Read The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) Online
Authors: Ron Sewell
The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6) (22 page)
BOOK: The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6)
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“You’re forgetting we have the advantage of our position,” said Bear. “Amadou, ZZ and I can take a few of the boats out from the bridge.”
Barry nodded. “The more you destroy the less we have to do. Sounds good to me.”
Petros stood. “Looks as if my water cannon will be redundant.”
“The problem with plans,” said Bear, “is the other bastards change the rules.”
“I say we hit them with everything at once. For them it’s a long swim to the shore. When the bull sharks and their friends smell blood they’ll home in on a free meal,” said Colin.
“I’ve got to agree with Colin, hit them where it hurts,” said David.
“Bear, Barry, make the call as you see it.” said Petros. “The rest of you do as you’re told. By the way, you can stand down, but one of you is to be awake with your eyes open at all times.”
“We’ll toss a coin for watches,” said Barry.
@@@
Covered by a white cotton sheet, Linda awoke with Lisa beside her. The morning sun shone through the gap in the blinds. Her mobile on the bedside cabinet gave its shrill ring. She removed her arm from under Lisa, turned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Jomo, are they on the move?”
“The vessel’s left Fujairah and is taking the shortest route. Our contacts tell us several warships are in the area but they always escort vessels transiting Somalia, after which, they pick up another ship heading for the Gulf of Oman.”
“Send a car to pick me up.” She ended the call.
Lisa rolled onto her side. “I’ll miss you.”
She grinned as she headed for the shower. “I’ve work to do. Let yourself out.”
When she returned Lisa was gone. She dressed in blue jeans and a white open-necked shirt. The remainder of her clothes she crammed into a holdall and headed for the entrance. She told reception she was leaving and would not be back. A business emergency.
The woman checked the account was in order and handed her a receipt. “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction.”
Linda nodded, smiled and walked out.
Jomo was outside waiting. She jumped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door. Fifty minutes later the car stopped at an isolated berth in Mombasa harbour.
Linda alighted from the vehicle and looked over at two large, black-painted, deep-sea vessels, known as baggalas. Both were built in Bahrain with high-squared poops but improved in Aden. With their masts removed and two American Packard engines fitted, both could exceed thirty-five knots. The confined and basic accommodation suited their limited use. Each man had a bunk in which to rest. Meals consisted of bread, smoked meat and fresh fruit.
Men dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts lazed on the decks. They were here for one reason, money; inactivity did not feed and clothe their children. Some recognized Linda and waved. They knew it was time to check their weapons.
Linda, carrying her own bag, walked across the gangway and into the deck house of the first vessel.
After parking the car, Jomo followed.
She greeted the two skippers with a nod.
“We are fuelled and the men are ready,” said Abba.
“And your boat, Zamin?”
“I await your commands.”
“Jomo, where’s our target?”
He opened his laptop and placed it on a table. “Here’s her AIS position but as we draw closer the homing device will guide us.”
“Is my cabin clean?”
“I myself made sure it was spotless,” said Abba.
“Good. Get going. Send the men below decks. You never know who might be watching.” She opened the door to the cabin, sniffed, placed her bag under the bunk and lay on top.
The engines roared into life and five minutes later both craft left harbour. To the casual onlooker they appeared as deep-sea fishing vessels. When well away from shore, the men were allowed back on deck but this time they started work.
From below they hauled onto the deck, ten fibreglass skiffs, and their Mercury six-cylinder ultra-quiet outboards. No one stopped until the skiffs were ready.
As the vibrations of the engines beneath his feet eased, Abba stopped his baggala. Men laboured and sweated as they lowered each skiff with its driver over the side. For over an hour engines were run, tuned and tested.
One hundred metres away Zamin and his men did exactly the same.
Many hours elapsed before the two baggalas cruised towards their attack position and the men rested.
The next morning Linda held a briefing. Each of her skiff drivers could place their craft at speed alongside any vessel.
She turned to Abba. “We begin at two tomorrow morning. Until then we drift with the tide. If the men want to swim let them. Jomo, keep me up-to-date on the course direction and speed of the target.”
He nodded and smiled. “No problem.”
“Abba, line up the men and give them waterproof pouches to hold passports and anything else of value with their name on. Pull alongside the other baggala and make sure they do the same, although those men should be returning to Mombasa.” She walked away. “If you need me you know where I am.”
She entered the small cabin, fastened the door and opened the ceiling vent. Fresh air wafted over her as she stripped naked, fell onto the bed and closed her eyes. A sexual thrill traversed her body. She was alive and the thought of the attack stirred thoughts of sex with Frankie.
@@@
On Leviathan, the hours ticked away but apart from a few fishing boats, the sea remained empty. Those on the bridge continued to search the vast expanse of ocean around them but saw nothing of any significance.
