Shark Bait Page 8

  Michi watched me, his teeth clenched, his short spiky hair ruffling in the wind. Behind him, the Sharee rode its churning bow-wave straight towards us. It was fifty metres away and travelling at twice our speed. Leather-hat was going to run us down.

  I pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The recoil rocked the Zodiac. It nearly blew the pistol out of my hand. A long white smoke trail arced up into the sky. At a height of several hundred metres, the flare exploded in a brilliant red flash. It was too bright to look at, and for a moment I was partially blinded.

  A loud crack brought me back to my senses. I threw myself into the bottom of the Zodiac as a bullet whistled overhead. Michi swung the Zodiac sideways. The little outboard motor screamed as he twisted the throttle as far as it would go, but the deep thrum of the launch’s engines continued growing louder. Another pistol shot rang out. Michi yelled something in Japanese, but I had no idea what it was. I was lying on something hard. Rolling sideways, I discovered the second flare wedged between two loose floor panels beneath me. With fumbling fingers, I tried to load it into the pistol. A flare gun isn’t a weapon, but I figured it could do a lot of damage at close quarters. And the Sharee was close. It was right behind us, looming above Michi’s head. So close, in fact, that I could see the cruel grin on Leather-hat’s face as he steered the careering launch on a course that would cut the Zodiac cleanly in two.

  Unless we got out of the way first.

  ‘Turn!’ I screamed at Michi, motioning frantically with my hands.

  He shook his head and pointed at the outboard motor. Shishkebab! There was a small hole in the engine housing near Michi’s finger. A fine spray of petrol came spilling out. One of the captain’s bullets must have severed the fuel line. We were dead in the water.

  And we’d be totally dead in about two seconds.

  The launch’s bow came slicing down on us

  ‘Jump!’ I yelled.

  Michi looked terrified. He hesitated for a nanosecond, then hurled himself over the side of the Zodiac. I jumped the other way. The Sharee went ploughing between us in a whirl of threshing white water, just as it had the night before. But this time I’d been able to jump far enough to one side to avoid making contact with the hull. Its churning bow-wave spun me around a couple of times as the Sharee raced past, then I found myself bobbing about in the open sea. I had swallowed a bit of water, otherwise I felt okay.

  ‘Sam!’ called a desperate, high-pitched voice.

  I kicked myself in a half circle. Michi was four metres away, bobbing up and down in the water, taking big gulps of air every time his mouth was clear. He’s hurt! was my first panicked thought. Then I remembered that Michi couldn’t swim. That’s why he had hesitated before jumping out of the Zodiac. But he wasn’t panicking; he was only taking breaths when his mouth was above water. I kicked my way over to him.

  ‘It’s okay, Michi,’ I said, trying to sound calm as I swam round behind him. ‘No, don’t grab hold of me; just relax.’

  He seemed to understand what I was saying, and allowed me to support him from behind. As long as he didn’t panic, we could stay afloat until the rescue boat arrived. They must have seen my flare.

  But I was getting way ahead of myself. We weren’t safe yet. Far from it, in fact. Seventy metres away, another boat rocked gently on the pitching, greeny-blue sea. Leather-hat stood on the Sharee’s flying deck, looking through a pair of binoculars. The sun flashed on the twin lenses as they came to rest on Michi and me. Leather-hat passed the binoculars to the captain, then turned to the helm. The three big outboards burbled into life.

  ‘Very bad!’ Michi said softly.

  His English was better than my Japanese. And unfortunately he was right. Things looked very bad indeed.

  Slowly the big blue-and-grey launch came around in the water. Michi stiffened in my arms and muttered something I didn’t understand. But my eyes told me what my ears didn’t. Wrapped around the Sharee’s bow like a folded mattress was the wreck of the Zodiac. Its little outboard motor had flipped over in the collision, and now it dangled upside down above the rest of the wreckage. One of its propeller blades was buried deep in the Sharee’s hull, holding the crumpled Zodiac in place. Obviously the smugglers didn’t know it was there. Leather-hat gunned the throttle, and the funny-looking combination of ocean launch and inflatable boat came churning towards us.

  It might have looked funny, but neither Michi nor I were laughing. Our situation was dire. All five smugglers were crowded onto the flying deck now. Leather-hat had the helm, while the other four seemed to be engaged in an argument. Baldy was pointing to starboard and yelling in Leather-hat’s ear. Rollo and Jimmy were having a tug-of-war with the binoculars. But it was the captain who I was watching most closely. He was yelling at Leather-hat too, but at the same time he was reloading his pistol.

  And that reminded me…

  Supporting Michi with one arm, I lifted the flare gun clear of the water. Self-preservation had caused me to hold onto it as I jumped overboard, then I’d shoved it into the band of my shorts when I went to rescue Michi. I wasn’t even sure if I’d finished loading it – so much had been going on – but it was our only hope. With a dripping thumb, I pulled the hammer back.

