Under Fire: (A Dan Taylor thriller) (19 page)

Strait of Gibraltar, Mediterranean Sea

‘Take her up, let’s have a look.’ Ivanov held his nose and blew gently, equalising the pressure in his ears as the submarine began to rise slowly through the waves.

As the boat neared the surface, Ilya slowed the ascent to keep the conning tower under the water, while Ivanov pulled up the periscope and peered through. Rain lashed the lens as he turned it slowly through a rotation, getting his bearings and searching the darkened horizon.

Another five degrees to the right and he had his target. The cruise ship leapt into view, a towering floating city, lights blazing from portholes and strung from wires along its decks as it made its way out of the Mediterranean.

Ivanov blinked as a large wave engulfed the periscope, even though he was still safely dry several metres under the surface and then cursed at the natural reaction.

He stepped back from the periscope and gestured to his weapons specialist, Alexei. ‘Come and take a look.’

Alexei moved away from the bulkhead he’d been leaning against and stepped up to the periscope. He glanced through, nodded, and took a step back. ‘We’ll be fine.’

‘The timing’s important,’ said Ivanov. ‘Too soon and we’re trapped. Too late and there’s a risk of being located.’

Alexei beckoned the captain over to a small chart table, and sat down in one of the chairs fixed to the floor. ‘They’re twenty-one nautical miles off Gibraltar at the moment,’ he said, tracing his finger along a line he’d pencilled in on the chart. ‘When they reach this point
here
,’ he added, stabbing his finger on the map, ‘that’s our point of no return.’

Ivanov leaned over the map. ‘So, we’ll steer round them, overtake them and attack.’

 ‘I’d prefer to be in position before then. With this old thing, I can’t guarantee we’ll get a direct hit,’ said Alexei. ‘Look what happened last time.’

Ivanov nodded. ‘Agreed.’ He turned to Ilya. ‘Get us down again, and into position. Keep us under five knots – this thing rattles like a can full of stones. I don’t want to get this far and have to abort the mission because we’ve been heard by someone’s navy patrol.’

***

Captain Brad Martin scanned the crowd, his brown eyes dark with exasperation. He nodded, giving the small group of passengers standing around him the impression he was enthralled in their conversation, until he finally located the first officer standing at the bar. He scowled as the first officer grinned and tipped his glass in Brad’s direction in mock salute.

Brad looked down, made a polite excuse to the large lady draped in a bright kaftan standing next to him, gently peeled her hand off his arm, and smiled apologetically before striding across the ship’s ballroom. As he walked, he straightened his tie and breathed a sigh of relief at his luck in escaping the next instalment of the woman’s ghastly stories.

The first officer, Jim Stokes, grinned as Brad approached him. ‘Gotta love these get-togethers, sir – that’s what keeps them coming back for more.’ He winked and took a sip of the remaining soft drink splashing the bottom of a crystal tumbler in his hand.

Brad groaned. ‘My god – when can we escape back up to the bridge? Soon isn’t it?’

He accepted a glass of lemonade from a waiter and turned to lean against the bar next to Stokes. The cruise ship had left Rhodes two days ago, called into Barcelona overnight and was now approaching the Gibraltar Strait before turning north towards Southampton. Two weeks of winter sunshine for the guests, two weeks of non-stop activity and customer service for the crew. Brad rubbed his jaw, noticing how much it ached after all the smiling he’d had to do at the evening’s Captain’s Dinner.

‘It’s only once a week, Captain,’ laughed Stokes. ‘Stop brooding.’

Brad smiled, acknowledging the jibe. ‘I know, I know – I’d just much prefer to be upstairs right now.’

Suddenly, the ship lurched and the two men grabbed the brass railing running along the wood-panelled bar to steady themselves.

Brad glanced at Stokes who had spilt his drink down his jacket and was now staring back at Brad, his face white.

‘W-what the hell was that?’ he stammered.

Brad shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but I…’ He broke off as the ship yawed to its port side.

A terrible groaning sound of steel under stress shuddered through the cruise ship. Screams pierced the ballroom as passengers tried to move out of the way of tumbling furniture. Brad jumped at a crash from behind the bar as liquor bottles fell from their shelves to the floor. He turned to Jim.

