Life Goes On , Tayell, Frank [best pdf ebook reader .TXT] 📗

“Fifty of us, now,” Mikael said. “Some died. Some left. So it goes. You came from the south? You say there is no one there?”

“Not that we found,” Tess said. “But we found nuclear craters in Brazil.”

“Ah. I thought of going south, but my travelling days are done.”

“You retired here?” Tess asked. Her ears pricked. An engine approached, and from inland.

“I retired to Miami,” Mikael said. “Years ago, for my health.”

“What was Florida like?” Tess asked.

“Beautiful. Once. But everywhere changes,” he said. “Ah. Hernando is here! Good. Leave the shark, boy. Hernando will carry it.”

It was obvious he was talking about the truck that had appeared from among the trees. It had approached from the north and parked at the end of the pier on a square of weather-beaten asphalt that was as much a car park for the bar-restaurant as for the pier.

Three people jumped out of the truck. Two men, one woman. All mid-twenties, athletic and lean, wearing bright shirts and pastel slacks, but carrying submachine guns as well as holstered pistols and sheathed knives. But it wasn’t the weapons which rang a warning bell.

“Hernando! Come. Get our lunch!” Mikael called, raising a hand, waving to the trio.

“Who are you?” one of the men replied, and he wasn’t addressing Mikael. His accent was Spanish-American. A cream-coloured straw hat shadowed most of his face, but beneath was a fussily neat goatee trimmed so as to accentuate his cheekbones. Seeing his companion’s crumpled trousers and shirt better emphasised that Hernando’s were pressed as, indeed, were Mikael’s. Pressed, but not a good fit. Hernando’s short sleeves were a centimetre too long, and an inch too baggy. His beard was so precise it hadn’t just been shaved but plucked. His reptile-skin belt, holster, and long belt-sheath matched his boots.

“Telstra Tower,” Clyde said, his voice low.

“The Canberra bunker,” Tess replied, and then raised her voice. “We’re from Canberra.”

“They are Australian police,” Mikael said. He’d stopped now, halfway along the pier, level with the anchored icebreaker.

Tess looked up. She could see no one up on the icebreaker’s deck. She looked back at Hernando, and knew exactly where she’d seen him before. The clothes were pressed, but that just required electricity. Laundry required water as well. No, these clothes had been looted. Salvaged. But not the reptile-skin boots. Not the belt and holster. No, those were his pride and joy. He’d wear them everywhere. He’d worn them in Colombia in front of that video camera. Weeks ago, when he’d wielded that knife. Yes, she recognised him, but so did Zach.

“You’re the torturer!” Zach said.

Tess’s hand dropped to her holster. Mikael raised his knee, drawing his knife. The gun’s grip was oddly warm in her hand as Tess dragged her weapon up. Mikael grabbed Zach’s wrist with his left hand, twisting his arm up behind his back while his right hand brought his knife to the young man’s throat before Tess had a bead on his forehead. It took less than a second. Clyde had his carbine raised, and each of the two goons had their own weapons levelled. Not Hernando, though. He’d not moved at all.

 “No!” Mikael called. “This is not polite. You police are disinvited to lunch. Leave your weapons. Get on your boat. Go. Or I throw the boy into the water. Lots of sharks there now.”

“It’s okay, Zach,” Tess said, keeping her weapon aimed just above Zach’s ear. She almost had a line on Mikael’s forehead. “Let Zach go and we’ll leave, too,” she said.

“No dispares,” Hernando said. His two guards lowered their weapons. “No shooting. Let him go, Mikael. Let them leave.”

And that was most worrying of all.

She let her gun drop a fraction. “Clyde, we’re leaving.”

“I’ve a question,” Zach said.

“Later, Zach,” Tess said.

“Nah, it’s important,” Zach said. “What do sharks and police have in common?” he asked, and slammed his head back and into Mikael’s face while stamping his heel down on the old man’s foot. From her left came a triple rat-a-tat-tat as Clyde opened fire. Zach’s free hand grabbed for Mikael’s knife hand as the young man attempted one of the break-and-throw moves Nicko had taught him during the voyage. But Zach didn’t have the timing that only came with experience. Tess did. Even as Mikael leaned back, she fired, once, her bullet clipping the man’s skull, spraying blood against the icebreaker’s hull.

“Clear!” Clyde said, even before Tess had turned. Hernando and his two guards were down.

“Are you okay, Zach?” Tess asked, running past him.

“Yeah, no worries,” he said.

Clyde overtook her, sweeping his gun from one corpse to the next, and then to the treeline.

“That was dumb, Zach,” Tess said.

“Nah, because I know him. I know Hernando. He’s that bloke from the video in Colombia. He’s the torturer.”

“I know,” she said, “but shouting it out wasn’t smart.”

“Yeah, but it’s over now,” Zach said. “We won.”

“We haven’t,” Clyde said. “That was all wrong. That’s not how you go about hijacking a warship.”

“What d’you mean?” Zach asked.

“Back to the boat,” Tess said. “We need to warn the captain.”

But it was too late. The helicopter buzzed low over the sea, not heading towards the pier, but looping low above the beach. Mackay ran along the pier, rifle raised.

“It’s the cartel,” Tess said as she walked over to Hernando’s body. On his wrist was a tattoo she’d seen before: a branch with three leaves. “It’s the bloody cartel. Glenn, warn the captain. Clyde, are these ships empty?”

“If they weren’t, we’d be dead,” Clyde said. “Some bullet holes in that yacht. Old ones.”

“Soldiers are being deployed inland,” Mackay said.

“I think we found the sisters,” Tess said. “Zach, behind me. Clyde, eyes on the road. Mackay, watch the trees.”

She led them down the pier, around Mikael’s truck, and took cover behind Hernando’s vehicle.