The Snow Tiger / Night of Error (69 page)

There was a curious flicker in the air and he slumped, his hand clapped to his right hip, and I saw blood welling between his fingers.

I had raised myself to go after Geordie and a shouted word of protest was already on my lips, but as Mark fell both Ian and Geordie came to an abrupt stop, the momentary blood-lust dying from their faces. All eyes were on the gleaming, bloodied blade on the floor beside Mark.

‘Who threw the knife?’ I demanded.

Taffy came from the far end of the saloon. ‘I did.’ He saw the look that sparked in my eyes and added hastily, ‘I wouldn’t have killed him, Mike – even though he deserves it. I know where to put a knife.’

‘Well, you’d better come and get it,’ I said.

He came forward to take it from the deck and carefully wiped it on his trouser leg. Clare was looking at him ashen-faced, but Paula had already pushed forward to Mark’s side.

I said, ‘I saw you searched like the rest of us, Taffy. How did you hide the knife?’

‘I had it dangling down the small of my back on a piece of string. It’s an old trick but they fell for it.’

For the moment the crisis was passed. I looked anxiously out to sea. There was a haze of steam in the near distance and beyond it the swell of sullen black clouds still rolled skywards. The sea was choppy, with little eddies swirling here and there, and around the fringe of the steam there was a white roil of froth. The smell was fitful and nasty. Closer in, I saw our motor launch swinging astern with nobody on board her. There was no sign of Bill, nor of anyone else on deck.

In the saloon Ian was helping Campbell back onto the settee with Clare to lend him a hand. Paula was bandaging Mark and Geordie was searching the prostrate guard.

Taffy was missing.

‘Geordie, where’s Taffy?’

‘Danny Williams was a special mate of his, you know.’

‘Damn it, we need team work, not singleminded heroics.’

‘Easy now,’ Geordie said. ‘Taffy never was a good team man, but he’s deadly on his own. He’ll do a hell of a lot of damage.’

‘All right for him, but we need a plan of action urgently. Taffy’s loose and Bill is somewhere on deck, and with luck Rex and Jim are with him. Maybe they’ve been able to do something. And there’s us – three men and a rifle.’

‘Four men,’ snapped Campbell, getting to his feet. ‘And if those sons of bitches haven’t searched our cabins there’ll be guns in them.’

He met my eyes with a cold blue glare. He was right; he’d be no good in a brawl but give him one of his target pistols and he could be deadly. Clare looked from her father to me and there was something of the same hard wildness in her face.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said.

‘Clare, you can’t …’

She cut in decisively. ‘I’m a pretty good shot too, remember? Better than you, Mike. You’re going to need all the help you can get.’ She was determined to stay close to me and her father, and she was right. We would need her. And if it came to the worst, for her as for the rest of us, death by a bullet was preferable to drowning, clawing for air in a scuttled ship. My throat closed up with fear for her but I couldn’t argue with her decision.

She moved to the liquor cabinet. Several bottles had broken in the roll, and she picked one up and stared at the jagged edges. She said slowly, ‘I’ve seen them do this in movies.’

I thought that she could probably never use it, but it gave her some confidence. Geordie actually chuckled from the doorway. ‘That’s the stuff,’ he said. ‘Come on. We haven’t much time. Me first, then Ian. Mike, you bring up the rear.’

Paula was bending over Mark. She met my eye and shook her head slightly. Mark lay back with his eyes closed, though whether he was unconscious or shamming it was impossible to guess. ‘Okay, Paula, you stay here with him,’ I said.

Geordie opened the door and slipped out.

One by one we followed him cautiously into the passageway. He hadn’t gone more than a few feet when he stopped, stepped over something and then moved on. It was the
body of our second guard. He must have been on his way back to the saloon when he met up with Taffy. His throat was cut in a gaping gash and the front of his shirt was sodden and dyed scarlet with blood. Clare swayed a little as she looked down and I took her firmly by the arm and pushed her past.

