AND KEOGH, WITH the soldier’s habit ingrained of snatching an hour of sleep when he could, simply leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and was asleep in the instant. His breathing deepened and Ryan watched him for a while. Hell on wheels, this one, and capable of anything, but who are you, Martin? he thought. Who are you really? He sat there, the AK in his lap, watching Muller, occasionally glancing up at the light in the wheelhouse, and waited.
KEOGH CAME AWAKE with a start, Ryan’s hand on his shoulder. He checked his watch and saw that it was midnight. “You should have wakened me, Michael. You need your sleep, too.”
“Less than you do. I’m older. Will you look over there.”
Keogh saw the light at once flickering out there in the darkness. “Would that be the Calf of Man?”
“That’s right and we’re dead on course. I’ve checked with the compass.”
“So far so good, then. I’ll just step out for a moment. Call of nature.”
He opened the door and stepped down, the wind so strong that it bounced against him. It was Dolan on duty again and Keogh waved cheerfully.
“Try to smile, you miserable sod,” he called and relieved himself at the side of the truck.
He climbed back inside and Ryan said, “Now me,” and got out on his side.
Tully, watching all this from the stern window of the wheelhouse, suddenly clenched his fist, excitement surging through him. “That’s it. Christ, that’s it.” He turned to Muller. “I’ll take the wheel. Relieve Dolan. Tell him to get up here. Go on, it’s important.”
Muller did as he was told and a few moments later Dolan came in, water streaming from his oilskins. “What’s up? I only did an hour.”
“I think I’ve got it,” Tully said. “That girl is going to want to go to the toilet again, she’s bound to.”
“So what?”
“Well, try this for size. Keogh held Muller at gunpoint while she went in?”
“That’s right.”
“What would happen if there was someone waiting in there with a shooter? Someone who’d bring her out with the barrel under her chin? What would Mr. Bloody Keogh do, what could he do?”
“My God, it’s a thought,” Dolan said.
“Yes, well you can’t do it. They’ll miss you if you’re off the deck too long, so get down to the engine room and get Fox. Grant will have to manage on his own. Tell Fox to get his shooter and go to that toilet now. He can sit there and wait.”
“How long for?”
“As long as it bloody well takes. Now get out of here,” and he hung on to the wheel as a sudden squall hit the
IT WAS JUST after two, the wind very strong now, and Ryan checked his watch. “We must be close. Three o’clock was a fair arrival time.”
Kathleen came awake with a groan and sat up. “Jesus, I feel awful. What time is it?” Ryan told her and she swung her legs to the floor. “I’ll have to go to the toilet again.”
“All right. Give me a minute.” He called Tully.
“What do you want?” Tully replied.
“My niece needs the toilet. We’ll handle it the same as last time.”
“That’s okay,” Tully replied, then shaking with excitement he got the two guns from the chart table drawer and passed one to Muller. “When the right moment comes, put the wheel on the chain lock.”
“In this weather?” the German asked.
“It’ll only be for a moment.” Tully whistled down the voice pipe, and when Grant answered he said, “Jock, we’re in business. Get your gun and wait at the top of the engine room companionway. The girl’s going to the toilet.”
“I’ll be there,” Grant answered.
Tully punched the chart table with one fist. “It’ll work, it bloody well has to.”
DOLAN WENT DOWN the companionway and stood sullenly under the threat of Keogh’s AK. “I shan’t be long,” Kathleen said.
Fox, hearing the voices, had moved into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. She went into the toilet cubicle and he waited, pouncing when she came out, twisting her left wrist behind her back, and ramming the muzzle of his pistol into her neck.
“Now then, you bitch, get that door open.”
She cried out, “Martin, watch yourself!” and Fox released her wrist, got the door open, and pushed her out between Keogh and Dolan, his pistol still against her neck.
“Give that rifle to Dolan,” he ordered. “Go on, do it!”
Kathleen screamed, “Shoot them, Martin, the both of them. Don’t mind me.”
“I’ll kill her, I swear it!” Fox cried.
“No need. Just cool it.” Keogh handed the AK, butt first, to Dolan, who stepped back covering him with it, a look of unholy pleasure on his face.
“Now then, you bastard.”
The door to the engine room companionway opened at the end of the passage and Grant stepped out, a revolver in his hand. “I’m here, boys,” he called.
Fox lowered his pistol and turned to look at him and everything happened at once. Kathleen half turned, her hand slipping inside her denim jacket. She found the Colt.25, pulled it out, rammed the muzzle in Fox’s stomach, and pulled the trigger twice. Keogh hitched his right trouser leg revealing the Walther in the ankle holster, dropped to his left knee, pulling the gun out in one fluid motion, his first bullet catching Dolan in the left shoulder. He dropped the AK, spinning round, and Keogh’s second smashed his spine. Grant got off one wild shot. Keogh fired back, creasing his shoulder, and the Scotsman disappeared fast.
Keogh picked up the AK and put a hand on the girl’s arm. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She laughed shakily. “I did what you told me and you were right. Hold it against them and you can’t miss.”
“So let’s get out of here.”
He got the door of the companionway open and called across to the truck. “Michael, they tried to jump us.”
“Are you all right?” Ryan called, opening his door and sheltering behind it.
“Fine. Cover us. We’re coming through.” He pushed Kathleen out. “Keep behind my back, girl,” and he turned, looking up at the wheelhouse, and fired a quick burst into the air when he saw a movement up there at the window.
Kathleen reached her uncle in safety. “Get back into the rear cabin. You’ll be safe there.” She did as she was told and he called to Keogh, who was sheltering behind the passenger door. “What happened?”
Keogh told him. “So you were right after all.”
“I usually am. A bad habit.”
IN THE WHEELHOUSE it was several minutes before Grant reached the bridge by a circuitous route involving the engine room hatch. He was very pale, eyes wild, blood staining his left shoulder. He pulled off his jacket, found a piece of engine room rag, and tried to bandage his shoulder.
“That little bitch shot Fox. She had a gun, then Keogh killed Dolan and had a go at me. What do we do now?”
“I don’t damn well know, do I?” Tully answered.
He went to the stern window, killed the wheelhouse light, then opened the window keeping in the shadows and peered down. He saw the truck doors standing open like wings and realized Ryan and Keogh must be standing behind them. He took careful aim at Keogh’s side, aiming below the door in the hope that he might get lucky and catch feet or ankles. He emptied his revolver, firing six times. The response was terrible, as both Ryan and Keogh fired a long burst back, dissolving the wheelhouse windows into a snowstorm of flying glass.
