armed man was still at large. One was enough to kill him, though. He put the thought to one side, comfortable for the time being with his back close to the rails. He needed some back-up. Flown onto the platform. That would mean he’d have to be able to contact ops. He was going to have to secure these three, and that might not be simple. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’
Jordan glanced at the others, wondering what they were planning, knowing that the ticking-bomb countdown would provoke an act of desperation sooner or later. ‘We don’t have time for talk right now.’
‘Why’s that?’ Stratton asked, sensing a tension in all three.
A figure appeared, hurrying across the deck towards them.
‘This place could get pretty crowded soon,’ Deacon said, his tone cocky.
‘Not with your people,’ said Stratton, shrinking back into the shadows.
Deacon’s smile faded. He wondered exactly what the man meant.
‘I don’t advise anyone to try and take advantage of any distractions. I don’t need to bring any of you in alive. That goes for you too, Jordan.’
‘Boss,’ Banzi called out, unable to make out the individuals in the poor light. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said as he got to them, his assault rifle gripped firmly in his hands. ‘I saw Viking and the Bulgarian on the floor. I’m sure they were dead. I think the workers have weapons. They must have the other two inside the galley.’
Banzi realised something else was wrong when Deacon and the others remained still.
‘Put the gun down,’ Stratton ordered. His own was pointed at the Japanese man.
Banzi turned to look at the figure emerging from the shadows.
‘Put it down,’ Stratton repeated.
Banzi crouched, lowered his gun to the deck and held out his hands as he stood upright again.
‘You were saying,’ Stratton said to Jordan.
Jordan was about to answer when two more figures moved across the deck, walking stealthily, flitting between the light and shadows.
Stratton started to shrink back once again, wondering if it was more hijackers or perhaps even workers. He suddenly recognised Rowena and then Jason. ‘Over here,’ he called out.
The pair recognised Stratton’s voice and made their way towards the group.
‘Don’t get too close,’ Stratton warned. ‘They’re still armed.’
‘Binning?’ Rowena exclaimed on seeing her fellow scientist with his hands out. ‘I thought something had happened to you.’
‘I don’t think Binning’s on our side any more,’ Stratton said.
Rowena noticed the G43 container hanging from his shoulder.
Jason stared at Binning in disbelief.
‘Sorry, Jason,’ Binning said. ‘I meant to tell you I was leaving but I didn’t have the chance.’
‘What is this, Jordan? More than just a hijacking?’ Stratton asked.
Jordan couldn’t see the sense in keeping quiet now. As far as he was concerned, the game was up. ‘A lot more. The platform was just a front.’
‘That’s disappointing. I came all the way here just for you, old friend.’
Jordan’s feeling of guilt deepened further.
Stratton looked over at Deacon. ‘Who’s your mate?’ he asked Jordan.
‘Ex-regiment. I never met him before. He took the platform.’
Stratton kept the muzzle of his weapon trained on Deacon, sensing that he was the most dangerous. ‘And you, Binning?’
Binning became his usual light-hearted self. ‘Unlike your friend here, I don’t think this is the time to start revealing facts and admitting guilt. There’s more of this game left to play, just in case you happen to think it’s all over because you currently have the upper hand. As your friend keeps trying to warn you, we don’t have a great deal of time. You should think about taking him seriously.’
Stratton was not about to be manipulated. ‘Before we do anything else I want you all to get down on the deck . . . on your bellies.’
‘You’re not listening,’ Jordan pleaded. ‘We don’t have time for that.’
Stratton took his old friend seriously. ‘Why not?’
‘Charges have been critically placed. We’ve just enough time to get to the lifeboats. I’m serious,’ Jordan assured him, seeing the doubt in Stratton’s face. ‘I was never in agreement with that part of the plan but it’s done —’
‘Don’t be such a wuss,’ Deacon interrupted.
‘Explain the explosives,’ Stratton commanded Deacon.
The man shrugged. ‘Like he said. And there’s an anti-lift built into both dets that’ll take you longer than you ’ave just to find ’em.’
‘He has the initiator,’ Jordan said.
‘I ’ave to say, Jordan, I’ve lost all respect for you.’
Stratton levelled his SMG at the former SAS man. ‘Give me the initiator.’
Deacon shook his head. ‘I start a job, I finish it.’
‘I’ll kill you in five seconds if you don’t hand it to me and then he’ll search you for it,’ Stratton said, indicating Jason. He raised the business end of the SMG.
Deacon knew that a round leaving the gun’s barrel would strike his head. And he had no doubt that Stratton was about to pull the trigger. ‘It’s in my pack.’
Stratton didn’t move.
Deacon reached into the bag and removed the safe-box that had contained his secret instructions. ‘It’s in here,’ he said, a smirk on his lips. He tossed the box to Jordan who caught it. ‘I’ll let the rat give it to you.’
Binning was the first to take advantage of the distraction by suddenly grabbing Rowena, pulling her in front of him and drawing his pistol. He held its muzzle to the back of her head. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, stepping backwards, putting distance between himself and Stratton’s lethal SMG. ‘I don’t have time to play these games any more. I’m going to walk down to one of the lifeboats. If anyone tries to stop me I’ll kill her. Please don’t doubt me. Time is running out.’
‘Stand still,’ Stratton said coldly. The confidence of his tone checked Binning. ‘Take one more step and I’ll shoot. You won’t make it to the boat whether you kill her or not,’ Stratton said. With finality.
Whatever Binning thought about Stratton he suddenly had no doubts that the man would kill him. He couldn’t let go of Rowena but neither could he take another step towards the lifeboats.
‘What’s the number?’ Jordan asked Deacon.
‘Could take you a while to open that without it,’ Deacon chuckled.
‘I’m going to start shooting in three seconds,’ Stratton growled.
‘One, two, three, four, then the open button,’ Deacon said quickly. ‘I don’t have a memory for complicated numbers.’
Jordan punched in the first number on the digital keyboard.
Deacon watched. He took a quick glance at Stratton, who was watching him, jaw tight and finger on the trigger. If Deacon moved he knew the SBS man would shoot him.
Binning held Rowena tightly to him, desperately wondering how to get out of this situation. Freedom was only metres away but Stratton would kill him and maybe Rowena if he moved, he was sure of it.
Deacon’s stare flicked back to Jordan. There was less explosive in the box than in a hand grenade and since it was made of toughened plastic, which the heat would soften, there would be less lethal shrapnel. But the blast would be enough to injure all of them, perhaps seriously. Jordan would die, of course. All Deacon had to do was survive it, get the upper hand and escape. There was time.
Jordan touched the number three on the pad. Deacon tensed himself for four.
Jason was watching Jordan but a glance at Deacon suddenly warned him of something. The way the man’s stare bored into Jordan’s fingers, his body trying to lean away.
Jordan had pressed the four button. Only ‘open’ to go now. Deacon was trembling with the urge to dive away. If he did so too soon Jordan could stop, and Stratton would shoot him.
The operative saw the change in Deacon, the tension in his expression and the way he was leaning backwards. He didn’t know whether to shoot him or shout at Jordan to stop. Either alternative would have been too
