Confessional - Jack Higgins [55]
Turkin opened the companionway door. 'Down below, both of you.' He followed close behind, his gun in his hand now. 'Stop!' he said to Martin when they reached the saloon. 'Lean on the table, legs spread. You sit down,' he told Tanya.
Shepilov stood on one side, gun in hand. Tanya was close to tears. Alex said gently, 'Keep smiling. Always pays.'
'You English really take the biscuit,' Turkin said as he searched him expertly. 'You're nothing any more. Yesterday's news. Just wait till the Argentinians blow you out of the water down there in the South Atlantic.' He lifted Martin's jacket at the rear and found the Airweight. 'Would you look at that?' he said to Shepilov. 'Amateur. I noticed some cord in the galley. Get it.'
Shepilov was soon back. 'And once at sea, it's the deep six?' Martin enquired.
'Something like that.' Turkin turned to Shepilov. 'Tie him up. We'd better get out of here fast. I'll get the engine started.'
He went up the companionway. Tanya had stopped trembling, her face pale, rage in her eyes and desperation. Martin shook his head a fraction and Shepilov kneed him painfully in the rear. 'Up you come, hands behind you.' Martin could feel the muzzle of the silencer against his back. The Russian said to Tanya, 'Tie his wrists.'
Martin said, 'Don't they ever teach you chaps anything? You never stand that close to anyone.'
He swung, pivoting to the left, away from the barrel of the gun. It coughed once, drilling a hole in the bulkhead. His right hand caught the Russian's wrist, twisting it up and round, taut as a steel bar. Shepilov grunted and dropped the weapon and Martin's clenched left fist descended in a hammer blow, snapping the arm.
Shepilov cried out, dropping to one knee. Martin bent down and picked up the gun and miraculously, the Russian's other hand swung up, the blade of the spring knife flashing. Martin blocked it, aware of the sudden pain as the blade sliced through his sleeve, drawing blood. He punched Shepilov on the jaw, knuckles extended and kicked the knife under the seat.
Tanya was on her feet, but already there were hurried steps on deck. 'Ivan?' Turkin called.
Martin put a finger to his lips to the girl, brushed past her and went into the galley. A small ladder led to the forward hatch. He opened it and went out on deck as he heard Turkin start down.
It had begun to rain, a fine mist drifting in from the sea as he stepped lightly across the deck to the entrance of the companionway. Turkin had reached the bottom and stood there, gun in his right hand as he peered cautiously into the saloon. Martin didn't make a sound, gave him no chance at all. He simply extended his pistol and shot him neatly through the right arm. Turkin cried out, dropped his weapon and staggered into the saloon and Martin went down the companionway.
Tanya moved to join him. Martin picked up Turkin's gun and put it in his pocket. Turkin leaned against the table, clutching his arm, glaring at him. Shepilov was just pulling himself up and sank on to the bench with a groan. Martin swung Turkin round and searched his pockets until he found his gun. He turned to Turkin again.
'I was careful with the arm. You aren't going to die - yet. I don't know who owns this boat, but you obviously meant to leave in it, you and chummy here. I'd get on with it if I were you. You'd only be an embarrassment to our people and I'm sure they'd like you back in Moscow. You ought to be able to manage between you.'
'Bastard!' Peter Turkin said in despair.
'Not in front of the lady,' Alex Martin told him. He pushed Tanya Voroninova up the companionway and turned. 'As a matter of interest, you two wouldn't last one bad Saturday night in Belfast,' then he followed the girl up to the deck.
When they reached the Peugeot, he took off his jacket gingerly. There was blood on his shirt sleeve and he fished out his handkerchief. 'Would you mind doing what you can with that?'
She bound it around the slash tightly. 'What kind of a man are you?'
'Well, I prefer Mozart myself,' Alex Martin said as he pulled on his jacket. 'I say, would you look