We Didn't Mean

Chapter 13: We Didn't mean to go to Sea

Some men actually died from overeating, as they stuffed themselves with cakes; steak and champagne from the dining hall.

"Try and get as much of the tinned stuff as possible, for the voyage." Charley walked with Raj, as they surveyed the scene of devastation, that had once been the camp.

"You seriously think we can get away, in that old ship?"

"What the hell else are we going to do? Do you think the authorities will want anyone to find this place? Once it gets out, that governments helped in enslaving people here, they will come and blast the island back into the sea. No, we can't stay, and we can't rely on any help from outside. We have to get off."

"Charley I've been a stow-away on quite a few ships, and I can tell you, this is no party. How are we going to crew it, for a start?"

Charley knew Raj had a point and looked around at the men eating defrosted pizzas.

"We need their help."

"Getting rid of Rufus, was one thing, but putting together a seafaring crew is quite another. We need people who know about engines, and navigation. Do you know how to steer a course and map read?"

"We didn't have much call for it in the East Midlands."

"No one is going to go to sea, and risk their lives. They have all been through it before, and they will think twice about doing it again."

"They'll do it for their share of the money, I bet?"

Now Charley had never sailed in his life. Except for that time on Wicksteed park boating lake, which ended in tragedy, on an embarrassing school trip. So he hoped his previous nautical career would not prevent him from sailing across the largest ocean in the world.

"Let's take a look at the ship," he said to Raj as they made their way through the growing party to the beach.

The ship had clearly seen better days, and as they came on board, Charley wondered how long ago those days had been. One look at the engine told him they were not just sailing in an old ship, but a piece of maritime history.

"My God the old man used to work on these." Charley studied the large black engine block in the gloom of the ship's interior.

"So your family worked on these engines?" asked Raj with a little hope in his voice. "That's good. So you will know how to get it going?"

"My Grandfather even worked on this type of engine," added Charley.

"It might be old, but it worked once."

"In 1915. Raj this engine has come from a very old ship, take a look at the date on the block. Heaven knows how old the hull is. We can't put to sea, it's suicide."

"Charley you said we have to get off this island, and we all agree. The outside world will be too embarrassed to let us live. They will want us wiped out."

"So we have to do something."

"The people are very grateful to you, for getting rid of Rufus. They will listen to anything you say. Also, they are very excited by the money."

A meeting was held amongst the survivors of the camp. Charley had thought things would descend into inevitable chaos, but there was something about these people. Maybe because they had gone through so much, or maybe they were better at learning the lessons of history, but the fighting stopped.

The fires were put out; the looting came to an end, and everyone worked on the ship.

"What's the news with the stock of food?" asked Charley as he looked over the ruins of the satellite studio for the tenth time, that morning.

"We've put all the tinned food on board, but we can't get the engine going. If we could generate some electricity, we could move one of the freezers on board. Any change here?" Raj walked around the empty studio. Rufus had been buried, but his blood was still on the walls.

"This electric stuff is beyond me," said Charley fiddling with a few switches. "Rufus and his men knew how to work it, but none of them are left on the island, so we are stuck."

"True, true."

"There isn't a phone or a radio in the place, where we could make any contact with the outside world. We don't even know if anyone saw last night's show."

"Rufus seemed very convinced."

"If there was just something here we could use on the ship, we could take to the sea."

"By the way, some of the people who worked for Rufus are still here," put in Raj. "Only the small fish. No technical people."

"Where?"

"Held up, on the other end of the island. They have a concrete bunker place. Massive fortress, we could never get in it. When the riot began, the guards took the aircraft, but a lot of the ordinary people could not get away quick enough. Now they are locked in this bunker, waiting for the outside world to come and rescue them."

"Or wipe them out along with us?"

"What makes you say such a thing?"

"Just a hunch. But they don't know that? I've got an idea. What if we can convince those people hold up in the bunker, that we have made contact with the world? and they haven't?"

"But how do we know they have not done so already?" Raj pondered the plan, but as he looked over the ruined equipment, Charley could see he was giving it some serious thought.

