Kitabı oku: «Star of Africa», sayfa 6
Chapter 14
For what seemed like minutes on end, as if in a dream, Jude stared numbly down at his friend’s body and the horrific red mess that had been his head. The gunfire rattling up the side of the ship; Condor’s frantic yells of ‘get down, get down!’ coming from behind; the third and fourth grappling hooks shooting up over the side and getting a purchase on the rail: everything faded into the background. He was only dimly aware of Gerber running up next to him, axe in hand, swinging furious blows that struck sparks from the deck and severed one of the lines the pirates were using to shinny up the side of the ship. The rope parted and two boarders fell back and splashed into the foaming sea between their boats.
Only then did Jude come to his senses, and along with them came a flood of rage. He bent down and snatched up the fallen flare pistol. It was sticky with Mitch’s blood. He didn’t know how it worked, but he’d seen Mitch load it and he guessed you only had to pull the trigger. Teeth gritted, he leaned right out over the rail, pointed the gun vertically down at the nearer of the two boats, and fired.
The flare whooshed down the side and burst against the back of the boat in a flash of white flame that ignited the jerrycans of spare fuel lashed to the stern next to the outboard motor. The boat exploded in a blast that lifted it out of the water and sent a fireball and a wave of searing heat rippling up the Andromeda’s hull. Jude and Gerber both ducked back from the edge. A pall of black smoke enveloped everything. Jude could hear the screams and splashes as pirates hurled themselves into the sea to escape the flames.
For a few moments, it seemed as if they’d succeeded in beating them off. But it was a short-lived victory. The second boat had managed to power away from the explosion. With unbelievable speed, and before Jude even realised what was happening, the pirates were swarming up the ropes and leaping nimbly over the smoke-blackened rail to pounce on deck with their weapons ready and firing.
Jude wanted to shoot back at them, but then felt a powerful hand grip his arm and drag him back towards the cover of the container stacks. Gerber was in full-on soldier mode now and shouting ‘Fall back, fall back!’ as if commanding his troops to retreat in the face of an enemy charge.
There was no choice. Jude glanced back one last time at Mitch’s body before he followed Gerber and the others at a run, down a narrow alley between container stacks and across a stretch of open deck towards the relative safety of the house. ‘This way, this way!’ Gerber was shouting over the crackle of gunfire, pointing towards the main hatchway leading inside.
One by one, they ducked through the entrance. Condor slammed the hatch shut behind them and spun the locking wheel. It was the same kind of heavy riveted iron door, streaked with rust, that were all over the ship. They were designed to seal tightly enough to keep out Force Ten storms. They could keep the pirates at bay – for now, at any rate.
From the other side of the thick metal they could hear running footsteps on the deck, clattering up the ladders, along the walkways. More gunshots, sporadic bursts of automatic fire coming from different points as the pirates rapidly spread all over. Jude edged closer to the door, pressed his ear to it and heard the raised voices and barked commands from the other side. He didn’t think they were speaking in Arabic. It was an African language he’d never heard before. Somali?
The voices were drowned out as a rifle shot cracked out just the other side of the door, mingled with the very loud percussive impact of a bullet hitting the metal. Jude flinched back and saw the dent, like a raised bump, right next to where his ear had been. Two more shots hammered the door before the pirates gave up and moved on.
‘They’re gonna be all over us in no time,’ Gerber muttered disgustedly. ‘Those stupid cages ain’t gonna hold ’em back more’n one minute.’
‘What the crap are we gonna do?’ said Trent.
Ignoring him, Gerber turned urgently to Jude. ‘You were up on the bridge. Did you see the captain? Did they radio for help?’
Jude’s mind was spinning so badly he thought he was going to throw up. He was the only one who knew just how bad their situation was. He had to break the news to the others.
‘The captain’s dead,’ he blurted out. ‘They shot him. And all three of the mates. They’re all dead.’
‘Steady on, son,’ Gerber said. ‘Slow down. Who shot them?’
‘The passengers.’
‘What?’ Condor exploded.
‘They’re hijackers,’ Jude said. ‘Their leader is called Carter. He killed the other two.’
‘Wait. You mean to say this guy Carter killed Cappy O’Keefe and our guys, then killed his own guys?’ Gerber said in disbelief.
