--- One ---
Jack stepped off the C-17's metal ladder onto the airfield's asphalt. This entire island was the base. Every bit of exposed rock concreted over and built upon. The only thing that hinted that this used to be a beautiful tropical island at one stage was the strong oceanic humidity but sadly that too was inter-weaved with the overpowering smell of military jet fuel.
Space the greatest commodity here, that and fresh water. A few trees and scrubs remained. Buildings built on top and around other structures as the complex grew to meet different roles over the decades. No forward planning. Seventy years of ugly construction left an un-organized maze of grey bunker blocks.
The runway stretched further than the atoll's natural length. Engineering corps had concrete filled the living reef in order to extend their airstrip to accommodate large bombers. Nine foot above sea-level you got the feeling that at any moment the Pacific would evict her unsympathetic trespassers with just a single rogue wave.
In all directions Jack saw only cyan water reaching the horizon nothing on Earth could be more distant from Quifang's world, perhaps this is what he needed? On the long flight over he'd written a dozen more letters, all wrong. Folded neatly inside his cargo-pants to be disposed of later.
Major Collins had read Jack's unofficial report, including the Mongolian police file. Impressed that outside a striving military rank seeker Jack had achieved a level of doctorate so early on in life, plus he'd seen more combat than most of his seasoned troops. An encounter he'd like to discuss during their voyage. Sam respectfully greeted Jack. "I'm Major Sam Collins. Welcome to Hamilton, Doctor."
Jack surrounded by raggedy hangers and twenty-first-century war machines. “I like what you've done with the place, Sammy!” Dusted down his hand. Offered a formal shake. "I'm not a doctor yet, just call me Jack."
Jack's intelligence's report had been incorrect. Sam made a mental note, somebody's head would roll. Such things infuriated him. Majors don't apologize to lower ranks and certainly not to civilians. Gestured towards the nearby Willys utility jeep. “Address me as Major.”
Already Jack wasn't off to sure footing, nothing new there. “Sorry, Major.”
"How was your flight?” Sam moved on. “Our planes aren't built for comfort just transport." A statement not an apology.
Jack's ears rung even though he'd been given ear-protectors. To save on weight military cargo planes are only fitted with soundproofing in the cockpit. Wasn't sure if it was a wise idea to joke again with the major, Jack tried anyway. "I'm just glad that we landed and I wasn't shoved out the back holding a parachute!"
Sam's mouth remained as straight as the creases down his uniform. "All arrangements have been made. Tonight you'll stay here at Hamilton.” The major looked down at Jack's attire. “That'll give you time to smarten yourself up before we depart for your dig-site.” Jack's equipment would be stowed at first light, no point in paying Mordecai an extra day's fee.
"What's the local time?" Jack adjusted his new digital watch. A replacement bought for a dollar at the thrifty store.
"20:33."
“I know it was a long flight, is that the year?” Another of Jack's jokes fell flat. The cargo ramp mechanically hissed into action and lowered. He turned with curiosity to watch it.
Sam tapped him on the shoulder. "Do I need to remind you that you're on a fully operational and dangerous combat-ready station. You're under US military jurisdiction. We can't very well have you wandering around our facilities un-escorted. I'm sure you'll understand. A liaison officer has been assigned to assist you but I thought I'll greet you first myself after reading your account.”
The donkey's years old jeep started first time. Regularly serviced by the navy's finest. Personnel saluted as the utilities jeep whizzed past. The pair had nothing in common, Sam stuck with what he knew, pointed out what each building represented and gave a summary of the base's long history. Jack remained silent and certainly didn't attempt any more jokes. They drove to the far end of the island. A series of shipping containers that had been reasonably outfitted to be used as additional sleeping quarters. The base's premier housing had spaces but Jack certainly wasn't on the list of high command or visiting dignitary.
Three rows of containers stacked two high. Surrounded by barbed fencing. Neatly quarantine from the rest of the island. Here they could keep an eye on individuals that to be honest were just in the way of Uncle Sam's daily duties.
In theory this was a step up, less than eighteen hours ago Jack had no fixed abode. Now he had a beachside apartment with twenty-four hours maximum security.
"Yours is that one.” Sam reversed the jeep outside. “Any questions?”
Jack removed his holdall. “Yeah.”
