Desmond Bagley - Night Of Error

Mark said sharply, 'He doesn't want to be left here alone with you lot. I must wait for the other guard.' He crossed to the porthole and looked out again and I felt bile rise in my throat.

Geordie said, 'What the hell's the matter…?'

He didn't have time to finish. Esmerelda gave another great lurch and went over almost on her beam ends. I slithered helplessly towards the side of the saloon and jarred my head against the table as I fell. There were sounds of bedlam above decks.

The ship righted herself and we fell back in a jumble of bodies. I heard Campbell groan; it must have been hell for him in his condition. Geordie was up first. He grasped the ashtray and hurled it at the guard, and then leapt the length of the saloon. The guard tried frantically to retrieve his rifle from the deck where it had fallen. He had his fingers on the butt when Geordie kicked him with precision in the jaw and his face disappeared into a bloody ruin.

Ian had gone for Mark and any trace of his normal Highland gentleness had vanished. His face was a mask of rage. Geordie had grabbed the rifle and turned it on Mark. They converged on him, but Mark managed to evade them both and scrambled towards the saloon door.

There was a curious flicker in the air and he slumped, his hand clapped to his right hip, and I saw blood welling between his fingers.

I had raised myself to go after Geordie and a shouted word of protest was already on my lips, but as Mark fell both Ian and Geordie came to an abrupt stop, the momentary blood-lust dying from their faces. All eyes were on the gleaming, bloodied blade on the floor beside Mark.

'Who threw the knife?' I demanded.

Taffy came from the far end of the saloon. 'I did.' He saw the look that sparked in my eyes and added hastily, 'I wouldn't have killed him, Mike – even though he deserves it. I know where to put a knife.'

'Well, you'd better come and get it,' I said.

He came forward to take it from the deck and carefully wiped it on his trouser leg. Clare was looking at him ashen-faced, but Paula had already pushed forward to Mark's side.

I said, 'I saw you searched like the rest of us, Taffy. How did you hide the knife?'

'I had it dangling down the small of my back on a piece of string. It's an old trick but they fell for it.'

For the moment the crisis was passed. I looked anxiously out to sea. There was a haze of steam in the near distance and beyond it the swell of sullen black clouds still rolled skywards. The sea was choppy, with little eddies swirling here and there, and around the fringe of the steam there was a white roil of froth. The smell was fitful and nasty. Closer in, I saw our motor launch swinging astern with nobody on board her. There was no sign of Bill, nor of anyone else on deck.

In the saloon Ian was helping Campbell back onto the settee with Clare to lend him a hand. Paula was bandaging Mark and Geordie was searching the prostrate guard.

Taffy was missing.

'Geordie, where's Taffy?'

'Danny Williams was a special mate of his, you know.'

'Damn it, we need team work, not singleminded heroics.'

'Easy now,' Geordie said. 'Taffy never was a good team man, but he's deadly on his own. He'll do a hell of a lot of damage.'

'All right for him, but we need a plan of action urgently. Taffy's loose and Bill is somewhere on deck, and with luck Rex and Jim are with him. Maybe they've been able to do something. And there's us – three men and a rifle.'

'Four men,' snapped Campbell, getting to his feet. 'And if those sons of bitches haven't searched our cabins there'll be guns in them.'

He met my eyes with a cold blue glare. He was right; he'd be no good in a brawl but give him one of his target pistols and he could be deadly. Clare looked from her father to me and there was something of the same hard wildness in her face.

'I'm coming with you,' she said.

'Clare, you can't…'

She cut in decisively. 'I'm a pretty good shot too, remember? Better than you, Mike. You're going to need all the help you can get.' She was determined to stay close to me and her father, and she was right. We would need her. And if it came to the worst, for her as for the rest of us, death by a bullet was preferable to drowning, clawing for air in a scuttled ship. My throat closed up with fear for her but I couldn't argue with her decision.

She moved to the liquor cabinet. Several bottles had broken in the roll, and she picked one up and stared at the jagged edges. She said slowly, 'I've seen them do this in movies.'

I thought that she could probably never use it, but it gave her some confidence. Geordie actually chuckled from the doorway. 'That's the stuff,' he said. 'Come on. We haven't much time. Me first, then Ian. Mike, you bring up the rear.'

Paula was bending over Mark. She met my eye and shook her head slightly. Mark lay back with his eyes closed, though whether he was unconscious or shamming it was impossible to guess. 'Okay, Paula, you stay here with him,' I said.

Geordie opened the door and slipped out.

One by one we followed him cautiously into the passageway. He hadn't gone more than a few feet when he stopped, stepped over something and then moved on. It was the body of our second guard. He must have been on his way back to the saloon when he met up with Taffy. His throat was cut in a gaping gash and the front of his shirt was sodden and dyed scarlet with blood. Clare swayed a little as she looked down and I took her firmly by the arm and pushed her past.

We moved ahead to Campbell's cabin and went inside to find that it hadn't been searched. Campbell took his valise from the bottom of the wardrobe and unrolled it, looking satisfied and stronger with every movement. There were three guns in it, his own and Clare's, and the one Geordie had taken from Ramirez back in Nuku'alofa. Father and daughter quickly loaded their weapons and Clare discarded the jagged bottle with obvious relief.

In our cabin Geordie and I found our two pistols untouched, and as we loaded them Campbell nodded with approval. 'Now we've a fighting chance,' he said.

We crept on without interruption to the after-companionway. Geordie climbed up cautiously, then ducked back. There was a man standing above on the deck silhouetted against that yellow-glowing sky. He was holding a rifle. Geordie laid his own weapon aside and moved slowly up the steps. Then he motioned me to follow – Ian was the professional but, being much slighter than the Scot, I had a better chance of reaching the deck simultaneously with Geordie.

Geordie leapt swiftly up and took the guard from behind, one arm swinging round his neck and the other grabbing the rifle. I scrambled after him and clubbed the man with the butt of my gun. He collapsed in a heap.

We dropped him down the companionway like a sack of potatoes. With a grim smile Geordie said to me, 'You're learning, laddie.' We followed the body down again.

We now had three rifles and a small assortment of handguns. The odds were getting better all the time. Geordie, making his disposition of his troops, said, 'Mike, I want us to take a look at Falcon. You come with me. Ian, cover our rear. Mr Campbell, you and Clare keep watch down here, and shoot anybody who tries to come down that passageway -'as long as they aren't ours.'

We slipped quietly on deck and I got my first full look at Falcon. The yellow glow seemed to be diminishing but there was a lot more steam, and sheets of a rain-like substance were falling to one side of the troubled area. In the middle of it all the dense black smoke billowed upwards with fleeting streaks of red intermingled in it. The sea there was heaving and broken, but the ships were still in an area of almost untroubled ocean, save for the hurrying turbulence on the surface. The whistle of high-pressure steam was deafening, a bad sign, and the smell was gut-wrenching. I stared in utter fascination.