"What if they have not? We are sitting on a golden opportunity here. All we have to do is fool them into thinking we have been talking over the satellite, and they will help us."

"Help us do what?" asked Raj. "I don't understand?"

"If they are held up in an old military bunker, they will have a generator motor, to keep it going. With parts from that engine, we might make the ship go."

"Charley you said yourself that the ship's engine is almost one hundred years old. What use will the one in the bunker be?"

"Because when you get one old motor, you usually get another."

"We'll need a good story to make them open the bunker door," pointed out Raj as they walked into the heat of the day.

"Don't worry, I've got one."

The bunker was situated at the far end of the island. There were a few scraggy bushes, through which Charley could see a grey block of concrete. In the middle was a huge steel door. Red and rusty, it bore the scratch marks where the freed slaves had tried to break it down. But as Charley had suspected, it was built on an old British wartime design. He even recognised the steel hinges on the door. Made in the midlands. There was no way they were going to get in there by force.

Raj led him over to an air vent, sticking through the sand, like a chimney pot.

"You can talk to them through this. The men had been issuing threats to them all morning."

"I bet they are in the mood to listen now?" Charley knelt down beside the vent and shouted into the darkness. "If there is anyone in there who can hear me, I suggest you pay close attention."

He waited for a brief moment and was about to give up when he heard a noise.

"You get the hell away from us," an American accent warned him. "Our people will be here soon, and they will wipe you off the map!"

"How right you are," laughed Charley. "Only we have been in touch with the satellite link, and they are telling us to sit tight, and await help."

"They are lying to you," replied the voice from the darkness.

"I know they are, only we have picked up some shipping broadcasts, and they are advising every ship for a hundred miles to stay well clear. So no help is coming, but something else sure as hell is."

"Like what?" asked the voice, now intrigued.

"Some sort of high-intensity weapon, that will burn us all off the island for good. You think the outside world will want this place discovered after last night?"

"They won't leave us, man. They will wipe you out. Get your asses off the island now."

"Well we would, but for a few problems, which you might help us with. Only I advise you to act now. They will not want any witnesses to this nightmare."

"You are bluffing," said the voice.

"If we are, you contact the world, and ask them when they intend to get here? We saw a news broadcast about a US naval vessel being dispatched to this area to deal with terrorists. Why would they put out a story like that if they did not want to get rid of any witnesses? There will not be a ship for a hundred miles, and they can do whatever they want. Once they drop the bomb, this will be just another terror incident. Think about that."

"You are still bluffing!"

All was silent for a time, and Charley sat with Raj and the others on the sand around the air vent to the bunker, wondering what would happen next.

"You think they know the truth?" whispered Raj anxiously.

"They are having a long think about it," smiled Charley laying on the sand. "They sure as hell have no contact with the outside world. Why did they believe my story about the news broadcasts?"

Charley could have lain on the warm sand all day, and would have done, but for the drone of the aircraft.

They all sat up in alarm.

"What if they have come to wipe us out?" asked Raj.

"Tell everyone to get to the edge of the sea. Down on the beach and away from the buildings." Charley scanned the sky for a sign of the aircraft.

"What difference will that make?"

"Make them harder to hit. They will not dare use a nuclear bomb, but I've read about these Thermo-Barrick weapons, that can do just as good a job."

Those around him leapt up and dashed for the beach, and soon, amidst a great deal of shouting, they all waded into the sea. All eyes searched the sky.

Eventually, it was spotted. A small twin-engine plane made it's way slowly around the island, to face the runway. It approached in a quite ordinary way and touched down. After taxiing to the end of the tarmac, the engines lost some of their roars, and the side door opened.

By now most of the people had come out of the surf, grateful that they had not been wiped out in a massive blast, and looked at the aircraft. Charley and Raj looked at each other, as the steps were lowered and a small figure climbed out.

Charley recognised Natasha almost immediately, and as the crowd realised this was no invading army, they all swelled around the plane.

"What the hell is this? A reception committee?" The girl looked through her Ray Ban's at the men as they surrounded her and the aircraft.

