Holger and Kaare had slept like logs all night. They had agreed to keep watch in shifts, but the last day’s events meant they both craved sleep. The ship’s gentle, rolling movement in the waves was more than they could hold out against, and sleep had overpowered them both. The vodka they had shared with the captain the night before had its share of the blame. For them to sleep peacefully at the same time was a mistake. They both knew that. They were not home and safe yet. Kaare woke first and lay for a second listening, but everything was quiet. Only the rumbling sound of the hull cutting through the water as background music. He sat up and checked the compact Kalashnikov and shook Holger’s shoulder:
‘Get up, sleepyhead,’ Kaare said with a smile.
Holger turned on the other side, but Kaare was unrelenting. Holger rubbed his eyes reluctantly, and the urge to urinate forced him out of hibernation. Soon after, they were on their way up onto the deck. It was a warm sunny day, with only a few cumulus clouds interrupting the vast expanse of blue sky, but Holger had no time to enjoy the sight. Meticulously, he checked the wind direction relieving himself over the ship’s side.
‘Ahh, that was a relief. It looks like it will be a fine day at sea,’ he said as he did up his trousers.
Before Kaare could answer, the captain banged on the window 441pane above them, holding a cup of coffee. No persuasion was needed. Coffee was precisely what they craved. The captain poured a not unsubstantial shot of vodka into his own coffee, but they declined the offer. The captain shrugged and invited them over to the sea chart. Holger pointed to Dueodde, and the captain showed the ship’s position. Kaare emphasised that the closer they were to the shore, the better. The captain studied the map intensely for depths and currents and pointed out a location seven nautical miles from Dueodde as the debarkation point. He did not want to draw attention to the drop-off as he was to head for Sweden as quickly as possible. Kaare and Holger nodded in acceptance.
‘Good. It’s a long rowing trip from there, but that’s your problem,’ the captain concluded matter-of-factly and began calculating the precise latitude and longitude position.
Holger pulled out his GSM mobile to check coverage, but Kaare was still occupied with the map:
‘A satnav would have been gold dust,’ Kaare said.
‘I don’t need fancy gizmos. Here is our position with a prediction of when we’ll get there with the prevailing weather and current conditions,’ said the captain handing Holger a scrap of paper.
Holger thanked the captain, glanced at the paper, and dialled a number. He had to try a few times, but finally, the signal went through. Holger relayed the exact calculated position with an ETA once the connection was established. I hope he’ll get the message in time to ensure we’re picked up. It’s fricking cold this time of year in a rubber dinghy, he thought gravely. The ETA was not on Lars Danielson’s voicemail, and they could do nothing but wait. Kaare started studying all the instruments on the bridge. Many had Russian letters, but that did not deter him from fiddling with the 442buttons. After a while, he looked at Holger with a disappointed expression on his face:
‘There’s no internet connection?’
Holger turned to the captain and translated the question.
‘Does he think this is a cruise liner?’ the captain answered with roaring laughter.