The Covenant of Genesis by Andy McDermott Page A

wait for me,’ Chase told him. He could see the young Indonesian’s disappointment even in the dark.
    ‘But I want to come.’ He started towards the shacks.
    Chase held him back. ‘When I said “stay here and wait for me”, I was being polite. What I meant was “stay here so you don’t get your fucking head blown off !” Wait here.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Stay!’
    ‘I’m not a dog, Mr Eddie!’ Bejo protested in an irritated whisper as Chase cautiously made his way along the waterline.
    He reached the first building, the large covered dock. As he’d thought, the cruiser was inside, the .50-cal still mounted on its bow. It hadn’t even been unloaded, a belt of ammo dangling from it. He shook his head. Amateurs.
    He moved on. The other shacks were lit inside and out by bulbs strung from their roof beams, a generator puttering away somewhere to power them. He crept to the nearest shack and peeped through a gap in the wood. A strong smell of hot grease and searing meat hit him, something sizzling in a large wok atop a camping gas hob. The skinned carcass of a goat hung from the ceiling, chunks of flesh having been crudely carved from it. A man was drunkenly whacking away with a large cleaver.
    It wasn’t Latan. Chase moved on, slipping round the shack to the waterline. A rickety walkway ran along it, connecting the huts to a jetty. The RIB was moored to the latter, along with a couple of small rowing boats.
    It struck him that the RIB was the only boat capable of a fast getaway; the cruiser would have to be untied, started up and reversed out of the dock. Once trouble started - and it would - the inflatable powerboat would be the first place the pirate leader would run.
    He had to make sure Latan didn’t get away. Sabotage the engine, maybe? Or . . .
    A noise behind him, a creak of rotten wood. Chase spun, fists ready to pummel the pirate—
    ‘Mr Eddie!’ squeaked Bejo, throwing up his hands in fright as Chase arrested a blow inches from his face.
    He hauled Bejo into the shadows between two of the shacks. ‘I told you to stay put!’ he hissed.
    ‘They killed my friends!’ the teenager insisted. ‘I want to help - I can help. I just heard some of the pirates talking about Latan. They say he’s waiting for a man to come here with money.’
    ‘They haven’t been paid yet?’ That explained why they were still here, then - and if he could identify Latan’s employer . . . ‘Okay,’ he said reluctantly, ‘stick with me. But do exactly what I tell you, all right?’
    ‘Okay, Mr Eddie,’ Bejo replied, smiling. ‘So what do we do?’
    Junk was scattered round a tree stump between the shacks. Chase picked up a coil of rusted steel cable. ‘Keep watch here, warn me if anyone’s coming.’ He started to creep along the jetty.
    ‘Where are you going?’
    Now it was Chase’s turn to smile. ‘To make sure that boat’s tied up properly.’
    It took a couple of minutes to complete his work. Job done, Chase moved back ashore, and accompanied by Bejo continued his search for the pirate leader. The largest and noisiest shack contained about a dozen men, most of them engrossed in a fast-paced dice game that involved a lot of aggressive shouting as the others looked on and drank.
    Still no sign of Latan. They passed through the shadows to sneak up to a small hut. Sounds of activity came from within, but this definitely wasn’t gambling, except with the possibility of contracting a sexually transmitted disease.
    Feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur, Chase looked through a hole to see a bored-looking woman lying on a ratty mattress as a drunken, sweaty man pounded away at her. The bearded Casanova wasn’t Latan, however, so Chase withdrew. He was about to carry on to the next shack when he realised Bejo wasn’t following. He glanced back to see the young Indonesian gawping at the scene inside the hut, mesmerised. In equal parts impatient and amused, he moved back to pull him away—
    A large man with a crooked