JonDlundyn Parker adventure # 4 cont.
November 17th 2006 05:51
Lundyn was down below typing in the information. The website was nothing special but it did look like it may be a link in the chain. He sent a picture of Hamash in the chair hovering over the water as an attachment to the email address. No message- just the attachment of a scared terrorist hanging out over the water with a bomb under his bum.
He hurried back on deck. He said nothing now to Hamish, for him he had ceased to exist.
A piece of scum that was taking up space on the earth. Looking back over the wake of the ketch he could now make out the cruiser throwing up a white bow wave as it raced toward them. In a couple of minutes they could be dead meat. But his plan was going to work. His study of the subject told him that to fight these kinds of fights you had to be ruthless and several steps ahead of the enemy. Do the unusual, keep them off balance. His success would be in the bold strokes of the plan he had laid down and the skills of himself and Roscoe. He hauled Hamish back on board for a brief moment and tied a long pole to his chair with a red flag fluttering from it. He hauled Hamish back out over the side and indicated to Roscoe to slow the ketch down to a halt. He didn’t want to tip Hamish over at this late stage. He lowered Hamish into the water and pulled the cord opening the shackle that held him to the spinnaker pole. The chair bobbed under the water briefly then Hamish surfaced, sculling madly at the water with his free arms, precariously balancing himself in the water. The Perkins roared as Roscoe pushed the throttle down, leaving a sputtering Hamash in their wake.
‘Do you reckon they’ll go for him”? asked Roscoe. ‘Were going to be in for a fight if they don’t. It’s a better than fifty fifty chance. They think they have us on toast. They are faster, better armed and there is nobody out here to see their dirty work. They think all the odds are on their side now. They haven’t done their homework on us so they don’t really know who they are dealing with.” The two men watched and heard the engines of the cruiser slow to a crawl as they approached Hamash. It would be awkward to lift him out of the water.
Struggling in the water, strapped to the plastic chair Hamash coughed up a lung full of water, mindful of the need to keep his balance. He thought angrily to himself that he was deep in the shit this time. Under his arse was a bomb that was designed to blow up 50 ton tanks with steel armour over 11” thick. He would not even be mincemeat if it blew up. His hands now free sculled evenly to hold himself upright. He could hear the engine noise of his saviours before he could see them. He slowly and carefully turned to face the direction from which the cruiser was coming. He sighed to himself; they had seen him and were coming to pick him up. It was going to be a long shot, this rescue. He would have to give the commands himself to help the recovery otherwise… he did not want to dwell on that. The cruiser pulled up along side and the faces of the crew looked down on him. The skipper was glaring from the wheel and barking orders. He was in a hurry and did not want to loose any more time than was necessary. With rough movements he was positioning the cruiser for the pick up. Three crew were standing on the swim platform and one other was standing by the skipper giving directions
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