We moved ahead to Campbell’s cabin and went inside to find that it hadn’t been searched. Campbell took his valise from the bottom of the wardrobe and unrolled it, looking satisfied and stronger with every movement. There were three guns in it, his own and Clare’s, and the one Geordie had taken from Ramirez back in Nuku’alofa. Father and daughter quickly loaded their weapons and Clare discarded the jagged bottle with obvious relief.

In our cabin Geordie and I found our two pistols untouched, and as we loaded them Campbell nodded with approval. ‘Now we’ve a fighting chance,’ he said.

We crept on without interruption to the aft companionway. Geordie climbed up cautiously, then ducked back. There was a man standing above on the deck silhouetted against that yellow-glowing sky. He was holding a rifle. Geordie laid his own weapon aside and moved slowly up the steps. Then he motioned me to follow – Ian was the professional but, being much slighter than the Scot, I had a better chance of reaching the deck simultaneously with Geordie.

Geordie leapt swiftly up and took the guard from behind, one arm swinging round his neck and the other grabbing the rifle. I scrambled after him and clubbed the man with the butt of my gun. He collapsed in a heap.

We dropped him down the companionway like a sack of potatoes. With a grim smile Geordie said to me, ‘You’re learning, laddie.’ We followed the body down again.

We now had three rifles and a small assortment of handguns. The odds were getting better all the time. Geordie,
making his disposition of his troops, said, ‘Mike, I want us to take a look at Falcon. You come with me. Ian, cover our rear. Mr Campbell, you and Clare keep watch down here, and shoot anybody who tries to come down that passageway – as long as they aren’t ours.’

We slipped quietly on deck and I got my first full look at Falcon. The yellow glow seemed to be diminishing but there was a lot more steam, and sheets of a rain-like substance were falling to one side of the troubled area. In the middle of it all the dense black smoke billowed upwards with fleeting streaks of red intermingled in it. The sea there was heaving and broken, but the ships were still in an area of almost untroubled ocean, save for the hurrying turbulence on the surface. The whistle of high-pressure steam was deafening, a bad sign, and the smell was gut-wrenching. I stared in utter fascination.

But once on deck Geordie was more concerned with his ship. He looked up at the foremast. ‘Christ, what a mess! They haven’t cleared her yet.’

In the dazzle of sunlight looking upwards I could see that the two masts were almost separated; they now seemed to be locked only somewhere high up. The taller
Sirena
leaned over
Esmerelda
at an angle and there was a hellish tangle of lines, broken spars and general debris scattered everywhere. The motor launch still hung astern but from where we stood there was no sign of our dinghy.

‘They’re still busy,’ Geordie murmured. ‘We’ll make for the winch. We can hide there while we try to open the cable hold.’

There was nobody at the wheel but ahead I could see knots of men at the foot of each mast. Some were up the masts working to free the wreckage, and I hoped to God they were too occupied to look down and spot us.

‘We’ll have to chance it,’ Geordie said, and gestured to Ian to follow us. We ran forward in a crouch, keeping to the
shadow of the deck house. At the end of it Geordie paused, caught my arm and pointed. There was a slight movement in the shadow of the winch drum, and to get there we would have no further cover.

‘Bill – or Taffy,’ he breathed.

A hand came out into the light and fumbled with the fastenings of the hatch cover. Ahead the men on board
Sirena
seemed to be watching the attempt to clear the mast or looking back towards Falcon, and there was a good chance that they wouldn’t see a man if he moved stealthily across the deck. A wild dash would be suicide.

The disembodied hand was still working on the hatch cover. ‘I’m going to undo the other side,’ I said quietly to Geordie. ‘Cover me.’

A rumble came clearly across the water from Falcon cutting through all other noises, and the red flashes of light in the black cloud suddenly flared higher. Voices were raised in alarm and there was a stampede of running footsteps. The diversion was well timed and I slid along the deck, clutching for the edge of the hatch, and pulled myself to lie close alongside. Groping for the catches, I saw that my companion was Bill Hunter. I had released one catch and was attacking the other when there was the sharp crackle of gunfire and a thunder of feet. Ian and Geordie were on their knees, firing at
Sirena
’s men who were pounding aft towards us.