“Good!” Sam sped off. Shouted through the dust. “Save them for your liaison officer.” Took his hand off the steering wheel and gave a single wave without looking back.
--- Two ---
More than he revealed to be, Sergeant Shane Patrick, another new arrival at Hamilton. Drafted in to join Jack's expedition. Alone inside the barracks he field stripped his rifle then reassembled the parts back in record-breaking speed. Could kill you with any piece of the mechanism that made up the completed weapon.
--- Three ---
Private Priss knocked three times on Jack's door, it swung open on the second. Stepped in and called out. "Doctor Gehrig?" The sound of shower water stopped. She then realized why he hadn't answered.
Jack entered into view before she could exit. “Why does the army find it necessary to camouflage their towels?” Unashamedly stood wearing a green towel tied around his middle.
"I'm sorry, I did knock." Diverted her eyes but Jack's shoulder wound immediately caught her attention. All soldiers have basic medic emergency training. The gunshot injury looked fresh. Perhaps this wasn't the civilian she was here to babysit? "I'm looking for Doctor Jack Gehrig?"
"Well, you've found him!" Jack stroked Mo's amulet around his neck, a reminder that the past year's events were real. “Please, it's Jack. I'm not a doctor.”
"Are you all right?" Ellen pointed to his shoulder then noticed another combat injury to his upper right arm. All over Jack's body were healing wounds of various degrees. The guy had been through hell but he wasn't a soldier?
As Private Priss study Jack, he did likewise. Both having a thorough look. She wasn't Quifang, no woman could ever be. She stood firm, at duty. Clothed in her dress whites. Tight shorts and pristine shirt. Attractive features. Not yet acclimatised, she'd only arrived the day before from Virginia, her bare skin moist from the exotic temperature.
"You want me?" Jack broke the silence.
Ellen snapped from staring. "No!” Her first answer. “Yes!” She corrected. “I'm Private Ellen Priss, your liaison officer."
Jack picked up his shirt. "Nice to meet you, Private." Covered his battle-weary scars. "My last vacation was a nightmare!" Covered himself up.
Didn't know if he was joking or not? "I'm here to escort you to the mess hall.”
“Good, because I'm here to eat.” Motioned her to turn around, she hesitated. “You'll be more embarrassed than me!” Held up his boxer shorts.
She liked him. Perhaps this assignment wouldn't be too bad after all. "I'll wait outside."
"Dismissed." He teased as she turned.
Ellen lost her professionalism and giggled.
--- Four ---
Dead-stop the Ash-Hym at the coordinates Jugeum requested. He and Captain Yan strolled out onto the viewing deck. There wasn't another ship anywhere on the horizon. The evening weather calm and clear.
Yan lowered his binoculars. "I'm not a bad person," he informed his stowaway, "not even issued a parking ticket."
Jugeum, capable of unthinkable things, turned away from the featureless water that surrounded the ship. "You're a family man, a good man. I see that."
Yan felt that not only had Jugeum hijacked his destiny but also that of his crew's. "I've never wished ill on anybody."
"You've done the right thing, helping. Such a little task to ferry a few extra passengers is it not?" Jugeum reassured him. Switched his attention back to the ocean. "This is your entitlement for the unjust pain cruelly dealt you."
Yan didn't feel like an innocent ferryboat captain. "Promise me that you will only hurt the people responsible for shooting down my daughter's plane."
"That's the plan.” Jugeum's unnatural smiled returned. “We're not terrorists," he almost sounded merciful, "just a small country victimised by bullies. We're selective and careful of the targets we choose. Very surgical."
This conversation wasn't making Yan feel any better. "What time will your associates arrive?" They were alone on the mighty Pacific.
"They're already here and have been for some time."
--- Five ---
The packed mess hall a hive of activity, even at this hour. Wasn't large enough to accommodate everybody. There weren't any walls just support columns in-between metal storm-shutters, all raised and open. Some soldiers stood outside and ate. Private Priss and Jack sat at a table set for six but no one joined them. Jack's posture and long hair un-mistakenly broadcast that he wasn't corps. The troops muttered to themselves, made jibes. Loud enough for Jack to hear but not quite make out what was being said. Caught a few glancing stares. Ellen also stood out like a sore thumb, fresh meat. Her dress whites, sharp and straight. Shoes gleaming. Still within regulations make-up. This wasn't a parade ground and the other soldiers dressed in their casual duty overalls. Who invited the King and Queen of England? Made its rounds from pillar to post.
