‘Always it is best to know the size of the crew. Even if our bluff works well, if the captain thinks he is cleverer than we are, things can still go wrong for us. I am more worried about what it is the Selina must do afterwards.’
Coburn could understand why. Forcing the Pishan’s crew to unload the lighter containing the ingots was one thing, but Hari’s master plan made no allowance for the risk to the Selina later on. As well as acting as a mother-ship to the launches and having to tow the lighter across busy shipping lanes in the middle of the night, both the Selina and the lighter were steel-hulled vessels that would be easy to track by radar if someone was to bother — a problem not shared by the wooden launches which were largely invisible to shore-based or ship-borne installations.
And then there was the problem of the early sunrise, Coburn thought. At sometime before dawn, the crew of the Selina still had to reach the deep-water inlet that lay seventy-five miles further up the coast where they would sink the lighter, and where it would remain sunk until Hari found a buyer for the ingots.
By now all of the launches were ready and preparing to close in, swiftly moving shadows that, but for their wakes, were almost impossible to see in the dark. Keeping pace with them, 500 yards away, the Selina was equally indistinct, a larger shadow that was there one minute and gone the next, visible only when the moon broke through the clouds.
To Coburn the whole scene had an air of unreality about it. He was standing at the stern of the launch, less conscious of his nerves than he had been earlier, but unable to rid himself of the feeling that Hari’s bluff was never going to work.
Hari himself had no such doubt. He was using his radio again, this time with greater urgency, first instructing his men on the leading starboard launch to raise their bamboo pole with the mine and its magnets on it, and then, once he’d received confirmation that the mine had been attached to the Pishan’s hull, telling them to back off to a safer distance.
‘Well?’ Coburn was waiting to hear if the operation had been successful.
The Frenchman handed him a radio receiver. ‘With that you can listen for yourself,’ he said. ‘The mine is in position above the waterline four metres aft of the hawsehole for the anchor chain.’
The news was good, but not sufficiently reassuring to eliminate the knot in Coburn’s stomach. He was still apprehensive, knowing this was the easy bit, and until someone tried to get on board they would have no idea of the level of resistance they might encounter.
Hari was endeavouring to read a piece of paper in the moonlight. ‘If this information you give me from the IMB is correct, the captain’s name is Juan Celestino,’ he said. ‘So I think we shall alert him with our halogens to find out how pleased he is to hear from us.’
Coburn had seen the halogen lights in use before. The technique was intended to intimidate, illuminating the entire vessel in intense white light to blind any crew members who were keeping watch, but only switched on in two or three second bursts to prevent the lights and the launches from becoming targets.
On the one occasion that Coburn had witnessed the strategy in action, the response had been unexpected — a volley of rifle fire from a well-armed crew who somehow or other had received warning of an imminent boarding. Two of Hari’s men had been wounded, and only after a half-hour of negotiation and threats had the captain been persuaded to relinquish control of his ship.
Tonight there was no gunfire. The first burst of light had lit up the Pishan from bow to stern, revealing details of the freighter that had been impossible to see before, but so far it had generated no reaction of any kind.
To find out why, Hari used his radio to contact the bridge. ‘My name is Fuente,’ he said. ‘If I am not already speaking to Captain Celestino, you have thirty seconds to get him out of bed before I detonate mines which have been attached to your ship’s hull three metres below your waterline. These mines will also be detonated unless you immediately switch off your Automatic Identification System, or if any member of your crew attempts to communicate with other ships on other radio frequencies, or uses satellite phones, flares or issues distress signals of any kind, by any means.’
A delay of one or two seconds was followed by a crackling over the radio and the sound of someone coughing. ‘This is Celestino. What do you want?’
‘Good evening to you.’ Hari looked relieved. ‘I have four boats and twenty men alongside your vessel,’ he said. ‘You will maintain your present course but reduce speed to not more than five knots to allow my men to board you. Should you refuse to comply with these instructions, I will at once stand off and fire the mines. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, I understand.’ Celestino sounded nervous. ‘You have still not told me what you want.’
‘We shall discuss it once I am on board and I have the pleasure of meeting you.’ Hari took a small transmitter from his pocket. ‘In the meantime, to prove I have the capability to do what I have said I can do, please inform your crew that this is a demonstration only.’ He grinned at Coburn, then pressed a button on the transmitter.
From the bow of the Pishan a brilliant flash of light was followed by a blast that left Coburn’s ears ringing. He was dazzled for several seconds, unable to tell whether the mine had actually holed the hull.
Whether it had or not, the so-called demonstration had changed his mind about how effective Hari’s bluff was likely to be, and it was difficult to imagine any captain wanting to find out if his ship was carrying more mines below its waterline.
The captain of the Pishan elected not to take the risk. The wave at the freighter’s bow started to drop, and at the same time the throbbing of its diesel began to ease.
Pleased that things were going well, Hari had temporarily stopped smoking. He spent one or two minutes talking over the radio to his men then, after making contact with the Selina and unlashing one of the boarding ladders, put a fresh clip into his M16.
‘Are you going up first?’ Coburn asked.
‘Always I am an example to my men.’ The Frenchman grinned. ‘But tonight only because I am sure there will be no surprises for us. Even so, I think it prudent for you to stay here until we can be certain.’
Of the nineteen villagers Hari had brought with him, two men in each launch would remain behind, one at the helm, the other to act as an armed backup and to operate a halogen light in the event of an emergency.
The eight men that formed the boarding party had a more dangerous job. Calm though the sea was, Coburn knew how difficult it could be to scale a moving ladder in the dark — an acquired skill requiring a combination of balance and physical strength.
To simplify his own job he’d been making his own plans, trying to think of an excuse that would allow him to conduct his search of the Pishan without attracting too much attention.
The best opportunity would come while the lighter was being offloaded by the freighter’s crane, he decided, maybe the only real chance he’d have, unless there was going to be trouble in which case he’d be lucky to get on board at all.
There was no trouble.
Ten minutes after the last of the men had vacated the launches, Coburn received the all clear on his radio.
‘You may join us aboard,’ Hari said. ‘Captain Celestino tells me it is not possible for lighters to be unloaded from a moving ship, so he must first cut his engine. If you wait until the Pishan is drifting in the current you will find your transfer from the boat to be straightforward.’