Jack Higgins - Drink With The Devil

“What do you want?” Tully replied.

“My niece needs the toilet. We’ll handle it the same as last time.”

“That’s okay,” Tully replied, then shaking with excitement he got the two guns from the chart table drawer and passed one to Muller. “When the right moment comes, put the wheel on the chain lock.”

“In this weather?” the German asked.

“It’ll only be for a moment.” Tully whistled down the voice pipe, and when Grant answered he said, “Jock, we’re in business. Get your gun and wait at the top of the engine room companionway. The girl’s going to the toilet.”

“I’ll be there,” Grant answered.

Tully punched the chart table with one fist. “It’ll work, it bloody well has to.”

DOLAN WENT DOWN the companionway and stood sullenly under the threat of Keogh’s AK. “I shan’t be long,” Kathleen said.

Fox, hearing the voices, had moved into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. She went into the toilet cubicle and he waited, pouncing when she came out, twisting her left wrist behind her back, and ramming the muzzle of his pistol into her neck.

“Now then, you bitch, get that door open.”

She cried out, “Martin, watch yourself!” and Fox released her wrist, got the door open, and pushed her out between Keogh and Dolan, his pistol still against her neck.

“Give that rifle to Dolan,” he ordered. “Go on, do it!”

Kathleen screamed, “Shoot them, Martin, the both of them. Don’t mind me.”

“I’ll kill her, I swear it!” Fox cried.

“No need. Just cool it.” Keogh handed the AK, butt first, to Dolan, who stepped back covering him with it, a look of unholy pleasure on his face.

“Now then, you bastard.”

The door to the engine room companionway opened at the end of the passage and Grant stepped out, a revolver in his hand. “I’m here, boys,” he called.

Fox lowered his pistol and turned to look at him and everything happened at once. Kathleen half turned, her hand slipping inside her denim jacket. She found the Colt.25, pulled it out, rammed the muzzle in Fox’s stomach, and pulled the trigger twice. Keogh hitched his right trouser leg revealing the Walther in the ankle holster, dropped to his left knee, pulling the gun out in one fluid motion, his first bullet catching Dolan in the left shoulder. He dropped the AK, spinning round, and Keogh’s second smashed his spine. Grant got off one wild shot. Keogh fired back, creasing his shoulder, and the Scotsman disappeared fast.

Keogh picked up the AK and put a hand on the girl’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” She laughed shakily. “I did what you told me and you were right. Hold it against them and you can’t miss.”

“So let’s get out of here.”

He got the door of the companionway open and called across to the truck. “Michael, they tried to jump us.”

“Are you all right?” Ryan called, opening his door and sheltering behind it.

“Fine. Cover us. We’re coming through.” He pushed Kathleen out. “Keep behind my back, girl,” and he turned, looking up at the wheelhouse, and fired a quick burst into the air when he saw a movement up there at the window.

Kathleen reached her uncle in safety. “Get back into the rear cabin. You’ll be safe there.” She did as she was told and he called to Keogh, who was sheltering behind the passenger door. “What happened?”

Keogh told him. “So you were right after all.”

“I usually am. A bad habit.”

IN THE WHEELHOUSE it was several minutes before Grant reached the bridge by a circuitous route involving the engine room hatch. He was very pale, eyes wild, blood staining his left shoulder. He pulled off his jacket, found a piece of engine room rag, and tried to bandage his shoulder.

“That little bitch shot Fox. She had a gun, then Keogh killed Dolan and had a go at me. What do we do now?”

“I don’t damn well know, do I?” Tully answered.

He went to the stern window, killed the wheelhouse light, then opened the window keeping in the shadows and peered down. He saw the truck doors standing open like wings and realized Ryan and Keogh must be standing behind them. He took careful aim at Keogh’s side, aiming below the door in the hope that he might get lucky and catch feet or ankles. He emptied his revolver, firing six times. The response was terrible, as both Ryan and Keogh fired a long burst back, dissolving the wheelhouse windows into a snowstorm of flying glass.

Tully and Grant went down on the floor fast, but Muller wasn’t so lucky, several rounds catching him in the back. He fell, the wheel started to spin, and Tully crawled to it and, half crouching, pulled it round, then secured the wheel with the chain lock.

“That’ll hold for a while.”

“But how long for and what do we bloody do?” Grant asked.

“I don’t know, do I?”

IT WAS TEN minutes later that the radio crackled and Ryan said, “You there, Tully?”

“Yes, there’s still three of us,” Tully lied. “Muller, Grant, and me.”

“Are you going to be sensible?”

“Why should I be? You need me more than I need you, Ryan.” The Irish Rose rolled heavily as the wind howled in. “Unless you can handle a ship like this and I don’t think so, especially not in weather like this.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. Only one thing’s certain. You can’t touch us up here if we keep our heads down and we can’t get at you. I’d call that stalemate.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“He’s right,” Keogh called across to him. “No way of storming the wheelhouse. They’d have every advantage.”

“And even if we did and by some miracle succeeded in knocking them off, where would be the advantage?” Ryan said. “Could we sail this thing on our own, you and me, Martin? I doubt it.”

“Keep pointing it at Ireland is about the best you could do as long as the engines kept going.”

“With no one to handle them?” Ryan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

NOTHING HAPPENED FOR some fifteen minutes and then Tully’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Ryan, are you there?”

“What do you want?”

“We’re three miles off the Down coast.”

“Still aiming for Kilalla? You could still land us there, take the other fifty thousand, and go your way and no harm done.”

“I don’t believe you. You’d shoot me like a dog after that’s happened. It’s not on and Kilalla is miles away north of here, anyway.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“I can turn this tub round and put out to sea again any time I want.”

“And we sail on forever like the Flying Dutchman, you up there in the wheelhouse and us down here?” Ryan said. “And where would that get us?”

“Nowhere from your point of view.” Tully went off the air again.

“It’s no good,” Keogh said. “I’ll have to try and rush the ladder and you can give me covering fire.”

“Covering fire? Are you mad or what?” Ryan said. “You wouldn’t stand a chance and you know it.”

CROUCHED DOWN IN the wheelhouse, Tully said to Grant, “How’s the arm?”

“It hurts like hell, but it was only a crease. I’ll survive.”

“With you in the engine room and me up here we could still sail back to England, couldn’t we?”

“I suppose so. What are you suggesting?”

“I’m going to try him with an offer one last time.”

TULLY’S VOICE SOUNDED over the radio. “Ryan?”

“What do you want?”

“I could turn out to sea like I said, we could go round in circles till the diesel oil runs out, then we’d just drift until someone called the Coastguard and they came to investigate and then the fat would be in the fire for all of us.”