Pirate - Duncan Falconer [42]
A Somali stood halfway down the last ladder before the bottom looking up. Stratton followed his gaze to see a gas cylinder being lowered on the end of the rope.
He looked back at the girl, his face inches from hers. ‘What are you doing here?’ he whispered.
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ she said. She was acting tough but her eyes and her breath revealed her true feelings.
Stratton’s hand came back to her throat. ‘I’ll ask you one last time.’
A loud clang like the toll of a bell filled the space as the gas bottle banged against the ladder.
‘The ransom drop was for this ship,’ she said. ‘They will release it soon. I came to hide on board.’
It sounded plausible enough, except for one important thing. Stratton took another careful look around the bracing. The Somali stood on the hull reaching up for the gas bottle above him. He guided it to the floor and shouted something as he untied it.
Stratton moved back and pulled the girl in closer to ensure she wasn’t seen. The Somali untied the line, took the end over to the other bottle beside the weapons crate and secured it to the valve head. He gave a shout and the line went taut. As the bottle was lifted off the floor, the Somali guided it over to the ladder. He gave another shout and the bottle began to rise up. Grunting, heaving sounds came from above. The man climbed the ladder beside the bottle, guiding it as he went.
Stratton gave the girl his full attention once again. ‘That was very resourceful of you. Now tell me the real story,’ he said, his voice low and menacing.
‘Why else would I be here?’
‘You went straight to the crate.’
‘I was curious. I thought it might have food in it.’
‘Is that why you looked in the bag too?’
‘Yes.’
‘So tell me what you found.’
She swallowed, unsure of herself.
‘Tell me what you found in the crate,’ he repeated.
‘I don’t know,’ she stammered.
‘And what do you think I’m doing here, without my partner?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said again.
‘If you don’t start telling me what you do know, your life will end here, and very shortly.’
She searched his eyes, looking for the sincerity, and she found it.
‘By now you’ve decided that my story about getting captured was as much a load of rubbish as yours,’ he said.
She blinked at him, smelling a trap but unsure where it was. ‘Yes,’ she admitted.
‘Then credit me with the same intelligence. You knew, or at least suspected, what was in that crate before you opened it.’
Her eyes began to betray her but she refused to acknowledge him.
‘I’m inclined to think you’re not one of the bad guys,’ he said. ‘Mainly because you’re their prisoner. But if you don’t thoroughly convince me, I’ll have no choice but to kill you. And I don’t have a lot of time.’
He said it as much to convince himself as her. His gut feeling told him that she wasn’t a threat. But he couldn’t afford to risk everything on that feeling alone, not in this case. It was a risk he didn’t have to take. And he wasn’t going to.
She knew her time was running out. She could see it in his pale green eyes. She had one last card to play.
Stratton planted his feet like he was about to shove the knife inside her chest.
‘I’m Chinese Secret Service,’ she said quickly.
There were few circumstances where such an explanation would have been enough to save her, even if it was the truth. But there were some very clear links in all that was happening. It neatly combined with his other strings of thought. The Brits and the Chinese might be on parallel paths. The Chinese agent had tried to nab Sabarak in Yemen because the Saudi had somehow acquired a supply of Chinese missiles. If so, could it be these same missiles? There were pieces of the puzzle missing but Stratton felt sure they were not far away. Perhaps he had one of them in his hands at that moment.
‘What are you doing here?’ Stratton asked, his voice less threatening.
‘Is this going to be all one-sided?’ she retorted.
‘Don’t push your luck, sweetheart. I’m far from convinced. Tell me more.’
She looked at the floor, waited