‘Get to the bridge – now!’ he commanded, running as best he could along the canted floor of the ballroom towards the exit. 

As he reached the door, he stumbled against the wall, steadied himself then reached for the emergency radio. ‘Send out a distress message with our coordinates immediately!’ he said.

‘Sir!’ the communications officer on the other end hit a series of buttons. ‘Confirmed sent, sir.’

‘Patch me through to the main speaker system!’ Brad ordered.

‘Go ahead sir.’

Brad took a deep breath to steady his voice. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘This is your Captain speaking. The ship appears to have been struck by something in the water and we’re currently looking into the situation. Your safety is our priority. Please begin to make your way carefully to the lifeboat stations. Remember your practice drills. Our crew will help you. Thank you.’

He hung up the radio and turned, placing a hand on the wall to keep his balance, staying clear of the stream of people hurrying from the ballroom towards the lifeboats. The ship now listed at a precarious angle. Picking up the radio again, he barked an order and was soon through to the engine room. ‘Report.’

‘We’ve got a bloody great hole in the hull sir!’

Brad frowned as he listened to the panicked voice at the other end. ‘How long have we got?’

‘I’d say twenty minutes – maximum,’ replied the engineer. ‘We’ve got fires spreading through the lower levels, and we’re taking on water.’ He paused. Brad could hear someone shouting in the background before the engineer returned to the phone. ‘Captain? When you send out the distress message, tell them we’ve been hit by a torpedo.’

Brad’s eyes flickered as he processed the news, going over the information in his head. ‘A
torpedo
?’

‘Yes sir. Looking at the information here, it appears to have struck the stern. We need to evacuate immediately.’

Brad’s face paled.
We’ll never get everybody out
. ‘Abandon ship,’ he said. ‘Immediately. Tell the lifeboat crews to steer away from the stern.’

He replaced the radio and began to stumble back through the ballroom towards a long passageway which ran the length of the cruise ship. As he passed along the passageway, he opened doors to check for stragglers, and called out to his crew to help older or injured passengers as they herded them towards the exits. ‘Go, go!’ he urged.

He glanced down as the opening chords of a Rolling Stones song permeated the air, and pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. ‘Yes?’

‘Where the bloody hell are you?’ asked Jim Stokes. ‘We’re watching the evacuation from here but I can’t see you.’

‘I’m in the north-south passageway, deck two,’ explained Brad. ‘Helping staff check all the rooms are empty.’

‘Have you spoken to the engine room?’

‘Yes – I’ve ordered them to evacuate. Smith seems to think we’ve been hit by a torpedo.’

There was an astonished silence at the other end before Stokes spoke. ‘Really?’

‘Well I guess we’ll find out if we get off of this thing in one piece. How are you doing up there?’

‘It’s bedlam,’ said Stokes, ‘but all the lifeboats are being deployed without a problem and the crew are doing a floor by floor search above and below you to check off all the passengers against the manifest. Text book evacuation at the moment.’

Brad smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation. The first officer’s calm voice soothed him – all the training the crew underwent was now being proven in dire circumstances.

‘Good.  I’ve probably got another hundred metres to check here then I’ll make my way up to the lifeboats. You should do the same.’

‘Will do.’

Brad hung up and tucked the phone into his shirt pocket, buttoning it safely inside. As he left the passageway and began to climb the outer stairs, he opened a door out onto the deck and peered out to sea. He took a moment to glance over the side of the ship. The sea was churning, rain lashing the sides of the cruise liner as it rocked and swayed.

He hurried down a steel staircase, in time to see a woman trip on the wet surface of the canted deck. She cried out as she began to slide towards the rail, unable to grip on to anything to stop herself.

Brad lurched forward, reached out and grabbed hold of her arm to stop her sliding further. Pulling her upright, he steered her along the slippery deck. She glanced up at him, terror in her eyes.

‘It’s all right,’ he said reassuringly, ‘it’s just like the drill you did earlier this week.’

She nodded and, letting go of his hand, accepted the help of another crew member who guided her into the lifeboat.