‘He’s one of the pirates,’ Jude said, struggling to talk coherently. They could hear activity and voices everywhere as the pirates took over the whole ship above them. ‘It’s all been planned in advance.’ More questions were clotting his mind, one piling on top of another. What kind of deal did the captain do with the hijackers? Had O’Keefe deliberately failed to radio for help? What was in the case that Carter had cuffed to his wrist?
‘Oh, shit, oh shit oh shit,’ Condor kept repeating over and over. Gerber snapped at him to shut up.
‘What the crap are we gonna do?’ Trent said again, breathing hard.
‘Get the hell out of here, is what,’ said Lang.
Gerber nodded. ‘We gotta get below, right now. Only chance. Down there with the chief and the others.’ And Jude knew he was right. The pirates would quickly gain access to everything from A Deck upwards. But if their small group could beat them to the single stairway leading below decks to the engine room and holds, there was a hope that all the survivors might be able to seal themselves off down there together.
Gerber led the way, still clutching his axe, Jude right behind him, followed by Lang, Condor and Trent. At every turn through the twisting, constricted passageways, there was the terrifying prospect of running into a gang of armed pirates. Or maybe even worse, Jude was thinking, they might meet Carter. Either way, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
They were just steps from the gangway leading below when a connecting hatch suddenly burst open and a large dark figure came piling through it towards them. Gerber raised the axe, ready to strike.
‘Whoa, easy, easy!’ It was Hercules. His old army jacket was spotted with fresh bloodstains and he was clutching a wicked-looking carving knife, the largest one he’d managed to grab from the galley before escaping. As he breathlessly explained, the pirates had stormed in as he’d been in the middle of serving coffee to Jack Skinner, the bosun. ‘I don’t know where Murphy is, man,’ Hercules said in anguish, brandishing the knife. ‘Just know if I get close to one of those mothers, they’s gonna have a real bad day.’
Gerber had the good sense not to say, ‘Never mind the damn parrot.’ Pointing at the blood, he asked, ‘Are you hurt?’
Hercules shook his head. ‘It’s Charlie’s blood, man. They shot’m.’ Charlie was the AB who sometimes helped in the kitchen. ‘Skinner, too. Just opened fire. Sucker didn’t have a chance. Me, I just managed to slip out the back way.’
Anxious looks passed between the others. Jack Skinner might not have been universally liked, but nobody was going to deny he’d have been a useful presence in a situation like this.
‘Is he dead?’ Condor groaned.
‘I saw the man go down, homes. He’s dead, all right.’
Jude quickly broke the news of the deaths of the captain and mates to Hercules, who just shook his head.
‘They’re wiping us out, dude,’ Lang mumbled. ‘We’re fucked.’
‘No we’re not,’ Jude said. ‘We’re going to get out of this.’
‘Listen to the boy,’ Gerber said.
‘This ain’t happening,’ Condor said, on the verge of succumbing to panic. ‘Pirates don’t do this.’
‘Not unless they want to take the ship for themselves,’ Gerber said grimly.
‘A ship this size? What the hell for?’
‘You have any better ideas? Come on, let’s keep moving before the bastards cut us off.’
As Gerber urged, the group kept moving. Six men out of twenty, with at least seven dead that they knew of above decks.
They could only hope that Diesel and his engine room assistants, Peters and Cherry, were still unharmed and without unwanted company down there.
As it turned out, the engineer and his guys were still very much alive, but not alone. They’d already been joined below by four more crewmen: Allen, Lorenz, Park the Korean, and Scagnetti, who’d bolted from their posts above decks to retreat to safety the moment the shooting had begun. Thirteen men crammed into the engine room and locked the hatch down behind them, safe for now. The heat in the confined space was stifling, the metal walls streaming with condensation. The sharp odours of oil and fuel, sweat and fear were heavy in the air.
An urgent conference immediately started, with Gerber announcing to those who didn’t already know that the captain and mates had been shot to death, the vessel had fallen somehow into the hands of an unexplained coalition of hijackers and pirates, and there was no way to radio out for help. Diesel, a grizzled veteran of many trips under Henry O’Keefe, took the news grimly but silently.
Jude had never thought he’d be happy to see Scagnetti. Gerber didn’t seem so pleased, especially when Scagnetti failed to suppress a crooked little smile on hearing of the captain’s demise. ‘We could have done with a little more help up there,’ Gerber growled at him.