“Looks like we're the talk of the town.” Jack made an observation.
“We're new here, it's only banter to pass the boredom of everyday routine. They don't mean anything by it.”
Jack used to people staring at him. The community at Bo-Ling's village at the beginning were the same, afraid and suspicious but without malice. Learnt to accept him as one of their own.
“Yeah, I must make them nervous.” Jack locked eyes with a few.
She laughed, almost choked on her food. “Those are marines, they don't get nervous. They get the job done.”
Jack carried on eating.
“Can I ask you something?” Ellen unsure of what was allowed and what was considered prying. She'd read Jack's file. His work at the museum, college achievements, age and where he lived but knew nothing of the man? Only Major Collins had total access to Jack's undisclosed dossier.
“Sure, go ahead.” Already had an inkling of what it was about.
She began. “I couldn't help but noticed your wounds, they're not sport related are they?”
“Nope, unless you're a duck and it's hunting season.”
“Gunshots?”
Jack softly interjected. “Don't forget, 40mm grenade shrapnel, second degree burns, rifle-butt concussion, poisoned, knifed and caught in an exploding helicopter's wreckage. Although that last one was my fault.” Counted each instance on a separate finger.
Unaware that her mouth was open. “That's quite a list.”
“Just remember, never let me book a holiday destination for you.” Jack returned a cheeky smile.
She enjoyed his company. Knew he wasn't joking about the extent of injuries. He'd answered her question only to have increased her curiosity with a multiple-factor of a billion.
“Can you tell me how it happened? I know New York can't be that bad?” Assumed he'd a military connection somewhere down the line. Worked for the US Army before and the mission went sour? Was it classified? Ellen suddenly realized. “I'm so sorry, did people die. I didn't mean to push.”
Jack hadn't discussed it with anyone since he returned home apart from the one time the FBI requested that he report to their offices. They'd suggested that it's in everybody's best interest if he just moved on with his life, wouldn't what an inquiry that might bring criminal charges against him.
He was on an isolated rock in the Pacific, Private Ellen Priss after all was part of the same government that already knew his case. Saw no harm confiding in her. “Some deaths were involved.” Jack confessed.
For the first time she saw a vulnerable side to him. Up until that moment he'd always carried half a smile, that was now gone. She reached across the table placed her hand on his. All of a sudden he stopped and sprung up. Instantly become a predator, challenging a room full of marines.
Wierzbowski continued reading out aloud one of Jack's love-letters to Quifang. Somebody had stolen it from his quarters, evidently looking to find out who he was. The trooper rose up unafraid.
Wierzbowski was a tower of a man. It'd take a least three other well-sized marines to shut him up. Standing to her feet Ellen ordered him to cease, she had no authority and he knew it. The other marines started clapping and laughing. It was at that point Jack marched full speed towards the muscle-bound hulk. The look on Jack's face actually made the nineteen stone Wierzbowski step back, the first time in his life he had.
Jack only height level with Wierzbowski's shoulder. The brute stood six-foot-eight tall.
“I'm only going to ask you once. Give me my letter.”
Wierzbowski paused. Weighted up his competition. What a little fly. Smirked and continued reading to the baited mess hall audience.
Jack sent Wierzbowski crashing onto a table which in turn swept five more dining marines down on the floor. The whole room stopped. Merriment replaced with what the hell just happened. All the marines looked at one another, they were a trained fighting unit. On instinct rallied together. Private Priss now stepped in-between Jack and the thirty strong horde. This wasn't going to end well.
The first punch got intercepted by Sergeant Shane Patrick. Twisted the marine's arm high up his back, enough inflicted pain to make him yelp. Now it was three against thirty.
“What in the Sam Houston is going on in here?” Major Collins terminated the mounting conflict. “Who wants to tell me? Wierzbowski, you're on clean up duty. Get this place sorted. You and you help him.” Sam pointed indiscriminately. Then turn his full attention onto the three culprits, Jack, Ellen and Shane. “You trio of clowns report to my office.”
