скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Yankee Girl, please identify yourself. Over.’
‘Ellie, please. Just go back to Jackson. I promise, I’ll explain everything. Let me just sort this out.’
Her voice trembled and she said, ‘Not until you tell me exactly what’s going on.’
‘Yankee Girl, I repeat. Identify yourself.’
‘I’m sorry baby, I got to do this.’
He turned his back on her. Not wanting. Not being able to deal with the hurt. The fear in her eyes. He raised the handset to his mouth. ‘This is Lieutenant Thomas J. Cooper of the US Naval Special Forces. Over.’
He heard a hint of surprise in the voice on the other end of the radio.
‘Lieutenant Cooper? This is Petty Officer Monroe, you are aware that this is an open radio channel and contrary to naval protocol for military personnel. Over.’
Cooper clenched his jaw as well as his fist. Tried to keep his composure. But it was tough. And he heard the strain in his own voice. ‘Affirmative, Officer Monroe, I am fully aware of protocol, but I repeat, urgent assistance required. Over.’
‘Lieut…’
Cooper cut him off as he heard Ellie walk away. The authority of rank speeding into his voice.
‘I repeat! This is a mayday call and as such, Monroe, you just need to listen and do your job… Over.’
‘Sir, yes sir! Please stand by, Yankee Girl.’
Placing the radio handset on the table, Cooper grabbed the binoculars before running back up the stairs to the deck. Two at a time.
He could see Ellie had now joined Jackson, who was pulling on the ropes. Struggling. Hauling in the main sheet as it billowed in the oceanic winds.
Pointing at the flapping sail, Cooper yelled, ‘Pull her tight! Jackson. Keep pulling her tight!’
Then through his binoculars, he scanned the horizon whilst listening to the desperate cries of Jackson.
‘Cooper…! Cooper! I need your help! She’s going to capsize!’
‘Hold her down Jackson. Just try to keep her steady… Ellie, take the slack up from behind him. I’ll come and take over in a minute… Whatever you do, just hold on.’
Chasing back down below decks, Cooper picked up the radio again to a different, but familiar sounding voice. A voice he could’ve done without.
‘Come in Yankee Girl. I repeat, this is Captain Neill. Do you copy? Over.’
‘Copy, sir. Requesting urgent assistance.’
‘Lieutenant Cooper, I understand you’re at 02 degrees, 21 north, 26-41 west, though presumably, Lieutenant, you’re aware it’s a high risk area with a code two situational alert.’
Cooper glanced at the flashing targets on the navigational screen moving closer. So close. Too close to the yacht. And the strangling panic wrung tighter and his words singed with anger. ‘With respect sir, both of us know it’s my business to be aware of all situational alerts, and therefore I understand the likelihood of a pirate attack is real, and most likely imminent.’
‘Have you had visual?’
‘Negative sir, but radar shows targets – likely to be pirates – heading straight for us at around 35 knots. ETA, just under ten minutes. Over.’
The captain’s voice was closed. Hostile. And it took every bit of restraint inside Cooper not to rip out the radio from the wall.
‘Cooper, let me get this straight. You’ve had no visual, yet you’re expecting me to send out my men on the likelihood.’
That was it. The wall invited him to punch it. And he accepted. Gratefully.
Frustrated, his tone still held discipline. He said, ‘That’s correct, sir.’
A pause.
A hush.
A silence which sounded like a ticking clock.
And eventually. Tightly. Captain Beau Neill said, ‘Lieutenant, request understood… and approved. I’m passing you back over to Petty Officer Monroe… But Cooper, don’t think I won’t speak to you about this when you get back on the ship.’
A couple of drawn, long seconds, followed by the voice of Officer Monroe. ‘Yankee Girl, have you had visual yet, sir? Over.’
‘Negative, but targets nearing.’
‘Are you on your own?’
‘Negative Monroe, two adult civilians on board. One male, one female.’
‘Are you armed, Lieutenant?’
‘Affirmative.’
Then the words Thomas J. Cooper had been waiting for.
‘Air support on its way. ETA twelve minutes. In the meantime, I advise you to get the civilians below decks… And Lieutenant, good luck.’
*
‘Ellie…! Ellie…! I want you to go downstairs to the cabin, lock the door, hide in the closet. Anywhere you’ll be out of sight.’
Charging towards her, Cooper watched as she shook her head, terror sketched and engraved into her features. She stood portside behind Jackson and, taking up the slack of the rope, she raised her voice to compete with the wind,
‘No, Tom! No way, I’m staying up here to help.’
Before he had time to argue, Jackson began to jibe the boat. Forcing the yacht to make the hazardous one-eighty turn. It tilted dangerously. Rolling treacherously in the waves. Cutting sharply through the water like a blade on silk as he expertly coaxed in the mainsail. Fighting. Battling the surging wind.
And the noise of the thick canvas sail, thunderous as it snapped through the air.
The boom swung across the decks. Shaking violently. Threatening to come lose from her tacks. And with the wind becoming increasingly stronger, harder to defeat, Jackson yelled frantically. ‘Coop! I can’t hold her! Coop! Please!’
Cooper hurried to help. But as he did the crosswind caught under the mainsail. Filling it out and causing the boom to swing back at speed across the deck towards Jackson.
‘Look out!’
The rapidity of the vessel’s boom hurtling sideways made it impossible for Jackson to get out of the way.
It hit him hard.
Split open his forehead from the bridge of his nose to the base of his hairline.
A large skin flap exposed an inch-wide wound as a fountain of blood first patterned then soaked his top. Pooling down onto the deck. He jerked backwards. His body going into seizure. Caused him to slump hard into Ellie as his legs gave way. Sending her staggering back towards the rails.
‘No! ...’
