Ken Follett: Triple (1991)

They had got his meaning. A moment later they followed him in. Dickstein said, "We have to take the mess." "I don't see how," said Feinberg. "Shut up and I'll tell you. We rush it from all sides at once: port, starboard, below and above. First we have to take the bridge. I'm going to do that. When I get there ru sound the foghorn. That will be the signal. I want you both to go below and tell the men there." "How will you reach the bridge?" Feinberg said. Dickstein said, "Over the roof."

On the bridge, Yasif Hassan had been joined by Mahmoud and two more of his Fedayeen, who took up firing positions while the leaders sat on the floor and conferred. 'They can't win," Mahmoud said. "From here we control too much deck. They can!t attack the mess from below, because the companionway is easy to dominate from above. They can't attack from the sides or the front because we can fire down on them from here. They can't attack from above because we control the down companion. We just keep shooting until they surrender." Hassan said, "One of them tried to take this companion a few minutes ago. I stopped him." "You were on your own up herer "Yes." He put his hands on Hassan's shoulders. "You are now one of the Fedayeen," he said. Hassan voiced the thought that was on both their minds. "After thisr' Mahmoud nodded. "Equal partners." They clasped hands. - Hassan repeated, "Equal partners." Mahmoud said, "And now, I think they will try for that companionway again-its their only hope." "IT cover it from the chartroom," Hassan said. They both stood up; then a stray bullet from the foredeck came in through the glassless windows and entered Mahmoud's brain, and he died instantly. And Hassan was the leader of the Fedayeen.

Lying on his belly, arms and legs spread wide for traction, Dickstein inched his way across the roof. It was curved, and totally without handholds, and it was slick with rain. As the CoparelU heaved and shifted in the waves, the roof tilted forward, backward, and from side to side. All Dickstein could do was press himself to themetal and try to slow his slide. At the forward end of the roof was a navigation light. When he reached that he would be safe, for he could hold on to it. His progress toward it was painfully slow. He got within a foot of it, then the ship rolled to port and he slid away. It was a long roll, and it took him all the way to the edge of the roof. For a moment he hung with one arm and a leg over a thirty-foot drop to the deck. The ship rolled a little more, the rest of his leg went over, and he tried to dig the fingernails of his right hand into the painted metal of the roof. There was an agonizing pause. The Coparelli rolled back. Dickstein let himself go with the roll, sliding faster and faster toward the navigation light. But the ship pitched up, the roof tilted backward, and he slid in a long curve, missing the light by a yard. Once again he pressed his hands and feet into the metal, trying to slow himself down; once again he went all the way to the edge; once again he hung over the drop to the deck; but this time it was his right arm, which dangled over the edge, and his machine gun slipped off his right shoulder and fell into a lifeboat. She- rolled back and pitched forward, and Dickstein found himself sliding with increasing speed toward the navigation light. ibis time he reached it. He grabbed with both hands. The light was about a foot from the forward edge of the roof. Immediately below the edge were the front windows of the bridge, their glass smashed out long ago, and two gun barrels poking out through them. Dickstein held on to the light, but he could not stop his slide. His body swung about in a wide sweep, heading for the edge. He saw that the front of the roof, unlike the sides, had a narrow steel gutter to take away the rain from the glass below. As his body swung over the edge he released his grip on the navigation light, let himself slide forward with the pitch of the ship, grabbed the steel gutter with his fingertips, and swung his legs down and in. He came flying through the broken windows feet first to land in the middle of the bridge. He bent his knees to take the shock of landing, then straightened up. His submaebine gun bad been lost and he bad no time to draw his pistol or his knife. There were two Arabs on the bridge, one on either side of him,, both holding machine guns and firing down on to the deck. As Dickstein straightened up they began to turn toward him their faces a Picture of amazement. Dickstein was fractionally nearer the one on the port side. He lashed out with a kick which, more by luck than by judgment, landed on the point of the man's elbow, momentarily paralyzing his gun arm. Then Dickstein jumped for the other man. His machine gun was swinging toward Dickstein just a split second too late: Dickstein got inside its swing. He brought up his right hand in the most vicious two-stroke blow he knew: the heel of his hand hit the point of the Arab's chin, snapping his head back for the second stroke as Dickstein's band, fingers stiffened for a karate chop, came down hard into the exposed flesh of the soft throat Before the man could fall Dickstein grabbed him by the jacket and swung him around between himself and the other Arab. The other man was bringing up his gun. Dickstein lifted the dead man and burled him across the bridge as the machine gun opened up 'Me dead body took the bullets and crashed into the other Arab, who lost his balance, went backward out through the open doorway and fell to the deck below. There was a third man in the chartroom, guarding the companionway leading down. In the three seconds during which Dickstein had been on the bridge the man had stood up and turned around; and now Dickstein recognized Yasif Hassan. Dickstein dropped to a crouch, stuck out a leg, kicked at the broken door which lay on the floor between himself and Hassan. The door slid along the deck, striking Hassan!s feet. It was only enough to throw him off balance, but as he spread his arms to recover his equilibrium Dickstein moved. Until this moment Dickstein had been like a machine, reacting reflexively to everything that confronted him, letting his nervous system plan every move without conscious thought, allowing training and instinct to guide him; but now it was more than that. Now, faced with the enemy of all he had ever loved, he was possessed by blind hatred and mad rage-

It gave him added speed. and power. He took hold of Hassan's gun arm by the wrist and shoulder, and with a downward pull broke the arm over his kneeHassan screamed and the gun dropped from his useless hand. Turning slightly, Dickstein brought his elbow back in a blow which caught Hassan just under the ear. Hassan turned away, falling. Dickstein grabbed his bair from behind, pulling the head backward; and as Hassan sagged away from him be lifted his foot high and kicked. His heel struck the back of Hassan's neck at the moment he jerked the bead. There was a snap as all the tension went out of the man's muscles and his head lolled, unsupported, on his shoulders. Dickstein let go and the body crumpled. He stared at the harmless body with exultation ringing in his ears. Then he saw Koch. The engineer was tied to a chair, slumped over, pale as death but conscious. There was blood on his clothes. Dickstein drew his knife and cut the ropes that bound Koch. Then he saw the man's hands. He said, "Christ." "I'll live," Koch muttered. He did not get up from the chair. Dickstein picked up Hassan's machine gun and checked the magazine. It was almost full. He moved out on to the bridge and located the foghorn. "Koch," he said, "can you get out of that chair?" Koch got up, swaying unsteadily until Dickstein stepped across and supported him, leading him through to the bridge. "See this button? I want you to count slowly to ten then lean on it. Koch shook his head to clear it. "I think I can handle it." "Start. Now." "One," Koch said. 'Two." Dickstein went down the companionway and came out on the second deck, the one he had cleared himself. It was still empty. He went on down, and stopped just before the ladder emerged into the mess. He figured all the remaining Fedayeen must be here, lined against the walls, shooting out through portholes and doorways; one or two perhaps watching the companionway. There was no safe, careful way to take such a strong defensive position.