Jessamy Beech Ch. 14: Falmouth

"What the ..." the guard spun around, alerted by the splash and raised his weapon, what looked like an antique Kalashnikov. It appeared Aubrey might be having difficulties equipping his little private navy, thought Jessamy.

The man fell back clutching at the black commando dagger suddenly piercing his heart and Jessamy scuttled forward. She quickly retrieved her knife and rolled the body over the side. So far so good.

. . .

Mpenzi drew up alongside the tanker, her senses straining. She knew nothing about the layout of these big ships. It was a medium size tanker, no more than 50,000 tons fully loaded. She wondered how the hell the bigger ones - upto ten times this size - even stayed afloat.

Mpenzi had guessed the stern would most likely be all engine room and crew quarters while the bow would be separated with internal bulkheads into dozens of empty compartments. She was certainly no demolition expert either, but guessed that both charges at the water line might be enough to do the trick. She guided the RIB to a point midway along the tanker's enormous hull and stopped, the incoming tide keeping the smaller boat wedged in place against the larger.

The magnetic charges attached easily, clunking with a hollow thud against the pitted metal. Mpenzi twisted both timers to their maximum - 180 seconds - and punched the green buttons on their tops. Job done.

"Time to get the fuck out of here," she whispered.

CLANG!

A crossbow bolt bounced off the tanker's hull just feet away followed by a volley of automatic weapons' fire chewing into the RIB's side as Mpenzi spotted another boat speeding out of the darkness directly towards her position, "Shit!"

. . .

On HMS Poseidon, Jessamy tugged the stolen Buff up around her face and walked, as casually as she could manage, into the frigate's open helicopter hangar. It seemed the entire ship was rigged for red light to preserve the crew's night vision while still allowing them to see their instrument panels.

Jessamy averted her face as a handful of crew members hurried past in animated conversation. As far as she could tell, none of them so much as glanced at her. Either her rudimentary disguise was working or it was just that much harder to see in the red light. Which was just as well. Otherwise Aubrey's crew would be suspicious as to why she was soaking wet and shivering.

The bulkheads vibrated around her as the bombardment of Truro continued, a loud WHUMP every three seconds as the big gun unleashed another high explosive shell at the burning city. Jessamy continued down the frigate's wide main corridor, trying to ignore the painful cramps in her extremities and joints, clenching her teeth together to stop them chattering.

"You there!"

Fuck. Now what? A tattooed thug with a shaven head and a pierced eyebrow had stepped out of a side cabin behind her. He wore the uniform of a navy Lieutenant Commander but was obviously one of Aubrey's fellow jailbirds, "If you're off duty get the fuck back to your quarters."

Jessamy nodded, "Okay. I'm just going there now," her voice sounded quavery and muffled by the Buff.

"YOU'RE JUST GOING THERE, WHAT?"

"I'm just going there ... sir," Jessamy tried to keep the contempt from her voice.

"Who are you?" the thug demanded, "uncover your face. I've not seen you onboard before."

Jessamy very much doubted she'd be able to take this beast of a man on in a fair fight - not in her present condition. She edged a hand down towards her Glock.

"SIR!" a crewman half stumbled down a ladder from the deck above, "there's gunfire up ahead by the tankers sir. RIB four's engaged hostiles. The captain wants you on the bridge."

The thug pointed a stubby finger at Jessamy as he turned to leave, "Report to me back at Devonport bitch ... or I'll come looking for ya."

Jessamy breathed an audible sigh of relief. Just ahead, a stormproof hatch marked the end of the main corridor. If she'd guessed right it would lead out onto the frigate's bow ... and Jack Aubrey's pride and joy - the Mark 45 naval gun.

. . .

"I SAID DON'T FUCKING SHOOT!" Nemesis screamed from the bow of RIB four.

"S-sorry," stammered the shooter, "it could be one of Chinnor's men, sabotaging the ..."

Nemesis drew a handgun and casually shot him through the head, "Either of you two have anything to add?"

TAKATAKATAK!

A burst of gunfire from the other RIB caused Nemesis to flinch, "Full speed!" she yelled, "ram it!"

. . .

Only a few yards away onboard RIB three, Mpenzi returned fire with her SA80. The crossbow wielding sailor in the approaching RIB jerked sideways and tumbled overboard in a spray of blood.

She spotted a figure all in black - possibly a woman - duck down, to brace herself as RIB four's pilot suddenly accelerated and rammed his craft into Mpenzi's boat, lifting it clear out of the water for a second and slamming it against the tanker's hull.

As her RIB slapped back into the water, Mpenzi clambered quickly to her feet ...

TAKATAKATAK!