Cooper’s cry stretched further than his reach. His fingertips only managing to brush Ellie’s hands. Too far to catch her but not too far to miss the terror, the panic, frozen in her eyes as she mouthed his name. Screaming out for him to help as she buckled under Jackson’s weight. Losing balance as both she and Jackson plunged overboard.
Racing over the chain rigging, steadying himself as the yacht bobbed fiercely up and down, Cooper grabbed the lifebuoy. Stole a quick glimpse round.
The wind had begun to blow the sails straight on. Denying them any lift. Leaving them to flutter passively like flags at half-mast. And he knew the combination of the dying sails and the boom crashing freely from side to side would stall the vessel to an eventual stop, allowing him to attempt to rescue Jackson and Ellie without fear of the yacht drifting away.
Dashing over to the rails, Cooper leant over.
Ellie had always teased him about the concern he’d shown over her not being able to swim, but she was now floundering and struggling and battling and terrified as the force of the ocean pounded her into the side of the yacht, her hands sliding down the fiberglass side as she desperately scrabbled for some kind of hold.
With water rushing over her face and into her mouth, Ellie’s words were punctuated with the sounds of wild gasping.
‘Help… me… Tom…! Tom…! Help… me… please…’
Throwing the buoy to her, Cooper’s eyes once again darted along the surface of the ocean. But this time he was looking for Jackson. ‘Ellie, hang on to that…Whatever you do, keep hold of it.’
‘Pull me up!’
‘I have to get Jackson… just hold on.’
‘Tom…! No, wait! ...’
He turned away and Ellie continued to scream his name. The draw for him to look back was hypnotic. But he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t. In truth, he didn’t dare. His composure was already beginning to crack. Peeling away. Exposing his vulnerability which he knew would serve only to distract. Costing time. Costing lives.
There… He could see Jackson to the left of the boat. Unconscious. Floating face down.
And without a breath of hesitation, Thomas J. Cooper dived in.
‘I’m here… It’s okay, I’m here… Stay with me Jackson, stay with me!’
Treading water, Cooper turned Jackson over carefully. Real slowly. And the sea turned red with blood.
‘Jackson…! Jackson!’
There was no response, but that didn’t surprise Cooper. He could see the injuries to Jackson’s head were worse than he’d initially thought. The gash so deep he could see skull. His eyes so swollen, if he’d been conscious, Cooper doubted Jackson would’ve been able to open them anyway. But at least he was alive. Barely. But alive all the same, and whatever happened, he was determined to keep it that way.
Using an extended arm tow with his hand under Jackson’s chin, Cooper swam, heading for the yacht’s ladder. He could hear Ellie still screaming. Screaming strong. But that was good. Real good. It told him what he wanted to know… She was still there.
Unexpected swells of rolling waves suddenly carried Cooper and Jackson sideward. And the sound of roaring and chugging and racing engines and a glance to his left confirmed his fears. Old battered white skiffs. And in them, Somalian pirates. Heavily armed and sporting t-shirts bearing American logos and wearing Bedouin scarfs showing only their eyes.
They hadn’t seen him. Though he knew it was only a matter of time. His only chance, however slim, was to get to the stern box on the other side of the yacht which held his gun. In desperation, Cooper dived under the water, dragging an unconscious Jackson with him.
Under the surface the sounds were distorted. The vision blurred, made harder from the dark billowing clouds of Jackson’s blood. And Cooper counted down, calculating how long it’d be safe to keep an unconscious Jackson under water.
Four seconds.
Three.
Two.
Re-surfacing, and hoping he was near enough to the yacht, Cooper was met by an onslaught of bullets and a firing of guns and a fusion of sounds and a discord of chaos and Cooper’s breathing was hard and his chest was tight and his energy was slowly draining away.
Chopping waves and whirling blades hovering above sent a downdraft of stinging ocean spray. And to the soundtrack of machine guns and through a gusting wind, Cooper squinted up.
And there in the sun drenched sky, reflecting light like armored angels waging war with dragons, were two US Navy helicopters.
As the skiffs turned and retreated the aerial rescue basket was lowered into the water and Cooper kissed Jackson on the side of his head. He whispered, ‘It’s goin’ to be alright. You hear me, Jackson? It’s going to be alright.’
*
‘Lieutenant, we’re going to take you both back to the ship,’ the US navy officer shouted above the blare of the rotating blades as the air crewmen hoisted Jackson and Cooper into the Seahawk helicopter.
And with the helicopter beginning to rise and veer away from the yacht, Cooper shook his head. Gesturing desperately to the crewmen as he watched them tend to an unconscious Jackson.
‘Lower me back down… Now!’
‘Sorry sir, we have orders to get you straight back to the ship.’
Cooper’s voice was barely heard but he had no doubt his face conveyed the lost sound of anger. ‘I don’t give a damn about orders, Officer. Just lower me the hell down. There’s one other civilian still in the water.’
‘Sir, the other helicopter will have it covered. I’m sorry sir, there’s nothing I can do.’
*
‘Where’s Ellie? Answer me, Officer, when I’m talking to you.’
Struggling to hold down his sense of panic, Cooper stood on the landing pad of the USS Abraham Lincoln, as the air crewmen from the second Seahawk helicopter made their way from the chopper.
His panic. His fear. Emotions which held familiar echoes of his childhood. Feelings he’d refused to allow to penetrate as an adult began to engulf him. Overwhelm him.
‘You heard me, Daniels, where’s Ellie?’
The tall. Sinewy. Bald-headed seaman who Cooper could see was now regretting being first out of the helicopter, paled. Muttering the fewest of words.
‘I’m… I’m sorry, Lieutenant.’
The mix of bewilderment and shock and disbelief and confusion acted as a catalyst for Cooper’s anger. He lunged at the new recruit. Grabbed him by his oversized flight suit and shook the hell out of him.
