Pirate - Duncan Falconer [96]
The fact was she was gone and he could do nothing about it. He wondered where she was headed. If she’d loaded up with food and water, it wouldn’t be to RV with any nearby Chinese naval vessel. And if she wanted to get to somewhere in the West, her best bet would have been to stay with the bulker, especially since she had no money and no identification.
So maybe she had gone back to Somalia. The comment about unfinished business could suggest that much.
The girl was without doubt ballsy. Stratton could only wonder what was driving her. Whatever, it was far beyond the call of duty, particularly after what she had been through. Maybe she wanted revenge. It seemed extreme to him, but he wasn’t a woman. ‘Did she have enough fuel to cover a hundred and fifty miles?’
‘No,’ the guard replied. ‘But the boat’s got a good sail system.’
She could get back to the Somali coast. But she would have to make her way to the village without being challenged. ‘Did she take a weapon?’
‘No,’ Andy said with confidence. ‘We’ve only got the five AKs on board and she wouldn’t get her hands on one of them even if she took a turn for the lads.’ Andy smiled at the crude quip but lost it when Stratton did not respond.
Despite the girl’s motives, her actions didn’t seem sensible ones to Stratton. And she never came across as stupid. The only other motive for her leaving the ship that he could think of was fear. But of what, he had no idea. Fear of failure perhaps. Fear of returning to her bosses without having completed her mission, whatever that was. He thought she’d done enough to be given a medal. Perhaps it was the fear of being questioned by the British. That might not go down well with her leaders. The Chinese Secret Service was clearly a strict outfit.
Stratton wished he’d had a moment to say farewell to her. He had grown to like her. He certainly respected her. She weighed nothing and was as hard as some of the toughest men he had known. He wished her well, whatever she was doing. He trotted down the steps to the main deck level. Through the open door he glimpsed a navy helicopter thundering by, a sleek, grey Lynx, the fastest chopper in the world and it looked like the pilot was putting it through its paces.
Stratton stepped into the galley.
Two young, intelligent-looking men in smartly pressed camouflaged fatigues stood talking. Stratton didn’t know either of them. They stopped talking and faced the operative. They looked at him respectfully.
‘Jasper Howel,’ the shorter, blond-haired man said, holding out a hand with a smile. ‘Lieutenant,’ he added, without sounding superior.
‘Hi,’ Stratton replied, shaking his hand.
‘Lieutenant Blythe,’ the other man said.
Stratton shook his hand too.
‘We’ve come to take you to HMS Ocean,’ Howel said.
Just as Stratton had expected.
‘You ready to go?’ Blythe asked.
‘Sure,’ Stratton said.
Blythe put a radio to his mouth and pressed the send button. ‘Sierra, this is hard stand. We’re ready to depart.’
‘Sierra, roger,’ a voice boomed back.
Stratton followed Howel out of the galley and on to the main deck. The sun glowed low above the horizon and the wind had picked up.
Bob and the rest of his security retinue had gathered on deck. He stepped forward and offered his hand. ‘It was good to meet you, Mr Stratton.’
Stratton looked him in the eye. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he said, shaking Bob’s hand firmly. The look he gave Bob was a sincere appreciation for taking on the pirates. Bob, his men and the ship had saved Stratton’s life and the operative didn’t take that lightly.
Bob nodded, more than proud of his actions that day. He would dine out on the story, no doubt for the rest of his life. He had seen action, and he had rescued a British SAS man to boot.
‘I sometimes go through Hereford. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other one day and have a pint,’ Bob ventured with a wink.
‘Perhaps,’ Stratton said. ‘You take care,