The Dragonfly is parked in its white circle for the night, waiting for Mr Rawlins to wake up and flick his silver fringe, play Hollywood pilots again. It glows above me, flirting with the moon for the second night in a row. At the edge of the deck, Romano’s lifeboat hangs off the rig, its tarpaulin breathing in the soft breeze. Where is he?
The curve of the security tower glitters in the moonlight, but the glass circle at the top is blind and dark. I glimpse a movement behind the reflective glass. The moonlight touches Romano’s profile. I shrink into the rig, shut the door, leave a fist-wide opening to spy through. Romano’s rifle pricks from his shoulder, breaks his silhouette as he turns towards me. I sink out of sight, slide my volume up a little.
‘Go straight to the helicraft ring. Stand on the semi-circle closest to us. It is a blind spot.’
‘What?’ someone mutters.
I will them to believe my preposterous words. ‘You will be invisible.’
‘Ha!’ Charmayne scoffs.
I scorch her mutinous eyes, rebuke her for her lack of faith. The big beauty bows her head sullenly.
Romano swings slowly the other way. Only his forehead shows as he stares out to sea. I grab Vicki’s hand, savour the memory of the feline, furry softness between her thighs. The clouds rush across the moon, conspire with us as we take off towards the helicopter ring: me, Vicki, Vihaan with the black box and Barry the Australian. A clutch of others scramble after us. The prisoners press together, plant their perfectly groomed feet on the white landing ring. Eulalie, Madame Sophie and Gibril the desert runner lead another frightened rush. The clouds pass by, curse Josiah with sudden, bright moonlight. He blocks the doorway, refuses to move. Samuel doubles back and hauls Josiah to his place on the white line. Again the clouds cover the moon. Another sweep of prisoners launches towards us, then Charmayne leads Shikorina onto the white ring. I dare not look at her smeared legs. The last group of prisoners stumbles across the space. The skinny rapist is the last of the prisoners to take his position on the white paint. We form a human curve around the tail of the huge metal bird, desperately trusting the magic of Romano’s blind spot.
Inside the lookout tower, Romano strolls towards the window, stretches and yawns. For a moment the moon turns him into a little god in epaulettes. Some prisoners suck a scared breath as he faces the blades of the Dragonfly. He turns his back on us. I squeeze Vicki’s hand with all my might.
‘RUN,’ Vicki gasps for me.
Barry finds some metaphysical strength, blunders forwards half carrying the Indian. He clambers aboard the life boat, pulls him into it. Yassir, Mohammed and Gibril are the next ones in. By the time Vicki and I throw ourselves over the edge, Vihaan is already tearing the duct tape off the waterproof case with his few remaining teeth. I think I see him grin in the gloom of the orange tarpaulin. Samuel crawls with Josiah to the back of the boat and stations him at the engines. Josiah immediately pulls up a cap and checks a dipstick. He unscrews something, lets a dark fluid bleed. He pumps and locks a handle. The night breeze blows his greasy hair back, exposes the noble profile of a dark Viking, not a sadistic murderer. I sit down with Vicki, hold her like she is all I have left in my life. The priest killer and Samuel are hunting on the bottom of the boat like some one has dropped a wedding ring. Samuel falls to the floor, thrusts a black disc into an opening. He twists it to lock it. Oh, God. The bath plug.
The priest killer calls out softly to the desert runner, ‘Untie, untie!’, then releases a rope attached to the A-frame above us. The desert runner darts from hook to hook, frees more ropes as the prisoners keep staggering across the deck and throwing themselves into the boat.
A siren screams from the tower, piercing us with panic-stricken peals of sound. I let go of Vicki, dive towards the last steel hook, haul on it. I can’t untie it. The desert runner shoves me aside, engages the muscles in his hands, releases it. A volley of shots blast out, makes shrieking pings. But this is not the sound of table tennis, it is the screech of copper bullets ricocheting off the deck. Angus the skinny rapist runs towards us, screaming like a woman. He leaps into the boat and rolls up like a hedgehog. There is a pause in the pinging while the rest of the prisoners fall and crawl, fling their weak bodies into the lifeboat. I catch sight of Lolie darting behind a huge steel pillar.
‘Push the red button! Start the winch!’ the priest killer shouts.
Samuel dives towards the metal mount at the railing of the rig. He leans out of the boat, shoves on the red power switch. Nothing happens.
Romano sprints from the tower towards us. He swipes at the skinny rapist below the lip of the lifeboat. He grabs his straw hair, drags him back onto the deck. Angus fights back with startling violence. He snatches Romano’s feet from under him and pins him to the floor. Romano wrestles free, flings the rapist three metres through the air. Angus lands on his head with a crack that splits the night with a single syllable. He rolls to his hands and knees, his heart, miraculously, still sewn up. It is his head that is bleeding.
‘Pull the brake handle!’ the priest killer screams.
I swing my eyes from the red mask dripping through Angus’s eyebrows, grab for the brake lever on the metal mount. I pull with Samuel. The brake suddenly gives, snatches at my sore hand. Pain