He turned to the crew next to him. ‘You too – go.’

He pushed a steward into the lifeboat, and stood back as the vessel swung away from the cruise ship and into the waves, before raising his gaze to the dark horizon. The water was impenetrable, not a single ship in sight. In the distance he could see lights along the Gibraltar coastline. He calculated the distance and shook his head in frustration. It would be nearly an hour before anyone reached them.

Brad turned, his eyes wide, as the ship’s hull let out a deep groan. He felt the whole vessel shudder as a vibration ran through the structure and echoed through the lifeboat cables.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘Stokes – get out of there
now
. No hanging around. We’re out of time.’

***

Dmitri Ivanov stood next to Alexei, his heart racing.

For the last twenty minutes they’d monitored the communications channels, listening to the reports from the cruise ship becoming more desperate.

He glanced at his watch. ‘That’s enough time. Let’s finish it.’

Alexei moved across to the weapons controls. ‘Are you sure, Dmitri?’

Ivanov nodded. ‘We have to be sure. At the moment, our task is only half complete.’

Alexei shrugged and turned back to the controls.

‘Ilya,’ said Ivanov, ‘make sure you get us away from here the moment Alexei releases the torpedo. I want us out of the area before the rescue ships arrive.’

‘Yes sir.’

Alexei programmed in the coordinates of the stricken cruise ship, and then turned to Ivanov.

‘Ready on your command.’

Ivanov leaned over to switch off the communications channel, cutting off the frantic voices from the cruise ship, and then turned to Alexei.

‘Fire.’

London

Dan pulled out a leather-topped bar stool and sat down heavily, exhausted from the morning’s activities and the flight back from the Mediterranean. He leaned an elbow on the polished wooden surface and turned to glance at a muted television hanging from a bracket in the wall to the left of him. He checked the score, shook his head at the deficit Man United would have to make up in fifteen minutes, and beckoned to the barman.

‘What beers have you got on tap?’

The barman glanced up the length of the bar. ‘Stella, San Miguel, Heineken, Guinness…’

‘Make it a Guinness, thanks.’

Dan watched the barman wander off and pick up a clean pint glass, then fished in his pocket for some money. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Antonia standing beside him, her handbag swinging from side-to-side.

‘Buy me a drink?’

Dan cocked his head to one side. ‘I didn’t think you’d be allowed to drink in public?’

She smiled. ‘What do you mean – my job, or your interpretation of what religion I might belong to?’

He grinned. ‘You got me. I’m not usually so narrow-minded.’

Antonia arched her eyebrow. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘What would you like to drink?’

The barman returned and set Dan’s Guinness on a coaster in front of him. Antonia caught his eye. ‘Make it another of those please – but a small one.’

Dan stood up and pulled out another bar stool for Antonia. She thanked him, set her bag on the floor then settled herself in her seat.

Dan watched, transfixed. It was the first time he’d really had a chance to look at her features close up. Her hair was recently washed, the dark curls tumbling down her back, setting off her dark skin. She wore a black dress which caressed her body and reached down to her calves, a simple silver-hewn watch on her left wrist.

He realised he knew nothing about her, and wanted to learn more. His reverie was broken by the sound of Antonia’s laughter. He blinked and looked at her.

‘You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?’ she smiled.

‘Yes. Sorry, yes – fine.’ He noticed the barman patiently waiting next to them. ‘Sorry – could I start a tab?’ He glanced at Antonia, who nodded. ‘I think we’re going to be here for a while.’

He waited until the barman had moved to the other end of the bar then turned back to Antonia and pointed at her drink. ‘Have you ever tried this stuff before?’

She shook her head.

‘It’s an acquired taste for some people,’ he said. ‘My grandfather started me on it when I was three.’

Antonia took a sip of the Guinness and delicately wiped the froth off her top lip with her finger.

Dan smiled at the gesture. ‘So, how are you settling in over here?’

‘I’m okay. It’s a bit different from what I’m used to.’

‘Cold?’

She shrugged. ‘It gets cold in Qatar too. I guess I didn’t expect it to be quite so,
grey
.’

Dan laughed. ‘That’s only London, remember.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps, maybe once this is all over, I could show you some of the prettier parts of England, if you like?’

