Night of Terror by Desmond Bagley

escaping somewhere. Mark looked out of the porthole and what he saw

over the water made him acutely unhappy. “Damn them, what are they

doing on deck?” he muttered – “This is no time to be hanging around

here.” His nervousness increased and he conferred with one of the

guards in a low voice. An argument seemed to develop as the guard

answered back, but Mark overbore him. With a black glance and a

reluctant shrug the guard opened the saloon door and went out.

I looked at Geordie with hopeful eyes and he nodded grimly. The odds

were improving, but anything we tried would have to be done before the

guard returned. Geordie’s hand crept towards the heavy glass ash tray

on the table and then relaxed near it. He couldn’t throw it faster

than the guard could shoot – but he was ready if a chance came up. We

were all sitting tensely.

There was a reddish reflection in Mark’s face as he went again to look

out of the porthole. Evidently things were stirring on Falcon. I

said, “What’s going on out there, Mark?

His voice was strained. “It looks as though Falcon is going to bust

loose.” I felt suddenly colder. Mark and I were possibly the only two

people on either ship qualified to have any understanding of what that

might mean. I said, “How close are we?” “Maybe a quarter of a

mile.”

He straightened his back and added, “It’s happened a couple of times

this week already. It’s never amounted to much. A great sight, but

that’s all.” But he was not convincing.

We were much too close to Fonua Fo’ou. To Ramirez and Hadley it might

seem a good safe distance, especially if they had been watching

pre-eruption patterns all week, but Mark and I knew better. We knew

what volcanic eruptions could do.

No wonder Mark was scared. So was I.

He looked at the remaining guard, hesitated, and then spoke to him.

The guard shook his head vigorously, and as Mark started to leave he

stepped in front of the door and raised his rifle.

Campbell said ironically, “What’s the matter, Mark?

suddenly increased and Esmerelda lurched, her joints squealing a

protest. We swung.

round, still locked with Sirena. There was a sudden blast of acrid

sulphurous smell in the air. Mark’s eyes darted from the guard to me

and our glances locked as tightly as the ships.

Mark said sharply, “He doesn’t want to be left here alone with you

lot.

I must wait for the other guard.” He crossed to the porthole and

looked out again and I felt bile rise in my throat.

Geordie said, “What the hell’s the matter … ?” He didn’t have time

to finish. Esmerelda gave another great lurch and went over almost on

her beam ends. I. slithered helplessly towards the side of the saloon

and jarred my head against the table as I fell. There were sounds of

bedlam above decks.

The ship righted herself and we fell back in a jumble of bodies.

I heard Campbell groan; it must have been hell for him in his

condition. Geordie was up first. He grasped the ashtray and hurled it

at the guard, and then leapt the length of the saloon. The guard tried

frantically to retrieve his rifle from the deck where it had fallen.

He had his fingers on the butt when Geordie kicked him with precision

in the jaw and his face disappeared into a bloody ruin.

Ian had gone for Mark and any trace of his normal Highland gentleness

had vanished. His face was a mask of rage.

Geordie had grabbed the rifle and turned it on Mark. They converged on

him, but Mark managed to evade them both and scrambled towards the

saloon door.

There was a curious flicker in the air and he slumped, his hand clapped

to his right hip, and I saw blood welling between his fingers.

I had raised myself to go after Geordie and a shouted word of protest

was already on my lips, but as Mark fell both Ian and Geordie came to

an abrupt stop, the momentary bloodlust dying from their faces.

All eyes were on the gleaming, bloodied blade on the floor beside

Mark.

“Who threw the knife?” I demanded.

Taffy came from the far end of the saloon. “I did.” He saw the look

that sparked in my eyes and added hastily, “I wouldn’t have killed him,

Mike – even though he deserves it. I know where to put a knife.”

“Well, you’d better come and get it,” I said.

He came forward to take it from the deck and carefully wiped it on his

trouser leg. Clare was looking at him ashenfaced, but Paula had

already pushed forward to Mark’s side.

I said, “I saw you searched like the rest of us, Taffy. How did you

hide the knife?” “I had it dangling down the small of my back on a

piece of string. It’s an old trick but they fell for it.” For the

moment the crisis was passed. I looked anxiously out to sea. There

was a haze of steam in the near distance and beyond it the swell of

sullen black clouds still rolled skywards.

The sea was choppy, with little eddies swirling here and there, and

around the fringe of the steam there was a white roil of froth.

The smell was fitful and nasty. Closer in, I saw our motor launch

swinging astern with nobody on board her.

There was no sign of Bill, nor of anyone else on deck.

In the saloon Ian was helping Campbell back onto the settee with Clare

to lend him a hand. Paula was bandaging Mark and Geordie was searching

the prostrate guard.

Taffy was missing.

“Geordie, where’s Taffyr “Danny Williams was a special mate of his, you

know.” “Damn it, we need team work, not singleminded heroics.”

“Easy now,” Geordie said. “Taffy never was a good team man, but he’s

deadly on his own. He’ll do a hell of a lot of damage.” urgently.

“All right for him, but we need a plan of action Taffy’s loose and Bill

is somewhere on deck, and with luck Rex and Jim are with him.

Maybe they’ve been able to do.

something. And there’s us – three men and a rifle. “And if I-” “Four

men,” snapped Campbell getting to his feet. those sons of bitches

haven’t searched our cabins there’ll be guns in them.” He met my eyes

with a cold blue glare. He was no good in a brawl but give him one of

his target he could be deadly. Clare looked from her father there was

something of the same hard wildness in her eyes. “I’m coming with

you,” she said.

“Clare, you can’t. .

She cut in decisively. “I’m a pretty good shot too, remember?

Better than you, Mike. You’re going to need all the help you can

get.”

She was determined to stay close to me and her father, and she was

right.

We would need her. And if it came to the worst, for her as for the

rest of us, death by a bullet was preferable to drowning, clawing for

air in a scuttled ship. My throat closed up with fear for her but I

couldn’t argue with her decision.

She moved to the liquor cabinet. Several bottles had broken in icked

She picked one up and stared at the jagged edges. She said slowly,

“I’ve seen them do this in movies.” I thought that she could probably

never use it, but it gave her some confidence. Geordie actually

chuckled from the doorway. “That’s the stuff,” he said.

“Come on. We haven’t much time. Me first, then Ian. Mike, you bring

up the rear.” Paula was bending over Mark. She met my eye and shook

her head slightly. Mark lay back with his eyes closed, though whether

he was unconscious or shamming it was impossible to guess. “Okay,

Paula, you stay here with him,” I said.

Geordie opened the door and slipped out.

One by one we followed him cautiously into the passageway. He hadn’t

gone more than a few feet when he stopped, stepped over something and

then moved on. It was the body of our second guard. He must have been

on his way back to the saloon when he met up with Taffy.

His throat was cut in a gaping gash and the front of his shirt was

sodden and dyed scarlet with blood. Clare swayed a little as she

looked down and I took her firmly by the arm and pushed her past.

We moved ahead to Campbell’s cabin and went inside to find that it

hadn’t been searched. Campbell took his valise from the bottom of the

wardrobe and unrolled it, looking satisfied and stronger with every

movement. There were three guns in it, his own and Clare’s, and the

one Geordie had taken from Ramirez back in Nuku’alofa. Father and

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