"We are the revolutionary government, of the free people of this island." Raj was getting used to delivering his speeches, pronouncing how he thought the island should be run. Of course, no one took any notice, and all looked to Charley for leadership. In turn, Charley followed what Raj thought best.

"Revolution?" laughed Natasha. "What revolution is that? A fashion revolution? Just look at you people." She walked around the crowd, not concerned one little bit, by their menacing appearance. When two of the men made a grab for her, they found out why.

Natasha simply clenched her fist and slammed it into the face of the nearest. As he dropped to the floor, she span on her left leg to perform a perfect ballet position and kicked the second man clearly between the legs. He fell to the ground with a cry, and she began laughing and turned to the crowd.

"Any more heroes?"

The entire crowd took three steps back.

"Everyone keeps his hands to himself, let that be a lesson," Charley spoke sternly to the men, but they had quickly formed their own opinion of how dangerous the blond woman was.

"So who are you? Captain Hook?"

"You might not remember me, but we have met before. You seem to have found yourself dropped right in the middle of a revolt."

Just as Charley tried to explain the situation, the engines of the plane roared back into life, and the aircraft charged off down the runway. Soon it was banking up into the clear blue sky.

"Guess that was my lift?" Natasha did not seem unhappy by the disappearance of her only form of transport, but other things now bothered her. "So where's that jerk, Rufus?"

"Dead," said Raj. "Blew his brains out."

"What the hell for?"

"We discovered he was the Hood of Shame," Raj tried to show her, that they were the masters now, but it had little effect.

"So Rufus was the guy taking it up the ass all along?" This she found really funny. "I knew he was a nut."

"Would you mind telling us what you are doing here?" Charley could see she was not worried in the least by the situation and wondered why.

"No I wouldn't mind," Natasha began walking towards the buildings, knowing where the studio was. "So you are the leader of the lost boys?"

"It's a long story, but they trust me, and they are wondering if they should trust you?"

"Now that Rufus is gone, I don't think there is anything to worry about. We can all trust each other." They arrived at the building which was once the studio and Natasha walked inside. "What the hell did you hit the place with? Where's the roof?"

"We came through it," said Raj, pointing to the scene unfolding before them. "We were looking for a phone, so we could tell the world, of this crime, and we dropped in on the pornographic broadcast."

"You dropped in on Rufus?" She found this exciting news and wanted to know more, which Raj gladly provided.

"Yes, we all fell through the roof, as he was making one of his obscene films."

"Caught in the act?"

"He was wearing the hood of shame," added Raj.

"I bet he was," she could hardly stop laughing. "And he had that thing up his ass?"

"Yes, he seemed to enjoy it."

"Sad old queen," she laughed.

"Once we ripped his hood off, he got really cross," said Charley.

"I bet. But why blow his brains out?" Natasha was looking at the blood stains on the wall. "I don't get it?"

"Because when we ripped the hood off, he was live on air. Right in front of that camera." Charley pointed to the redundant machines.

"So the whole world saw him? This is so perfect. Gentleman, you have done the world a big favour. So what now? What the hell you still doing here?"

"We are trying to get off the island," said Raj. The party now made its way to the suites once held by Rufus and his men.

"I would say, do it, and do it quickly," Natasha stormed ahead, wondering what she would find.

"So the theory of a revenge attack on the island, is not a myth?" Raj looked to the others with a worried stare.

"Sure," continued Natasha. "Once the owners of this setup, get to know about you clowns, they will burn your asses. You think they want you appearing on CNN telling your tales of woe? Get real. You guys are turkeys waiting for Christmas."

"Well we would vacate the island, but for a small problem." Charley wondered what the girl really wanted.

"Which is?" She opened the door of the luxury apartments and saw they had been well and truly looted. Even this did not seem to bother her, and she walked on with determination as if she knew exactly what she wanted.

"We don't have any transport."

"No aircraft left?"

"No."

"So how you planning on leaving?" Natasha burst into the very rooms where Rufus once lived and walked over to his cocktail cabinet.

"We were hoping to use the ship at the dock." Raj was watching her movements with interest.

"That old tub! You are not seriously thinking of putting to sea in that?"

"We don't have any choice," added Charley.

