No Man's Land - A Russell Carter Thriller (21 page)

22

The bright beam lit up a shark cruising slowly through the water toward him.

It was close to thirteen foot long and probably weighed around a thousand pounds. He noted the dark stripes along its body.

A tiger shark.

They were apex predators, at the top of the food chain, and had a reputation for eating anything. Often found near reef breaks, they were one of the most dangerous sharks to be found in the Indian Ocean.

Its razor-toothed jaw hung slightly ajar, suggesting an enigmatic yet malevolent grin.

Carter switched off the flashlight. Adrenalin raced through his bloodstream, jacking up his heart rate.

For Carter, like most people, facing a shark wearing only a pair of board shorts was a worst nightmare. Death by drowning, burning, gunshot, knife, poison or snakebite seemed pleasant in comparison.

Sharks possessed a sixth sense, enabling them to detect the electromagnetic field emitted by any living creature in their immediate vicinity, able to sense as little as half a billionth of a volt.

The one good thing about spotting a shark was that it meant you were still alive. Usually they struck before you registered their presence.

He fought back the compulsion to shoot straight for the surface and jump onto dry land. Any sudden movement could attract the shark’s attention and precipitate an attack.

He reminded himself that sharks weren’t as a rule dangerous to humans. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a shark would swim away and leave you alone. He knew all this.

Still, understanding the cold facts was one thing. Refraining from freaking out when you saw a prehistoric monster up close and personal in its natural habitat was another matter entirely.

He forced himself to bring his heart rate under control. The shark might get him, but his fear would not.

He allowed himself to drift slowly upward, his naked limbs feeling exposed and vulnerable in the darkness. His arm extended in front of him, seeking the comfort of solid earth.

His hand touched rock and he breached the surface. He rested his arms on the rock ledge and gulped the night air.

Erina stood by the water’s edge. One breathing device hung around her neck; the other was in her left hand. The sealed daypack lay at her feet.

She looked at him in a way that made him feel transparent.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Couldn’t you find the cave?”

“I did. But you need to wait here.”

“For what?”

“I need to check something.” He reached out. “Give me a breathing device.”

She handed it to him.

Before she had a chance to say another word, he looped the attached lanyard around his neck and said, “Be back in a sec.”

He stuck the rubber mouthpiece of the breathing device in his mouth, breathed in a lungful of air, slipped below the surface and propelled himself downward, careful not to make any jerky movements.

About sixty feet under, he switched on the flashlight and swung it in a hundred-and-eighty-degree arc.

The shark he’d seen earlier was gone. Only one fish swam by, another blue grouper. Due to the groupers’ size, shape and slow, gentle presence, sharks didn’t instinctively see them as dinner. But all other life forms kept well away.

His flashlight lit up the cave entrance.

It appeared perfect for their purposes, big enough to drive a small car through.

Then it didn’t seem quite so perfect.

Another shark, also close to thirteen foot long, glided out of its mouth.

Carter was sixty feet from the shark and the same distance from the surface. He consciously relaxed his muscles. He needed to act like a fish in its natural habitat and avoid making any movements that’d signal he was afraid.

It took him a long fifteen seconds to drift to the surface, all the while picturing giant teeth tearing into his naked flesh.

Again, his hand touched the solid rock wall and, in one smooth movement, he pulled himself out of the water onto the safety of the ledge.

“So what’s the big problem?” Erina asked. “You look like you’ve seen your grandmother’s ghost. What aren’t you telling me?”

He could hide nothing from her.

“I just saw two tiger sharks swim out of the cave. I reckon it’s a sharks’ nest.”

“Sharks don’t have nests. They mostly swim alone.”

“You try telling them that.”

“I don’t know why you’ve got this thing about sharks. All you want to do is spend your time in the ocean surfing and yet you’re scared of sharks. There’s something screwy in that logic.”

“When this is over, I’ll get some therapy.”

“Most shark attacks are mistakes. Dogs kill more people in one year in the US than sharks have in the last hundred.”

“That’s all very well, but very few people swim with them in caves.”

“And it’s the only way we can get into Samudra’s compound?”

“Correct.”

She stood for a moment, expressionless, taking it in.

Then she looked into his eyes. “Have you come up with a plan?”

“Swim through the cave without being eaten.”

23

Carter and Erina eased themselves feet first into the warm water and swam down the side of the rock wall, following the beam of the flashlight strapped to the side of his head. He held a six-inch blade in his right hand.

When they were about sixty feet underwater, he put his hand out and signaled for Erina to stay where she was. He swam over to the three-foot-long blue grouper he’d seen earlier, cruising about ten feet above the sandy bottom. Its saucer-like eyes stared at him and its large lips curled as if puckering for a kiss. He hated having to do what he was about to do, but he didn’t have a choice.

He pulled the knife back and thrust the blade deep into the grouper’s belly, twisting it up and around, creating a large jagged wound.

The innocent and normally slow-moving fish started to thrash violently in the water. Blood and intestines oozed out, spreading a pink cloud. For the sharks, the grouper’s wild movements would be a dinner bell.

Carter did the same to a second grouper and slid the knife into its sheath, now strapped to his waist. He then motioned for Erina to join him.

They started swimming toward the cave at a steady pace. He breathed slowly through the rubber mouthpiece of the device and out through his nose, keeping his focus locked on the cave mouth, very aware of their relative position in the ocean’s food chain.

He turned his head and saw a blur of movement flash through the water toward the wounded groupers. Most likely the shark he’d seen earlier. It tore into the wounded fish, creating a swirling cloud of red. Dinner had been served.

