the weight pinning him down won’t budge.
‘We’ve lost someone overboard. And I think the vessel is leaking. We can’t control it.’
‘State your business on the river.’
Fred is no fool, but he can’t refuse help to a vessel in distress and the Marine Unit teams, to the extent that they are on alert, are expecting trouble two days from now.
‘We’re a film company.’
‘Filming on the river. We got into trouble.’
‘Throw me a line.’
That last is Lacey’s voice and not over the tannoy. She is close enough to be heard, close enough for a line to be thrown. Joesbury makes one last effort, almost bucking off the man on his chest.
‘What’s going on?’ he hears. ‘Who have you—’
‘Throw me a line. Do it now, or your friend here gets it.’
The weight lifts from Joesbury’s chest and for a second he can do nothing other than suck in the air he’s been surviving without for the last few minutes. Then Safar gets off his legs and he can roll over, push himself up on to his elbows.
All the men in his boat have guns in their hands, although he sees they are holding them close to their bodies, or pointing downwards, just in case someone is watching from the bank.
Lacey’s eyes flicker his way but she doesn’t let on that she knows him. Neither does Uncle Fred who is still at the helm. The other two constables on board the police RIB are men whom Joesbury doesn’t know.
‘Moor up, we’re coming on board. Back on your feet, jackass, hold the boat steady.’
Joesbury gets up and takes the wheel. At a grim nod from Fred, Lacey and one of the other constables throw lines across and the two RIBs are secured together.
‘Stay in neutral, son, I’ll hold us in the water.’ Fred looks directly at Joesbury, who nods back. Two boats with engines this powerful could tip over if not handled properly. Fred will need to hold them in position and stop them drifting for as long as they are roped together.
Assaf and Malouf have already scrambled on board the Marine Unit boat.
‘This is a very serious offence, guys.’ Fred isn’t going quietly. ‘And if I don’t contact base in the next couple of minutes to tell them everything’s fine, we’re going to have a lot of company out here.’
‘Shut it, or your boy gets it between the eyes.’ Haddad points his gun at Joesbury.
They cannot know about the connection between him and Fred. And yet something tells him that, bad though the situation may be, there is worse to come.
‘Officer.’ Assaf is speaking to one of Lacey’s fellow constables. ‘Can you and your colleague here kindly board our boat?’
‘What’s going on?’ one of them wants to know.
Fred calls from the helm, ‘Do what he says, Josh. You too, Rory. Take care, both of you.’
What’s going on is a swapping of personnel, a hijack, the occupants of each boat being moved on to the other. Lacey is about to climb aboard the terrorist boat. Her eyes are wide and her jaw-line tight with tension. Cool as ever, though, she doesn’t even glance at Joesbury as she steps up towards the rim of the police RIB.
‘Not you, Miss. Stay where you are, please.’
No, Lacey has to be on this boat, where she has a chance of being safe in a few minutes.
‘Jackass, over you go. Take the wheel.’
Joesbury crosses on to the Marine Unit RIB, grasping Lacey’s hand briefly, as if for balance, and then takes the helm from Fred. Haddad follows, leaving Safar and the two constables on board Rich’s RIB. First Fred, then Lacey is made to crouch in the bow of the police RIB whilst their wrists and ankles are bound with duct tape. Tape is stretched across their mouths. There is a tarpaulin next to them. Throw that over the top and no one will know they are there.
‘These two will just slow us down,’ Joesbury tries. ‘Put them on the other boat.’
Assaf raises his gun and aims at the boat they’ve just vacated. He fires twice. Constable Rory’s head bursts apart like a ripe fruit.
‘We’ve lost someone overboard. And I think the vessel is leaking. We can’t control it.’
‘State your business on the river.’
Fred is no fool, but he can’t refuse help to a vessel in distress and the Marine Unit teams, to the extent that they are on alert, are expecting trouble two days from now.
‘We’re a film company.’
‘Filming on the river. We got into trouble.’
‘Throw me a line.’
That last is Lacey’s voice and not over the tannoy. She is close enough to be heard, close enough for a line to be thrown. Joesbury makes one last effort, almost bucking off the man on his chest.
‘What’s going on?’ he hears. ‘Who have you—’
‘Throw me a line. Do it now, or your friend here gets it.’
The weight lifts from Joesbury’s chest and for a second he can do nothing other than suck in the air he’s been surviving without for the last few minutes. Then Safar gets off his legs and he can roll over, push himself up on to his elbows.
All the men in his boat have guns in their hands, although he sees they are holding them close to their bodies, or pointing downwards, just in case someone is watching from the bank.
Lacey’s eyes flicker his way but she doesn’t let on that she knows him. Neither does Uncle Fred who is still at the helm. The other two constables on board the police RIB are men whom Joesbury doesn’t know.
‘Moor up, we’re coming on board. Back on your feet, jackass, hold the boat steady.’
Joesbury gets up and takes the wheel. At a grim nod from Fred, Lacey and one of the other constables throw lines across and the two RIBs are secured together.
‘Stay in neutral, son, I’ll hold us in the water.’ Fred looks directly at Joesbury, who nods back. Two boats with engines this powerful could tip over if not handled properly. Fred will need to hold them in position and stop them drifting for as long as they are roped together.
Assaf and Malouf have already scrambled on board the Marine Unit boat.
‘This is a very serious offence, guys.’ Fred isn’t going quietly. ‘And if I don’t contact base in the next couple of minutes to tell them everything’s fine, we’re going to have a lot of company out here.’
‘Shut it, or your boy gets it between the eyes.’ Haddad points his gun at Joesbury.
They cannot know about the connection between him and Fred. And yet something tells him that, bad though the situation may be, there is worse to come.
‘Officer.’ Assaf is speaking to one of Lacey’s fellow constables. ‘Can you and your colleague here kindly board our boat?’
‘What’s going on?’ one of them wants to know.
Fred calls from the helm, ‘Do what he says, Josh. You too, Rory. Take care, both of you.’
What’s going on is a swapping of personnel, a hijack, the occupants of each boat being moved on to the other. Lacey is about to climb aboard the terrorist boat. Her eyes are wide and her jaw-line tight with tension. Cool as ever, though, she doesn’t even glance at Joesbury as she steps up towards the rim of the police RIB.
‘Not you, Miss. Stay where you are, please.’
No, Lacey has to be on this boat, where she has a chance of being safe in a few minutes.
‘Jackass, over you go. Take the wheel.’
Joesbury crosses on to the Marine Unit RIB, grasping Lacey’s hand briefly, as if for balance, and then takes the helm from Fred. Haddad follows, leaving Safar and the two constables on board Rich’s RIB. First Fred, then Lacey is made to crouch in the bow of the police RIB whilst their wrists and ankles are bound with duct tape. Tape is stretched across their mouths. There is a tarpaulin next to them. Throw that over the top and no one will know they are there.
‘These two will just slow us down,’ Joesbury tries. ‘Put them on the other boat.’
Assaf raises his gun and aims at the boat they’ve just vacated. He fires twice. Constable Rory’s head bursts apart like a ripe fruit.
Similar Books
