Colin Forbes - Year of the Golden Ape

^ It was the voice of a man gone berserk, a raving, screaming voice corning out of the ship-to-shore speaker into the silent room. MacGowan felt chilled, stupefied. It had started like this the moment LeCat came back on the air. No preliminaries, no demands, just these ravings of a maniac…

^ At the first mention of a Marine boat, Gen. Lepke went into the next room, picked up the phone. There were Marine assault craft – full of Marines, too – hidden at strategic points behind Alcatraz Island and further back along the waterfront, well away from the tanker. But none of them could have been seen, none of them could have put out into the Bay. Lepke was appalled, intensely worried as he spoke to the Presidio, told them to check immediately while he waited.

^ He returned to the main office in less than two minutes to hear the sound of a shot coming over the speaker. LeCat was playing the same trick a third time, the sadistic bastard. MacGowan, shoulders hunched forward, sat staring at the speaker. He raised a hand to stop Lepke saying anything. A voice came over the speaker. Mackay's, very subdued, the voice of a man stunned with shock.

^

^ Lepke scribbled on a desk pad, pushed the note in front of MacGowan, who glanced at it, looked back at the speaker. ^ No Marine craft has left the shore. Positive. Impossible LeCat could have seen one. ^ Mackay was speaking again in the same disembodied voice.

^ "They are putting his body out of the bridge window… it just went down…' The voice changed, became something between a strangled roar and anguish. 'No! For God's sake, not again…', Sounds which might have been a scuffle, then LeCat's voice faintly… 'Stay where you are, Bennett-or we shoot Mackay…', Another shot, deafening, very close to the speaker, then another, strange, younger voice.

^ "They've shot Wrigley… the steward… the fuckers. For Christ's sake, MacGowan, storm the ship before it's too late…' The voice ended in a grunt, a groan, as though its owner had just been clubbed on the head. Then there was a terrible fusillade of shots, a whole magazine being emptied. Lepke scribbled another, shorter note. ^ Storm the ship! ^ MacGowan shook his head. He could count. Two men dead, but twenty-seven hostages still alive -unless that fusillade… LeCat came back on the air.

^

^ Mackay's voice came over the speaker again. 'They shot Foley and Wrigley…' His voice was firmer. 'The other shots went out of the window. There are twenty-seven of us still alive. LeCat says he will not shoot any more…'

^ 'Not yet!' LeCat again. 'The Marine boat has turned away. If it does not come back the hostages are safe. I warned you, MacGowan, I warned you again and again…'

^ 'No Marine boat has approached the ^ Challenger,' ^ MacGowan said in a steady monotone, keeping the fury out of his voice. It could be that LeCat's sanity was trembling in the balance. 'No boats at all are in the Bay. The Port Authority will not permit any craft to leave its berth…'

^ 'You are lying! You were testing me! Had I not shot those men your Marines would have stormed this ship! You have killed those men…'

^ MacGowan sat quite still, his face blank as he listened to LeCat raving on. He didn't sound insane, he decided, just savage, a terrorist, a man from a world the public found hard to take in, so he had the advantage – the advantage of brutality. LeCat suddenly seemed to calm down. The unexpected switch to reasonableness was in itself unnerving.

^ MacGowan clenched his fist, digging the nails into the palm. 'It has been there for many hours,' he said in the same monotone.

^ The President is holding a special Cabinet meeting at this moment…' Soothe him down, play up to his monstrous ego, keep his mind on something else – while twenty-seven hostages are still living. LeCat went off the air quietly, and even that was disturbing.

^ In the tension – made worse because none of it was seen, it was only heard, coming through the metallic, neutral speaker – no one noticed MacGowan's personal secretary, sworn to secrecy, slip inside the room and leave the met. report in a tray.

^ What everyone had hoped for, prayed for, was happening. The siege train was returning. It moved past Mile Rocks lighthouse -which sent the report – filled Golden Gate channel with dense fog, reached the bridge, surged under it to spread out into the vast Bay beyond, along the Marin shore to the north, then it advanced southwards and to the east, heading for Alcatraz – for the point where ^ Challenger ^ was at anchor half a mile from Pier 31. Judging by its progress, it would envelop the fo'c'sle first.

^ Winter, grimy with dirt, his jaw stubbled with beard, had the hatch open a few inches when he heard the first shot. With very little food in his aching stomach his hearing was exceptionally acute and he thought he heard a moment later a distant thud, like a body hitting the main deck, dropped from a height. He decided he had imagined it when he heard the second shot, then a fusillade, much louder than the previous muffled reports, so loud he instinctively ducked thinking they were firing at him. He waited, felt Cassidy's hand impatiently tugging at his thigh. He waited a little longer, then closed the hatch and went back down the ladder.

^ 'What the hell is going on? Are they shooting hostages?' the American demanded. 'By God, we'd better make a move…'

^ 'Not yet,' Winter repeated. "The foremast lights are still on, the lookout is in his perch, there's no fog yet to cover us…"

^ 'You don't like it!' Winter exploded. 'You believe I like it? I think they just shot two hostages to show MacGowan they mean business. But I can count. That means twenty-seven people are still alive…'

^ 'Which was a whole magazine being emptied out of the window, I'm sure. It was much louder than the first two shots. Look, there are only three of us. It doesn't matter what happens to any of us, but we have to do the job first time or we're dead – and so are the hostages. We've been stuck in this stinking hole for over eighteen hours – we can stick it out a bit longer…'

" The carpenter's store did stink by now. The stench of stale urine mingled with the stench of sour sweat. All three men were filthy, thirsty, bone-weary. Whatever awaited them, it would be a pleasure to get to hell out of this cesspit. Winter checked the hatch five minutes later, came back down the ladder, shaking his head, but Sullivan thought he saw a change of expression. 'Is something happening?'

" Having recalled the foremast lookout, LeCat put the walkie-talkie down on to the table he had had brought on to the bridge. He was eating all his meals up here now, living in the wheelhouse. Since the " Challenger" entered the Bay the Frenchman had slept no more than MacGowan, and like the Governor his face was pouchy-eyed and strained, but his eyes were still alert.

" They would be leaving the ship within an hour. LeCat looked at the miniature transmitter resting on the table beside the walkie-talkie. That would be his last job before they left, to turn the switch which would activate the timer mechanism. LeCat also had been waiting for heavy fog to obscure the ship; under its protecting cover they would leave in the Zodiac which was now waiting on the main deck with the outboard motor attached.

" Most of his team, like LeCat himself, had now changed into wet-suits. Several of them stood around on the bridge, sinister figures in the gloom – only the binnacle light gave a faint glow, otherwise the bridge was in darkness. LeCat was confident his plan was working. Two hostages had been shot, which would deter MacGowan from launching any attack – he still had the remaining twenty-six hostages to think of. And it was twenty-six, not twenty-seven, but only LeCat knew that Monk, the man he had pushed over the side, was dead.