Ling groaned.
“I can’t leave David like this,” he grated, struggling to return to his brother’s side.
“His breathing’s better now and we can’t do any more for him. The medical help is on the way so we must leave at once,” Alex tried to assure him.
Ling was desolate as he looked up at Alex, the tears forming in his eyes.
“That bloody Syndicate. This is the second time they have defiled my family,” he spat. “What can we do? Just what can we do against such creatures?” he appealed to Alex.
“We’ll find a way my friend, I assure you — and that may be quite soon,” Alex coaxed. “Come on let’s move.” The wail of the ambulance siren penetrated the night as it sped towards the apartment block.
They raced down the clattery iron staircase and into the side street, slipping silently into the night.
Drifting lazily just off the coast of Corregidor, Greg and Oscar were enjoying their day’s fishing so much that they almost forgot the real reason for being out there. They’d tried unsuccessfully to persuade Dick to go the farthest wreck — “Our wreck,” as Greg described it — but he’d produced every conceivable argument as to why they should avoid that particular location.
“The current is so strong you only get about one hour either side of the tide” and “There are so many sharks they rip any fish from your line before you can pull it in!” or “There’s always a heavy swell out there where the continental shelf joins with the deep of the South China Sea — even I get seasick!”
They’d caught several prize fish, religiously taking the traditional photographs before returning all but the smallest to the water.
“Even that’s about as big as I can get on the Bar-B-Q,” Oscar proclaimed cheerfully.
Having decided to call it a day, they were just pulling in their fishing gear when they noticed that the two fast fishing boats that had been hovering about three miles away for the last hour, had motored unnoticed towards them.
“Hello — we must have upset the natives,” Dick announced, suspecting that the boats were shadowing them.
He slipped the boat into gear and brought her around onto their course for home and then eased the throttles forward to give her about eight knots. The other boats turned slightly to match the new course.
“I don’t like it,” Dick muttered, now clearly anxious.
“What’s the problem?” Greg enquired as he wiped his hands on the towel provided by the woman.
“I’m not sure yet. You can’t be too certain of anything in these waters,” Dick cautioned.
Suddenly the two following boats opened up their engines, their hulls rising up on the water as they rushed forward in a flurry of froth.
“Well we’re going to find out now,” Dick said grimly.
The woman appeared suddenly at the companionway.
“Here can you use one of these?”
She handed Greg a heavy-duty ten-gauge semi-automatic shotgun. “Here.” She also gave him two boxes of ammunition, one of Brennek solid and one of SG.
“Alternate the rounds,” Dick added casually “and keep it out of sight. We may not need them!”
The woman discreetly placed a similar weapon alongside the wheel for Dick.
“Can anyone join in the fun?” Oscar called from the rear of the cockpit, seeing the guns and quickly assessing the situation.
The woman just shook her hand indicating ‘no’.
“Who do you think they are; what could they want?” Greg asked, looking back at the fast-approaching boats.
“Well they’re not on a social call, that’s for sure, but I reckon I can outrun them so we’ll let them get a bit closer first.”
He pushed the throttles forward a little more; the log registered ten knots.
“They’re quite a bit smaller than us,” Dick assessed. “Almost certainly belong to the rebels in the South. They probably think we are rich businessmen or amateur fishermen and fancy their chances at pinching our boat!” Dick grinned. “We may surprise them — yes?”
They were about five hundred metres away when a voice on the radio called, “Hello there! We would like to come alongside to talk.”
Dick ignored the invitation.
“I was right. They’re up to no good.”
He pulled the throttles back until the boat was just moving ahead.
“Why are you slowing down?” Oscar asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry, I just need to see who they are. I have friends who will need to know — but hang on we may leaving in a hurry,” Dick said, leaning casually against the wheel.
The two boats were barely fifty metres away when they also reduced speed and settled in the water. A man leaned over the side of the leading boat. He did not appear to be armed, Greg noted. The atmosphere was tense. The first boat was still about ten metres abeam.
“What can we do for you?” Dick called across the narrow strip of water.
“You are fishing illegally in our allocated area,” came the abrupt reply.
“Who are you then?” Dick asked lightly.
At that point, the second boat pulled up on the other side and armed men appeared in the cockpit of both boats.
Dick whispered without turning his head, “Remember — shoot first and ask questions later. These people are pirates. Greg, you fire as fast as you can at the hull of the boat on your side, I’ll do the same here.”
Oscar moved into the wheelhouse.
“Give me the gun. You drive the boat,’ he barked.
Dick looked at the ageing Oscar dubiously,
“You sure?”
Oscar smiled, “Bet your bloody life I am!”
He discreetly took the shotgun.
The pirate boats drifted closer; the men on board were grinning with confidence, their weapons either slung over their shoulders or hanging loosely, pointing at the deck. They were clearly not expecting to be challenged.
“Now!” Dick ordered. At the same time he rammed the throttles to full power. The boat literally leapt into the air before surging forward at maximum speed.
The men on the other boats recovered remarkably quickly and opened fire. The sound of the shots was lost in the roar of the mighty diesels. But one burst from the light machine pistols chipped the wheelhouse roof of Dick’s boat, sending splinters of glass fibre and resin over those sheltering there.
Greg and Oscar, who had been knocked of balance by the sudden surge of power, scrambled back to their feet and attempted to fire a few shots each in the general direction of their tormentors. They didn’t pause to see whether any found a target.
The pirates opened up their boats to follow but their performance was no contest for Dick’s magnificent thoroughbred.
“What did I tell you? They’re no match for this little beauty,” Dick shouted happily, patting the console with genuine affection.
The two craft peeled away unable to press home the attack and soon vanished in the heat haze.
Greg and Oscar unloaded the shotguns and returned them to the woman who expertly double-checked the mechanisms and vanished below with the weapons. The two men moved to the stern of the speeding boat but the wind screaming in the Bimini made the canvas crack like the sails on a galleon, so conversation was nearly impossible.
“Moby Dick seems pleased with himself,” Oscar shouted.
“He does, doesn’t he? I’d like to know the answer to a number of questions as well. We’ll have to talk it through when we get back to the chalet,” he shouted close to Oscar’s ear.
The harbour appeared out of the haze and Dick eased back the throttles. “Well done my baby,” he murmured, patting the console. “I told you she was the best, eh!”
As soon as the boat was moored and he had seen his passengers safely ashore, Dick examined the damage to the wheelhouse roof.