The hijack by Duncan Falconer

Author:Duncan Falconer [Duncan Falconer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780751544725
Published: 2010-09-15T10:02:45+00:00

Chapter 8

Zhilev cut the boat’s engine for the last time and it spluttered in the darkness for several seconds, resisting, holding on to life as if it knew its future was uncertain in these strange waters hundreds of miles from home and after an adventure its owner never intended it to have.

Zhilev felt relief in the silence, with the cessation of the vibrations that had been slowly making him numb. He let go of the wheel and squeezed and released his fingers repeatedly, getting the blood flowing around them again to relieve the pins and needles that came without fail at the start of each day of his journey. Ironically though, the vibrations appeared to stop the aching in his neck. Hour upon hour at the wheel in the small cabin, standing or slouched in the uncomfortable wooden seat with its lumpy cushion, should have left him in an agonising mess, but there was no sign of the pain as long as the engines hummed and his hands were on the wheel.

The boat rocked and bobbed gently in the light swell caused by the prevailing southeasterly wind which had been at his back all the way down the Suez Canal. The worst part of the journey from Kastellorizo had been crossing the Mediterranean to Port Fu’ad, the entrance to the canal. Zhilev had topped up a dozen large cans with fuel for the non-stop journey and lashed them to the decks forward and aft of the small wheelhouse. Fortunately the weather had remained calm, a surprise for the time of year, allowing him to snatch a few hours’ sleep while the wheel was tied in position, without straying too far off-track. The small marine GPS he had bought in Marmaris along with all the relevant charts had proved more than adequate. He had never used one before, having learned sea navigation in the Spetsnaz using a compass and dead reckoning. He was hugely impressed with the modern technology that told him where he was at any given time. It even calculated his average speed and distance to his destination, once he had read the manual several times and thoroughly understood the complicated device.

By day three he was so engrossed in the journey he began to daydream about other sea journeys he would like to do now that he had re-acquired a taste for the ocean, and then something horrific happened. A tinge of doubt had somehow crept into his head about his mission. The doubt was laced with a kind of fear that spread through him like fire in a field of wheat until he reached out for the key on the tattered control panel, turned off the engine and sat in silence in the choppy water, staring at nothing while his mind raced to find a foothold of sense amid the sudden panic.

Finally the Zhilev of the past emerged once again and stood tall to take charge, cursing the weak old man for allowing uncertainty to take a grip and demanding he find his spine.

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