Jake’s heart was beating fast again. This was the most dangerous part of the operation. There was a good chance that Flynn had stationed men outside the bridge door. The speakers hissed quietly as the radio transmitted the breathing of the lead man. Then everything happened very fast. Shouting erupted from the speaker.

“Armed forces, drop your weapons! Get down on the ground, now!”

Incoherent noise, more shouting. Two shots fired. Then another.

“Down, now!”

On the monitor Jake watched as Flynn’s men ran to cover the door. They took up position behind consoles, two each side. Flynn ran.

“Primary target appears to be going for the escape hatch,” Ralf said into his headset. He turned to Jake “Looks like you were right about him trying to escape.”

“Blue four, confirm your position?”

“Blue four in position above bridge hatch.”

“Standby, primary target headed your way. Blue one report.”

“Blue one, one man down, dead. Another immobilised. No casualties on our side. About to blow the door.”

Flynn was halfway up the ladder, but stopped. He paused for an instant, then jumped back to the ground, landing in a crouching position. He sprang to his feet and sprinted to the rear of the bridge, and out of view of the camera.

“Primary target has changed direction, no longer headed for the hatch,” Ralf reported. “You’ve got two targets either side of the door. Repeat, two either side, behind consoles. Further target at five metres from door. Shit, what the hell is he doing?”

At the same instant, the screen flared bright white. The camera came back into focus. Dust was blowing across the room. More shouting issued from the speaker.

“Armed forces, drop your weapons and give yourselves up. You are outnumbered!”

Gunshots rang out.

Jake looked on in horror as he saw Pedro being walked up the middle of the bridge towards the door. Zhang was behind him, a gun held to the pilot’s neck.

One of the men behind the console popped his head over, fired off a shot. More shots were being fired from the door by the unseen navy men.

“He’s using Pedro as a shield,” Jake said. “He thinks he’s going to get out of there.”

Ralf relayed this to Blue team, but it was too late. As he spoke, Pedro and Zhang both dropped to the floor. The gunshots rang out through the speaker.

“I can’t watch this any more,” Jake said. “I’m going in. Flynn’s getting away. They could be held up there forever, it’s a standoff.”

“Coote wants you here until the bridge is secured,” Ralf said.

“That’s my ship. I’m responsible for those people. I’ve let them down once, I’m not doing it again.”

“I can’t stop you Jake, you’re a civilian. But I’d advise you to let us take care of this.”

“Your advice is noted, thank you.”

Jake smiled, then turned and left the communications room.

Sixty-Four

JAKE NOAH RAN through corridors and up stairs. It seemed strange being back on board the Spirit of Arcadia after seeing her sail off, assuming he would die. He passed a few passengers, fortunately none seemed to recognise him. Had he not been running they probably wouldn’t even have given him a second glance. As he reached deck ten he heard gunfire from the direction of the bridge. The blue team were evidently still trying to take it. He spoke into the radio Ralf had insisted on giving him before he left.

“Ralf? Jake. Any sign of Flynn on the bridge?”

“Negative. Blue team are being held at the door. Two more disciples down, two still firing.”

Jake had an idea how Flynn had got away. He climbed another flight of stairs. On deck eleven he found an exterior door, went out on deck, and sprinted towards the bow of the ship until he was above and slightly behind the bridge. Its floor to ceiling windows extended out over the sea giving almost full three-sixty degree visibility. The rear facing windows that had been blown out by the ash cloud had since been covered in plastic, keeping the cold air out. Jake looked down, his suspicion was quickly confirmed. The plastic sheet covering the innermost window was shredded. Flynn must have climbed out. If he hadn’t fallen into the sea, he must have either jumped and landed on one of the balconies below, or climbed up and onto the bridge roof where he could then get onto the deck eleven promenade. It was a sizeable drop to the balconies, and they were a small target to hit. Climbing seemed like the most obvious choice. Even so, he’d had time to get a good distance away. He could be almost anywhere by now.

Jake turned and ran back the way he had come, searching around desperately, but there was nothing to give any clue as to which way the mutineer had gone.

The radio in his hand burst into life.

“Jake? Ralf. I’ve hacked into the security cameras. Four of us are sweeping the ship now.”

“Understood,” Jake replied. Then he had an idea. “Ralf, the cameras store the last twelve hours footage. If you can, check anything on the starboard side, deck eleven. Flynn climbed out of the bridge window. You might be able to track him.”

“Roger that, we’re on it.”

Jake attached the radio to his belt. He had no idea what to do next. In desperation he set off around the exterior promenade of the deck. If Flynn knew the game was up, he figured he would probably try and keep a low profile, avoid going inside where he might come face to face with the Royal Navy.

He walked fast, checking anywhere he thought the fugitive might hide. Behind stairways, inside deck chair stowage units. There were a thousand places to hide just on this sun deck alone.

The radio crackled again. He whipped it off his belt just in time to hear Ralf’s voice.

“Jake, we see him! You were right, he climbed out over deck eleven. We tracked him down to deck seven, he’s in some kind of park. I’ve sent some of the red team up there. You should stay put, out of harm’s way.”

Jake stood where he was, rooted to the spot. He knew that he should let the professionals handle it. On the other hand, he knew the ship better than they did. He could get there faster. His mind made up, he ran inside.

• • • • •

He flew through the ship, down the stairs taking them two at a time, arriving at deck seven out of breath, but no less determined. The nearest entrance to the Palm Plaza was just metres away.

Also between himself and that door, was the door to one of the larger cafes. It was full, they had evidently been using it for the lunchtime ration service in addition to the three restaurants. The service was coming to an end, and the first diners were starting to leave. A group of a dozen or so people were pouring through the doors. One of them spotted Jake.

“Hey! Look, that’s that guy! The captain. The murderer!”

“Jesus, it really us him!”

Somebody screamed.

“What the fuck is he doing walking about freely?”

Jake raised his hands slightly showing he wasn’t armed.

“Now now, take it easy folks. I didn’t kill anyone, okay? I was framed.”

“Framed? You hear that Jimmy? Says he was framed?” The man spoke with a thick northern Irish accent.

“Aye, I heard what he said Paul, but I know what I saw, and I saw that man with a gun.”

“So what are we gonna do with him then? The murdering bastard?”

The two men advanced on him menacingly, the rest of the crowd huddled behind them. Jake backed up slowly, keeping his hands in the air.

“You’re making a big mistake!” he said.

“We’re making a mistake? I’d say you made a big fucking mistake when you shot three people. And if the new captain isn’t going to take care of you, then we are!”

The leading men broke into a run. Jake turned and ran back up the stairs. His legs were burning from the effort of his sprint down, but the adrenaline pumping through him pushed him on regardless. He mounted one flight and charged out of the stairwell into the deck eight main passageway, bounced off a wall, righted himself, and ran as fast as he could. A glance over his shoulder and he could see the four men just metres behind.