No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller (19 page)

15

The moment he squeezed the trigger, Carter knew his shot had found its mark.

The fat Indonesian grabbed his throat, dropped his rifle and collapsed forward with a thud.

Carter aimed the Glock at the spotlight.

Too late.

The intense bright light swung toward him, locking on his face, blinding him.

He heard movement on the boat. The second Indonesian was most likely scrambling for the fallen automatic weapon.

The harsh spotlight stayed focused on him, making the moving target invisible. There was no time for his eyes to adjust or for him to analyze what needed to be done. To have any chance of taking out the other guy, he had to surrender to unseen forces and shoot blind, almost immediately.

He inhaled to the count of three, closed his eyes and raised the weapon, trying to sense the Indonesian’s position.

The master marksman has a target but never takes aim.

Carter exhaled slowly and experienced a moment of complete stillness between breaths. He squeezed off three shots in quick succession, shooting in a three-foot-wide triangular pattern.

An eerie silence filled the night.

Carter kept his eyes closed.

The sound of a body hitting the metal deck broke the spell.

The spotlight crashed forward into the boat.

Carter opened his eyes, stuck the gun in the side pocket of his daypack and started paddling toward Erina.

She lay prone on her board, backlit by the soft glow of the fallen spotlight.

“You all right?” he called as he drew near.

She sat up, grabbed the bow of the boat and said, “I’m fine.”

His board glided to a halt a few feet from her. “You did good.”

“I make a terrific decoy. But you didn’t do so badly yourself. You hit the last guy shooting blind.”

“That was the easy part.”

Without waiting for a response, he stood on his board, put his weight on his back foot and stepped onto the aluminum boat.

The deck was slippery with fresh blood and guts.

“Just hang tight while I do some housekeeping,” he said.

“You think I can’t handle a bit of blood?”

“It’ll only take me a sec.”

He pulled his surfboard up after him and jammed the nose under the front seat. Its tail jutted forward over the bow with the fin pointing upward.

“Looks like a figurehead on an ancient warship heading into battle,” Erina said.

“A surfboard has many uses.”

He grabbed the fat guy under the armpits, dragged him to the stern, dumped him over the side and watched him float away from the boat, facedown.

“I reckon these two were just local fishermen,” he said.

“Yeah, armed with automatic rifles and happy to kill us.”

“I think they would’ve been pressed into service, not hardcore mujaheddin.”

“They made the wrong choice.”

He lifted the skinny guy off the deck and tossed him into the water after his mate, then moved to where she held onto the gunnels.

She took his outstretched hand and scrambled on board. He used a stray towel lying on the forward deck to wipe the blood and tissue off the middle seat.

“You did make a mess,” she said.

“Better them than us.”

The rain started to get heavier and patter on the deck. He settled her onto the now clean seat, picked up a tarpaulin lying in the bow and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Don’t go all chivalrous on me,” she said. “I can look after myself.”

“I know.”

He understood what she was saying and why she’d said it. This was no time for softness or sentiment.

The sooner they got moving, the better. He climbed past her, turned the spotlight off and stowed it at the bow.

“What about my board?” she asked.

“We’re leaving it. If we need to surf our way across the reef onto the island, we’ll ride tandem.”

He then positioned himself next to the idling outboard engine and was about to put it into gear when a distant sound registered above the motor. They both turned in the direction they’d come from. He switched the outboard off.

Along with the freshening wind came the unmistakable
whump, whump, whump
of a helicopter and the shimmer of a spotlight dancing three hundred feet over the ocean, heading straight for them.

Without saying a word, he restarted the outboard motor, revved the engine and accelerated toward the dark headland looming in the distance.

16

They rounded the headland in the open boat and faced the full brunt of the onshore gale and the angry nor’-east swell Muklas had predicted.

In just over five minutes the weather conditions had deteriorated, the rain having gone from a steady patter to a downpour. Sheets of water pelted down, creating an incessant drumbeat against the metal deck, and the wind whistled over them. Carter sensed, then saw, the huge shadow of an unbroken wave rolling toward them.

He steered straight for it, aiming to hit the oncoming wall of water at a ninety-degree angle. If the bow didn’t hit square on, the boat would broach the wave sideways, fill with water and sink.

The bow thumped against the angry face, propelling them high in the air. He yanked the outboard engine toward him, turning the boat into the wave. The boat crashed through the lip and down the other side, before plunging them into the trough between the waves.

He turned the throttle and they accelerated parallel to the waves. They needed to generate speed before turning and ploughing into the next one head on. If they lost forward momentum, they’d be thrown back and risk being swamped by the following wave.

