Snakehead

plan at all. “I want you to get me off this ship,” he said.
    “That’s not possible.” De Wynter shook his head. He was afraid of the gun, but he was even more afraid of Major Yu.
    Alex glanced at the phone. Presumably it could be connected to Darwin. “Call the police,” he said. “I want you to bring them here.”
    “I cannot do that either,” De Wynter replied. He looked a little sad. “There is no way I will help you, child. And there is nowhere for you to go. You might as well give yourself up.”
    Alex looked briefly out the window. One of the containers bound for Australia was already being lifted off the ship, dangling on wires beneath a metal frame so huge that in comparison it seemed no bigger than a matchbox. The spreader was controlled by a man in a glass-fronted cabin, high up in the air. The container rose up. In a few seconds it would swing across and down to the piles that were already mounting on the dock.
    He judged the distance and the timing. Yes—he could do it. He had arrived at the bridge at exactly the right moment. He pointed the gun directly at De Wynter. “Get out of here,” he snapped.
    The captain stayed where he was. He didn’t believe Alex had the nerve to pull the trigger.
    “I said—get out!” Alex swung his hand and fired at a radar screen right next to the chair where De Wynter was sitting.
    The sound of the gunshot was deafening inside the confined space. The screen shattered, fragments of glass scattering over the work surface. Alex smiled to himself. That was another piece of expensive equipment on the Liberian Star that was going to need replacing.
    De Wynter didn’t need telling again. He got up and slowly left the bridge, following the second officer, who was already clambering down the stairs. Alex waited until they had gone. He knew they would call for help and come back with half a dozen armed men, but he didn’t care. He had seen his way out. With a bit of luck, he would be gone long before they arrived.
    A glass door led onto the outer walkway. Alex opened it and found himself about twenty yards above the nearest container, far enough to break his neck if he fell. The sea was another thirty yards below that. Diving into the water was out of the question. He could see Yu’s men on the main deck, waiting for him to try. But he was too high. They wouldn’t need to shoot him. The impact would kill him first.
    But the container he had seen was directly in front of him, moving closer all the time as it traveled over the deck. Alex climbed onto the railing in front of him and tensed himself. The container loomed over him.
    He jumped—not down, but up, his arms stretching out. For a moment he was suspended in space, and he wondered if he was going to make it. He grimaced, trying not to imagine the crushing pain, his legs smashing into the deck if he fell. But then his hands caught hold of the lashings beneath the container and he was being carried outward, his legs dangling in the air, his neck and shoulder muscles screaming. The man operating the spreader couldn’t see him. He was like an insect, clinging to the underbelly of the container. And Yu’s men hadn’t noticed him either. They were following orders, their eyes fixed on the deck and the sea below.
    Alex had thought the container was moving quickly when he was on the bridge. Now that he was desperately holding on, it seemed to take forever to reach the dock, and he was certain that at any moment, one of Yu’s men would glance up and see him. But he was already over the side of the ship, and now he saw another danger. Drop too early and he would break a leg. Leave it too late and he risked being crushed as the container was set down.
    And then someone saw him.
    He heard a yell of alarm. It was a worker on the wharf, wearing overalls, a fluorescent jacket, and a hard hat. He probably wasn’t working for Yu, but that didn’t matter…as far as Alex was concerned, he was just as much a threat. Alex couldn’t wait any longer. He let go with both hands and fell for what seemed an eternity through the air. He had been hanging over a container with a tarp cover. The tarp provided a soft landing—even if the wind was knocked out of him as he hit it, shoulders first. He didn’t stop to recover his breath but rolled over and climbed down the sides.
    As he ran down the dock, dodging behind the containers, Alex tried to work out a strategy. The next few minutes were going to be vital. If he was