Читать книгу Scott Mariani 2-book Collection: Star of Africa, The Devil’s Kingdom - Scott Mariani, Scott Mariani - Страница 32

The nightmare was unfolding fast now, as fast as the rising storm. Jude gaped in mute horror at Diesel’s body. He began to shake as waves of nausea gripped him. Do something, he thought. But what? He was certain that if he handed the diamond over, they would all soon be dead. If he didn’t, someone else would be the next to be shot. What kind of choice was that?

Just then, Pender and a few of the pirates looked up, suddenly distracted. Jude could hear it too: the thrumming rumble of a propeller aircraft, faint but unmistakable. He craned his neck to gaze upwards, and saw what his captors were looking at, just as the storm clouds parted to reveal a crack of sky in the distance. It was still a long way off, just a tiny blob over the horizon, but it seemed to be heading their way. His horror deflated for a second as he felt a sudden stab of excitement. Could it be the police? The coastguard? Another passing ship might have seen something. They might have alerted the authorities.

Or it could be Jeff Dekker, riding in like the cavalry.

Pender had had the same thought. ‘Who did you email?’ he demanded. ‘This Jeff guy, who the fuck is he?’

‘He’s – he’s my … uncle.’

Pender stared at Jude as if he were an idiot. ‘Your uncle?’

Khosa turned to face the ocean and observed the distant aircraft slicing through the clouds. The drone of its propellers could clearly be heard now. It was losing altitude to skim low over the waves, still more than a mile away. As Khosa watched, he thought he saw a tiny white splash hit the water in its wake, followed by a second that was just as quickly lost in the rough sea. But it was too distant to be sure what he’d seen. Then the plane picked up altitude again and banked away in a sloping curve.

Jude’s heart sank into his boots as the plane veered off and quickly began to recede into the distance, its sound fading into the wind. It was nothing to do with them after all.

Pender turned back towards Jude, his feet braced wide to counter the rocking of the deck. ‘Well, looks like Uncle Jeff decided to stay home and watch TV. Now, where was I? That’s right. You were about to tell me where you’ve hidden my property. Maybe your memory needs refreshing again? No problem. Let’s play eeny-meeny.’

He swept the gun over the huddle of prisoners. Diesel’s blood was spreading over the deck, pink where it mingled with the seawater that rained down to soak them with each new wave that crashed into the side. Pender was swaying on his feet but his aim was steady as it settled on Gerber.

‘How about you, old timer? You want to be next?’

‘Fuck you,’ Gerber said, staring up at him.

‘Fuck me? Really? Let’s see about that.’ Pender stepped up to him and pressed the gun against Gerber’s head.

Jude’s eyes met Gerber’s. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed.

‘It’s okay,’ Gerber’s eyes replied. Then Gerber closed them and bowed his head, waiting for the white flash and the boom of the gunshot he would never hear.

‘You have three seconds before I blow this guy away,’ Pender told Jude, pressing the gun harder against Gerber’s temple. His finger tightened on the trigger. ‘One.’

‘You’re making a big mistake,’ Jude said. But it was just bravado. Just words. He felt empty, hollowed out. There was nothing any more between him, his friends, and death.

At that moment, Khosa’s radio gave a crackle. ‘What?’ he barked into it, irritated at the further distraction. One of his men aboard the trawler was telling him they had picked up something on the fish-finder sonar. A pair of unidentified objects, moving together and travelling fast straight towards them.

Khosa scanned the empty waves beyond. The aircraft was now lost in the clouds, barely audible. Nothing there.

‘Two,’ Pender said.

‘Engine room,’ Jude blurted out. He quickly described where he’d hidden the leather pouch. ‘That’s where it is. I swear. Don’t kill him.’

Pender took the gun away from Gerber’s head and let it dangle at his side. ‘You and you,’ he said, pointing at two of the pirates. ‘Go get it.’ The two looked to Khosa. Khosa gave a nod, and the two hurried away across the lurching deck.

For five unbearable minutes, they waited as the storm continued to loom over them. The first raindrop spattered the deck. Then another. In moments, it was sheeting down thick and hard. Jude’s hair was dripping and plastered over his face. His eyes were stinging from the salt spray as he watched Pender.

And Khosa was watching him, too. There was a nasty grin on the General’s face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Finally, the two pirates returned on deck. One of them was holding the leather pouch, grimy from where Jude had hidden it, and already wet from the lashing rain. Pender’s eyes lit up at the sight of his prize.

‘So now you have it,’ Jude said. ‘Let us go. You want to take the ship, fine. We can use the lifeboat. Please. You don’t need to kill anyone else.’

Pender tucked his pistol under his left arm and grabbed the pouch from the pirate. He quickly opened his metal case, stuffed the pouch inside and clicked the catches shut as fast as he could, before anyone could notice what was inside. He whipped the pistol out from under his arm and thrust it at Jude’s head.

‘Thanks, kid. You made the right choice. But I’m going to blow your brains out anyway. Then I’m gonna kill all your pals, just because I feel like it. How’s that grab you?’

‘Wait,’ Khosa said. He stepped up and snatched the gun from Pender’s hand.

At first, Jude thought the African was trying to save him. But the pirate leader had no interest in Jude. He was looking at the case attached to Pender’s wrist.