A contorted face loomed over me, the butt of a rifle poised over my skull. I jerked to one side and it slammed into the deck. Then I heard the distinctive ‘spaat’ of Campbell’s target pistol and my assailant grew a third eye in the middle of his forehead and crashed on top of me.

I shoved his body aside and grabbed for the hatch. The second catch came free and Bill and I heaved the cover up and flung it open. Four men came boiling out of it, ready for blood.

Geordie screamed, ‘Aft! Get aft!’

We all tumbled down behind the deckhouse. More shots rang out and Ian scored a hit. The rest of
Sirena
’s crew retreated back to the mast as covering fire came from on board their ship. It seemed to come from their deckhouse, but it was hard to tell in the confusion. Geordie looked us over, counting heads and to my intense pleasure the face of Jim Taylor was amongst them. At least one of the dinghy crew was safe, which gave me hope for Rex Larkin. Bill gave me a quick thumbs-up sign.

Sporadic fire came from
Sirena.
There was at least one sharpshooter up the mainmast, and Geordie ducked as a bullet sent splinters flying just above his head.

‘This is no good,’ he said. ‘There’s not enough cover, and we’re running out of ammo.’

Then came the methodically spaced shots from Campbell’s pistol. There was a scream from the yardarm and a dark figure fell, all spinning arms and legs, to
Sirena
’s deck.

Geordie got us moving aft, leaving Nick and Ian to cover our retreat. In the companionway Campbell was reloading the pistol as we swarmed below. His lips were curled back in a fierce grin. He motioned us aside curtly and aimed at the yardarm, crouching to steady himself in the hatchway. Another body plummeted down, this time into the sea.

‘That’s the lot,’ Campbell said. He looked drawn and white and near the end of his endurance. In the passageway Clare was standing with her pistol held in a steady hand. The alarm in her face subsided when she saw us. I caught and held her briefly.

The men gathered below and there was a swift redistribution of weapons. Nick lifted a brawny fist. ‘I won’t need a gun,’ he said. He was holding a huge Stillson wrench.

A few more shots came from above but they died away, and a short time later Nick and Taffy reported that
Esmerelda
was clear of enemies below decks at least. With the exception of my brother.

Jim and Geordie went to reconnoitre the forward companionway, after a brief word with Campbell. Somehow he persuaded the Canadian to stay back in the saloon with Mark, Paula and Clare, and I forebore to ask him whether he’d done it by tact or threat. I was deeply relieved, either way.

‘They’ve retreated – they’re all aboard
Sirena.’
Geordie was back with a report. ‘I didn’t see any sign of Ramirez, but Hadley’s all over the place, bellowing orders. He’s making a right foul-up of the job too. We’re still locked on, damn them.’

‘What about Falcon?’ I asked.

‘The same as before – it’s pretty fierce out there. But we’ve checked the engines and there’s no sabotage there, thank the lord. We’re going to have to get clear of
Sirena
and away bloody fast as soon as we can. But how?’

We all looked at one another, desperately searching for ideas.

Geordie swung round to Hunter. ‘Bill, how did you get back on board? And where’s Rex. Is he okay?’ Bill didn’t know about Danny yet, but I’d seen his eyes scanning our bunch and he looked grim. It took him a moment to reply.

‘I’m sorry, skipper – we lost him. We saw some of
Sirena
’s lot take over the launch. They held guns on our lads and threw them a line to haul them in. They hadn’t seen us, so I got Rex and Jim here to slip over the dinghy side and we swamped her. Jim and I got back on board okay, up our ladder, but we had Rex between us and when
Esmerelda
lurched over he – let go. God, Geordie, I –’

‘You did your best. It’s another one to chalk up to Ramirez,’ said Geordie curtly. I left them together and went up to take another look at Falcon, feeling sick and depressed. The launch still bobbed at the end of its line, but somewhere under that twitching sea lay our dinghy and one of our crewmen.

The distance to the belching gout of smoke seemed less. Either we were dragging our anchor, which was very likely with the disturbance under her hull and the extra weight of
Sirena
alongside, or the area of eruption was enlarging – an even more alarming prospect. There was even more steam than before and I longed to know what was going on behind that red-lit misty curtain. I would have very much liked to ask Mark’s opinion.