‘You want to make something of it, Pop?’ Scagnetti countered, instantly rising to the challenge.
‘Cool it, boys,’ said Diesel, thrusting a big arm between them before it came to blows. ‘Thirteen of us are still alive. It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.’
‘You figure?’ Condor said. ‘It’s only a matter of time before they get to us down here.’
Diesel shook his head. ‘Let ’em try. That hatch was built to keep a million tons of ocean out. You’d need a rocket to make a dent in it.’
‘Then we’d best hope they ain’t got any rockets,’ Trent said.
‘Face it, boys, we’re screwed,’ Condor said. ‘No food or water, no weapons and no way to communicate jack shit to the outside world. Even if we could get to a radio, how many of us would even know what channel to use, or who to call?’
There was a murmur of anxious consent among some of the men. ‘He’s right,’ Trent said.
‘Buncha pussies,’ Scagnetti sneered at them. ‘Scared of a few raggedy-ass nigger pirates.’
Gerber gave him a hard look. ‘You want to go up there and take ’em on all by yourself, Scagnetti, please, be my guest. Funny, I didn’t see you up on deck when they were all comin’ up the side.’
Cherry, one of the assistant engineers, put out his hands to quell the rising tension. ‘Okay, look, we all know we can’t fight them. Forget that shit. But there’s gotta be something we can do. Maybe there’s some other way we can get out a distress call.’
‘We’ll figure something out,’ Diesel agreed. Though for the moment, nobody was offering any ideas.
Jude slumped down against the metal bulkhead wall, suddenly feeling completely drained. His hands were shaking. He closed his eyes, but however tightly he screwed them shut, he couldn’t close out the image of Mitch’s dead face, covered in blood and brains, or the vision of the burning boat hit by the flare that had been fired by his own hand. Men screaming, diving into the water. Jude had seen at least one of the pirates engulfed in flames. Could you survive that? Had he killed them?
Jude had never hurt a living soul in his life before. The remorse felt like a leaden weight in his stomach. He kept telling himself that he’d acted in defence of his friends. But did that justify it?
He thought about his father, his real father. Ben never talked about the people whose lives he’d taken. Jude knew there must have been many. But even though Ben had never said so, Jude always had the feeling that he lived with a private burden of remorse over the memory of each and every one of them, no matter how bad they’d been in life, no matter how little choice Ben might have had in killing them. To take away everything a person had, everything they would ever have. It was no easy thing. Now Jude understood that personally, and it was a weight he knew he would carry forever.
‘You okay, son?’ said a voice. Jude opened his eyes and tried to smile up at Gerber.
‘I’m fine,’ he said. It was a lie, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to make it true. He stood up and willed the trembling to stop.
‘We’ll get out of this, you’ll see,’ Gerber said. ‘There’ll be a way.’
That was when Jude suddenly remembered something Mitch had told him, while they were still in port in Salalah. It felt like a hundred years ago.
‘What about sending out an email?’ he said, speaking his thoughts out loud. Diesel and a couple of the others heard him, and turned.
‘You mean like a text, from a cellphone? We’re in the middle of the Indian Ocean, son. You tried getting any reception lately?’
‘I don’t mean a text,’ Jude said. ‘I mean a real email, from a laptop with satellite internet access.’
Diesel shrugged. ‘Well, sadly, I don’t seem to have one on me right now.’
‘But there’s one on board,’ Jude said. ‘In the captain’s cabin. Mitch told me O’Keefe was emailing his wife all the time.’
‘So?’
‘So,’ Jude said, ‘what if one of us was able to sneak up there?’
‘One of us?’
‘I was thinking of myself.’
‘Without getting caught and shot to pieces?’ said Condor, the eternal optimist. ‘You want to tell me exactly how you’re planning on managing that?’
‘Son, it might as well be on Mars,’ Gerber said. ‘You’d never make it.’
Jude rubbed his chin and thought hard for a few moments. An idea was growing in his mind, and the more it grew the more he believed it could work. ‘Diesel,’ he said. ‘This is the engine room, yes?’
‘Last time I looked,’ Diesel said, sweeping an arm back at the blue-painted mass of iron machinery, pipes and control equipment behind him.
‘So we have control over the ship’s power and they can’t override us from the bridge in any way?’