--- Six ---
The Earp, an old ship, spent her days simply cruising between the ports of Hamilton and the mainland. A twenty-minute trip. Ferrying civilian workers and personnel that had married locals, started families, chose to live in the city. Better schools and amenities than the cramped and ageing dull concrete slab that used to be a beautiful island once.
Mordecai inspected his ship. The sheltered waters between the two harbours posed no threat to the integrity of her hull or the safety to passengers but sailing the unpredictable ocean would bring whole new dangers and risks.
Starting at the bow and moving section by section Mordecai made a checklist. The Earp due to depart in less than fourteen hours. Any last minute fine-tuning would need to be done through the night. He knew most of her moans and groans, she wouldn't be the same ship without them. The examination completed nothing major needed his attention but with some crafty speed adjustments Mordecai could easily make the voyage last an extra day or two, more cash for the kitty.
The best planned military missions always had a way of going astray. In his tool bag were a pair of tubular-shaped objects wrapped in soft brown cloth. He hid the first sawn-off under the gangplank and last in the rec-room. If attacking pirates took the crew hostage this is the obvious place they'd be held. Next he secured a few knives at strategic points behind the ship's network of pipes. It would've looked very strange to any onlookers to see Mordecai play-acting a hijack scenario, pacing up and down the decks with his hands over his head.
--- Seven ---
Major Collins never had three personnel standing in his office at the same time before, made the room feel tiny. He felt cramped behind his desk. These misfits were all assigned to join him and Mordecai onboard the Earp. No time to dish-out the appropriate discipline.
"The good news is that all three of you will be off my base tomorrow, the bad news is I'm going with you. I can only imagine what trouble you could cause if left alone."
Jack the first to speak although no excuses were requested. "Major, I'm totally to blame for the incident." He tried to sound all military-like and official. "At 21:19 hours Private Priss and myself entered the mess hall."
Sam placed a finger to his lips, Jack ceased. "Stop digging a hole, son." Buried his head down into his hands, rubbed his temples. "In front of me I see a rookie barely two days after her graduation." Ellen straightened herself. "Although finishing in the top three per cent of her year she's sent straight out here to the edge of the world. You must've really pissed somebody off big time."
"Two per cent." Ellen whispered, correcting her superior.
"What did you say?" Sam's eyebrow raised.
Coughed to cleared her dry throat. "Two per cent, Sir. The top two per cent."
"Yeah! Now I can clearly see why you were dispatched here." Sam turned towards Shane. He stood as hard as granite. "A sergeant whose service history is a bunch of crock. You've already put a marine in the infirmary with that little kung fu move of yours. You're trouble." Gave Shane a good long stare. "Sent here by a department I've never heard of? For some reason that I don't fully know yet. I don't like you because I can't trust you. This record of yours is too clean and you've demonstrated the skill set of Captain bloody America."
Jack started laughing, this jumped the Major's attention up the line. "As for you son. A civilian. I've never seen a bookworm go toe-to-toe with a full-blown United States Marine, not content with that fact - you chose the biggest mofo you could find?"
Shane gave Jack a respectful nod.
"I've seen Wierzbowski sit on tanks and eat scud missiles for lunch and you're supposed to be the smartest one here? Why do I get the gut-feeling that you are used to being summoned in front of a supervisor?"
Sam had all three of their files laying on his desk, tapped Jack's with his finger. "The others haven't read the unofficial report on your little one-man war excursion." Saying that Sam was pretty sure Shane knew every last detail and probably a lot more than what was written on the file that supposedly only his rank had privilege to read. Also fairly confident that Jack had blabbered to Private Priss for that matter too. "Just one of you would be the worst choice for any diplomatic mission and here I am saddled with all three of you. If there's some way I could sink our ship tonight I would. Having you lot within one square mile of each other will probably implode this God damn island before sun-up anyway. Now get out of my sight." Ordered them to leave.
Outside Sam's office making their way towards the exit Shane placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I guess you never do things in half measures. We haven't been properly introduced yet." Motioned towards the talking down they'd just had together. "I'm Gunnery Sergeant Shane Patrick, when Major Collins isn't around you can call me Paddy."
Jack held out his hand. "Bookworm, bad-ass bookworm at your service."
Shane made a fist. Jack copied and the pair touched knuckles.
