The fence was eight feet from the container and two feet above it. He took his jacket off. In seconds his white shirt was soaked from the rain. Bunching the sleeves of the jacket in his fists he stepped back to the edge of the container, checked his grip on the steel roof by sliding his foot backwards and forwards over the surface, took a few deep breaths and started his very short run. He launched himself across the gap and slammed into the chain link fence. The jacket caught on the razor wire and he both heard and felt it ripping. He held on with all his strength and pulled himself up. Dennis felt the razor wire begin to cut through the material and he felt his palms being sliced by the wire. He scrabbled over the top and felt a sharp pain over his ribs as he kicked his legs over and dropped to the ground. In the dark he held his palms up to his face and saw the fresh blood. He looked down at his shirt. There was a slash in it, over his ribs. He put his fingertips inside the tear. There was fresh blood on them when he pulled them out. He felt along the cut, though it was stinging it didn’t feel serious. He looked up at his jacket hanging in shreds on top of the fence.
“Oh well there goes three hundred quid,” he said out loud, “Nat’s going to be pissed!” He looked over at the vessel, “Now I just need to get on that ship.”
Keeping close to the fence which he hoped was keeping him in the shadows Dennis moved along the dock looking for a way onto the ship. It towered above him, containers stacked five and six high on its deck. The bridge was near the stern and Dennis could see people moving about in the lights. At the stern he could see the rotor blades of a helicopter on the heli-pad. There was no way onto the ship that he could see. He looked at the thick ropes, as thick as a man’s thigh that went from the docks cleats to the stern of the ship. Now he could see her name painted in large white letters.
‘Meeresbrise’ Hamburg.
Dennis’ German was very limited but he translated the ship’s name into ‘Ocean Breeze’ home port Hamburg, Germany. Then he saw the death’s head next to the last ‘e’ of Meeresbrise.
‘Now there’s a surprise’ he said to himself.
Dennis grabbed hold of the ropes and leaned out over the water as far as he could, turned upside down and wrapped his feet around the ropes and began to climb up hand over fist. It was difficult in the wind and rain and the further he climbed the harder it got. His strength was ebbing fast, his muscles in his arms, legs, neck and back screaming for relief. Dennis stopped and leaned his neck back to see how much further he had to go. He was almost at the ship and he glanced down at the water seventy feet below. Another six feet and he could clamber over the stern and onto the ship. Summoning the last reserves of his strength he made to move the last few feet when he froze. He could hear voices approaching and then he saw the tops of the heads of two men. Dennis waited with muscles straining. He knew at any moment that they would look over the stern and see him. He gritted his teeth against the pain and then a strong gust of wind blew at him and his feet slipped. Now he was dangling above the water. He tried to swing his legs up. Four times he failed. Then his fingers began to slip. In desperation he swung his legs up again and wrapped them around the rope just as his right hand slipped. He hung on for dear life but for the moment he was safe. His grip wasn’t slipping any more. He flexed the fingers of his right hand to get the circulation flowing again. Then the two men finished their conversation and he heard one of them leave. The other one hawked and spat over the stern and Dennis saw the thick gob pass his head by a whisper. Then not knowing if the man was still there or not Dennis adjusted his grip on the rope and began climbing again.
He was able to grab the edge of the steel where the rope passed through and pulled himself over and dropped to the deck, breathing hard. He saw the departing back of the man who’d spat and Dennis quickly moved into hiding to get his bearings.
He could now see the helicopter was an MH-65 Dolphin. The model widely used by the United States coastguard.
Directly opposite him was a door marked ‘Mannschaft nur’ crew only. He crossed to it and went inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He went up two flights of stairs and through another door marked crew only, again in German. He went through this door and into a nicely furnished lounge. The room was carpeted, had large sofas, chairs, tables and a large plasma television, dvd player and play station 3. Another door at the end of the lounge led him to a corridor with bedrooms off to either side. At the end of the corridor were washrooms. It was here that Dennis found tall upright lockers.
He tried a few that were locked, the names of the users written on them. The second from the right was unlocked and he was pleased to find a pile of T-shirts, two pairs of jeans and some boiler suits inside.
Kicking his shoes off he quickly took his trousers and blood stained shirt off and stuffed them into the bottom of the locker. He changed into a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt and then put a boiler suit on. It was stained and smelt faintly of diesel. He was halfway through putting his arms into the sleeves when an announcement in German came out over the internal speakers. It was repeated in English but he wasn’t listening and didn’t hear it. He was just doing the poppers up on the front with his back to the door when he heard the door open.
“Didn’t you hear the announcement?” a deep voice said, “Everyone is to be on deck. The helicopter is leaving soon.”
Dennis turned slowly. The man was huge. On the breast of his boiler suit was a patch saying ‘supervisor’
“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” Dennis said as he made to move past the leviathan.
The supervisor continued to block the way.
“I thought I knew all the crew on this ship. How come I haven’t seen you before?”
“I’m the new guy. Replaced the one who was sacked,” Dennis lied, readying himself for the fight, hoping an element of surprise would catch his much larger opponent off guard. To his relief Dennis heard the supervisor say.
“Oh him! Yeah, well, he was warned about his drinking on duty. Now you’d better get topside,” the man said jerking his thumb at the door.
Dennis went out into the corridor.
“Ahem!”
He stopped and turned. The supervisor was tapping the hard hat on his head.
“Forgotten something?”
Dennis went for a hard hat hanging on the coat hooks.
“Sorry,” he said putting it on. He went to go left at the end of the corridor.
“Hey!”
“For fuck’s sake now what?” Dennis muttered to himself.
The supervisor was staring at him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the way to the heli-pad as well.
Dennis saw the sign with the helicopter on it on the wall.
“No of course not,” he smiled.
At the end of the corridor he looked back. The huge man was still glowering at him. Dennis quickly made his way on deck, relieved to be away from confrontation.
The helicopter rotor blades were already turning, getting faster and faster as the engine powered up. Dennis saw a door open and a man and woman came out. The man was of oriental origin and was carrying a briefcase and was staring at him. Dennis quickly went to the stern and checked the mooring ropes. The man took his eyes off Dennis and the journalist relaxed.
The woman was tall, in heels and an above the knee skirt and matching jacket. She stopped as the oriental man opened the helicopter’s passenger door and moved out of her way. She got in, her skirt riding up, revealing shapely legs. Dennis could see as she sat down that she was beautiful. Her hair auburn or possibly ginger.