Those in Peril (Unlocked) (60 page)

‘Yep! We have Draeger closed-circuit rebreathers. Four hours’ life support in a toxic environment.’

‘What about night-vision goggles?’ Hector persisted.

‘They are standard with the Draegers. They give you vision in total darkness or smoke.’

‘How many suits do you have on board?’

‘Two only.’

‘Shit!’ said Hector. ‘So it’s just you and me, Paddy.’

‘I’m not sure what you have in mind, Heck. But hell’s bells, I can do this on my own, standing on my head.’

‘We all know that you have a powerful Russian motivation, but we do this together, Paddy.’ Hector did not wait for the argument. ‘Okay, Cyril, this is how it’ll work. I’ll go into the tunnel through the forward hatch. Paddy will go in at the stern hatch. He will hold his position as soon as he reaches the lowest deck. I will work my way back along the tunnel. You will flood each compartment with CO
₂
as I come to it. Then you will close the watertight doors as I pass through them. Hazel will monitor the state of play from the situation room. She will keep us advised of the exact position of the fugitives and their hostage at all times.’

‘I am so pleased that you remembered the existence of Nastiya. You are all heart,’ said Paddy sarcastically. ‘She is going to be down there in the gas. She will be unprotected. What is her survival time?’

‘With Hazel directing us we will be able to stay in close contact with Nastiya and get to her very quickly. We will have a spare oxygen cylinder with us to give her.’

‘That does not answer my question. How long will she have once the gas hits her?’

‘Four or five minutes before she loses consciousness,’ Hector replied quietly.

‘And . . . ?’ Paddy insisted.

‘And eight to twelve minutes before death.’

‘Bugger your bloody gas, Hector Cross. I don’t need it. Let me go in alone. I will take care of Kamal and bring Nastiya out without gassing her.’

‘Sorry, Paddy. We do this my way.’ Hector spoke with finality. ‘We’ve wasted enough time yapping. Let’s get on with it!’

H
ector was in the anchor chain tier in the bows of the tanker. Tariq stood behind him and checked his weaponry; the placement of the Beretta pistol, the spare magazines and the knife in its sheath. He made certain they were all readily to Hector’s hand.

On his hip Hector hung a small two-litre emergency oxygen bottle with a built-in face mask. It would give twenty minutes of grace to anybody caught in the CO
₂
gas. Paddy was carrying an identical cylinder. One of them had to get to Nastiya before the CO
₂
killed her.

The main Draeger oxygen rebreather was large and clumsy, and neither he nor Paddy had operated one before. However, one of Cyril’s crewmen knew the equipment intimately, and had given them a brief introductory course. The helmet was extraterrestrial in appearance, and was rendered even more outlandish by the protruding eyes of the infrared night vision. The crewman plugged the Falcon radio into the extension mike inside the helmet.

‘All ready to roll, sir,’ he told Hector. ‘Remember to switch on the oxygen tap before you close the face mask, not afterwards.You’d be surprised at how many novices forget that.’ Hector nodded and called Hazel first.

‘Hazel, I’m about to descend through the forward hatch now.’

‘Hector, we have you on the screen. You’re all clear ahead. The target is still stationary in the Number Two compartment.’

‘Thank you, Hazel,’ Hector acknowledged. ‘Cyril, do you read me?’

‘Loud and clear, Hector,’ Cyril replied from the bridge.

‘Paddy, do you read me?’

‘Your dulcet tones ring sweetly in my ears, Heck.’ Paddy’s mood was obviously lightening with the promise of action, and the imminent rescue of Nastiya.

‘Hold your position until I give you the word to move in.’ Hector stepped onto the top rung of the steel ladder and gave Tariq and the crewman a thumbs-up. Then he swiftly descended the ladder to the lower level. The surroundings were cramped and confined, boxed in by raw steel painted a poisonous and forbidding green. Despite Hazel’s assurance that the tunnel ahead was clear, he loosened the pistol in its holster and took it in a double-handed grip, pointing down the tunnel ahead of him.

‘Okay, Cyril, you can kill the lights now.’ Even though he had given the order the darkness was so sudden and intense that he had to stifle a gasp. He switched on his infrared night vision and his surroundings re-emerged in a dull and red monochrome.

‘Hazel?’ he asked.

‘No change, Hector, the target is still stationary in Number Two.’ Hector moved down the narrow tunnel. He was amazed at the length of the compartments. Walking fast, it took him over four minutes to reach the first watertight door. He stepped through and then called Cyril again.

‘Cyril, I’m through the Number Eight hatch. Close it behind me.’ He watched the hatch slide closed with a hydraulic hiss from the driving pistons.

‘Should I gas the compartment behind you, Hector?’ Cyril asked.

‘Negative.’ Hector stopped him. ‘The compartment is deserted. No profit in gassing it.’ He went on past another of the huge pumps. It was thumping and wheezing as it circulated the gas. Above it was a narrow vertical shaft that carried the egress pipe from the pump up to the top of the main tank. There was another ladder that ran up this shaft, but it was a dead end. There was no exit or escape through the upper end of the shaft.

Hector passed eight more of the massive pumps, and went through four more hatches. Each time he reached one of the hatches he called Hazel, and she told him that the target was still stationary in the No. 2 compartment. Hector went through the hatch into No. 4, and from the bridge Cyril closed it behind him. But when he reached the next hatchway and stepped into No. 3 there was an abrupt change. The hatch was sliding closed behind Hector, when Hazel called sharply over the radio.