  The Sharee was fifty metres away and gaining speed. I could see the smugglers’ faces clearly now. Baldy was still yelling, but Leather-hat ignored him. His mouth was set in a grim line as he powered the launch towards us like some strange ocean-going bulldozer, pushing the wrecked Zodiac along beneath its bow in a wave of boiling white foam.

  The fifty metre gap was down to forty metres.

  The captain raised his pistol and took aim. So did I. For half a second we eyeballed each other along our pistol barrels. Then – hoping with all my heart that the flare gun was loaded – I lowered my aim and pulled the trigger.

  Boom!

  The recoil pushed Michi and me back in the water and made my ears ring, but it was nothing compared to what followed.

  The flare shot low across the water like a smoking tracer shell and slammed into the wreckage of the Zodiac.

  Bullseye!

  I held my breath. The wreckage was wet with petrol spraying out of the damaged outboard motor. Any second now…

  BOOM!

  The Sharee’s bow erupted in a great ball of fire. I dragged Michi under the water as flaming debris fell hissing into the sea all around us. We held our breaths for as long as we could, then bobbed back to the surface. Michi was coughing and gasping, but without the hindrance of the flare gun I had two hands to support him now, and I held his head clear of the waves.

  Twenty-five metres away, the splintered hull of the Sharee rolled over like a sounding whale and slid slowly from view. All that remained were five heads bobbing in the water. Baldy was still yelling at Leather-hat (who was minus the hat) and pointing at a big white police launch that came motoring towards us across the wide aquamarine sea.

  ‘Are you satisfied now?’ Baldy demanded.

  Leather-hat said nothing.

  But Michi did. He twisted round in my arms and grinned.

  ‘Sam indestructible!’ he said.

  25

  MICHIKO

  Even the police found it hard to believe our story. And Michi couldn’t back me up, because he only spoke Japanese. The five smugglers weren’t saying anything until they’d spoken to their lawyers. I guess they were too embarrassed to admit that they’d been outwitted by two boys.

  In the end, it was Michi’s mother who verified my story. She and her husband, along with my parents and the twins, were the first people to greet us when the police delivered us to Utopia Island. Mrs Takai spoke English and translated what Michi had to say for the amazed police officers.

  ‘That has to be the most incredible story I’ve heard in twenty-two years on the force,’ said Sergeant Thomas, still looking doubtful.

  ‘Michi would not lie,’ said Mrs Takai. ‘Sam Fox is very brave young man.’

  She bowed to m
e, and so did her husband and Michi. I bowed back.

  ‘It was nothing,’ I said modestly.

  Mrs Takai shook her head. ‘For us is very great thing you do, Sam-san. You saved life of our Michiko.’

  Michiko. Suddenly the penny dropped, and I realised why Michi had looked familiar. Apart from the short hair, he bore an uncanny resemblance to the world-famous Japanese martial arts actor, Michiko Takai.

  Michiko must be a boy’s name, too, I thought. ‘Your son has the same name as my favourite movie star,’ I said.

  A tiny frown creased Mrs Takai’s brow. ‘We have no son, Sam-san. Michiko is only child.’

  This conversation was getting weird. ‘But Michi’s a… a… a… boy!’ I stammered.

  Mrs Takai studied me for a moment, frowning. ‘Michiko had hair cut short for latest movie. She plays boy character. Is good disguise, you think?’

  Then she said something in Japanese to Michi and her husband, and both of them smiled.

  I stood there feeling foolish. I knew my face was bright red. Michi was a girl! Not only that, but he (I mean she) was Michiko Takai – the Michiko Takai! Thirteen years old and a genuine black belt. Who’d starred in three blockbuster Japanese martial arts movies. Who did all her own stunts. Whose movie posters were all over my bedroom walls at home…

  I couldn’t believe it. I’d spent the last twenty-four hours with the coolest girl on the planet – and all that time I’d thought she was a boy!

  Almost as if she could read my mind, Michi stepped forward, raised herself on tiptoe, and kissed me on the cheek.

  Before we separated, she whispered in my ear: ‘Anata wa suteki desu, Sam Fox.’

  If I had understood Japanese at the time, my face would have turned even redder than it was already!

  About the author

  Born in New Zealand, Justin D’Ath is one of twelve children. He came to Australia in 1971 to study for missionary priesthood. After three years, he left the seminary in the dead of night and spent two years roaming Australia on a motorbike. While doing that he began writing for motorbike magazines. He published his first novel for adults in 1989. This was followed by numerous award-winning short stories, also for adults. Justin has worked in a sugar mill, on a cattle station, in a mine, on an island, in a laboratory, built cars, picked fruit, driven forklifts and taught writing for twelve years. He wrote his first children’s book in 1996. To date he has published twenty-one books. He has two children, two grandchildren, and one dog.

  www.justindath.com