The engines suddenly roared as they went into reverse and the boat came to a stop a stone’s throw from him in the light swell.
The fishing line ran away from Stratton only a couple of metres in front of the boat’s path.
The Somalis had lined the side of the vessel, looking down on him. Stratton recognised one or two of them and suspected from the way they were gesticulating, that they had recognised him too. They looked surprised to see the Englishman. They appeared to be more curious than angry at the sight of him. They could afford to be.
A shout went up and passed to the back of the boat. Then a familiar-looking big man strode along the deck and stood in the prow to look down on Stratton. The tall, strongly built African wore camouflage uniform and dark sunglasses. He looked quite amused with his find. The grin didn’t last very long though.
‘Well, well, well,’ the pirate chief said in his deep voice. ‘You are a slippery fish to hold on to.’
Stratton had no immediate reply. All he could do was look at the man.
‘You have nothing to say!’ Lotto called out.
‘It’s a pleasant morning,’ Stratton called back. It felt like the right thing to say under the circumstances.
Lotto grinned again. He said something to one of his men who came forward and handed him an AK-47 assault rifle. Lotto pulled back the working parts to cock it and as he did so a round flew out of the breach but another was reloaded.
He aimed the end of the barrel at Stratton. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t invite you on board,’ he said.
Stratton glanced at the bulker. It suddenly seemed miles away from the line. ‘I have a deal for you,’ he shouted, not knowing what the hell he was going to say next.
‘What can you possibly have that’s of interest to me?’ Lotto shouted back, keeping the weapon on aim.
‘Information,’ said Stratton. ‘Valuable information that could save you a lot of money.’ That was the right thing to say, Stratton thought. Lotto was all about money. Stratton tried to focus on Lotto’s trigger finger. If he could see it start to squeeze the trigger, he might be able to move enough to avoid a lethal strike.
‘I think you’re wasting my time,’ Lotto called out. ‘I have work to do.’ Lotto made the weapon more comfortable in his shoulder and narrowed the sights on Stratton again.
‘We know you’re using the ships to move drugs around the world,’ Stratton shouted. He didn’t mention he knew about the weapons. ‘You’re playing a very dangerous game.’
Lotto pulled the carbine’s trigger and the AK-47 bucked against his shoulder.
For a fraction of a second, Stratton thought he was a dead man and was stunned to find himself still alive. The round had smacked into the water close by his head. He glanced at the cargo ship. The front of it looked to be where the snag line should have been.
‘Let me explain,’ Stratton shouted. ‘It will only take a minute and then you can shoot me if you want to … Hijacking ships is one thing,’ he pressed on. ‘It affects economies only a little and is more of a nuisance than anything else—’
Lotto fired the Kalashnikov again, this time the round striking the water even closer to Stratton.
Lotto chuckled, as did his men. They knew how their master often liked to toy with victims before he killed them.
The operative couldn’t help wondering if it was best out of three. He kept up his tirade. ‘Even smuggling drugs is small in comparison. But aiding international terrorism is a big deal. It’s going to get you into a lot of trouble.’
Lotto fired for a third time. The round shredded Stratton’s life-jacket collar an inch from his neck. Lotto made a show of moving the gun a little to one side to take a better look at his target. ‘Did I hit you?’ he called out, not in the least concerned.
‘I don’t think so,’ Stratton replied with equal calm. ‘Perhaps just a nick. A good shot if you intended to aim so close.’
‘I was aiming for your ear.’
‘Not bad at all then.’
‘From your left ear. I was aiming for your right.’ Lotto laughed and came back up on aim. ‘Now unless you have anything of real importance to tell me, I need to go and catch myself a nice, fat cargo ship.’
Stratton felt a tug on his harness. The reel on his chest began to turn, slowly at first, then faster.
But he could also feel Lotto’s cold eye on him through the rifle sight, his finger tightening on the trigger. In a second he would feel the bullet smash into him.
The reel spun hard. Lotto squeezed the trigger. ‘Goodbye, Englishman. Finally.’
The reel locked. The line went taut as it stretched and Lotto fired as Stratton was jerked towards the front of the pirate boat. The bullet slapped into the water where he had been less than a second before.
Lotto looked utterly confused as he watched Stratton suddenly zoom unnaturally across the water on his front like he was Superman. The Englishman disappeared beyond the bows of the boat and Lotto hurried over to the other side. He watched open-mouthed as Stratton continued away at speed. All the Somalis joined their chief, all looking dumbstruck by the sight.
Lotto had no idea how Stratton was doing it but he couldn’t live with the man escaping once again. ‘Full speed!’ he roared. ‘After him!’
Immy floated in the vast ocean, all alone but strangely not feeling alone. She had been more isolated in the prison hut surrounded by the others, the only girl, waiting in fear for Lotto or one of the others to come and take her away and rape her. There was no danger of that where she was now.
She lay back so that she could see nothing else but the wide open sky. The waves lapped over her, swamping every now and then. But she didn’t care. She was in a zone. Alive for longer than she had expected to be. The reprieve from suicide had been somewhat emotional. It was quite something to come to the difficult decision to end your life and be determined to do it. She had become utterly convinced it was all going to be over in mere minutes. Then that character Stratton went and pulled yet another rabbit out of his hat.
She smiled at the memory of what they had done. Jumping into the sea to avoid being captured, adding a few more hours to their lives. He had finally gone out of her life, after a short but significant introduction. With him went any further chance of cheating death. In a strange way, despite the circumstances, she had grown used to his company. He was assertive and considerate, particularly in the face of adversity. An attractive quality most women never got to see in a man. She wondered how many people knew him that well or had misjudged him. Few people ever got into situations that exposed their true qualities.
She felt for the line as she considered his silly plan. He was still connected to her, but she knew she would never see him again. In an odd way she was sadder for him than she was for herself. The reason for it was simple enough. He had a noble purpose, she didn’t. She could argue her case but it wasn’t convincing. She had done what she did out of fear.
She could at least be pleased with how calmly she was taking her own death. She hoped she would maintain the same level of dignity until the end. Her body was beginning to chill but not too badly. Not yet. She suspected when her temperature did start to fall, it would happen quite fast. She wondered if she should try and fall asleep. That way she might not even know when she slipped into hypothermia. On the other hand, there was something wrong about spending your last hour or so on this earth asleep if you could help doing otherwise. She decided to stay conscious for as long as possible and she started thinking back through her life, starting as early as she could remember. Right back to when she was a kid. She expected to fall unconscious long before she got to the end. But it might not be such a bad way to go.
The water lapped around her ears and so she didn’t hear the distant sound of gunfire. As she searched her mind for the earliest memory of her life, she felt a tug at the back of her harness. It frightened her at first, her brain unable to interpret what it was. As she began to accelerate away, she remembered the line.
Stratton’s plan. They had been snagged.
Her speed quickly increased and she shot across the water, the life jackets taking the brunt of the bumpy waves. She spread out her arms and legs to remain as stable as possible and prevent from flipping over. She tried to raise her chin to look ahead but she couldn’t get enough of an angle. All she could do was lie flat on her back and get dragged along.
It was all so bizarre. It felt extremely tenuous and alien. The waves set up a jolting rhythm. Her teeth rattled in her mouth with every bump.
She wondered how long she could last. The water was coursing through her clothes. She felt OK, as if she
