Chapter 95
Kenya’s northern coast – 30 miles south of the Somali border
How long does it take a man to realize his life is going to change forever? For Thomas J. Cooper it was barely a moment. Just a flicker of a stare to trace the angles of dark stretching shadows against the oak cabin walls. The slightest of turns towards the fluctuating sounds of the lapping waves. And that was all. Yet it told him everything he needed to know… They were in trouble.
‘Jackson…! Jackson…! What the hell…!’
Knocking over the glass of iced lemonade, Cooper scrambled up from the cream leather recliner he’d been asleep on. Took the yacht’s wood and chrome stairs three at a time. Charging along the highly polished deck of the sleek, white vessel. Cursing to himself as he slipped on the wet.
Bolting forward, he spotted the tall, sun-drenched figure of Jackson leaning against the bow rails. A bottle of whiskey in hand. A grin on his face. And a half cut look in his eye.
‘Hey Coop, is this the life or what? Nothing but open waters. Reckon I should get myself a job on the high seas…’
Cooper could see he was drunk. And God knows, it was the last thing he needed.
He watched Jackson step on to the top rails of the yacht.
Take the last slug of whiskey.
Throw the bottle casually into the sea.
Stretched out his arms shouting loudly. Forcing his slurred words to rise high above the sound of the sea. ‘Name the film, Coop… But I’ll give you a clue… I’m king of the world!’
But Cooper said nothing. Instead, he instinctively squinted up at the African skies.
Slipped off his watch to lie it flat on his palm.
Lined up the hour hand to point at the sun.
Giving him a crude idea of the direction they were sailing in.
And the knot in his stomach told him it was as he’d feared. North. They were heading north.
Swaying precariously on the bow rails, Jackson didn’t sense or notice or care or see or feel Cooper’s alarm. ‘Oh come on man, you gotta know. Coop, it’s easy… Titanic. Even my dog
