Fair Game (38 page)

The chief officer slotted the thumb drive into one of the USB slots and sat back in his chair as he waited for the computer to open the files. ‘Chief, do you have an aspirin or paracetamol or something?’ asked Ishan, putting a hand to his head and playing the wounded soldier. ‘I’ve got a throbbing headache.’

The chief officer looked up from the computer. ‘Now?’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t ask but I feel really bad. Bad enough to throw up. It’s been bad since I woke up this morning.’

The chief officer sighed and pushed himself up out of his chair. ‘I’ll have to get it from the Sick Room,’ he said.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Ishan, massaging his temples with his podgy fingers. ‘I appreciate your kindness.’

As soon as the chief officer had left the room Kamal sat down at the computer. He temporarily disabled the anti-virus program, even though he doubted that it would have detected the virus that he had created, then transferred the program to the computer’s hard drive. From there it was a matter of seconds to send the virus across to all the computers on the ship’s network.

By the time the chief officer returned with two aspirins and a glass of water for Ishan, Kamal was sitting by the door, his arms folded.

‘You are a lifesaver, Chief,’ said Ishan. As Ishan swallowed the tablets and gulped down the water, the chief officer sat down and began checking the planner’s spreadsheets.

The
Athena
left Karachi less than nine hours after it had arrived. Shepherd stood with Dominik on the starboard wing and watched as two tugs helped to move the leviathan away from the dockside. Its departure was as smooth and effortless as its arrival. The pilots who supervised the operation weren’t the same ones who’d brought the ship into the port, but they wore similar black trousers and short-sleeved white shirts and had the same unsmiling faces, as if they somehow resented having to spend their time helping the captain. With careful nudges from the tugs, the
Athena
slowly reversed away from the dock and then headed out to sea. The pilots left through the starboard hatch, stepping nimbly on to the pilot vessel and disappearing into the darkness. By the time the ship was passing through the last buoys marking the harbour entrance Dominik was sitting in the right-hand chair staring at the radar screens. There were more than a dozen vessels showing, all with AIS identification. It was as if the captain was playing a complex video game, assessing the speed and course of each ship and working out how best to weave a way through them. At one point he had the giant engine in reverse, bringing the ship to a stop as an oil tanker crossed in front of them.

Shepherd stood behind Dominik, watching him work. He had a quiet, unflustered confidence, though he did chain-smoke throughout the procedure. After forty-five minutes they were in clear sea and all the traffic was behind them. Dominik blew smoke up at the ceiling. ‘So, Company Man, do you think I am worth one hundred and seventy euros a day?’

Shepherd grinned. ‘I don’t think I could have done what you just did,’ he said.

Dominik shrugged and flicked ash on to the floor. ‘It’s all about predicting the future,’ he said. ‘You know where a vessel is, its speed and its direction. So you know where it will be in ten minutes’ time, or fifteen, or twenty. The trick is to make sure that your future doesn’t coincide with another vessel’s.’

Shepherd went down to his cabin, locked the door, and called Charlotte Button on the sat-phone. ‘We’ve just left Karachi,’ he said. ‘Another twelve hours or so and we’ll be in the area where the pirates operate.’

‘And everything’s OK?’

‘They seem to have got bored of the office spy routine,’ he said. ‘And they don’t seem to be over-worried about the threat of pirates. The consensus seems to be that the
Athena
is too big and too fast to be boarded at sea.’

‘Well, they did say that the
Titanic
was unsinkable, didn’t they?’

‘I’m serious,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’ve got contingency plans for a pirate attack but no one seriously thinks we’re at risk.’

‘Let’s see what happens,’ she said. ‘Crazy Boy definitely has his sights on it, no matter what the crew there think. He was talking to his uncle on Skype and he told him that the ship was in port and would be leaving soon.’

‘Did he mention Karachi?’

‘He’s careful not to use names. But he told his uncle to make sure that he had a spare GPS. It sounds as if they have a specific location in mind.’

‘Any news on the yacht crew?’

‘Stalemate, but they’re talking. Emailing, anyway. Lots of threats but we’ve been sent new photographs and they’ve posted another video on an Islamic website. Luckily the media haven’t picked up on it yet and we’ve got our technical boys blocking access to the site.’