If the answer was no, Jude’s germ of a plan was dead before it was even born.
‘Sure, we can throw the master switches on everything right here. Engine power, electrics, hydraulics, air, emergency generator, the works,’ Diesel said, still staring at him, as were the others, apart from Scagnetti who had wandered off on his own to light a roll-up and pollute the unbreathable air of the engine room still further.
‘What about the radar?’ Jude asked.
‘Uh-huh,’ Diesel said, uncertain where Jude was going with this. ‘We can knock that out along with every other instrument in the conning station. So?’
Jude could feel a smile spreading over his face as his confidence in his plan grew stronger. ‘And if we cut the engines, the ship will stop moving and stay pretty much put?’
‘As long as the sea’s calm, sure,’ Diesel replied. ‘We’ll drift, but not by more than a few points, depending on the currents. Cut to the chase, kid. What the hell is this about?’
‘Listen,’ Jude said.
Chapter 15
Jude’s brainwave caused a lot of disagreement among the others. Condor thought he must be nuts to contemplate taking such a risk, with pirates almost certainly scouring every inch of the ship to murder each and every one of them. Gerber declared he had some balls on him and reckoned, on consideration, that it was worth a try. Nobody denied that Jude was the quickest and knew his way around the ship as well as any of them.
‘It’ll work,’ Jude kept saying.
Scagnetti was sitting on a duct pipe, swinging his legs and puffing his roll-up. ‘Who you gonna call in, Limey Boy?’ he called out with a grin. ‘Friggin’ Double O Seven?’
‘Shut it, Scagnetti,’ Gerber warned him.
‘Never thought I’d say it, but Scagnetti has a point,’ Hercules said. ‘You wanna take this kind of crazy-ass risk to send a lousy email? To who?’
‘I have an idea about that,’ Jude said. ‘Trust me, okay?’
‘It’s not going to work,’ Diesel said. ‘The moment you shut down the power, the pirates will know something’s up. These guys ain’t stupid. They’re sailors. They know ships. We cut the juice and engine power just like that, it’ll give us away for sure. Like waving a big flag saying “Here we are!” They’ll be all over us in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
‘I thought you said it’d take a rocket to get through that hatch,’ Condor said.
‘It would. But none of us wants to be out there with ten fuckin’ Somalis blocking the way back with AK-47s.’
‘We don’t cut the power right away,’ Jude said. ‘I’ll need it for the satellite hookup. Fifteen minutes, that’s all I need, then throw the switch.’
‘Then you have another problem,’ Diesel said. ‘We have to assume the pirates are all over the bridge, right? Which means that if the power’s still on they’ll be able to monitor the watertight door indicator. The panel of lights will show them exactly which doors and hatches are opening and closing below. It’ll give your position away from the moment you start moving.’
Jude wasn’t put off. ‘I’ll take my chances with the indicator panel. They probably won’t even notice.’
‘It’s nuts.’
‘Maybe so, but it’s the only way,’ Jude said. ‘I’m going for it. Exactly quarter of an hour after I step out of that hatch, you pull those switches. I’ll leg it back down below before they realise what’s happening.’
‘You’re crazy, you know that?’ Hercules rumbled, shaking his head. ‘You gotta death wish?’
‘Hey, if stupid wants to go get himself creamed, let’m,’ Scagnetti said.
Diesel wasn’t happy about it, but it was clear to everyone that Jude couldn’t be dissuaded. Nobody had yet come up with anything better.
‘Hold on,’ Gerber said as Jude started opening the hatch. ‘You can’t go up there without some kind of weapon. Take my axe.’
Jude looked at it. ‘I can’t run about with that. It’s too big.’
‘How about this, bro?’ Hercules said, offering Jude the butcher’s knife.
The idea of using a knife on a living person made Jude’s flesh crawl, but he knew how lame that would sound to the others. ‘If I slip on a ladder and fall on it, it’ll go right through me,’ he said, by way of an excuse.
‘You’ll need this, at least,’ Diesel said, handing Jude a long, heavy metal Maglite. ‘It’s going to get pretty dark below decks once the power goes off.’
Jude stuck the torch in his belt. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m not planning on getting caught.’
‘Good luck, son,’ Gerber said as they unlocked the engine room hatch. Jude kicked off his shoes, thinking he’d be quieter without them, and padded barefoot through the open hatchway, his heart rate instantly quickening as he suddenly began to ask himself what the hell he thought he was doing.