"Thanks for squaring the odds back at the mess hall." Jack continued.
"You got some moves bookworm. Not sure if you're smart, lucky or just plain stupid?"
"I'd go with stupid!" Ellen put out her fist.
Both Jack and Shane looked at one another just long enough for Ellen to think about retracting her hand then the pair made contact.
"I have a feeling this is going to be a trip to remember." Remarked Jack as they past through the exit's double doors.
Three sets of two MP's were waiting to escort the musketeers back to quarters. Sam wasn't taking any chances of more trouble starting.
“Evening, fellas.” Shane smiled at the beefed-up security, he could easily handle all six if he so chose. “Looks like our fun is over for tonight!”
--- Eight ---
Under the cover of darkness, illuminated solely by the Ash-Hym's running lights, the ocean rippled. At first Yan thought an adult sperm whale was breaching the surface but then more of its huge body rose up from the black depths. Water bubbled and frothed. This was no living sea creature of flesh and blood. Multi-tone green camouflaged metallic skin covered with scaly angled tiles. A man-made predator of the seas. Still rising, spat out foaming saltwater from her lungs. Finally came to rest. The Mal-ne opened her aft hatch. Her name stencilled on the conning tower.
Romeo-class submarine built by the Soviets. Considered by the world to be obsolete, useless in any combat situation. The North Korean People's Navy operated twenty of them. This one unique, specialized. Soon to carry the baton from the Ash-Hym that potentially could destroy the Western world, far from useless. Almost the same length as the Ash-Hym. Massive, eighty per cent of this cold war relic remained below the waterline.
Four armed submariners secured the sub's grilled deck. Yan stepped back from the railings, what had he led his crew into. A larger forward cargo hatch released sent the last remaining puddles of water overboard. More highly trained personnel appeared. Equipment lifted topside. Hoses and machinery hummed, pumped into action. In less than thirty seconds an inflatable schooner was ready to launch.
"This is where we part company, Captain." Jugeum signalled the Mal-ne at the same time the other seven stowaways onboard the Ash-Hym assembled on the lower deck. Draped rope ladders over the side.
Yan eager for his secret passengers to leave his ship accompanied Jugeum. The transfer schooner had already rowed across by the time they'd reached the staging area. The first of two medium size bags hoisted aboard the Ash-Hym.
"I thought you were leaving?" Yan curious as to why new items now rested on his deck.
"We never discussed payment for services rendered. For us the ends justify the means but I wanted to give your crew something." This was keep your mouths shut cash. "I trust your men once docked will say nothing about our passage." Jugeum offered his hand.
Yan had become a criminal, he would have to live with that for the rest of his life, he didn't accept Jugeum's hand. "Our business arrangement has come to its natural end." Half of Jugeum's men already sat in the schooner below. "Now it's time for you to leave my ship, Mr Jugeum."
Jugeum paused on the ladder. "I like you, Yan."
Yan doubted Jugeum had many friends or even wanted any. Watched him the entire way across until he stepped aboard the Mal-ne. While onboard the Ash-Hym Jugeum never seemed like the seafaring sort but now standing on the running deck of the sub he looked the most formidable skipper to ever command a warship. This was the station he belonged at. Revelled at the helm of Armageddon.
Deflated the schooner was secured. Topside ready for departure. Jugeum the last man left on deck. His ghostly figure saluted Yan then vanished below into the beast's belly. The outer hatch sealed shut.
The Mal-ne vented air from her cavernous lungs as they filled with seawater. A mighty noise bellowed out as the ocean swallowed the Mal-ne. At that very moment Yan translated the North Korean names, now together.
Mal-ne, the fourth horse and Jugeum meant death.
“Behold, a pale green horse and he that sat upon it his name was death and his companion was the grave.”
--- Nine ---
Jack rested on the wide steps leading up to his container cabin. Letting the rising sun warm his face. His thoughts were of his late father. Jack took a deep breath, this was the sights and sounds his father would've experienced during his naval years. The suspicious circumstances surrounding James Thomas Gehrig's disappearance remained just that - suspicious.