‘And no idea where they’re being held?’

‘Almost certainly in Puntland, but we don’t know exactly where as yet.’

Shepherd ended the call, then phoned O’Brien to fill him in on what was happening. ‘What’s your situation?’ he asked.

‘We’re about ten miles south of the border with Somalia,’ said O’Brien. ‘We’re posing as hunters on safari. We’ve block-booked a small game farm, which gives us an excuse to get in some firing practice without upsetting the neighbours, and it’s got its own airfield. But I’m scouting for places in Ethiopia. It’s a fair bit closer to Puntland.’

‘How are you for equipment?’

O’Brien chuckled. ‘Buying arms in Africa is like buying chocolate bars in a sweet shop,’ he said. ‘It’s all available here – longs, shorts, heavy artillery. We’ve got everything we need.’

‘And the plane?’

‘Yeah, it’s arrived. Jack Bradford’s got his pilot’s licence and he’s current for the Sherpa. He’s made a few recon flights along the border.’

‘Charlie still hopes to get this sorted through a ransom. If that pans out, it’ll just be a matter of flying in and picking them up.’

‘Yeah, well, the best-laid plans and all that crap.’

‘O ye of little faith,’ said Shepherd. ‘What about manpower?’

‘Still hiring, but so far so good. Six experienced guys. With at least another six on the way. And one girl.’

‘A woman?’

O’Brien chuckled. ‘You know her.’

‘What?’

‘Carol Bosch. Your mate from Iraq.’

‘You’re not serious.’

‘She’s a pal of one of the pilots and she was between contracts. Thought that would get your juices flowing.’

‘I’m on a ship with twenty men, Martin, flowing juices is the last thing I need right now.’

‘So how is Roger the cabin boy?’

‘He sends his regards.’ Shepherd ended the call.

Early on Saturday morning, just after five o’clock, the
Athena
officially sailed into pirate waters. Nothing changed, they merely crossed a line that had been drawn in pencil across the Admiralty chart. To the left of the line, written in neat capital letters, also in pencil, were the words ‘Risk Of Piracy, Anti-Piracy Procedures To Be In Effect’.

The chief officer spent the morning fixing fire hoses at the stern so that plumes of water could be sprayed over the vessel in the event of pirates attempting to board. The only other change was that there was always an extra seaman on the bridge during the daylight watches.

Shepherd spent a lot of time on the bridge, scanning the sea through binoculars. There were plenty of small vessels travelling between Yemen in the north and Somalia in the south, usually with just one or two men on board and more often than not ferrying boxes or bales. According to Dominik they were almost certainly smugglers, though he had no idea what they might be smuggling. They saw the occasional fishing boat, and whenever one came into view there was increased tension on the bridge until they were able to satisfy themselves that they weren’t pirates. The problem was that the only difference between a fisherman and a pirate was a weapon and the weapons would be concealed until the last moment.

One fishing boat passed within half a mile of them and there were three men on deck but there were also mounds of nets at the stern and the men didn’t even look towards the
Athena
.

Once darkness fell everyone was more relaxed. It was hard enough to board a moving ship at the best of times but it would be next to impossible at night. After dinner Shepherd spent an hour playing the chief officer at table tennis. He lost every game. Hainrich took his ping-pong seriously and whenever it looked as if Shepherd might take the lead he played with a fierce intensity until he had regained the advantage. Shepherd didn’t mind losing, he was just happy to be exercising, and he was surprised at how quickly he worked up a sweat.

When they’d finished, Hainrich slapped him on the back. ‘There are only two ways you will beat me, Company Man,’ he said. ‘You can kill me or I can let you win. Neither is going to happen.’

