He looked at the closed door in front of him, took a deep breath and pushed it open. Obviously Peter hadn’t spent any time at the apartment since the split eighteen months previously. The bedroom was feminine in both decoration and assorted items displayed on a low dressing table.
Dan turned and pulled the door closed behind him and padded towards the kitchen, which was small, but bright and functional. A small gas cooker stood in the far corner and an old-fashioned kettle whistled on the hob.
Sarah turned as he entered the room and smiled. ‘I sent a text message to my neighbour yesterday to let her know I might call in so there’s fresh food,’ she explained. ‘Are you hungry?’
Dan nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Okay,’ said Sarah. ‘Give it half an hour and there’ll be hot water too if you want to freshen up.’
Dan nodded and sat down at the small kitchen table. He suddenly felt very weary. How was he ever going to put any of this right? He looked up as Sarah walked around the table, put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.
‘It’s okay Dan,’ she said. ‘I mean it. Relax. Give your mind a break. I’ll open a bottle of wine if you prefer?’
He smiled, looked up at her and took her hand off his shoulder. He held it for a moment, briefly, then squeezed it and let go. ‘That’s the best thing you’ve said to me since we got off the plane.’
Sarah gently slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand and wandered over to a wine rack. She glanced out the window.
‘Red wine weather,’ she said, and pulled a bottle of Shiraz towards her.
Chapter 33
Arctic Ocean
Chris Weston checked the GPS and slowed the engines. Miles Brogan methodically scanned the dark horizon. Somewhere out there, their ticket through the Arctic ice waited for them and, given what was at stake, it wouldn’t be prudent to make a mistake like missing an appointment with a Russian ship flying a flag of convenience.
‘There!’
Weston lowered his binoculars and pointed to a break in the darkness of the Arctic winter. ‘There she is.’
Brogan took the proffered binoculars and peered through them. As a weak moon shone through the clouds, two piercing searchlights reached out to them. The lights drew closer, and then Brogan gasped. Shark teeth, bright white, with a gaping red mouth between them, jumped out of the darkness at him. He lowered the binoculars in shock.
Weston laughed. ‘Nervous Captain? It’s only a ship.’
Brogan raised the binoculars to his face again. The effect was staggering. The black hull of an icebreaker rose through the darkness, a set of teeth painted on the bow like an old warplane.
The hijacker’s leader told Weston to slow the freighter, and then picked up his mobile phone. Brogan continued to watch through the binoculars, mesmerised, while the other man placed a call.
The leader walked over to Brogan. ‘Okay. Signal them. I’ve told them we don’t expect to have to stop so we want them in front of us as we approach. We’ll worry about the pleasantries once we’re safely in Severnya Zemlya.’
Brogan looked out the freighter’s windscreen at the bleak seascape. He tried to maintain a constant surveillance of the grey, wind-chopped sea, looking for rogue icebergs. Even with the icebreaker as escort, the freighter was vulnerable. As the winter darkness paled to a half-hearted dawn, the light reflected off the grey tones of the water, making it hard to spot icebergs until they were dangerously close. Brogan knew the icebreaker’s crew would be paid to do a good job, but years of experience meant he kept his eyes scanning the horizon, just in case. Better to be prepared than to have to take evasive action, especially with a ship the size of the World’s End.
He took a sip of coffee and glanced at Weston. ‘Have you heard a weather report?’
The former first officer nodded. ‘It’s not the perfect run we’d hoped for but to be honest, I thought it was going to be much worse than this. That storm should pass over us tomorrow morning so at least we’ll be able to see where we’re going. It wouldn’t be much fun going through that at night around here.’
Brogan gestured with his coffee mug at the icebreaker. ‘How did you end up with a Russian-flagged escort?’
Weston shrugged. ‘Best not to ask.’
Brogan murmured his agreement. He peered through the ice-covered windows at the grey expanse before him. The enormous freighter bucked gently over the white tipped swell as he followed the icebreaker’s wake. He cast his eyes over the instrument panel below him. Normally, he’d have both GPS and radar monitors to guide him but his new bosses were insistent on not switching these on.
Brogan wondered what the hell they were hiding from the authorities. Somehow, it was connected with the black sedan in the cargo hold, but so far he couldn’t figure out what it was. He kept his head down and his ears open, to try and find out more. He was sailing blind – the gunmen wouldn’t even let him find out weather reports for their position. Instead, he was going to have to rely on information relayed from the Russian ship in front of him. He wondered what would happen once they reached their destination. Were they planning on sailing further?
Brisbane, Australia
Delaney put the phone down, turned to the other two men in the room and smiled. ‘An update from my team leader. We’re on schedule.’
The other two men grinned and provided spontaneous applause.
‘That is great news my friend,’ said Uli Petrov. ‘I always had faith in you and my investment.’
Delaney bowed his head, acknowledging the praise.
Pallisder took a swig of the amber liquid in his glass, glanced out the window at the city lights below and turned to Delaney. ‘How come you didn’t develop this at one of your Eurasian mines, Morris? Surely that’s one hell of a risk sending it by ship – we can’t risk this freighter being hijacked at sea. Those idiots round the Suez don’t care what they take – hell, one Japanese firm lost 4,000 cars six months ago. What makes you think ours is going to be safe?’