--- Ten ---
The F-16 roared past on take-off. Shane didn't flinch. His skin felt the whoosh of turbulent air wash over him as he jogged alongside the runway. Nobody had said he couldn't run the length of the airstrip. A circuit that totalled four miles. He'd already completed four round trips. He was going to spend the next couple of weeks stuck onboard a ship. Swimming out of the question due to scavenging tiger sharks. Except for a few uninhabited islands there certainly wasn't going to be anywhere to fully stretch his legs. Shane increased his speed, this was too easy, no assault pack, no rifle, no pursuing enemy hunting him down. An interdepartmental memo once referred to him as a combat asset. Light the fuse and stand well back.
Through the air-conditioned control tower's tinted windows the early morning shift of air traffic operators past the time by placing bets on how far this loony was going to run, they would all lose money. Shane's feet continued pounding the tough asphalt, pressed on with another lap.
--- Eleven ---
Sam and Mordecai stood talking on the quay. The pier busy with the bustle of loading equipment and supplies for their voyage. Wooden pallets rapidly hoisted high in the air, swung around, lowered into the Earp's hold. Neither man concern about the heavy cargo that whizzed past them in every direction. The crane operator a skilled worker and Mordecai's crew equally spaced aware.
Acting as a makeshift table Sam laid out a nautical-chart on top of the nearest crate. Mordecai would've liked a day or two to plot a course, damn the navy and its on a need to know basis policy.
"Our first port of call," Sam enlightened, "is picking up an ambassador."
"I thought this was a research trip?" Mordecai wasn't surprised. The military always changing the rules.
"It is. The main island we're heading to is located in disputed waters." Sam pointed to a tiny dot of green.
"That's remote, even for that region."
"It still has neighbours. The two countries arguing know that the island is American sovereignty, strictly off-limits. Neither of them wants to wake up to the 7th fleet knocking. They just like to quarrel over who owns the waters around it."
Mordecai shook his head. "A thousand square miles of nothingness and still people want to start a war over it?"
"Over the decades they've fired pop-shots at each other's boats."
Mordecai glanced up at his beauty, he didn't want any holes put in her. "Do you think it's wise for us to go waltzing in there with an ex-naval vessel? If you hadn't noticed we're still run the colours of war." By law, all military ships have to keep their original paint scheme.
"Don't worry I won't let any harm come to your girl." Sam laughed. "We've already asked both parties permission for the Earp to cross their waters. They were never going to say no but one country insisted that a representative join us on the voyage. Many of the islands are listed as world heritage. They want to observe and not to be blamed for big American boots trampling all over the place."
"I think we've got other problems." Mordecai had heard the talk around base, the gossip that majors and senior staff don't get to hear.
Sam played coy. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
Mordecai could read him like a book."You're lousy at poker!"
"You heard about the mess hall?" No point in denying.
"Primetime news, mate."
Sam led Mordecai away from the dock. Among the tarpaulin-covered stacks that littered the area, not wishing to be overheard. "Can I be honest with you, Mordecai?"
He pulled a face. "What do you think, Sam?"
"My orders came directly from the Pentagon. The first to my knowledge this installation has ever received so already I find that suspicious."
"It does seem a wee bit high priority for an extinct bird?" Mordecai itched his head. “It isn't going anywhere in a hurry.”
"That's not all, did you hear about wonder boy? I get sent a sergeant, reassigned for no reason to this venture. His service record indicates nothing that makes him a better-suited candidate for this type of operation, so why is he here?"
"Are you talking about that nutter doing marathons around the airfield?"
"You saw that?"
"Can't miss it. The lad's eager, I give him that. Heard he put one of your marines in sickbay." Amused Mordecai chuckled.
"It isn't funny." Sam duly agitated. "Not only is this mission suppose to be of little importance they requested that I take command of it? I didn't ask why. Do you know why I didn't ask?"
"Because the reply you get is always ....."
They both answered at the same time. "Don't ask!"
"Added to which we get sent a greenback straight from the academy and a bookworm that eats trained marines that get in his way. I feel that we're heading into something far more involved than what we've been told."
Everything Sam was saying made sense. Damn peculiar. "What do you want me to do?"
"Have you stowed away your little friends?"
"I don't know what you're talking about?"
"How long have we've been pals, Mordecai? The reply I'm looking for was yes! One under the gangplank and the other in the rec-room."
"Oh! Those little friends." Mordecai knew perfectly what Sam originally meant. "I can explain."
