Dave glanced down at the console and pressed the Mark button on the computer's GPS. On the screen the waypoint and the interface with the chart plotter appeared, and, above this information, an electronic map. The computer had already set up a range ring to give an indication of how close they were to their next waypoint.
'We've got some cruising to do,' said Dave. 'Storm blew us well ahead of where we were supposed to be. Be about fifty minutes to an hour before we make the rendezvous point.'
'Great,' said Al, and went back inside. There was just enough time for him to have a crap and a beer before he came back up to murder Dave.
When the third and last cannonball had been fired and Jellicoe had finished swearing, Kate said they ought to go and see how Jock was getting on with the combination to the safe aboard the Juarista.
They found Bert Ross keying in combinations, watched by Jock.
'I've just calculated how long this is going to take,' said Jock. 'The first number was nine. It takes about ten seconds to try each combination, starting with 9000, then 9001 and so on. That means if we end up checking every one of the 999 combinations, it will take us two hours and forty-six minutes.'
Kate punched the palm of her hand. 'Shit. We need that radio room key,' she said grimly.
'Always supposing it is in there,' said Jellicoe. 'Always supposing that nine is the first of the four numbers on this bloody safe. It could be just a way of wasting our time. It could be he threw the key over the side.'
'I don't think so,' said Kate. 'I know this guy and I don't think he would do that. You'll just have to accept my word on that. May I suggest you persevere with this safe.'
'So what do we do in the meantime?' asked Jock.
'There's only one thing we can do, and that's get after them.'
'Fifteen knots is our maximum speed,' said Jellicoe. 'They're doing a lot more than that.'
'No sir, I meant we should take one of the other boats.'
'In the middle of the Atlantic?'
'They did.'
'Without a radio?'
'Well the fact is, we're not alone,' explained Kate. 'There's a French submarine somewhere in the area. They were supposed to rendezvous with us around now. And there are two guys from the FBI and the United States Coast Guard, handcuffed in the head on my boat. As soon as you find the keys they can radio a message to the sub. There are special frequencies and code words to use. FBI stuff. Meanwhile the Duke can hold this position until we find our way back again.'
'Supposing we do catch up with them,' argued Jellicoe. 'What then? They're well armed.'
'As I see it they have two choices,' explained Kate. 'They can make for the Azores and risk being found by local law-enforcement agencies. Or they can sail to a prearranged meeting point with another larger vessel. My guess is that's what they'll do. Transfer the cocaine on board, hide it among whatever cargo the other ship is carrying, and then sink the yacht they're on now, to cover their tracks. If we can get into visual range when that happens, we can at least establish the identity of the other ship and have it boarded by the sub later on.'
Jellicoe nodded. 'Right you are. Bert?'
'9-0-2-3. Nah.' He shook his head and sighing, looked up from the safe. 'Yes, Jack.'
'I want you to hand over the safe-cracking to Jock.'
'Aye sir.'
Jock knelt down in the Juarista's closet and began to key in the next combination of numbers. He said '9-0-2-4.'
'Tell Frank to get his diving gear right away and meet us at the stern of the ship. Whatever boat is nearest the open sea, I want her unlashed in five minutes. As soon as you've got the keys out of the safe, you can sort out these other fellows from the FBI. And then get them on the radio.'
'Aye aye, sir.'
Kate had already left the Juarista and climbed up onto the starboard wall of the Duke. The Britannia, carrying Dave and the drugs, was already 500 yards to starboard and disappearing fast. She turned, looking for Jellicoe.
'Come on,' she yelled. 'The bastard's getting away.'
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
'Would you mind telling me exactly what the fuck is going on here? Did the ship hit an iceberg? Are we the only survivors? I hope so, because I've got this thing about people driving my boat, which is partly to do with the small fact that it cost the best part of a million bucks. But mostly it's to do with the fact that to handle not one, not two, but three -- three Man diesel engines, each delivering 2,300 revs, and three Arneson surface drives, you generally have to know precisely what the fuck you're doing.'
Kate turned around in the cockpit chair and seeing a red-eyed Calgary Stanford standing there, smiled her most disarming smile.
Coolly she said, 'Nice boat, guy.' Then checking back at the controls, she glanced at the rev counter and saw that they were doing over twenty revs as it was. The movie actor's boat was virtually in flight.
