out with something else. Such as the G43.’
‘Like in a Trojan ’orse,’ said Deacon in a moment of unusual intuition.
‘Worth every penny of all our wages.’ Jordan was suddenly more cheerful than he had been in a long time.
‘Boss?’ Banzi interrupted. ‘I can’t raise Pirate.’
‘Then go look for ’im,’ Deacon suggested tiredly. ‘Go on.’
Banzi held up the pistol he’d taken from Binning as if asking what he should do with it.
‘Give it back to ’im,’ Deacon said.
Banzi handed the pistol to Binning and left the control room.
‘Where’s the rest of your team?’ Jordan asked. ‘I suppose they think you fell overboard?’
‘That reminds me. We have a rather annoying SBS operative with us. He’s somewhere on these upper decks right now.’
Jordan and Deacon were both suddenly wearing similar looks of concerned curiosity.
‘Why has he come to the upper decks?’ Jordan asked, his stare boring into Binning.
‘I don’t think it’s as bad as it might sound,’ Binning said, attempting to reassure them. ‘He’s here for something specific. Give him what he wants and I’m sure he’ll go away.’
‘And what would that be?’ Deacon asked.
‘He’s looking for a man, an old friend, a worker on the platform.’
‘Who?’ Deacon asked, becoming irritated.
Binning frowned. ‘Buggered if I can remember his name. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time. You were going to execute him along with a few others. You filmed them all . . . His first name was—’
‘Jordan?’ Deacon said, remembering very well that they’d filmed Mackay.
‘That’s it,’ the scientist said. ‘Jordan Mackay.’
Jordan clenched his jaw as he faced Deacon. ‘You stupid prick. Selecting me for the damned film shoot.’
‘I didn’t know you then, did I, you arse-wipe. Why would an SBS operative be looking for just you, anyway?’ Deacon asked angrily.
‘I can answer that,’ Binning said. ‘His name’s John Stratton and he owes this gentleman a life.’
Jordan looked up at the mention of the name. ‘Christ.’
Deacon registered his concern.
Jordan suddenly felt completely frustrated. ‘I told you about him,’ he said to Deacon.
‘Your team leader in Afghanistan? That’s brilliant,’ Deacon guffawed. ‘He’s come all the way ’ere, risking life and limb to rescue you, thinking you’re about to be executed, and all the while it’s you who’s doing the robbing.’
‘He’s dangerous,’ Jordan warned.
‘He’s one man,’ Deacon said cockily. He went over to his bag, took out a cable with a sucker on the end and stuck it to a window. ‘And ’e’s not the only dangerous one.’ He plugged his satellite phone into the other end of the cable. ‘Let’s ’ope we get a connection,’ he said, bringing up a number.
A moment later someone answered the call. ‘This is me . . . yeah, Thanatos. We’re ready to go blue . . . That’s right . . . Yes, of course we’ve got it . . . By strength, by guile,’ he said. ‘Can I confirm that the obvious is ready?’ he asked. ‘Good. See you out there.’
Deacon collapsed the phone’s antenna, unplugged the cable and put it all back in his pocket. ‘We’re good to go,’ he said, taking the explosive-charge initiator out of his bag and extending a thin aerial from it. ‘It looks like our work ’ere is done.’ He flipped open a cover and pushed a button. It began to flash red. ‘We’ve got ’alf an hour to get clear of the platform.’
Jordan could not believe his eyes and ears. ‘Tell me you haven’t done what I think you’ve just done,’ he said.
Deacon squared up to him. ‘Now it’s
‘I’m curious to know how,’ Binning said. ‘The entire area is surrounded by Royal Navy ships and aircraft.’
‘They must want that little tile of yours pretty bad,’ Deacon said. ‘Come on. The signal they’re waiting for is the oil platform going up. Like I said, we ’ave ’alf an hour.’
‘Going up?’ Binning said, suddenly the one who didn’t understand.
Deacon rolled his eyes. ‘Catch up, genius. What do you think this is?’ he said, holding up the initiator.
Binning’s thoughts shot to Jason and Rowena. He could only hope they would be off the platform already.
‘You bastard,’ Jordan hissed, moving towards Deacon. ‘What about the workers? Are you going to let them know before it’s too late?’
‘I’m only thinking of you, Jordan, me old mate. You see, when the rig goes up the authorities’ll think that you’re dead. They’ll never know the part you played in it. If they thought you were still alive they’d come looking for you. You wouldn’t be able to spend all that money. Bet you never thought of that, did you?’ Deacon grinned.
‘The escaping workers in the other lifeboats would add to our cover,’ Jordan said, raising his voice. ‘You need to let them go.’
‘They’ll only get in the way.’
The anger swelled in Jordan and although he was hampered by his injured leg he took a swing at the former SAS man. Deacon avoided the blow easily and countered viciously with an uppercut into Jordan’s gut. He cocked his other hand to punch him again but Binning grabbed it. The man’s vicelike grip took Deacon by surprise.
Binning smiled as he looked into Deacon’s eyes. ‘That’s enough. We need to get going.’
Deacon pulled his arm away and stepped back, looking at the scientist with renewed respect. ‘Make sure he doesn’t step out of line again or I’ll kill ’im.’ Deacon picked his pack off the floor and went to the door.
‘Where to?’ Binning asked, picking up the G43.
‘A lifeboat. I’ll tell the team to close in.’
‘Let’s put all this behind us, Jordan,’ Binning said, helping the former SBS man to the door. ‘Think about the money you’ll have to spend in just a few days.’
Outside it wasn’t just the storm that was waiting for them.
12
‘All call signs to the crane,’ Deacon shouted into his radio. ‘All call signs to the crane immediately!’
The wind howled over the metal deck as the three men walked across it. The energy of the storm hadn’t dissipated since it had reached its peak a few hours earlier and as they moved into the light falling from the deck above everything seemed to be coming loose. Spotlights shuddered in their housings and rattled on the ends of poles. The dead worker’s corpse swung from the crane’s hook in the gale.
Deacon stopped beside the crane to look down at a lifeboat in its cradle suspended over the side of the deck below. ‘We’ll take that one,’ he said. He glanced across to the stairs that led up from the accommodation block. ‘Where are those blokes? You’d think they’d be ’ere like a shot.’
‘Nobody move.’ The voice came from the darkness.
Jordan and Binning recognised it instantly and Deacon did not take long to guess who was speaking.
‘Let’s have a show of hands. I have a light trigger finger.’
Binning released the G43 bag, letting it hang from his shoulder, and put up both hands. The other two men held their hands away from their bodies, palms out.
Stratton stepped from the shadows, the muzzle end of his SMG leading the way. He positioned himself where he could see each of them, his back to the rails. ‘Why do I get a bad feeling about this picture? You don’t look or sound much like a prisoner, Jordan. Nor you, Binning.’ Stratton looked at the third man. ‘How many of you are there?’ he asked.
Jordan stuck his chin up stiffly, trying to be assertive despite his feeling of extreme guilt. ‘There’s six more guns out there.’
Stratton wondered if they knew about the Somali or the other four he’d killed. If not, that meant only one