Sam held up his hand. "Although this expedition is under military command and guidance, travelling to a US base, I'm not permitted to carry any weapons across international waters whilst aboard a civilian vessel."
Sam then placed a folded army issued towel into Mordecai's hands. "So if you can place this item in my cabin, under my pillow, it would be very much appreciated."
The towel weighted more than it should've. Mordecai jostled the weight. Knew what was hidden, wrapped inside. “Just a little something to help you sleep better?”
The Earp's foghorn blasted. Both men jumped, caught like thieves in the night.
"I thought you'd fixed that?" Sam shook his head.
"I thought so too?"
--- Twelve ---
The Ash-Hym had been allowed to stay afloat. Continue on her planned journey. Yan expected her hull at any moment to explode in two from torpedoes launched from the Mal-ne. He hadn't slept. Kept watched from the viewing deck. Nothing to see on a moonless night, the sea blends seamlessly with the sky. His crew and ship a little safer with each minute that ticked past. Jugeum had spared them, or did their fate wait further down the line? Every once in awhile Yan ordered his helmsman to zig-zag.
The Ash-Hym allowed to proceed for one reason only. Sinking her here would only set in motion the exact situation Jugeum wanted to avoid at all cost, attention. A missing ship would immediately start an international search. The eyes of the world focused on this empty stretch of water. The Mal-ne innards refitted with twenty-first-century technology but her outer shell was still detectable by sonar. Anybody looking for a sunken vessel would pick up her revealing signal.
The worst that could happen was some of the crew might chat at the next port's bar but that was more than two days away and the ocean is a very large place for the Mal-ne to hide in. The second, Captain Yan might send a message to the coastguard. North Korean intelligence had ruled this to be less than a six per cent probability. Captain Yan wasn't a threat.
A brief conversation did occur before Jugeum and his combatants boarded the Ash-Hym. A bomb placed in her engine room or better still a scuba team could attach an anti-ship mine to her hull during the passenger exchange. Detonating the charge at her next berth. This was deemed too risky. If any of the crew survived they would certainly talk after such an event.
The Ash-Hym had completed her dark deed only her captain would solely be held accountable if the authorities ever found out but what about the men responsible for his wife and son's murder. Yan prayed Jugeum would kill every last one of them.
--- Thirteen ---
The Earp's engines seemed to be reluctant to start, perhaps she already knew that if she left this safe harbour she might never return. Mordecai initiated the start-up sequence again. Just for a moment the complete ship's electrical systems went down, the Earp's final effort to save itself and her crew.
"Come on, old girl. Don't you want to take Uncle Sam's nice crisp banknotes?" Mordecai patted her walnut dashboard. "For me, Josephine. Like I promised. This will be our last wild adventure. After this we'll find you a nice permanent berth. Refurb your C-deck into a sun lounge and diner then charge a king's ransom for the rich and wealthy to party."
Mordecai already had the blueprints drawn up, been in his bureau these last eighteen months. C-deck had room for a dance floor and sitting for thirty tables, ideal for weddings, barmitzvahs and such like. During the day open the rest of the ship as an executive club. The artillery magazine converted into gym facilities. Mordecai had it all worked out. Whitewash over the navy built craft's rough edges and wallah the Earp could be a goldmine. In his mind's eye he saw himself rubbing suntan lotion over bikini-clad starlets tanning themselves. He just needed that little cash injection that this trip offered.
"Joey, are you listening? Papa will look after you."
The engines shuddered into life. Cast-off. The quayside workers flung over the ropes as the Earp drifted away from the pier. Forty years ago the whole city of Newcastle turned out to witness the Earp take to the water for the first time. The group of spectators that gathered along the shoreline this time didn't come to marvel at her, they came to watch their commander work for a living. Major Sam Collins didn't do much around the base apart from stroll from breakfast to lunch and onwards to dinner. Never headed an away mission. Certainly a spectacle to be viewed. Marines shouted insults that they knew he couldn't hear.
The Earp's foghorn blasted, another malfunction. The crowd roared and applauded.
They were on their way. Sixteen souls in total. Mordecai, Sam, Jack, Ellen, Shane and eleven of the ship's compliment.
How many would return and in what state?
* * * * * *