Bear’s security team including Henry, cleaned and checked their weapons. To pass the time they exercised in the darkened mess, using their night vision goggles.
The crew in their mess, played cards, read books or relaxed.
When the sun vanished, a moonless night cloaked Leviathan. The electronics on the bridge cast an eerie red glow over everything. With her navigation lights dimmed and at twenty knots, a tanker, the size of the Shard on its side, blended into the sea and sky.
Below in the engine-room the officer on watch examined the water cannon pumps for the umpteenth time. One minute later he checked the electrical supply. Satisfied, he returned to his mug of coffee in the control room.
Andy relieved the cadet on radar watch and checked for anything at every range available. At fifty miles no other ship was visible. He straightened up and turned to the cadet. “Notify me when any ship comes within fifty miles and don’t forget to plot its closest point of approach.”
“Yes, sir.” The keenness in his voice was clear to everyone.
The minutes dragged from one hour to the next. Tempers frayed and words were spoken.
“Sir, sir,” said the cadet. “I have a hazy contact, dead ahead, could be two ships, one close to the other. Distance fifty-three miles”
“Let me take a look.” Andy checked the screen and adjusted the controls. His hands shook as he tried to read more into the faint blip than it showed. Fearful of what might come, he let his eyes sweep the computerised controls just to be sure everything was as it should be. “The closest point of approach at this range is a collision. I would expect them to alter course.” He punched the controls and adjusted the course to starboard. He turned to the cadet. “What are the rules in this situation?”
The cadet looked up from the screen. “When two power boats are approaching head on, both vessels should alter course to starboard to pass port-side to port-side.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Word perfect. Keep your eyes on that screen and inform me when the contact is at forty miles.”
Twenty minutes later the cadet raised his head. “Contact at forty miles, sir. I estimate both vessels are advancing at thirty knots.”
Andy peered at the screen. “Two large vessels and they haven’t altered course. He saw something but it vanished. His right hand fumbled for the forward radar switch, a system they used when entering and leaving harbour. The screen lit up two more contacts. “Our guests might be on their way.” The atmosphere changed as he spoke.
Richard glanced across at Andy. “I’ll go and inform our teams. Turn on the pumps and switch the cameras to infra-red. I want to see these bastards.” He turned and descended the companionway to the officers’ mess.
“It’s that time,” was all he needed to say.
Bear telephoned the forward mess and discovered Amadou and ZZ were in the girls’ cabin playing with Abraham.
He charged to the captain’s day cabin. “You two with me. Girls, whatever happens, stay in this cabin.”
“I’ll second that,” said Amadou as he kissed Durrah. “Time to pay for our passage.”
Scarlet grabbed Abraham who wanted to run after his father.
Durrah closed and locked the door.
.
Chapter Twenty One
Abba peered into the dark. The signal from the target was strong and the radar reflection good but he could not see the vessel. He turned to a deck hand. “Get the boss.”
Clad in her one-piece black outfit, Linda left her cabin and strolled as if she did not have any worries to the steering position and peered into the dark. “Where’s the target?”
Abba pointed. “The radar shows her at ten miles and the homing signal is strong but where is she?”
Linda looked at the radar screen then ahead. “They have killed their lights but if you look hard you can see their masthead light. I’ll take the wheel and approach from the stern. Order Zamin to follow my wake and ready his men and skiffs. You do the same.”
She pushed the throttle levers hard on their stops. The deck vibrated beneath her feet and adrenalin pulsed through her veins.
One at a time the men prepared the ten skiffs for launching. Each man carried his own weapon and ammunition.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the other baggala followed.
At four hundred metres astern of the tanker, Linda ordered, “Slow ahead.” One at a time the skiffs with their drivers dropped into the sea. Each man started the Mercury outboard, and adjusted the power to match the baggalas’ speed. Men descended from the deck and took their positions, each man carryied a grapnel.
Amadou and ZZ laughed as they focused on individual targets.
@@@
Linda turned her head at the first explosions. Stanley had not mentioned they had RPGs. Her face expressed outrage as she understood. With no chance of withdrawal, she urged her driver to increase speed. Gunfire and grenades from unseen attackers struck many of the flimsy craft.
Barry nodded. “The more you destroy the less we have to do. Sounds good to me.”
Petros stood. “Looks as if my water cannon will be redundant.”
“The problem with plans,” said Bear, “is the other bastards change the rules.”
“I say we hit them with everything at once. For them it’s a long swim to the shore. When the bull sharks and their friends smell blood they’ll home in on a free meal,” said Colin.
“I’ve got to agree with Colin, hit them where it hurts,” said David.