RIB four's engine cut out as its pilot slumped dead over his console.

"Three down, one to go," Mpenzi took careful aim, scanning the other boat. Unless they'd been dazed or even knocked unconscious by the impact, there was at least one more of Jack Aubrey's people on the other RIB. The woman she'd spotted, "SHOW YOURSELF. I HAVEN'T GOT ALL FUCKING DAY!"

A figure with her face covered by a black ski mask stood slowly, deliberately in RIB four. Even under the black fatigues, Mpenzi could now be absolutely certain it was a woman.

"You," said the figure, accusingly.

Mpenzi stared back, hesitant. It was the assassin, Nemesis. It had to be. The very same woman she'd spent the night hunting in Madron village all those years before, "I was about to say the same thing ... jou stukkie kak!" she snarled in Afrikaans.

BLAM!

Mpenzi yelped as her kneecap exploded, firing a burst of shots wildly into the air as she staggered backwards. She hadn't even seen Nemesis move. Instantly the assassin leapt between the RIBs and stood over her, handgun still trained, "You were lucky that night Lupita. You managed to blow my fingers off so I unfortunately had to retreat. Now it looks like your luck's run out."

Mpenzi edged backwards, clutching at her bleeding leg, white hot lances of pain shooting out from her shattered knee. The assassin's voice sounded oddly familiar but the searing agony from the wound was making it impossible for Mpenzi to concentrate, "How the f-fuck do you know my n-name bitch?"

"Not important. What are you doing here?" Nemesis couldn't help but notice the blinking red lights on the two demolition charges only feet away.

. . .

Jessamy snatched a pair of ear defenders from an open locker next to the hatch, but had to discard her kevlar helmet disguise in order to wear them. The gun's crew of five or six would be in a chamber deep down in the bowels of the ship, monitoring the automatic targeting and firing mechanism and ensuring the gun didn't overheat. The business end out on the deck would be completely unmanned.

Twisting the latches on the hatch, Jessamy crept out onto the Poseidon's foredeck, delving in the daysack for the remaining demolition charge.

The deck plates beneath her feet juddered a fraction each time the gun fired, and the great grey dome the size of a small house rotated by a couple of degrees to ensure a complete blanketing of the target area. A jet of fire spewed from the seven metre barrel and a shock wave sent ripples radiating out across the harbour.

The noise was terrifying loud.

Jessamy crept closer, wincing each time another shell was let loose. The ear defenders were barely adequate for the task and she wished she had some good foam earplugs squeezed into her ears too. Her shadow cast by the dim red light from behind reminded Jessamy that she was now in full view of the panoramic windows of the Poseidon's bridge twenty or thirty feet above.

If anyone happened to look down ...

Jessamy dropped to her hands and knees and clambered quickly under the gun's cowling, the noise and vibration setting her teeth on edge and sending an uncomfortable buzzing sensation through her skull. With blurring vision she twisted the timer to 90 seconds, clamped the charge onto the gun's heavily greased underside and punched the green button ...

89 ... 88 ... 87 ...

. . .

On the Poseidon's bridge, Jack Aubrey was growing impatient, "Comms. Anything from the RIBs yet?"

"No sir. Neither RIB three or RIB four are responding."

66 ... 65 ... 64 ...

Aubrey punched the padded arm of his captain's chair in frustration, "I'm sick of all this bloody waiting around. Helm! Engines ahead one quarter. Eyes open people, I don't want the paintwork scratched."

Seconds later the deck beneath his feet quietly thrummed as the Poseidon's engines roared into life. He'd take the ship in closer whether McTavish and Nemesis answered their hails or not. This upstart little prick calling himself General Chinnor wasn't going to get away with invading his territory. Poseidon would rain high explosive hell down on every last one of them, then send O'Brian and his thugs in to mop up anything left alive.

63 ... 62 ... 61 ...

Aubrey peered out through the bridge windows, marveling at what an incredible piece of engineering the Poseidon's main gun truly was. Feeling the vibration through his seat when it was firing on automatic never failed to give him a raging hard-on.

60 ... 59 ... 58 ...

A figure crawled hurriedly out from beneath the gun's sleek, grey cowling. Aubrey stared. Shabbily dressed, it appeared to be a woman. Blonde with her face concealed. One of the Poseidon's crew?

57 ... 56 ... 55 ...

Just for an instant, the woman glanced up. Dreadlocks. A ridiculous celtic tattoo across one side of her face. Older by a few years since their last meeting but the eyes were unmistakable ... Jessamy Beech.

Aubrey lunged out of his seat, drawing his handgun as he sprinted for the bridge's door, "INTRUDER ALERT! SABOTEUR ON THE FOREDECK ... SHOOT TO KILL!"

