Blood in the Water: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller by Oliver Davies (read full novel txt) 📗

made my mind up years ago. I chose not to halve my options by excluding an entire gender for no good reason. Not that it’s anyone’s business but my own.”

I smiled to myself. Mads didn’t sound in the least bit intimidated. Good for him!

“You didn’t answer my question.” An angry growl there.

“Just leave it,” Jordan said impatiently. “What does that matter to us, anyway? When are Jules and the others coming back?”

“I couldn’t say precisely. I told them that anyone who wasn’t here by eight would be left behind, but I wouldn’t expect them before half-past seven. They don’t like early mornings very much. That gives you plenty of time to steal whatever you came for… Oh. This isn’t a robbery, then? I do hope you’re not expecting my father to cough up some ridiculous ransom for me. He’s very publicly made his policy on kidnappers and hijackers perfectly clear. There will be no negotiation.”

“Nobody’s kidnapping anybody,” Jordan told him shortly. “You’re just going to be helpful and cooperative and give us a lift up to Tórshavn, and then we can all go our separate ways again. I know that police inspector came to talk to you about me, so you can probably guess why we’d like to leave the country nice and quietly. As long as you behave yourself, nobody needs to get hurt.”

Well, that was interesting. How did they know that Conall had been here? Had someone paid them a little visit, when they were holed up on the Jeanie, to warn Brian Jordan that he’d been identified?

The next three hours weren’t much fun after that. I kept an ear open for anything of interest but spent most of the time considering my options and composing code to have ready for when I could move. There was no chance of that before we got underway. There’d been a ladder up to an access hatch against the rear wall of the control room where Daniels had been working earlier.

Comparing its position to the layout up here, I was pretty sure that must be set into the beautifully finished wooden flooring under the fancy rug between the couches out there, a couple of feet to this side of the end of the smart table. A manual fire escape, so the crew wouldn’t be trapped if the doors sealed automatically. There was probably another one, at the rear of the stern deck, leading down to the engine room, but I couldn’t risk using that one. Anyone up on the fly bridge would spot me there if they happened to look down.

Alejandro and friends all turned up eventually and were summarily rounded up. My best guess was that it might have been about seven forty-five by then. I heard everyone being herded downstairs and carefully shifted my position for the twentieth time, so I could work, motionlessly, on another group of muscles. Even in a space like this, there was a lot you could do to keep your circulation going nicely and avoid any numbness.

Not long after that, I heard at least two people coming back up. They went outside, and I heard footsteps thumping along the deck. Whoever was out there would be untying the mooring lines, leaving them looped ready to slip, and making sure the fenders were hanging over the sides in the right positions to avoid any bumps or scrapes as we pulled out. Someone started the engines up, a neutral, idling vibration.

“Slip the lines and get up here.” That was Phelps.

More thudding, and then Kværnen came alive with a little jerk. We were easing away from the dock. I waited another ten minutes or so before carefully moving all the boxes out of the way, opening the cupboard doors and silently lowering myself down. It felt good to stretch out again properly, and I spent a few more minutes quietly limbering up again. No noises out there except for the odd snatch of voices from above. I eased the cloakroom door open and crept out.

Nobody on this deck, as I’d thought.

The access hatch was exactly where I’d calculated it should be. The whole thing lifted up noiselessly on well-oiled hinges when I gave it an experimental pull. I slid myself into a position where my feet could find the ladder. Keeping one hand on the hatch, I got a grip on the side rail and moved my feet down a few rungs. Now, I could lower the hatch carefully and alternate my free hand to push the end corners of the rug out again before gently lowering the hatch the last couple of inches.

Perfect. No sound of anyone reacting to my furtive movements. I looked down and around. The control room door had closed itself again after they’d taken Verity and Daniels out, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone spotting me from the passageway. The hidden cameras I’d clocked all over the boat were an entirely different matter. Did Jordan know about those? Could he access them?

Either way, those were my second priority once I’d accessed the system. First, I’d need to lock that door. I doubted any of the crew would have access to the camera system, anyway. I went across to the door, listening intently. No sound out there apart from the low thrum of the engines, which was all-pervasive. First things first.

The other door did lead through to the crew quarters. A small cabin with bunks for four, and, on the other side, a pokey bathroom and an equally cramped but well equipped little galley. Passing those, I went through to the engine room where I found what I was looking for. A well equipped little tool station.

I slipped a utility knife into the little pocket I’d added to the inside of my jacket cuff and grabbed wire cutters, and electrical tape to shove in my pockets. There should be some insulated, high voltage safety gloves around here somewhere. Yes, they were hanging from a hook on the side of the workbench.