Annabel already had the pictures up when Jupiter walked back into the Bridge room. They made a space for the pilot.

“Definitely a Russian whaler, old, but moving fast. Strange, it looks like it’s riding very high in the water; only be a twenty-foot draft at best. Maybe it hasn’t commenced its whale-take yet.” She enlarged a section of the bow. “Oh… that’s a Kongsberg Våpenfabrikk harpoon cannon – a big one.”

Olander stroked his beard again, knowing this made him look contemplative, and fatherly. “Russians have learned to use propeller guards, and sharpen their bow.” He nodded slowly. “So, we’ll need to weight the cables, and use the new elastic fibers – won’t cut, and we can still wrap around the screws – stop ‘em dead. Might even come along myself this time.”

He lifted his chin. “In two hours, they’ll be in range of the dinghies. Prepare stink bombs for the deck, get the white paint, rollers and brushes, and also throw the new elastic cable in Flying Bird-1. I want to stop the Slava in its tracks.” He checked his wristwatch. “If we hurry, we should all make good viewing on tonight’s news.”

“Let’s do some good.” Jupiter raised a fist.

Olander almost laughed out loud. Was I as naïve and dumb when I was his age? “Well said.” He leaned towards Annabel. “I’ll be in Flying Bird-2.”

Her eyes were almost luminous. “Me too.”

*   *   *

Cate and Jack stood out on Slava’s deck, the air warm and sultry now. She had a pair of field glasses to her eyes.

“Did you see who they were?” Jack squinted into the distance before going back to his tracker.

“No, had some sort of sign on the chopper’s side, but couldn’t make it out. Vince thought he recognized it, but said they refused to be hailed.” She lowered the glasses, nodding to the tracker. “Anything on our big friend?”

“Fifty miles to the south; still staying deep for now. But we’re definitely heading towards each other.” He lifted his head in time to see Alexi blow thick blue smoke following a long pull on his stubby cigarette. The short Russian waved with two fingers, and then went back to chatting with Valery Mironov who sat beside him in a deck chair, legs crossed.

“Those two look relaxed.”

Cate followed his gaze. “Wish I could. My stomach is doing cartwheels.” She looked past the pair. “Harpoon looks ready.”

The harpoon cannon was a squat and powerful-looking device, and the tip of the dart that extended from the muzzle was two feet long, bullet-pointed, and with four wings just behind its nose. Cate had been told those weren’t just for improving aerodynamics, but also created the arrowhead effect of once being embedded in the whale’s flesh, they made it impossible for the leviathan to pull back out.