54 ... 53 ... 52 ...

. . .

As Jessamy opened the stormproof hatch to re-enter Poseidon, a blaring alarm started up from somewhere. Footsteps hurried down metal stairs from the deck above her and further down the central corridor curious faces peeked out of side rooms. She wasn't going to be able to leave the way she'd come.

51 ... 50 ... 49 ...

"Shit," Jessamy drew her Glock. Would it still even fire after being fully submerged?

48 ... 47 ... 46 ...

To go back out on the foredeck was her only option. She scrambled through the hatch and was about to slam it shut when bullets sparked off the steel frame. She pressed back against the bulkhead outside cursing herself for being spotted.

45 ... 44 ... 43 ...

"I know you're out there Beech," called a voice from inside. The last time she'd heard it had been in Devonport Naval Base's Wardroom as she defended herself with an antique cutlass almost twelve years earlier. That was the peculiar thing about memories - you tended never to forget the voice of someone who was trying to kill you. Jack Aubrey.

42 ... 41 ... 40 ...

"Hey Jack. Long time no see," Jessamy called back. How much backup had he brought, she wondered.

"Throw down your weapons and I'll make sure you come to no harm Jess."

39 ... 38 ... 37 ...

Jessamy gritted her teeth, "The name's Jessamy, fuckwit. Why don't you come out here and we'll settle this face to face, once and for all."

"No can do Jess. I've got a city to finish destroying."

36 ... 35 ... 34 ...

Jessamy forced a laugh, "And how're you gonna manage that Jack? The demo charge I've put on your big gun'll be going off any second now and you won't be 'destroying' anything anymore."

33 ... 32 ... 31 ...

There was silence for a few seconds. The gun continued firing, pounding whatever was left of Truro into rubble as the deck beneath Jessamy's feet vibrated, "Did you hear me Jack? Any. Second. Now."

Jessamy had already realised that if the charge went off with her standing only feet away she'd be blown to pieces. But she was effectively pinned down.

30 ... 29 ... 28 ...

"Alright," Aubrey shouted.

"Alright what, Jack?"

"I'm coming out."

27 ... 26 ... 25 ...

Was he insane? The demolition charge couldn't be deactivated. If Aubrey was outside with her, he'd be killed too. But that's what she'd asked for after all. Maybe Aubrey's grudge against her was big enough to drive all logical thought out of his pig arrogant head.

24 ... 23 ... 22 ...

A handgun was thrown out of the hatch to clatter noisily across the wet foredeck. Jessamy edged backwards, Glock trained on the opening.

21 ... 20 ... 19 ...

TAKATAKATAK!

Aubrey charged out onto the deck firing an ancient M16 from the hip, taking Jessamy completely by surprise. Lead slugs whizzed past her head as she threw herself sideways. Jessamy spotted two more of his thugs hanging back inside the hatchway, presumably with orders not to shoot. Yet.

Aubrey would want her all to himself.

"Stand still you little bitch!" Aubrey snarled as he followed Jessamy's evasive movements. There was only place she could possibly take cover on the empty deck. All she needed was a few seconds to take a clear shot and Jack Aubrey would be out of her life for good, and Jiff avenged. She sprinted for the big gun ...

18 ... 17 ... 16 ...

TAKATAKATAK!

Bullets smacked at the deck behind her, a lucky shot tearing away the heel of her boot as Jessamy dived behind the gun and hunkered down low.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Aubrey sang. Jessamy wondered what damage the firing naval gun was doing to his hearing, as she hadn't seen any ear protection on him. Then she realised she didn't care. How much longer did she have?

15 ... 14 ... 13 ...

TAKATAKATAK!

Jessamy hated Aubrey with a vengeance for the casual murder of Jiff but she'd not given any serious consideration to whether she was willing to sacrifice herself. She ducked down to see if she could spot Aubrey from under the gun cowling ...

12 ... 11 ...10 ...

... and found herself looking straight at the demolition charge.

Shit. Seconds left. Only one chance to take the shot.

9 ... 8 ... 7 ...

An image of her daughter Phoebe swam through Jessamy's mind. Her reason to live. She raised the Glock and gritted her teeth, "I'm not dying today."

6 ... 5 ... 4 ...

Jessamy sprinted out of cover and aimed. Aubrey had moved back nearer to the hatch and for a second she was disoriented, "FUCK YOU AUBREY!"

She squeezed the trigger ...

CLICK!

"Shit!"

3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

Jessamy dropped the useless Glock and threw herself over the side just as Aubrey realised what she was doing and turned away towards the safety of the hatch ...

KABOOM!