“Bear, Barry, make the call as you see it.” said Petros. “The rest of you do as you’re told. By the way, you can stand down, but one of you is to be awake with your eyes open at all times.”
“We’ll toss a coin for watches,” said Barry.
@@@
Covered by a white cotton sheet, Linda awoke with Lisa beside her. The morning sun shone through the gap in the blinds. Her mobile on the bedside cabinet gave its shrill ring. She removed her arm from under Lisa, turned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Jomo, are they on the move?”
“The vessel’s left Fujairah and is taking the shortest route. Our contacts tell us several warships are in the area but they always escort vessels transiting Somalia, after which, they pick up another ship heading for the Gulf of Oman.”
“Send a car to pick me up.” She ended the call.
Lisa rolled onto her side. “I’ll miss you.”
She grinned as she headed for the shower. “I’ve work to do. Let yourself out.”
When she returned Lisa was gone. She dressed in blue jeans and a white open-necked shirt. The remainder of her clothes she crammed into a holdall and headed for the entrance. She told reception she was leaving and would not be back. A business emergency.
The woman checked the account was in order and handed her a receipt. “I hope you found everything to your satisfaction.”
Linda nodded, smiled and walked out.
Jomo was outside waiting. She jumped into the front passenger seat and slammed the door. Fifty minutes later the car stopped at an isolated berth in Mombasa harbour.
Linda alighted from the vehicle and looked over at two large, black-painted, deep-sea vessels, known as baggalas. Both were built in Bahrain with high-squared poops but improved in Aden. With their masts removed and two American Packard engines fitted, both could exceed thirty-five knots. The confined and basic accommodation suited their limited use. Each man had a bunk in which to rest. Meals consisted of bread, smoked meat and fresh fruit.
Men dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts lazed on the decks. They were here for one reason, money; inactivity did not feed and clothe their children. Some recognized Linda and waved. They knew it was time to check their weapons.
Linda, carrying her own bag, walked across the gangway and into the deck house of the first vessel.
After parking the car, Jomo followed.
She greeted the two skippers with a nod.
“We are fuelled and the men are ready,” said Abba.
“And your boat, Zamin?”
“I await your commands.”
“Jomo, where’s our target?”
He opened his laptop and placed it on a table. “Here’s her AIS position but as we draw closer the homing device will guide us.”
“Is my cabin clean?”
“I myself made sure it was spotless,” said Abba.
“Good. Get going. Send the men below decks. You never know who might be watching.” She opened the door to the cabin, sniffed, placed her bag under the bunk and lay on top.
The engines roared into life and five minutes later both craft left harbour. To the casual onlooker they appeared as deep-sea fishing vessels. When well away from shore, the men were allowed back on deck but this time they started work.
From below they hauled onto the deck, ten fibreglass skiffs, and their Mercury six-cylinder ultra-quiet outboards. No one stopped until the skiffs were ready.
As the vibrations of the engines beneath his feet eased, Abba stopped his baggala. Men laboured and sweated as they lowered each skiff with its driver over the side. For over an hour engines were run, tuned and tested.
One hundred metres away Zamin and his men did exactly the same.
Many hours elapsed before the two baggalas cruised towards their attack position and the men rested.
The next morning Linda held a briefing. Each of her skiff drivers could place their craft at speed alongside any vessel.
She turned to Abba. “We begin at two tomorrow morning. Until then we drift with the tide. If the men want to swim let them. Jomo, keep me up-to-date on the course direction and speed of the target.”
He nodded and smiled. “No problem.”
“Abba, line up the men and give them waterproof pouches to hold passports and anything else of value with their name on. Pull alongside the other baggala and make sure they do the same, although those men should be returning to Mombasa.” She walked away. “If you need me you know where I am.”
She entered the small cabin, fastened the door and opened the ceiling vent. Fresh air wafted over her as she stripped naked, fell onto the bed and closed her eyes. A sexual thrill traversed her body. She was alive and the thought of the attack stirred thoughts of sex with Frankie.
@@@
On Leviathan, the hours ticked away but apart from a few fishing boats, the sea remained empty. Those on the bridge continued to search the vast expanse of ocean around them but saw nothing of any significance.
Bear’s security team including Henry, cleaned and checked their weapons. To pass the time they exercised in the darkened mess, using their night vision goggles.
The crew in their mess, played cards, read books or relaxed.
When the sun vanished, a moonless night cloaked Leviathan. The electronics on the bridge cast an eerie red glow over everything. With her navigation lights dimmed and at twenty knots, a tanker, the size of the Shard on its side, blended into the sea and sky.
Below in the engine-room the officer on watch examined the water cannon pumps for the umpteenth time. One minute later he checked the electrical supply. Satisfied, he returned to his mug of coffee in the control room.