"I bet it doesn't even go, right?" Natasha took out a small knife and flicked the blade up.

"We can't get it going, but we have some ideas. You could help in that." Charley could see she was trying to get the back off the cocktail cabinet but wondered why.

"I'm no Rosy the riveter. So what the hell can I do?" Once she had dug the knife in deeply, she twisted the blade and pulled away the wooden panel.

"We need the generator from the bunker. Only, they will not give it up, but with some persuasion from you, they might open the door." Charley looked in astonishment, as the panel came away, to reveal a secret store of treasures.

"And you think you can get the old rust bucket going, once you have that generator?" Natasha pocketed the large bundle of dollar bills and then opened the paper parcels.

"We will have to," said Raj, as he looked wide-eyed at the diamonds, spilling out into her hand.

"Then I suggest boys, that we get started. We can buy them off with this lot. I bet it will open a few doors. Only don't tell them they are worthless once they try and spend them in Hatton Garden."

"Why?" asked Charley, staring at the sparkling jewels.

"These diamonds were stolen by Rufus when he was travelling in the Middle East. Once he had to cut short his adventures, he walked off with the Crown Jewels of a very wealthy Arab family. Believe me, they want them back."

"How will they know?" asked Raj.

"Because these stones are world-famous. Give them to a broker and they will know as soon as they are under the magnifying glass, what they really are." Natasha poured the stones back into the paper packets.

"How could they tell?" asked Charley.

"Every stone is cut in a certain way. These had a unique signature. Very special stones, but only for the Arab Royal family. You think you have got problems staying here? Wait until you try and cash these stones. But those jerks in the bunker don't know that. Let's go and scam them."

The mob followed them everywhere. Mainly because there was nothing else to do on the island, but also because here was their chance of escape.

"So these comedians have the magic generator to power the ship?" Natasha knelt down beside the air vent of the bunker.

"We need the electricity to power the deep freezes, otherwise, we haven't enough food." Charley knelt beside her and wondered what she would do. He did not altogether trust the girl, but they had few choices.

"Listen, you bunch of losers," Natasha shouted down the air vent. "Get the God damn door open and let me in."

There was silence for a while, and both Charley and Raj had doubts the scheme would work. Then there came a voice.

"Is that you Natasha?" A girl's voice echoes from the metal pipe. It held the tone of fear and desperation within it.

"You bet. Clare, get the door open, and get your skinny white asses out here."

"Natasha they are afraid," said the underground girl. "They don't trust the slaves."

"Can you wonder," laughed Natasha. "Don't worry, I've got them under control. They are a bunch of pussies with me." She winked at the men.

"I'm not sure." The girl was hesitant and nervous, and the conversation could have gone on like this for some time.

"Look, the TV station will go ape once they know that Peter Pan and the Lost boys here have overrun their pet project." Natasha knew she was working on the girl.

"What will they do?" she wanted to know.

"What did they do to that brothel we worked in Texas?"

"You mean the big fireball?"

"That's the one."

"I remember that one." The girl's voice trembled in the dark, as the memories of some terrible event, shared by the girls, came back to her.

"Yeah, it was a little hotter than our usual job." Natasha just laughed. "You can pass on one important message Clare. Tell them I've got the diamonds Rufus stole. They are in my hands right now. If they want a share, open the door."

There was a series of shouts from the air vent. Then silence. Just as Charley was about to give up and suggest something else, the door of the bunker swung open.

The occupants stumbled into the sunlight, like freed prisoners from a hell hole. Everyone would have stood about looking at each other, if not for Natasha.

"We better act fast. They have abandoned me here too. Damn plane panicked and took off without me. Still, not the first time a man has run out on us, hey?"

The girls had all worked on the making of the special films, on the island. Now that Natasha had turned up, and was clearly in control, they all turned to her. Then terrible stories all came bubbling out. With each telling, the scene became clearer, and soon Natasha had a clear understanding of what had occurred on that fateful night.

"So he did use you guys as slaves?" She was sitting on an oil drum as Charley looked at the generator in the bunker. I thought Rufus was joking when he mentioned slaves."