The Terminators Read Online Free Page A

the officer who'd taken my ticket earlier, and indicated that I'd like to step ashore for a moment.
    "Yes, you have an hour and ten minutes, sir," he said in good English. "But please do not forget, we sail promptly at eleven."
    "I won't forget, thanks."
    I walked down the sloping, cleated gangway to the dock, marched straight ahead until I was out of sight in a narrow space between two large, windowless buildings on the shore—warehouses, perhaps—and began to run. Coming out on the street beyond the buildings, I turned left, pounding along at a good clip. Reaching the far end of the structures, I turned left again, back towards the water, and hit the edge of the dock far enough ahead of the ship that I couldn't be seen by anyone on the passenger decks aft. A seaman on the towering bow might spot me, but if he was just an honest seaman he wouldn't care.
    I stood for a moment catching my breath as I studied the black water of the harbor, speckled with steady rain. There were swirls and miniature whirlpools of current out there, glistening in the docklights and the lights of the far shore, moving sluggishly seaward with the ebbing tide. I glanced at my watch: eleven minutes had passed since she'd left my cabin. Say it had taken him five to get the job done, that left six: one tenth of an hour. At two knots, a current would carry a floating object two tenths of a nautical mile in that length of time, or four hundred yards. I started running again, loping to the end of the long wharf. . . .
    Not quite to the end. I was just taking a last look out there before turning inland, wondering if it would be worthwhile to go on along the street, or road, that followed the rocky shoreline ahead, when I saw something out in the dark water thirty yards from shore. Staring, I saw it make a kind of crippled movement, and another, as if trying weakly to kick its way towards land. Okay. With time short, aware that I'd start checking soon, our husky blond friend had been hasty and careless. He'd counted on the cold water and the current to finish the job. He hadn't made sure before he put her over the ship's rail; not quite sure.
    I raced around the end of the dock, ducked under a fence cable, and slid down the rocks to the water, getting rid of hat, raincoat, jacket, and shoes. I put my wallet on top of the pile, and tucked my gun underneath, wondering why the hell people couldn't ever seem to get themselves drowned—or half-drowned—in summer. She came drifting past the end of the pier as I launched myself. The water was just as cold as I'd anticipated; and I'm no great swimmer even when I'm not freezing to death. I just kind of hacked my way out there awkwardly, grabbed a fistful of wet tweed, chopped my way back, and dragged her onto a shelving rock. As I eased her down gently, so I wouldn't bruise her any more than she was already bruised, my fingers encountered an ugly, unnatural depression in the skull under the soaked hair. . ..
    "Helm?"
    I almost missed the faint whisper, as a car roared by on the road above. "Here," I said.
    "My head. ... He had a gun. He made me go on deck, and then he hit. . . . It was the sailor, the one carrying the bags. Watch out... watch out. ..."
    "Sure," I said.
    "Cold," she breathed. "It's so cold and dark Helm?"
    "Still right here," I said.
    Suddenly her voice was quite calm and clear, although still very weak: "Ivory. . . . I'm sure that man was working for Ivory, the one who hit me. He wants the Siphon—"
    "The what?"
    "The Siphon, the Sigmund Siphon!" She was impatient with my stupidity. "And the information; the data to make it work. Ekofisk, Frigg, Torbotten. The drops are Trond-heim, Svolvaer. Deliver to. . . . Don't remember. Oh, damn! Denison, the man Denison works for. Deliver to him. No, I forgot, the Skipper will deliver. Contact in Narvik. Narvik? The ferry? Somewhere up in there. Can't remember. My head. They'll tell you what you need to know. Get in touch with them."
    "Who'll tell