‘Hector, heads up! The target is splitting. Two subjects are stationary but the third is moving down the tunnel in your direction.’ Hector was taken by surprise. Which one of them had broken away? It couldn’t be Kamal; he would never abandon his hostage and go on alone. It couldn’t be Nastiya for exactly the same reason; Kamal would never let her escape. It could only be Adam. What wild self-serving impulse had made him leave Kamal’s protection? Probably the pitch darkness had worn down his nerves until they broke. That was why Hector had ordered Cyril to douse all the lights.

‘Good!’ Hector grunted. ‘Cyril, open the hatch behind me again. Expedite!’ As soon as it opened Hector went back through it into the compartment he had just vacated. ‘Okay, Cyril. I am back inside the Number Four compartment. Close the hatch again.’ He waited quietly for almost six minutes, then Hazel called again.

‘Hector, the third man has reached your position. He is on the other side of the hatch from where you are standing. He seems to be examining the hatch, trying to find the lock and get the door open.’

‘Okay, Hazel. I am sure the third man is Adam Tippoo Tip, and now we have got him where we want him. Cyril, close the hatch behind Adam, and let me know when you have done so.’ Only a minute later Cyril came back on.

‘Hatch is closed, Hector,’ he reported. ‘Adam is bottled up in Number Three compartment.’

‘Okay, Cyril. Now flood the compartment with CO
₂
.’ There was another long pause, and Cyril explained the delay.

‘It takes time for the gas to permeate the whole compartment.’ Nobody spoke again for a while, then Hazel called.

‘Now it’s working! Adam is running back the way he came in. He’s obviously panicking. The CO
₂
is getting to him.’

‘Cyril, open the hatch and let me through.’ Hector switched on the oxygen tap and closed his face mask. He stepped through the hatch into the CO
₂
-drenched compartment and ran down the catwalk in pursuit of Adam. He had to get to him before the gas killed him. He found him slumped against one of the gas pumps in an attitude of prayer, and recognized the white robes before he saw his face. When Hector turned him over he saw that he was already unconscious, but breathing in deep gasps. Hector saw that he had a black leather attaché case chained to his left wrist and tried to remove it, but the chain was stainless steel and the lock was of superior quality, similar to those used by diplomatic couriers. It would take a cutting torch to release it. There was no time to waste now, so he dragged Adam to one of the green steel gas pipes that ran horizontally along one side of the tunnel, and laid him facedown on top of it. He wrapped his limbs around the pipe, attaché case and all, and used cable ties to secure his wrists and ankles. Adam was pinned as securely to the gas pipe as a chunk of pork on a kebab skewer.

‘That will hold you,’ Hector said quietly and reached for the two-litre oxygen cylinder hanging from his belt. He placed the moulded polyurethane mask over Adam’s nose and mouth and opened the tap. The oxygen hissed softly into Adam’s gasping mouth. Hector secured the mask in place with the elastic strap around the back of Adam’s head, then called Cyril.

‘Sure enough, the runaway is Adam. I have him secured. He is still unconscious, but I have put the oxygen mask on him. He should come around again in a few minutes. Switch on the lights in this compartment and then run the ventilators to purge the CO
₂
.’ As the oxygen began to take effect, Adam gulped and grimaced. He opened his eyes and groaned, his limbs convulsed and he struggled against his bonds. Then he looked up at Hector in his monstrous Draeger helmet and he screamed wildly and incoherently. He tried to throw off the oxygen mask, but when he found that he could not do so he sobbed into it,

‘Where am I? What is happening to me?’

Hector ignored him. He waited for another ten minutes by his wristwatch and then opened his own face mask and tested the quality of the air. At low concentrations CO
₂
is odourless, but at high concentrations it has a sharp acidic smell and a sour taste on the tongue. The ventilators had purged and cleansed the poisonous gas. The air was untainted.

Hector ripped the oxygen mask off Adam’s face, and closed the tap before he hung it on his own belt again.

‘Who are you? What are you going to do with me?’ Adam’s voice quavered.

‘We will discuss that later,’ Hector promised him in Arabic as he checked the cable ties on his ankles and wrists.

‘I know who you are! You are the assassin, Hector Cross!’ Adam’s voice rose to a shriek. ‘You killed my father and my grandfather, now you are going to kill me.’

‘Yes. There is a good chance of that happening,’ Hector agreed with him as he straightened up and called Cyril on the radio. ‘Adam is secured and he has regained consciousness. Open the hatch into the Number Two compartment. I am going after Kamal and Nastiya now. Close the hatch after I’ve passed through.’

The hatch opened in front of him and he ducked through it into No. 2. There he paused.

‘Hazel, where is Kamal?’ he called.

‘Hector, he has not moved. He is still in Number Two just ahead of you. I think he’s found some secure hole in which to hide and he’s waiting for you to come to him.’

‘Then we mustn’t disappoint him,’ Hector told her. ‘Okay, Cyril, close both hatches to Number Two compartment and be ready to flood it with gas at my command.’

‘Roger, Hector. We have got Kamal boxed in. No way out for him.’

‘Paddy, do you copy me?’

‘Copy you, Hector.’

‘Move up and wait at the Number Two hatch at your end. I will be waiting on my side. Cyril will pump in the gas and as soon as Kamal is incapacitated we will go in at the same time to grab Nastiya before the gas gets her.’

‘You’ll have to move fast to beat me, Cross. This is my girl you are monkeying with.’

‘She’s going to be all right, Paddy. She’s too tough and beautiful to die young.’

‘Stop yapping, Cross. Let’s do it!’

‘Hazel, last check. Where is the target?’

‘Hector, they haven’t moved. Still holed up in the middle of the compartment. I don’t like this. I think Kamal has got a last trick in his hat. He’s waiting for you. Please be careful, my love.’

‘Careful is my middle name,’ Hector assured her. ‘But I think a whiff of CO
₂
might make Kamal a little more friendly. Give him the gas, Cyril.’