Andy relieved the cadet on radar watch and checked for anything at every range available. At fifty miles no other ship was visible. He straightened up and turned to the cadet. “Notify me when any ship comes within fifty miles and don’t forget to plot its closest point of approach.”
“Yes, sir.” The keenness in his voice was clear to everyone.
The minutes dragged from one hour to the next. Tempers frayed and words were spoken.
“Sir, sir,” said the cadet. “I have a hazy contact, dead ahead, could be two ships, one close to the other. Distance fifty-three miles”
“Let me take a look.” Andy checked the screen and adjusted the controls. His hands shook as he tried to read more into the faint blip than it showed. Fearful of what might come, he let his eyes sweep the computerised controls just to be sure everything was as it should be. “The closest point of approach at this range is a collision. I would expect them to alter course.” He punched the controls and adjusted the course to starboard. He turned to the cadet. “What are the rules in this situation?”
The cadet looked up from the screen. “When two power boats are approaching head on, both vessels should alter course to starboard to pass port-side to port-side.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded. “Word perfect. Keep your eyes on that screen and inform me when the contact is at forty miles.”
Twenty minutes later the cadet raised his head. “Contact at forty miles, sir. I estimate both vessels are advancing at thirty knots.”
Andy peered at the screen. “Two large vessels and they haven’t altered course. He saw something but it vanished. His right hand fumbled for the forward radar switch, a system they used when entering and leaving harbour. The screen lit up two more contacts. “Our guests might be on their way.” The atmosphere changed as he spoke.
Richard glanced across at Andy. “I’ll go and inform our teams. Turn on the pumps and switch the cameras to infra-red. I want to see these bastards.” He turned and descended the companionway to the officers’ mess.
“It’s that time,” was all he needed to say.
Bear telephoned the forward mess and discovered Amadou and ZZ were in the girls’ cabin playing with Abraham.
He charged to the captain’s day cabin. “You two with me. Girls, whatever happens, stay in this cabin.”
“I’ll second that,” said Amadou as he kissed Durrah. “Time to pay for our passage.”
Scarlet grabbed Abraham who wanted to run after his father.
Durrah closed and locked the door.
.
Chapter Twenty One
Abba peered into the dark. The signal from the target was strong and the radar reflection good but he could not see the vessel. He turned to a deck hand. “Get the boss.”
Clad in her one-piece black outfit, Linda left her cabin and strolled as if she did not have any worries to the steering position and peered into the dark. “Where’s the target?”
Abba pointed. “The radar shows her at ten miles and the homing signal is strong but where is she?”
Linda looked at the radar screen then ahead. “They have killed their lights but if you look hard you can see their masthead light. I’ll take the wheel and approach from the stern. Order Zamin to follow my wake and ready his men and skiffs. You do the same.”
She pushed the throttle levers hard on their stops. The deck vibrated beneath her feet and adrenalin pulsed through her veins.
One at a time the men prepared the ten skiffs for launching. Each man carried his own weapon and ammunition.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the other baggala followed.
At four hundred metres astern of the tanker, Linda ordered, “Slow ahead.” One at a time the skiffs with their drivers dropped into the sea. Each man started the Mercury outboard, and adjusted the power to match the baggalas’ speed. Men descended from the deck and took their positions, each man carryied a grapnel.
Linda returned the helm to Abba. With nimble movements she dropped from the deck and sat in the stern of the lead skiff. Jomo positioned himself at the bow. When the drivers on both baggalas indicated they were ready, the skiffs cast off.
The narrow and long fibreglass hulls skimmed the crests of the waves at speed, their black hulls invisible to the naked eye. Linda’s team veered to port and the others to starboard of the tanker’s stern.
@@@
Through his night goggles, Bear peered along the scope of his RPG7 launcher. He glanced to his left and right, Amadou and ZZ nodded. “Wait until the transports begin to turn away and aim for the engine room.”
His timing was important, the second he fired the element of surprise vanished. The three men held their breath, aimed and fired. Three sharp cracks followed by three explosions and the two baggalas erupted in a hail of wood splinters. Three more detonations completed their destruction. The missiles punched through the hull and into the engine room tearing and rupturing the fuel tanks. The outcome, as explosions mixed with fuel and debris, predictable. Night turned into day as the surrounding area filled with fire, blinding both sides, until the burning hulks sank. Fuel on the surface continued to burn. Its flickering flames cast weird shadows.
Amadou and ZZ laughed as they focused on individual targets.
@@@
Linda turned her head at the first explosions. Stanley had not mentioned they had RPGs. Her face expressed outrage as she understood. With no chance of withdrawal, she urged her driver to increase speed. Gunfire and grenades from unseen attackers struck many of the flimsy craft.
BOOK: The Collectors Book Six: Black Gold (The Collectors Series 6)
5.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
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