Antonia smiled. ‘I’d like that.’ She reached out and put her hand on his.

He glanced up, struck by her beauty.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘That you scrub up pretty well for someone who was crawling through skeletons not too long ago.’

She grinned. ‘Well,’ she said, casting an appraising eye down his figure. ‘You’re not so bad yourself. I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing desert boots.’

Dan tipped his chin in the direction of the barman. ‘He was a bit funny about footwear. I thought I’d play it safe.’

Antonia laughed and took a sip of her drink. She pointed her finger at him as she placed the glass on the bar. ‘You are a very funny man, Mr Taylor.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘But sometimes when I look at you, there’s a sadness.’

Dan turned his hand over and caressed her palm. Her fingers were long, slender, with short fingernails painted a pale pink.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I’ve heard the restaurant here has a great menu.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘Then we had better check to make sure they’re not lying.’

Dan grinned, drained his pint and stood up, offering Antonia his arm. ‘Come on then. I don’t know about you but, after the last few days, I’m starving.’

She grinned, picked up her bag, and allowed him to lead her from the bar into the restaurant area.

***

Their waiter had chosen a table tucked away at the back of the restaurant, next to French windows which overlooked a landscaped courtyard with small lights flickering among the ferns and shrubs. Dan sat down facing the room after seating Antonia, and watched with amusement as she edged her chair around the table until she was almost sitting next to him.

‘I can’t sit with my back to a room either,’ she explained.

‘I’d look out for you,’ Dan murmured.

‘I know,’ she said, looking into his eyes. ‘But we stand a better chance if there are two of us looking out for each other.’

Dan reached over, pulled her towards him and kissed her. ‘Works for me,’ he said as he pulled back, smiling.

‘Good,’ she said, and looked up as the waiter approached to take their order.

Once he disappeared towards the kitchen, Antonia turned back to Dan. ‘So,’ she said, turning the stem of the wine glass in her hand. ‘Is London home for you?’

Dan took a sip of his wine, savoured the flavours around his mouth then swallowed and smiled. ‘No – I stay wherever David puts me if I’m working for him.’ He paused, and leaned forward on the table. ‘I have a house in Oxfordshire – a couple of hours or so from here on a good day. It’s my Dad’s old house.’

Antonia put an elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand, her head cocked to one side. ‘He is no longer alive?’

Dan shook his head. ‘No – he passed away a couple of years ago.’

Antonia reached out and placed her hand on the back of Dan’s. ‘I understand. My mother died a few years ago. I still miss her.’

Dan turned his hand, laced his fingers through Antonia’s and squeezed gently. ‘What about your father?’

She laughed. ‘He’s usually busy with his business ventures. I rarely see him but he is a very clever man, so I forgive him. What about your mother?’

Dan shook his head. ‘I really don’t remember her. She died when I was about three years old.’

Antonia tilted her head, questioning.

Dan shrugged. ‘A skiing accident – a freak accident by all accounts. Apparently she was really rather good.’

Antonia nodded then glanced up as the waiter approached with their entrees.

They waited until he had finished topping up their wine, then watched as he disappeared towards another table of patrons before they glanced at each other, grinned, and delved into the food in front of them.

‘Here,’ said Antonia, ‘You have to try this – it’s amazing.’ She placed a forkful of food in Dan’s mouth and watched as he ate, a smile playing across her lips.

‘That’s good,’ he agreed. ‘See what you think of this.’

Antonia plucked a forkful of his entrée into her mouth and closed her eyes. ‘Mm, wonderful,’ she smiled, ‘but bad for the hips.’

Dan glanced down. ‘Can’t see any problems there,’ he said and laughed as Antonia punched him playfully on the arm.

‘You never said what your father did,’ said Antonia.

Dan shrugged, swallowed a mouthful of food and picked up his wine glass. ‘He was a geologist, although a bit of an adventurer too. He used to disappear for months on end all around the world doing tests and studies for mining companies.’

Antonia frowned. ‘That must have been boring for you being stuck at home.’

Dan smiled. ‘Boarding school for me for a while – although once I was old enough, I used to go with him during school holidays to some pretty amazing places, so it wasn’t all bad.’

