gerber said, with a knowing tone.
Jude knew what Gerber was going to say next.
‘That thing in your pocket, were you thinking of handing that in to the cops too?’
‘Yeah, that ain’t no glass paperweight, man,’ Hercules said.
Jude stopped and let go of Park’s body as he shone his torch at them each in turn, appalled by the insinuation. ‘Why, you think I was planning on keeping it for myself?’
‘Certainly kept quiet about it all night long. Just my observation, son. I’m not accusing you of anything.’
‘I was going to tell you,’ Jude protested. ‘Down in the engine room, before they stormed us. Here, you want it? Take it. I wish I hadn’t laid eyes on the damn thing.’
‘Not me,’ Hercules said, as if Jude was offering them a lump of plutonium. ‘That’s a whole lotta trouble I don’t need.’
Gerber showed his palms. ‘Nor me, son. I’ve had enough excitement to last me the rest of my life, and now I just want to get home in one piece. All I’m saying is, and I’m no expert, if that there rock is what I think it is, I’d be damned careful if I were you. We weren’t the only ones in this crew who saw it, if you get my meaning. Better watch your six, before someone puts a knife in your back.’
After the crew had hurried off to attend to their duties Ben took a quiet moment to himself on deck, feeling that familiar old sense of post-battle melancholia as the adrenalin slowly oozed out of his system. The blood-red dawn had darkened like evening as unbroken black clouds scudded menacingly overhead, blotting out the light. Ben had seen tropical storms like it before. At this time of year in these waters, they could sweep in out of nowhere with shocking suddenness and not burn themselves out for days on end.
He stood at the rail, lashed by salt spray and craving a Gauloise, which wouldn’t have stayed lit for long in this gale. Far below him, the wreckage of the pirate trawler was dispersing on the waves. Its shattered hull had long since sunk to the bottom – or what was left of it after the high-explosive limpet mine, supplied by their man in Stuttgart, had done its destructive work. The two ex-military Rotinor Diver Propulsion Vehicles that had propelled them swiftly and silently underwater for the last mile of the journey would soon be joining the wreckage on the sea bed, if they hadn’t already. Ben felt a pang about consigning twenty grand’s worth of equipment to Davy Jones’s locker, but it was a momentary regret lost in a sense of relief so overpowering that he almost wanted to cry.
It had been a close run thing. The delay at Obbia airport had filled him with dread that the seaplane might not materialise either; that Chimp Chalmers had diddled them; that they