Shepherd woke up early on Sunday morning and got to the mess room at exactly 7.30. There was nobody else there. Jimmy came out of the galley and Shepherd asked him if the cook could make cheesy scrambled eggs. Deep furrows appeared in Jimmy’s brow as if Shepherd had asked him to solve a quadratic equation. ‘Get him to make scrambled eggs and add cheese,’ explained Shepherd. He made a stirring motion with his hand. ‘Just mix cheese in with the eggs. Cheesy scrambled eggs. And toast. And coffee.’ Jimmy nodded and went into the kitchen and returned five minutes later with Shepherd’s order. The eggs were quite good, but not as good as when Katra made the dish. He’d ordered the scrambled eggs because he missed home and he missed his son and cheesy scrambled egg was Liam’s favourite food. Shepherd was used to being away from home, that came with the turf when working undercover, but at least his son was only just a phone call away, most of the time. There had been no signal on his mobile phone since they’d left Karachi and he was reluctant to use the sat-phone to call him. Being at sea meant that there was no contact at all, no way that Liam or Katra could get in touch in the event of an emergency. Dominik had said that he could let Shepherd use the ship’s email if he wanted but that wouldn’t be any good because the captain would receive any replies and Oliver Blackburn didn’t have a son.

After he’d finished his breakfast Shepherd went up to the bridge. Hainrich was there, along with the third officer, who was just about to take over the watch.

‘Been for your run yet?’ asked Hainrich.

‘Just about to,’ said Shepherd.

‘You’ll need to be fit if you want to beat me at ping-pong,’ said Hainrich. He grinned over at the third officer.

‘It would be a help if I had my own bat,’ said Shepherd.

‘A bad workman always blames his tools,’ said Hainrich. ‘It’s not about the bat, it’s the skill.’

‘So I can use your bat tonight?’

Hainrich looked offended. ‘Of course not, it’s mine,’ he said.

Shepherd looked at the right-hand radar screen, where two masses of triangles seemed to be about to meet some eight miles ahead of them. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

Hainrich looked at the screen. ‘Convoys,’ he said. ‘The one on the port side is heading to the Suez Canal, the one to starboard is from the canal, heading to the Arabian Sea. Forty vessels in all. You should just be able to make them out ahead.’

Shepherd picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned the horizon to starboard. He could just about make out a line of grey shapes. He walked over to the port side and through the binoculars he could see the back of a tanker, heading west.

‘You’ll get a better view in about half an hour,’ said Hainrich. ‘They’re only making eleven knots.’

‘How do the convoys work?’ asked Shepherd.

‘The slower ships wait at either end of the corridor and then they go through together under the supervision of navy vessels. The ones to starboard are being guarded by two Japanese warships, and there’s a Chinese warship to port.’

‘So will we join the convoy?’

Hainrich shook his head. ‘There’s no need, we’re too big and too fast.’

‘But there’s safety in numbers, right?’

‘We don’t need no stinking warship,’ Hainrich said, and laughed. ‘Seriously, the convoys are for smaller, slower ships, or for tankers that are lower in the water. We’d be wasting our time slowing down. And besides, the warships are no bloody use anyway.’

‘How so?’

‘Because they can’t shoot the pirates out of the water. Until they’ve actually boarded a ship they’re just fishermen with guns. If they try to arrest them they’ll just throw the guns overboard and then they’re just fishermen.’

‘So what do they do?’

‘That’s a good question.’

‘So? What’s the answer?’

Hainrich threw up his hands. ‘They observe, they file reports, they collate information. They offer advice. They might send out a helicopter to buzz pirate skiffs. But other than that, they’re no use at all.’

‘So what’s the point of the convoys?’

‘They can be more vigilant. But if pirates head towards the ships, all they can do is take evasive action. The warships won’t fire on the pirates while they’re trying to board and they won’t do anything once they have boarded. They’re a waste of time.’

Shepherd stayed on the bridge and watched through the binoculars as they gradually overhauled the convoy on the port side. There were three oil tankers, longer than the
Athena
but moving at almost half her speed, half a dozen cargo freighters of various shapes and sizes, and seven small container ships. They were following a grey Chinese warship, like ducklings struggling to keep up with their mother. As Shepherd watched, a helicopter took off from the back of the warship and did a slow circuit around the convoy at about a thousand feet. The barrel of a machine gun poked through an open door.

Shepherd walked over to the starboard side of the bridge. There were more ships there but farther away and more spread out than the convoy, some of them so far away that they were just smudges on the horizon. The eastbound ships were being guarded by two Japanese warships, each slightly smaller than the Chinese version. As Shepherd watched, the radio crackled and a Japanese voice identified itself as the lead warship and requested that the
Athena
alter its course slightly.