Read Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) Online
Authors: Nicholas P Clark
Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (4 page)
background. The Loyalists mainly recruited in the ghettos of Belfast
and the rural Protestant population did not approve of their activities
to the same extent. The events
of that
day would change the minds
and hearts
of that
passive Protestant
majority and set into motion a
tolerance for violence that would
bring the country to the brink
of
civil war.
As he made his way
back to the other side of the harbour he noticed another
set
of
stone steps,
on the
ocean side. Jack
climbed the steps and he came across a short granite pier.
of the pier there was a brass warning bell which used to be struck in
times
of
fog
before
modern
electronics took
up the slack. The
bell
swayed gently
on the breeze and it sounded almost imperceptibly, as
if it were the ghostly sound from a time long since passed. The sound
unsettled Jack.
Jack walked to the edge of the pier and he looked down. A small
boat was bobbing up and down in the water dangerously close to the
rocky sides
of the pier. There was
one man on the boat, and in Jack’s
opinion there wasn’t much room for too many
more men. The man in
the boat looked up at Jack and he grinned widely before speak.
“Do you want a lift, boss?” the stranger asked.
The man in the boat was either inappropriately friendly towards
strangers,
or he was the skipper
of the craft he was looking for. Jack
opted for the latter
option and he carefully
began to climb
down a
metal ladder that was attached to the pier. The man steered the boat as
close to the wall as he dared which left Jack with a backwards jump off
the narrow ladder into a moving boat—he felt certain that it wouldn’t
end well. Jack landed heavily in the boat and the friendly
expression
quickly dropped from the man’s face.
“Are you trying to sink her, boss?” the man asked.
“Sorry about that,
but I
didn’t
exactly
have another choice,” Jack
said, firmly.
“Never mind boss, you are in and we are still floating. That’s half
the battle,” said the man, as the smile returned.
The small
outboard engine
on the back
of the boat roared at the
top of its voice as the boat turned and they headed out into the open
water. Once they were well clear
of the harbour Jack turned to the
cautiously
At the end
man.
“Has anyone else made it?” Jack asked.
The man looked uneasy.
“Sorry boss, but you are the only one,” said the man.
The man looked at his watch.
“If they don’t turn up in the next few half hours then they will have
literally missed the boat,” he added.
Jack nodded his
head as he tried his
best
not to look pleased at
the news. He was pleased at the thought that no one else had made it.
Then the operation would really be finished.
The small craft ploughed into the gentle waves on the open sea at
an alarming speed and within minutes Jack was soaked through to the
skin. The man noticed Jack’s discomfort.
“Sorry about the rough ride,
boss,
but if I am to get
back to the
harbour to pick up any latecomers then I have to put the boot down,” he
said.
“I understand,” Jack said.
“There will be a change of clothes for you on the container ship.
And anything else that you might need,” said the man.
“Twenty year old, Swedish twins?” Jack asked, wryly.
The man smiled.
“You know what boss, it wouldn’t surprise me one little bit.”
Within a few minutes they were pulling up alongside the container
ship. The large vessel was still
moving,
but
only just. A rope ladder
was dropped over the side of the vessel and the man brought the small
boat tight in against the hull
of the larger vessel. Jack stood up and
he grabbed hold of the ladder. Transferring from the small boat to the
ladder was unexpectedly easy.
“Good luck
boss,” said the man, just
rection of the harbour.
The waves breaking against the hull
at Jack’s heels as he climbed the ladder. Jack
didn’t look down.
As he
got to the top of the ladder two arms and a hat appeared and grabbed
him. Jack struggled as he was being
pulled
onto the ship—his
mind
was in conflict—run from the grasping hands—but run to where?
12
off in the di
of the container ship nipped
Jack landed awkwardly on the deck of the container ship. Immediately
his nostrils were filled with the overpowering stench from burnt diesel
fuel.
As he looked down at the rusty deck
of the ship Jack was not at
all confident that it would ever
make it as far as South
Africa. Jack
raised his head with more than a little trepidation as he looked at the
man who had helped him
onto the ship for the very first time. The
man was everything that Jack had been expecting. He was dirty, badly
shaven, with a face that looked as if it had weathered more than its fair
share of
Atlantic storms. The man was the very embodiment of a salty
old sea dog—or a cutthroat mercenary, as the case might be.
“Welcome
onboard,” said the sailor, in a thick South
African accent. “I am glad that you could make it. Your friend is waiting for you
down below.”
“Friend?” Jack
quizzed. “What friend? I was told that no one else
had made it this far.”
The sailor looked uncomfortable as he answered Jack’s questions.
“Eh…I…I am certain that one of your friends is already onboard.
Perhaps I am mistaken? You know how it is? With so many
people
coming on and off the ship it is hard to keep track of them.”
Jack smiled, but it was an uneasy smile. It was simply beyond all
belief that the ship would have taken on so many passengers out in the
middle
of the Irish Sea
on that
day for it to be considered a routine
event. One of the IRA men was already
picked Jack
up at
Annalong
harbour
about the small fact that he already taken one of his associates to the
container ship.
The sailor waited for Jack to ask another
question but when that
question did not materialise the sailor turned and began to walk away.
Jack followed the man. They
moved across the large forward deck of
the ship until they were standing in front
of a metal door several storeys below the bridge. The sailor made a fist and then he banged on
the door three times. There was a short pause and then the door swung
open.
Another sailor was standing on the other side. The second sailor
was even more menacing looking and he glared at Jack with intent.
“After you,” said the first sailor, as he gestured with his hand.
Jack looked at the men and he
quickly resigned himself to the
13
on the ship and the man who
had
deliberately
mislead
him
fact that they were completely in control. The spook back in Lisburn
urged him to take a gun with him but Jack argued that it would be
too dangerous.
An important part
of the original escape plan had been
disposing
of their weapons
early into the escape. If he was searched
and found with a weapon then the suspicion caused would end him.
Judging by the look on the faces of his two hosts, his end was not that
far off anyway.
They
descended a narrow stairway
down into the bowels
of the
ship. The further they travelled the louder the sound
of the mighty
engines, which pushed the boat through the water,
became.
As well
as the noise, the petrochemical smell and increasing heat indicated to
Jack that they were moving in the direction of the engine room, or one
of
them, as the ship had a
main
engine room and a
smaller
back up
engine room—a ship that size powerless
on the high seas would have
been extremely vulnerable.
The group moved through the corridors in the lower decks in complete silence.
As they continued towards their destination the tension
and anticipation in the air escalated. They walked past the door to the
engine room and they came to a stop outside another door a few yards
away. The sailor who helped Jack onto the ship opened the door and
then he stood to one side to allow Jack into the room. Jack hesitated
for a few
moments
before giving
himself
over to the inevitable. He
entered the dimly lit room. Jack turned towards his escorts just in time
to have the door closed in his face. The sound
of
metal grinding
on
metal as the door’s locking mechanism was engaged told Jack that for
the time being that room was going to be his prison. That fact
didn’t
stop Jack from trying the handle to the
door just to be certain—it
would not move.
“This won’t take long,” a familiar voice said, from deep within the
gloom.
The hairs
on the back
of Jack’s neck stood on end at the sound of
the voice. Someone had made it to the ship and of all his former associates the voice belonged to the
one man Jack never wanted to see
again.
As Jack cautiously walked towards the voice the form of Barry
Fagan, sitting on a chair, came into view. Jack walked confidently towards Barry as if he was delighted to see him sitting there likea sinister