A quick glance behind told him the helicopter hadn’t yet reached the headland, but it wouldn’t be long.

Up ahead and to their left an invisible wave boomed onto the unseen coral reef like a clap of heavy thunder, punctuating the background roar of smaller but still sizeable waves crashing into the shallow water.

Erina turned toward him, shouting to be heard above the wind and rain. “Muklas was right. The surf’s definitely up.”

A minute later they drew level with a point where the incoming swell smacked onto the coral reef a hundred and fifty feet to their left. They were still in deep, open water, and even though the waves were large and dangerous, they had nothing like the power and venom of those breaking in the shallow water over the reef, creating the mother of all no man’s lands.

According to the map, which Carter could picture in his mind, they were about eight hundred feet from the underwater cave that led to Samudra’s compound. To get to it, they needed to cross the reef.

Now that he’d had the opportunity to assess the conditions firsthand, he knew they’d never make it all the way through to the cave in the boat. The powerful waves would smash them to pieces on the sharp coral and drive what was left of them onto the rocky shore.

They crashed through another wave and accelerated along the trough between peaks. By the time they’d turned into the next wave, a plan had begun to crystallize in his mind.

As if to punctuate this moment of clarity, another unseen wave smashed against the reef and a cascade of sound exploded through the night like a bomb.

The only chance they had of getting across the reef was by catching a wave on the ten-foot board and surfing it tandem. This meant first taking the boat through no man’s land, the only way to get to the take-off zone. Then they’d ditch the boat and surf across the reef to the calm deepwater channel on the other side. From there it’d be an easy paddle to the underwater cave. It sounded good in theory, but the execution would be another matter entirely.

He leaned toward Erina and yelled, “Steer the boat while I get the spotlight up.”

She turned her head. “What’s the plan?”

When he told her, it sounded even more outrageous than it had in his head.

“I’ve always wanted to ride tandem,” she said.

“This’ll be your chance.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“When we abandon the boat, we’ll leave the light on so they’ll think we’ve capsized and drowned. What do you reckon?”

She didn’t answer straightaway, appearing to be mulling over his words.

“That might just work,” she said.

—

In the lull between sets Carter and Erina swapped places. If anything, she handled a boat better than he did. But the surf was his sacred home and he’d be calling the shots.

He grabbed the spotlight and planted his feet wide on the vibrating deck, bending his knees and swaying in time with the violent motion of the boat, performing an unconscious dance with the elements raging around them.

He listened to the waves, trying to hear their pattern, so he could pick the best one in the set to catch and hold off turning on the spotlight for as long as possible.

They seemed to come in sets of four. The sound of the waves breaking on the reef told him that the first two in each set were shutting down viciously on the coral and should be avoided at all costs.

The third hit the reef at a good angle and broke evenly. The gusting wind blew offshore, which meant it’d hold the face up and give them a decent shot at riding the wave all the way across the reef.

Still, surfing this break on a ten-foot malibu tandem in the dark was a huge ask. Once the helicopter pilot spotted the light, they’d have only a few minutes to negotiate the boat through no man’s land, get to the take-off zone on the other side and catch the right wave. They’d only get one shot.

But despite the grim odds, turning back was out of the question.

Carter flicked the plastic switch on the spotlight.

An arc of bright light lit up the take-off zone, leaving them exposed and vulnerable and illuminating an angry line of swell advancing toward the reef. He would watch this set rolling in, testing his theory.

The first wave, the height of a one-storey building, struck the reef about a hundred and thirty feet ahead of them at a sixty-degree angle.

The instant it hit the shallow water, the gnarly face jacked up, doubled its size and smashed onto the reef, creating an unrideable mass of boiling foam.

Carter glanced over his shoulder. The approaching helicopter still hadn’t rounded the headland.

The second huge wave closed out on the reef, unrideable.

The third charged toward the reef, a two-storey boomer.

As he’d suspected, it struck the reef at a more acute angle than the others, had more water under it, and broke forming a perfect A frame. Bubbling white water peeled across the steep face in both directions.

One side broke to the left, toward their boat. The other passed over the reef toward the safety of the channel.

The fourth wave was smaller and closed out on the reef, leaving no face to ride.

The third wave in the set was the one to go for.

He turned the spotlight off and looked over his shoulder again.

The lights of the helicopter glowed near the headland.

“Erina,” he yelled. “I need you to man the spotlight. When I give the signal, shine it in the same spot I just did.”

“Then what?”

“We find the take-off zone and catch us a wave.”

