Poseidon's Ransom

Chapter Eleven

Once Ravinda Patel had secured access to Poseidon’s weapons system, there had been little else to do but wait. On Baine’s instructions, Commander Dowling had held his sub on the co-ordinates the hijacker had provided. The mood on the boat was tense to say the least, especially when the other senior officers knew Patel had taken control of the missiles. Several of them had quietly met with Pike and were keen to stop the hijackers. The Master at Arms felt he, and his small detachment of Marines could easily overpower Baine before he could deploy the deadly Ricin. But the orders from the Commander were clear.

‘We wait for the Government’s response,’ said Pike.

‘Yes, sir,’ said one, ‘but if they don’t pay-up, and these bastards go for launch?’

First Officer Pike looked solemn. ‘You know they have our families?’

‘Yes, sir. But we cannot let them launch our birds.’

Pike looked at the faces of the men under his command. ‘If the ransom is paid these guys should leave.’

‘And if it’s not and they go for a launch?’

‘We kill them both and take our chances with the Ricin.’

No sooner had Pike finished speaking, than the boat’s intercom sounded. ‘First Officer Pike to the Officer’s Mess. Mr Pike to the Officers Mess.’

Commander Dowling, Frank Baine, and Sir Anthony Grainger were already in the small mess room when Pike arrived. The politician looked gaunt and pale. Pike thought he could be on the edge of a heart attack. He guessed the pills the man kept taking were to control such an eventuality.

‘Come in, Steve,’ said Dowling, ‘have a seat.’

‘Well?’ said Pike.

‘We have received word from Downing Street. The ransom has been paid,’ said Grainger.

‘Yeah,’ interrupted Baine, ‘and more importantly I have just heard the transaction has gone through.’

‘So you bastards will…’

Baine raised his hand to silence Pike. ‘No need for insults, Mr Pike. We’ve all got what we wanted. Your very wise government has paid up, which means we’ll soon be on our way.’

‘And our families?’ said Grainger.

‘Will be released un-harmed, Sir Anthony, as soon as Mr Patel and myself are clear of Poseidon.’

‘What now?’ said Dowling?’

Baine stood up and looked at the three men. ‘There is a helicopter on its way to this location as we speak. It should be here in,’ he looked at his watch, ‘just over the hour. In the meantime, let’s all just relax and stay calm,’ he pointed to his midriff and the Ricin concealed under his shirt. ‘No need for anything nasty to happen now our business is concluded.’

‘The sooner you’re off my boat the better,’ said Dowling.

‘Oh, I agree,’ smiled Baine.’

One hour and eight minutes later, the helicopter descended towards Poseidon. The three metre swell had the huge submarine heaving. It would not be easy to land the chopper on the foredeck and Baine was worried. He and Patel stood in front of the conning tower and braced themselves as the deck rose and fell below their feet. Commander Dowling, FO Pike, and Sir Anthony, watched from the top of the tower, as the pilot deftly brought the clattering aircraft closer and closer to the heaving deck. The engines screamed as the pilot expertly manipulated the throttle. Then, as if attracted by magnetic force, the helicopter touched down with a heavy metallic clunk. The pilot reduced the rotor speed and the chopper steadied, he turned and waved to the waiting hijackers. Baine and Patel moved along the deck in a slow comical crablike manner, compensating for the rise and fall of the foredeck. The pilot pushed open the door and yelled, ‘Come on. This could slide off into the sea. Move it…’

Baine rushed forward as the deck fell away beneath his feet. Patel tripped over, dropping his bag. He crawled along the deck to retrieve it, but the pilot shouted again. ‘Leave it f’godsake. Get your arse in here.

The little Indian abandoned the bag and crawled the last few feet to the helicopter, much to the delight of Dowling and Pike. ‘Send a man out to retrieve that bag,’ said Dowling.

The engines screamed as the pilot turned the throttle to full power, and the helicopter lifted effortlessly into the afternoon sky. The three men at the top of the tower watched in silence as the aircraft circled Poseidon.

‘That’s for you, Mr Baine, said the pilot, ‘the boss said you’d have the combination.’

Baine smiled as he picked up the briefcase. He placed it on his lap, then looked out the window at the huge submarine a hundred feet below.

‘What’s this?’ said Patel.

Baine smiled. ‘Our bank account details, Ravinda. You’ll be able to buy Kerala with your share.’

Baine spun the first tumbler and the lock sprung open. The click of the second tumbler was the last noise he ever heard.

The sudden explosion shocked the men on the tower. Instinctively they ducked below the steel parapet, as the helicopter disintegrated in a crimson ball of fire.