Once the hatch closed behind him, there was no going back. Jude set off furtively down the narrow metal passageway to the vertical ladder they’d scrambled down minutes before. He paused at the bottom rung, peering up through the circular hole above him as he listened for approaching footsteps or voices. Hearing nothing, he took a deep breath and climbed upwards towards the next level.
The coast seemed to be clear, so far. He wasn’t dead yet, although that could easily change at any second. His heart was in his throat as he padded gingerly to the next upward hatchway. He paused once more at the top, sweating. Then kept moving. Another bare metal passage with ducts and pipes running along the wall, another open-tread iron ladder.
It was as he was about to emerge onto the level above that Jude very nearly got caught for the first time. He ducked his head and shoulders down out of sight through the hatch and held his breath as a group of pirates appeared around a corner and passed directly above him, their footsteps clanging on the bare metal floor just inches away. There were three of them, heavily armed and apparently combing the ship for the rest of the crew, but they weren’t taking it too seriously, as if mopping up survivors was just another part of the game to them. Jude could hear them laughing among themselves, and caught a whiff of something that wasn’t tobacco smoke.
He waited until they were gone. When he could breathe again, he crept quickly onwards and upwards. Five minutes. Ten to go before Diesel shut down the power and the pirates would know something was up.
He was on A Deck now, into the bottom level of the house and approaching the heart of the danger zone. His pulse was escalating with every yard. Around the next ninety-degree corner was the mess room door, hanging ajar.
He drew breath as he saw the slick of blood on the metal step and across the passageway. The blood trail stopped in a pool that reflected the neon striplights above. In the middle of the pool, inert and spreadeagled on his belly, his head turned sideways with his cheek pressed to the floor and looking straight at Jude with lifeless porcelain eyes, was Jack Skinner, the ship’s bosun. He’d managed to drag himself this far before he died from his gunshot wounds.
Jude was gaping at the corpse when the mess room door swung wide open. He ducked behind it just in time to avoid being spotted by the two armed Africans who stepped out and walked through the blood towards Skinner’s body. They bent to seize a wrist each. Peering around the edge of the door, Jude was just three feet away from them, close enough to smell their sweat and the firing-range tang of cordite on their clothes. Their bare arms were muscled and lean and glistening. The pirate nearest him had his rifle casually slung over his shoulder, tantalisingly within Jude’s reach, and for a moment he was insanely tempted to make a grab for it.
The pirates started dragging the bosun’s body up the passage towards the external hatch that led to the main deck. The smeared blood trail they left in their wake made Jude want to throw up. He stood motionless until they were out of sight, then with legs like jelly he ran on towards the hatch for B Deck.
Up and up. Twice more, he froze as he heard voices and laughter, and whipped out of sight. By the time he reached E Deck his stomach muscles were clenched so tight that it hurt and he was cursing himself for having come up with this lunatic idea.
But they hadn’t got him yet, and he’d almost reached his objective.
Eight minutes, thirty seconds. Six and a half minutes to go before the guys below threw the power switch. The sands were running fast out of the hourglass.
The door of the captain’s cabin was shut, but not locked. Slowly, slowly, he eased it open and peered inside, ready to yank the big flashlight out of his belt and start flailing away with it as a club. As if it would do him any good against automatic weapons.
To Jude’s relief, the cabin was empty. He slipped through the doorway and quickly bolted it behind him. If anyone came, he could always scramble out of the window, which was open just wide enough to admit a blessed breath of fresh air. Jude crept over and peered cautiously over the sill. He could see the whole length of the main deck from here. It was swarming with armed Africans. He swallowed hard, then harder as he saw what they were doing.
The pirates were dragging bodies across to the starboard rail and dumping them into the sea. As he watched, the pair who’d almost caught him earlier heaved Jack Skinner’s corpse up and over by the wrists and ankles, leaving a red smear on the railing as it slithered out of sight, followed a second later by a dull splash. Jude fought the urge to throw up.
The mother ship had come up alongside the Andromeda. It was a battered-looking fishing vessel, its hull more rust than paintwork. More pirates were milling about the trawler, every single one of them armed with the ubiquitous Kalashnikov. Then, as Jude kept watching, he saw two men walk up the deck of the cargo ship, deep in conversation. He instantly recognised one of them as Carter, still carrying the small aluminium case chained to his left hand.