Pender froze.

Jude didn’t breathe.

‘Do you think I am an idiot?’ Khosa asked Pender. There was no anger in his voice. The eyes set wide in that terrible face were perfectly calm.

‘Of – of course not.’

‘What is in the case?’ Khosa said.

Pender turned white, then red. ‘It’s nothing that concerns you,’ he blustered. ‘I paid you to do a job. So do it. We’re getting off this floating graveyard and getting out of here. Give me back my gun.’

Khosa shook his head. ‘I do not think you give the orders here.’ With a wave of his hand, there were suddenly two men standing either side of Pender, aiming rifles at his head.

‘Open the case,’ Khosa ordered Pender. ‘I want to see what is so small and can be so precious to you that you pay two million dollars for it as if it was pennies.’

‘You don’t understand—’ Pender began.

‘I understand that you are trying to take me for a fool,’ Khosa said. ‘That is a very big mistake. Have you forgotten who I am?’

Pender backed slowly away. The rifles followed him. ‘Okay, okay. You want to renegotiate the fee, huh? Fine, I can go with that. I’ll double your money. Four million. All right? That’s the best deal you’re going to get from anyone, anywhere.’ If his face hadn’t been slick with rainwater, it would have been pouring sweat. He was trying to brass it out, but Jude could see the terror in his eyes. Maybe he was thinking he shouldn’t have killed his own men. They might have come in useful at this moment. Too late for those kind of regrets now.

‘No negotiations,’ Khosa said. ‘Show me what is inside the case.’

Pender hesitated just a fraction too long.

Khosa snapped his fingers. ‘Zolani. Bring it to me.’

A tall bare-chested African bedecked in gleaming cartridge belts stepped towards Pender and laid down the huge machine gun he was carrying. With no expression on his face, he drew the machete from his belt. Pender’s jaw dropped. He backed away another step, but that was as far as he got before two more of Khosa’s men seized his arms.

‘No! What are you doing? Stop!’

For Jude and the others, the worst thing was knowing exactly what was about to happen. Khosa’s men threw Pender to the gleaming wet deck. It took four of them to pin him down as he screamed and writhed. Taking hold of the case, a fifth man pulled it away to stretch Pender’s left arm out, until it was fully extended across the iron floor. The handcuff bit into Pender’s wrist and he screamed even more loudly, like a pig in a slaughterhouse.

The man called Zolani raised the machete and brought it down with a chopping sound that was all but drowned out by Pender’s shriek.

Jude looked away and felt sick.

Zolani calmly picked up the case and took it over to Khosa. The severed hand and forearm were still dangling from the chain. Khosa took the case, laid it down on the deck, flipped the catches and opened the lid. He took out the leather pouch, upended it and its contents rolled out into his palm.

Even under the darkening storm clouds and the pouring rain, the diamond seemed to glitter like a small sun on the African’s open hand.

‘Now I understand,’ Khosa murmured, gazing at the enormous stone. Pender was squealing and squirming and clutching his stump. It was jetting blood faster than the rain could wash it away.

‘Kill him,’ Khosa said, without taking his eyes off the diamond.

Zolani sheathed the machete and picked up his machine gun. He pressed the muzzle to the back of Pender’s neck, pinning him down. The ear-splitting blast of fully automatic fire spattered Pender’s skull like a rotten melon. The screams were instantly silenced. Pender twitched once, and went limp on the wet deck.

Jude watched the life go out of him. It was a terrible thing to see. He wondered if that was how he would look when he died, too. He cleared his throat and tried to make his voice strong.

‘You have nothing to gain by killing us,’ he said to Khosa. ‘You have what you want. Let us go on our way.’

Khosa seemed not to hear. He closed his fist around the stone, clenching it tightly as if he dared anyone to try to claim it from him. He tossed the case over the rail, still trailing the severed arm. It disappeared over the side and its splash was lost in the roar of the wind.

‘Execute them,’ Khosa ordered his men.

Jude watched numbly as Khosa turned and started walking away. The men raised their rifles. He was drenched to the bone, but his mouth was dry as desert sand. Without thinking, he called out the first thing that came into his head.

‘I’m rich.’

Khosa stopped. Slowly turned back to face Jude through the rain, grinning a demonic grin. ‘So am I, white boy,’ he said. He held up the fist that was clutching the diamond.

Jude swallowed. He fought the shake in his voice and the mad desire to rush for the opposite rail and hurl himself over it into the sea. ‘That’s nothing,’ he said, pointing at the diamond in Khosa’s hand. ‘It’s a bauble compared to what my family have. We wouldn’t even bend down to pick it up out of the gutter. This ship? It’s mine. And twenty more like it. You let me go, and my friends, and you can be the richest man in your country.’

Khosa’s expression became serious and he studied Jude intently for a moment or two before the grin spread slowly back over his mutilated face. ‘That was a very good try, my young friend.’

Khosa turned away again. His men pointed their guns.

Jude looked sadly at his crewmates, kneeling huddled and soaked together on the deck.

I’m sorry. I did everything I could.

He closed his eyes. This is it. This is where we die. He’d thought he would be ready, when the time came. But you could never be ready.

Jude felt a searing flash and a powerful force knocked him sideways.

He hit the deck.

He was dead.