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

“Alright. Be as quick as you can. The sooner we know how bad this is, the better.” I crept higher. Cory Phelps was swearing under his breath up there. “This had better not be some trick you’ve pulled, Nielsen!” he spat out furiously.

“Me? What could I possibly have done? You’ve been watching me the whole time.”

I winced. That cool, unconcerned tone was just the sort of thing that might set an angry, hostile man off. I slipped my knife from its sheath. It wasn’t made for throwing, but if Cory happened to be looking my way when I raised my head, I’d rather have it to hand than not.

I was in luck. He was sitting up staring fixedly at Mads Nielsen, who was standing a few feet in front of him at the helm. I didn’t like the way Phelps was aggressively pointing that gun at Nielsen’s back, but our relative positions were no good. It would be a terrible moment to make my move. An aborted cry and a loud thump from below and behind me made me duck again as Phelps jumped up and spun around. I heard the crackle of his radio as he hit the button.

“Brian? What’s going on?” A long pause and then an answering coughing sound came back to him.

“Fucking ladder,” Jordan croaked. “I slipped, didn’t I? I’m alright. Let me get the doors open down here and pump some fresh air through to clear this smoke out.”

Cory was moving back towards the rear of the flybridge to look down. How far over to the port side was he? Was it far enough to prevent him from spotting me crouching in the enclosed stairwell? Apparently so.

I eased up again and caught Mads Nielsen’s startled glance before he hastily looked away again, fixing his gaze on Phelps’ back. Phelps himself was leaning over the rail between the two day beds out on the open deck at the back of the flybridge. I didn’t have a chance of getting near him over there before he could shoot me. I ducked again, listening, as sweat dripped into my eyes. My suits were roasting me alive by then as the sun beat down on my head and back.

“How’s it looking?” Phelps asked after another minute.

The radio crackled again. “Just a small electrical fire.” More husky coughing, “It’s out now.”

“And the engines?”

“They cut out automatically. We should be good again soon.” My cousin was a superb mimic, but I recognised his voice in there that time, even if Phelps had missed it. So Jordan was out of commission… and Shay had views up here. He’d realise that I needed Phelps to head back towards the helm so I could get behind him. “Just keep your eye on Nielsen, so he doesn’t get any stupid ideas.”

Perfect!

I heard Phelps moving forwards again and strained my ears to track his position as I sheathed the knife again. Now!

I surged up and hurled myself on his back, grabbing for his right wrist and twisting it sharply downwards as we fell together. A bullet shot harmlessly away over the water as he reflexively pulled the trigger, but I had him well pinned by then. I smashed his hand into the deck a few times until he dropped the gun. He just wouldn’t quit, even then, and continued to struggle. I got him in a chokehold and cut off his air until he blacked out.

Shay came bouncing up the stairs and flashed me a delighted grin as I rolled over onto my elbows to look up at him. He had a coil of good strong cord on his arm too.

“Nicely done! You’re looking a bit hot and bothered there, Cuz. Want to get out of that broiler?”

Damned right, I did. I sat up to pull at my outer zipper while Shay trussed up our catch with expert, economical motions.

“I might have known it was you,” I heard Mads say, sounding considerably less calm than he had before. A gun pointing at his head hadn’t seemed to ruffle him anywhere near as much as the sight of my cheerful cousin was doing, “And there I was, thinking you’d slipped away in the night without so much as a goodbye. I had such delicious breakfast plans too.”

“I’ll just bet you did!” Shay snorted. Done with Phelps, he came over to give me a hand. “Thanks for coming to join the party, Con. I wasn’t sure they’d let you.” He helpfully peeled the dry suit and undersuit tops off me one after the other. “Stand up, and I’ll help you get the rest of it off. Hold on to your boxers, or they’ll go too.”

“I’d have tried to charter a private helicopter if Trish or Anderson vetoed the coastguard option,” I told him as a delightful, cooling breeze played over my upper half and then my emerging legs. I lifted my feet in turn so Shay could peel off the feet. My entire skin was sticky, itching and sweaty, and I was very glad to be free of the damp, smothering heat. My cousin stood up again and slapped me on the back.

“Yeah, I figured you’d probably try that if they made you.” He produced a cloth and a plastic bag from his jacket pocket and scooped up the pistol, deftly expelling the magazine and emptying the chamber before bagging and pocketing it. I noticed a similar bulge on the other side, Jordan’s gun. “Is your ride heading back this way? Only I think it might be a good idea to airlift our sleeping beauties down there back to the Western Isles Hospital. I’d hate it if any of them reacted badly to whatever they were given. We don’t want another Butler on our hands.”

No, we didn’t.

“You go on down and check on them all, and I’ll radio our status in. They should be here in a few minutes. They were just keeping out of