‘So how did you end up doing this?’

Dan put down his fork, and swallowed hard.

‘Dan? Are you okay?’ Antonia reached out and gently touched his forearm.

‘Yes – sorry.’ He smiled and took a sip of wine. ‘It still catches me out.’

He reached out for her hand and briefly told her about joining the Army, his tour in Iraq working with a bomb disposal team, and the explosive device which had killed half his friends and left him with scars – both physical and psychological. Then being contacted by his old Army captain, David.

‘So now you keep England safe,’ said Antonia.

Dan smiled. ‘Well, I’d like to think the whole of Britain,’ he said.

Antonia drew away as the waiter approached and cleared their plates.

‘What about you?’ asked Dan after their main courses had been set down in front of them. ‘How did you get into all this?’

Antonia shrugged as she enthusiastically cut through her steak. ‘By accident really,’ she said. ‘I was at university studying computer programming and had a gap in my final year subjects so I signed up for a political sciences course. Before the semester finished, one of the Government departments approached me with a job offer. I thought it would provide me with stability and a steady income.’

Dan laughed. ‘The last few days must’ve been quite a shock for you then.’

Antonia smiled as she raised her wine glass to her lips then put it down again. ‘It was better than being stuck in the office,’ she said, and grinned.

 
Over their three-course meal, Dan found himself wanting to spend more time with Antonia. As they exchanged stories and experiences he realised he’d been spending far too much time on his own and wondered if it was time to permanently return home to England.

The waiter returned to refill their wine glasses. ‘Would you like another sir?’ the waiter enquired, holding up the empty bottle.

Dan shook his head and turned to Antonia. ‘Coffee?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’

***

The lift doors opened and Dan led Antonia along the plush carpeted hallway. As they slowed and stood facing each other outside her room, he let go of her hand and caressed her bare arm, feeling her shiver under his touch. He glanced down at her, their eyes holding.

‘What are you thinking?’ he whispered.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she said, and leaned into his chest.

Dan buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes, aware he was about to break every professional rule he’d ever set himself.
Don’t get involved
.

He ran his hands down her back, feeling her spine through the thin dress then settled on her hips, pulling her to him.

Too late.

She gasped as she felt him, pulled away to look in his eyes, then nodded and dragged him into the room with her. As the door closed behind them, she began to tear at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it over his broad shoulders and down his arms.

He wrapped his fingers in her hair, pulled her head back and began tracing his lips down her neck, along her collarbone. She shivered under his touch and groaned, then sank her teeth into his shoulder, nibbling the skin as she ran her fingers over his nipples.

Dan groaned, pulled back and slipped his fingers under the thin straps of her dress. His eyes met hers, their breathing heavy.

‘Your father will kill me,’ he murmured.

She shook her head. ‘Deniable ops,’ she smiled, and leaned forward to kiss the scars laced across his chest.

‘Jesus,’ he whispered, closing his eyes. ‘Turn around.’

She did so, and he pulled down the zip on her dress, hard. He turned her around to face him as the dress fell to the floor, exposing her breasts and a lace black g-string.

He grinned. ‘If I’d known you were wearing that in Malta…’

‘…we’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble,’ she said, pulling him to her, and kissing him deeply.

He lifted her up and, as she wrapped her legs around him, carried her over to the bed. Laying her down, he tangled his fingers in her hair as she began to loosen his belt, her breathing shallow now, desperate.

‘Here, I’ll help,’ he said, and inched out of his jeans.

She leaned up on her elbows, her eyes blazing as he turned to her, and then she reached out for him, pulling him down onto her, guiding him inside.

As their bodies began to move together, he buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes. ‘You realise this breaks every single operational rule ever invented?’ he murmured.

 
‘So shoot me.’

***

Dan’s eyes slowly opened and took in the room around him. A grey dawn broke through the heavy curtains, the sound of sleet beating against the window shifting with the gusts of wind howling through the city.

He glanced down at Antonia’s head resting on his chest, and stroked her hair. She stirred and peered up at him, tracing her fingers over the pockmarked scars which covered his skin.