The other was a demon.
The tall, powerfully-built African was the most frightening-looking man Jude had seen in his life. He was a commanding presence, dressed in a loose rendition of military uniform: boots, khakis, a red beret worn at an angle and a gunbelt with some kind of enormous handgun in a flap holster. Bandoliers loaded with pointed rifle cartridges hung crossways around both shoulders. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing thick, muscled forearms. The huge gold watch on one wrist caught the sunlight, as bright as a beacon against his ebony skin.
But it wasn’t what the man was wearing. It was his face. Even from a distance, the sight of it made Jude draw a breath. He looked monstrous. Inhuman.
Jude had forgotten all about the ticking clock. He felt the same icy tingle of fear down the back of his neck that he’d felt as a young boy, when he’d sneaked downstairs in the dead of night to the living room of the vicarage to turn on the TV and be illicitly terrified by his first-ever horror movie.
At first glance Jude thought the African must have been burned or mangled in some kind of accident; then he realised what he was seeing was deliberate mutilation. Huge raised ridges of scar tissue ran in parallel lines up both sides of his face, from his jaw to where they disappeared under the red beret. More tracks had been carved in downward-pointing V shapes on his forehead, distorting his brow into a permanent expression of furious rage. They looked as if they had been gouged into his flesh with a hot knife. Patterns of lumps, like raised pockmarks, circled his eyes. Something had been done to his cheekbones to make them stand out like horns. Like something out of a nightmare.
The scarred man was unquestionably the leader of the pirates. While his men ran back and forth over the decks of both vessels, he stood calmly smoking a long cigar, breaking off from his conversation with Carter to issue orders and signals to the others.
The fifteen minutes were almost up. Jude managed to tear himself from the window, shaken by the sight and reminding himself of what he’d come here to find.
Captain O’Keefe had kept the personal belongings in his cabin in immaculate order, including the small desk set into an alcove in the wall. The Dell laptop was powered down, the lid closed, a light blinking on its front panel. Jude stepped over to the desk and flipped the laptop open. The screen flashed into life, showing the email program and the half-finished message that the captain had been in the middle of writing to his wife back home in Indiana when he’d left it to attend to his duties. It began: ‘Dear Emily … ’
Jude felt a moment of shame for intruding on a dead man’s privacy. He imagined the awful scene in store when Emily O’Keefe received the news of her husband’s death. Remembering the captain’s final words to Carter before the man had shot him, Jude found it easy to have more sympathy for her than for her late husband. Whatever kind of a deal the man had struck with Carter, it had landed them all in mortal danger. It had already cost the lives of Mitch and several other innocent men.
So burn in hell, Henry Hainsworth O’Keefe.
His time was nearly up. He was going to have to work fast. He deleted the unfinished email and clicked on COMPOSE NEW MESSAGE. He racked his brain to recall the position coordinates he’d seen on the readout in the conning station. As the figures came streaming into his mind, he started tapping keys and rushed out his message. There wasn’t a lot to say. He didn’t even know if it would work. By the time its recipient saw it, he and all his fellow crewmen might be dead and the ship stolen away to Christ knew where.
When he’d finished, he addressed the email to the only person he’d been able to think of to contact. The man who had got him here. Jeff Dekker.
Jude hit SEND and held his breath in a silent prayer as the email winged its way off into cyberspace. It was nearly twenty to five, his time. Two hours earlier in France.
Time up. Right on cue, Jude saw the power light of the laptop fade and die, and the battery light come on. The screen dimmed as it switched to its own power. A second later, Jude felt the ever-present low thrum of the engines go quiet. Diesel had been as good as his word. The ship was now effectively dead in the water.
Jude felt momentarily elated. The crew were still a long way from regaining full control of the ship, but they’d just scored a decisive little victory. It wouldn’t be long now before Carter and the pirates twigged what was up.
He crept back over to the cabin window. Pirates were still marching about the deck, but Carter and the terrifying African were gone. No telling where they could be now. Heading straight for him, maybe.
Jude grabbed his torch and hurried from the cabin. He had no idea whether he’d make it back down to the engine room alive. But he’d completed his task.
Now only time would tell whether it had been worth it.
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