Read Online Those in Peril (Unlocked) by Wilbur Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Wilbur Smith
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clutter of the wave crests, they would be under the Dolphin ’s radar. In any case this was not a warship and the watch was more relaxed. As he had witnessed, all their attention was focused ahead. They did not expect any other vessel would have the speed to come up on their stern. However, Rogier knew the boats were out there. Uncle Kamal had given a contact time on the transponder for 2300 hours. That was when most of the crew would be settling down for the night, and entirely off their guard.
Rogier waited an hour and then another. At intervals he checked the luminous dial of his cheap Japanese wristwatch. The Dolphin was running with all her lights burning. She was lit up as brightly as a fairground. The attack boats would be able to pick her up from twenty kilometres out, but he knew they were already much closer, probably tailing the Dolphin by only a few hundred metres. It was minutes before 2300 and he knew Kamal would be punctual. Rogier stared down the wake and suddenly there was a tiny pinprick of light on the dark sea. It flashed three times far beyond the foam. Rogier aimed his Maglite over the stern and flashed three times in reply. Then he waited impatiently. The long boats were not a great deal faster than the Dolphin , so it was almost ten minutes before he picked out the first sharklike hull emerging from out of the darkness astern. As it came closer he made out the shapes of the crew crouching low under the gunwales. Of course they were all dressed in dark clothing rather than the traditional white dishdashahs, and their faces were swathed in black head cloths. They were being careful not to let their weapons show above the boat’s gunwales. The other two attack boats appeared out of the gloom behind the leader.
A single figure stood up in the bow of the leading boat as it sheered out alongside the Dolphin ’s port quarter, and then edged in close alongside.
Despite the head cloth Rogier recognized his uncle Kamal’s tall lean frame. He was leading the raid personally. Rogier flashed the Maglite down to confirm that he was ready to take the line on board. Kamal stooped and picked up something from the deck, then stood again holding a small Lyle gun like a rifle. He raised the butt to his shoulder, and aimed up at where Rogier stood. There was a muted pop of the discharge and a puff of white smoke as he fired. Rogier ducked as the white line snaked upwards and arced over his head. The small grappling iron on the end of the line clattered on the deck behind him and Rogier darted forward to catch the line before it was carried overboard by the drag through the water. He took three quick loops of the line around the mooring stanchion on the deck and tied it off with a bowline knot. He waved down at his uncle and immediately one of the crew, a small wiry man of ape-like strength and agility, swarmed up the rope and landed barefoot on the deck at Rogier’s side. Tied around his waist was a heavier line that could support any number of climbers. The rest of the boarders came up it in quick succession. One of them handed Rogier a holstered Tokarev pistol and he strapped it around his waist under his windcheater. Five of them had already been delegated to secure the bridge. At a single word from Rogier their breech blocks snicked as each man locked and loaded the automatic assault rifle he carried. They followed Rogier on the run.
As Rogier entered the companionway that led to the upper deck he came face to face with the chef coming down the stairs. The chef stared at him and the armed men that followed him in blank incomprehension, then opened his mouth to scream. Rogier smashed the butt of the pistol into his temple and heard the bone of his skull crack. The chef dropped without a sound. Rogier stooped over his limp body and with another three blows crushed in the back of his head, making certain of the kill. Then he jumped over the corpse and raced on upwards. At the entrance to the bridge he paused to
Rogier waited an hour and then another. At intervals he checked the luminous dial of his cheap Japanese wristwatch. The Dolphin was running with all her lights burning. She was lit up as brightly as a fairground. The attack boats would be able to pick her up from twenty kilometres out, but he knew they were already much closer, probably tailing the Dolphin by only a few hundred metres. It was minutes before 2300 and he knew Kamal would be punctual. Rogier stared down the wake and suddenly there was a tiny pinprick of light on the dark sea. It flashed three times far beyond the foam. Rogier aimed his Maglite over the stern and flashed three times in reply. Then he waited impatiently. The long boats were not a great deal faster than the Dolphin , so it was almost ten minutes before he picked out the first sharklike hull emerging from out of the darkness astern. As it came closer he made out the shapes of the crew crouching low under the gunwales. Of course they were all dressed in dark clothing rather than the traditional white dishdashahs, and their faces were swathed in black head cloths. They were being careful not to let their weapons show above the boat’s gunwales. The other two attack boats appeared out of the gloom behind the leader.
A single figure stood up in the bow of the leading boat as it sheered out alongside the Dolphin ’s port quarter, and then edged in close alongside.
Despite the head cloth Rogier recognized his uncle Kamal’s tall lean frame. He was leading the raid personally. Rogier flashed the Maglite down to confirm that he was ready to take the line on board. Kamal stooped and picked up something from the deck, then stood again holding a small Lyle gun like a rifle. He raised the butt to his shoulder, and aimed up at where Rogier stood. There was a muted pop of the discharge and a puff of white smoke as he fired. Rogier ducked as the white line snaked upwards and arced over his head. The small grappling iron on the end of the line clattered on the deck behind him and Rogier darted forward to catch the line before it was carried overboard by the drag through the water. He took three quick loops of the line around the mooring stanchion on the deck and tied it off with a bowline knot. He waved down at his uncle and immediately one of the crew, a small wiry man of ape-like strength and agility, swarmed up the rope and landed barefoot on the deck at Rogier’s side. Tied around his waist was a heavier line that could support any number of climbers. The rest of the boarders came up it in quick succession. One of them handed Rogier a holstered Tokarev pistol and he strapped it around his waist under his windcheater. Five of them had already been delegated to secure the bridge. At a single word from Rogier their breech blocks snicked as each man locked and loaded the automatic assault rifle he carried. They followed Rogier on the run.
As Rogier entered the companionway that led to the upper deck he came face to face with the chef coming down the stairs. The chef stared at him and the armed men that followed him in blank incomprehension, then opened his mouth to scream. Rogier smashed the butt of the pistol into his temple and heard the bone of his skull crack. The chef dropped without a sound. Rogier stooped over his limp body and with another three blows crushed in the back of his head, making certain of the kill. Then he jumped over the corpse and raced on upwards. At the entrance to the bridge he paused to
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