17

Carter grabbed the vibrating throttle. He needed to navigate the boat through no man’s land and the first two breaking waves of the set to reach the take-off point without being swamped and catch the third. It’d all come down to timing and a fair bit of luck.

He counted in his head as another set rolled in, listening as it broke onto the reef, and yelled, “We take the boat into no man’s land after the next wave.”

Erina shouted to be heard above the wind and rain. “Just give the signal and I’ll shed some light.”

The fourth and last wave of the set smashed against the reef.

Carter dropped his arm. Erina hit the switch and the spotlight came to life, throwing dazzling light across the angry ocean.

He twisted the throttle and followed the light, accelerating into the wild turbulence of no man’s land. As the water became shallower, the breaking waves would pack ten times the punch of those forming in the deeper water where they were now.

Erina stood firm in the center of the boat, her weight spread evenly and her knees bent at a slight angle, shining the spotlight on a wall of water towering toward them.

He lined up the bow at an acute angle to the steep face and accelerated. They’d need every bit of momentum they could muster to climb up and crash through the curling lip.

Erina grabbed a rope attached to the deck with her free hand to give her purchase and held tight, preparing herself for the rough ride to come.

The bow smacked into the arching face, which lifted them at a sharp angle. The outboard screamed and shook. The hull shuddered.

Erina maintained her position, shining the spotlight up the face of the wave and into the sky.

The craft lurched sideways.

Carter rotated the throttle to maximum, whipping the throbbing outboard motor back and forth to correct the boat’s angle and generate more speed.

They smacked into the lip at close to perpendicular.

For a moment they hung in midair before crashing down the other side and ploughing into the trough below.

The deck vibrated. Sheets of white water poured over the sides. The sudden impact threw Erina forward into the gunnels, jolting the spotlight from her grip. It fell facedown on the boat’s deck.

She regathered her balance, dived to her left and grabbed the fallen light. Rolling onto her back, she shone it on the fast-approaching second wave of the set. It was gathering height as it rolled toward the reef.

The excess water washed over the deck, making it harder to generate the forward thrust they needed to crash through the next wave.

Carter grabbed a plastic ice-cream container attached to a rope with his left hand and started bailing. With his right he angled the boat away from the break.

Above the crashing of breaking waves, the dull roar of the helicopter’s engine attracted his attention. He turned and saw its swaying spotlight heading in their direction. It’d only be a matter of seconds before they locked the beam onto them.

He turned back to face the wave and glared at the monster heading straight for them.

“Erina,” he shouted, “kill the spotlight.”

“What?”

“Shut it down, now!”

She hesitated, then turned it off, plunging them into a dark void.

He couldn’t see the oncoming wave, but now that he had an intuitive read on the break, he didn’t need to.

Using both hands, he whipped down hard on the accelerator and pulled the engine toward him.

The motor screamed like a banshee. The bow lurched to the right. Water sloshed around the deck.

He sensed the second wave hovering above, rearing its head back, preparing to strike.

He twisted the throttle round full and aimed straight for it.

The bow blasted into the solid wall of water.

They started climbing at a steep angle.

The snarling lip crashed over them.

Water flooded over the gunnels and washed over the stern, slowing their momentum to a crawl.

He swung the engine back and forth in an effort to generate more speed.

They were barely inching ahead. Any second, the weight of water in the stern would drag them back down the face and into oblivion.

Unless he took drastic action, they were history.

In a desperate bid to shift momentum, he let go of the engine and threw himself forward to the bow, hoping the movement of weight would propel them through the wave, like walking to the nose of a longboard.

The boat teetered at the critical point. He screamed to Erina, “
Get to the bow, now!
”

She threw herself forward and grabbed hold of the bow, creating the momentum needed to push them through the lip.

The boat crashed down the other side of the wave into the deep trough. It was now two-thirds full of water. One more hit would sink them.

Carter scrambled to the stern and seized the throttle. He pointed the bow back toward the headland, where they had come from and where the helicopter now hovered, then twisted the throttle to idle and tied off the engine.

Erina was already on her feet, lashing the spotlight to the seat so that it pointed skyward.

They didn’t need to speak.

He reached forward, untied the surfboard and held it under his right arm.

She switched on the light.

He put the engine into gear and twisted the accelerator to one-third throttle.

The waterlogged boat started to gather speed.

They positioned themselves on the port side of the boat with one foot on the gunnel.

“Ready for a dip?” he asked.

“After you.”

He jumped into the choppy water. Erina followed a second later. He held the tail of the board while she climbed onto it. He turned his head and watched the boat chug away from them.

The spotlight from the approaching helicopter danced over the water, seeking them out.