Outside the radio room Dave pressed his ear to the door, listening long and carefully, making sure there was no one about. Like Raskolnikov, ready to bash the old woman's head in. Not that he was planning to kill anyone. Least of all Jock. But although it was after twelve, someone was in there. He could hear the sound of a machine in use. If Jock was inside, Dave hoped the Scotsman wouldn't be foolish enough to try to resist. Then, glancing at his Breitling, he realized that he could wait no longer. They were working to a pretty tight synchronization. The storm had made sure of that. There would be no time for mistakes. Dave had only a minute or two to lock up the radio room and then capture the bridge before Al went into action down below.
He opened the door to darkness and a small green light, like the single eye of some nocturnal animal. The radio room was empty and he saw that the noise was coming from the fax machine spewing a long roll of paper onto the floor. Turning on his flashlight to check on what info was being sent through, in case it affected the rendezvous, Dave saw that it was only the midweek soccer results from England. And Arsenal, whoever they were, had lost again. Dave locked the door from the outside, slipped the key into the pocket of the hunter's vest he wore over his bulletproof vest, and went along to the bridge.
The watch had changed just around midnight when the third officer was relieved by the second officer, Niven. Normally this was the quietest of all the watches, lasting until 4 a.m., when Niven would be relieved by the chief. But the weather had given the watch crew plenty to do, keeping an eye on the ship's collision and avoidance program. This involved taking the radar range and bearings with the ship's ARPA, to get the vector of ships that might be in the area. The Duke was doing 105 revs. Niven had just heard the helmsman say 'Port One', and acknowledged the computer's one degree of helm adjustment to their course, when he found himself staring into the silenced barrel of Dave's submachine gun. The red light emanating from the laser aiming module underneath the gun barrel confirmed that the bearer meant business.
Dave hoped that the men standing on the unsteady floor of the bridge would hear what he had to say above the beating of his heart.
'Be dead, or order dead slow ahead.'
Niven did not hesitate, realizing that it was only in films that anyone ever thought to question a man holding a gun on you. Straightaway he picked up the engine room telephone and gave Dave's order, and waited until it had been confirmed by the second engineer. Still holding the phone, he said, 'Dead slow ahead it is.'
'Set the gyro for automatic steering,' ordered Dave.
'It's already set. You can check it yourself if you like.'
Dave grinned. 'Why would you lie?'
Niven swallowed hard. Dave jerked his gun toward the bridge window.
'Any crew astern?'
'Not in this weather.'
Dave took the phone from Niven's trembling hand and waved him back. He said, 'Let me speak to the man with the gun.'
There was a short pause and then he heard Al's voice:
'Engine room secure.'
'Bridge secure,' said Dave. 'We're on our way down.' He tossed the receiver back to Niven who in his fear, fumbled and then dropped it onto the bridge floor.
'Sorry,' said Niven, retrieving the receiver slowly and replacing it on the wall cradle.
'Just be cool and you'll be OK,' Dave advised. 'From here on it's an attitude thing. Having one could be unhealthy. Follow me?'
'Like Moses.'
'Good boy,' said Dave. 'OK, let's go below.'
'Excuse me, but what about the helm?' asked Niven.
'We're on automatic,' said Dave. 'The computer will watch the ARPA.'
'Yeah, but all the same. In this weather, it's as well to keep an eye on things.'
Dave didn't have time to argue. Silently, he waved the gun toward the bridge wing and the stairwell that led below deck. The two men gave the gun and then Dave a wary, attentive look and went through the door. A few minutes later they and the man who had been down in the engine room were meekly stepping into the workshop. Dave watched Al shove the engineer roughly inside with the barrel of his shotgun and then bolt the door behind him.
'He give you any trouble?' Dave asked him.
'He's alive, isn't he?' Al said ominously.
'Don't be such a fuckin' hard ass. Smith and Jones, OK?'
Al shrugged and it was then Dave noticed that he was wearing a crucifix on one of the gold chains around his neck. Al wore a lot of gold, but this was the first time Dave had seen him wearing a crucifix. Grabbing it in his half-gloved hand, he said, 'What's this?'
'What's it fucking look like, asshole?'
Al tugged the little crucifix out of Dave's fingers and tucked it behind the hard sternum of his bulletproof vest.
'You really believe God is going to look out for you with a shotgun in your hand?' laughed Dave.
'Who are you? Billy fucking Graham? What the fuck do you care what I believe?'