The Poseidon's naval gun was torn apart as a huge explosion blasted it loose from its mounting on the frigate's deck. Scorched metal and deck plates span lethally in all directions, shattering the bridge windows and scything into the black waters of the harbour.

. . .

A quarter of a mile upriver, Nemesis watched the Poseidon lurching wildly as secondary explosions ripped upward from below decks, gouting flame. Despite the damage her hull appeared intact and she was still afloat.

The demolition charges attached to the tanker were down to their last few seconds. She glared down at Mpenzi, "I'll leave you with your toys, Lupita. I guess this is goodbye."

Nemesis leapt nimbly back into her own rigid inflatable and gunned the engine. With a final salute to Mpenzi she accelerated away to rejoin the Poseidon.

"W-well done Jess," Mpenzi grimaced, "you ... d-did it."

Then, from a combination of blood loss and agonising pain, she lost consciousness. The RIB she was lying in rocked from side to side as the other boat's wake sloshed against its inflatable black hull, nudging it away from the tanker.

Not far, and not quickly.

But just enough ...

KABOOM-BOOM!

The tanker's side erupted as twin explosions ripped through rusted panels and corroded bulkheads. Jagged metal and red hot shrapnel showered down on Mpenzi's RIB as the blast lifted it out of the water.

. . .

Barely fifty yards from the Poseidon, Jessamy surfaced, spluttering and coughing up polluted harbour water. She'd done it. And she guessed from the massive explosion upriver that Mpenzi's little venture hadn't gone too badly either.

Even if Aubrey's ship was still afloat, it no longer had the means to terrorise coastal communities. The River Fal would be unnavigable now, so no-one - Aubrey, Chinnor or whichever other jumped up little warlord came along next would be able to use the harbour as a staging post.

"That was for you Jiff," she murmured.

Jessamy allowed the cold current of the incoming tide to carry her northward upriver as she watched the Poseidon burn. If any other RIBs were out patrolling the harbour, she had to get away from the area as quickly as possible. But she had to know for sure. Onboard the frigate, the crew tried in vain to extinguish the flames, wary that there could still be unexploded ordnance somewhere in the big gun's mangled workings.

Jessamy blinked, pressing water from her eyes. Trying to make sure it wasn't her imagination playing tricks. A uniformed figure stood tall on the deck, clutching a hand to a gushing headwound as he screamed orders.

Captain Jack Aubrey. He was still very much alive.

. . .

In the darkness, finding Mpenzi's stolen boat would be nigh on impossible. So Jessamy opted for swimming ashore and hoping that her friend would rendezvous back at the pickup.

She swam, the cold and tiredness leeching the strength from her limbs. She rested, treading water while clinging on to a mooring buoy as behind her the fires onboard HMS Poseidon were extinguished and the wounded frigate executed a tight turn before heading back out to sea. Jack Aubrey with his tail between his legs. Whipped but unbeaten.

Jessamy was surprised to find the RIB they'd commandeered already beached on the rocks at Mylor Churchtown, and dismayed to see half a dozen people clustered around it ...

"Back off! We don't want no trouble!" a bearded old man in a faded leather jacket hollered as she scrambled ashore. Scavengers. He leveled an antique shotgun at her but whether or not it was actually loaded, Jessamy couldn't tell.

"I just want, to pass through ... in peace. I'm not going to bother you. The boat's yours."

The man lowered his weapon, squinting at her, "You that bounty hunter? That, uh ... Jessica Beech girl?"

Jessamy let out a long sigh, "Yes. And it's Jessamy."

The man's expression changed instantly as if a light had been switched on, "Shit. OY YOU LOT! Look who we got here! Jessica bleddy Beech."

The others looked up showing vague interest but they appeared to be more bothered by something at the bottom of the RIB.

"It's such a pleasure to meet ya Miss Beech," Shotgun gushed, "I bin a fan o' yours since you brought back them Finch boys in Perranporth. Did you have anything to do with them explosions?"

Jessamy nodded as she edged closer to the RIB, curiosity getting the better of her, "Look. I'm really tired. I just need to find my friend and get back to our vehicle."

"Well you'd do best to drive west young lady. General Chinnor's in full retreat after that bombardment an' there's nothin' ... I mean nothin' left of Truro. Lucky we got out when we did."

Jessamy gave the man a friendly smile, "That's what I plan to do. Now, I just need to find ... my ..."

She peered into the RIB.

"... friend."

Lupita Mpenzi lay on her side in oily water at the bottom of the bullet riddled boat, either unconscious or dead. One knee a shattered mess of splintered bone, and a spear of rusted and barnacle covered steel embedded in her spine.