He squeezed Erina’s hand. She returned the pressure and they continued to stroke toward the cave mouth.

The flashlight lit up the inside of the cave, a beautiful and dangerous world of bright coral.

They weren’t dressed for the occasion.

Erina wore small briefs and a bra, while Carter was only in his board shorts. If they brushed against the coral, the sharp points would rip their skin and the scent of blood in the water could bring the sharks hurrying back.

Fortunately, the width of the cave gave them plenty of room to maneuver.

Carter glided through the opening, three-quarters of a body length ahead of Erina, careful not to make any sudden movements or get too far ahead of her.

They followed the light into the mouth of the brightly colored tunnel.

When they’d swum about a hundred feet, his insides turned ice-cold. He reminded himself that dogs killed more people than sharks and it was almost unheard of to see more than two sharks in an area like this.

He raised his free hand and stopped swimming.

The flashlight lit up another shark a hundred feet away, cruising very slowly along the floor of the cave toward them. Clearly it didn’t subscribe to the theory that sharks swam alone.

Erina moved up next to him.

He pointed down.

She involuntarily jerked backward.

He grabbed her hand and switched the light off.

Feeling his way in the ink-black darkness, he positioned himself above her. He covered her back and wrapped his arms and legs around her, protecting her from the coral as they floated upward toward the ceiling of the tunnel. She offered no resistance, clearly understanding what he had in mind.

He hunched his head and shoulders forward, ensuring only his daypack, which covered half his back, made direct contact with the roof’s coral lining.

Their bodies’ natural buoyancy pressed upward, holding them in place. Carter clung to Erina blindly, like a limpet, his heart pounding against her back.

He could feel Erina’s heartbeat too. It was relatively steady.

Her hands squeezed his forearm, reassuring him.

He returned the gesture and clamped down on his breathing device.

Bloody sharks
, he thought to himself and focused all his attention on the flow of his breath.

24

After what seemed an extraordinarily long time, but in reality was less than a dozen heartbeats, there was a surge of water up ahead of them, indicating that the shark, whose massive body displaced a large volume of water, was moving toward them.

The shark had a simple choice to make. Either it’d strike them hard and fast or swim straight for what was left of the dying fish outside the cave, oblivious to all else.

The moving wall of current pushed against them with greater intensity. The shark was accelerating.

Carter tensed his stomach and shoulder muscles. Erina gave his arm a reassuring double squeeze.

He hugged her even harder. The worst-case scenario, he told himself, was that he’d get to die in the arms of the person he cared most about in the world.

Then the current jammed them hard against the roof.

He held his breath in the darkness, bracing for a ferocious strike when …

The current receded.

Followed by a profound and beautiful stillness.

He expelled the air he’d been holding in and started counting.

One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three …

He released his grip on Erina and pushed her away from him. They separated slowly, like two isolated probes in deep outer space connected by an invisible bond.

He switched on the flashlight and the bright beam cut through the clear water.

The cave was empty – they seemed to be alone.

His gut and shoulder muscles relaxed. For now, the watery nightmare was over.

He shone the flashlight on Erina, who was already stroking toward the bottom of the cave.

She turned and gave him a thumbs-up sign, as if to say, “I told you so.”

He reciprocated the gesture.

—

They swam through the dark tunnel. The only sign of life they encountered was a handful of crabs scurrying across the bottom.

After nearly ten minutes, the cave widened and the floor fell away another fifteen feet. The temperature dropped and Carter’s buoyancy decreased, suggesting less salt in the water.

He stopped swimming and pointed the flashlight upward. The light refracted into the open air above them, indicating a large pocket. He swam toward it.

His head burst through the surface. He trod water and shone the flashlight about him. They’d reached the end of the tunnel and had entered the large rock-walled cavern Djoran had told them about.

To his right he heard running water and the hum of an electric motor, both impossibly loud after the underwater silence.

He switched off the flashlight, spat out his breathing device and turned toward the sound.

A weak light lit up six men dressed in army fatigues standing along a rock ledge, each pointing an Uzi at his head. His concern about the sharks suddenly seemed like a distant memory.

Erina’s head breached the surface just in front of him.

She gave him one of her half-smiles. “We need to discuss this issue you have with sharks,” she said.

“It’s not our only problem.”

Erina looked up toward the armed men and said, “You’re right.”

A spotlight snapped on, filling the cavern with bright light.

He squinted.

“Out of the water,” a loud voice barked from above. “Keep your hands where we can see them.”

Carter saw only one option.

He pulled himself out of the pool and raised his hands.

Erina followed his lead.

“Turn around,” the voice said. “Put your hands on your heads.”

Carter and Erina did as they were told.

He sensed someone approaching from behind and braced himself.

1

Samudra’s compound, Batak Island, 2.40 p.m., 28 December

Kemala Sungkar pulled her long black cotton skirt from under her knees and adjusted the multicoloured embroidered prayer mat beneath her.

She knelt upright and stared at the shadows thrown against the wall by the bars that secured the only window in her room.

By order of Samudra, her younger brother by seven years, she was being held in a small wooden bungalow at the back of his island compound, furnished with only a thin mattress and a single wooden chair.

How she detested him and everything he stood for. She had tried hard to focus on her prayers, but her constant anger made it impossible. One question consumed her:
How had it come to this?

She was forty-six years old, and throughout her entire personal and professional life, the cornerstone of her daily existence had been her duty to family and her beloved religion, Islam. Now she was imprisoned by her own brother in the name of the God she loved.

She closed her eyes and focused on calming her racing mind. The problem was, when she became quiet – when she tried to pray – she had to face the undeniable and disturbing truth that she herself was in part to blame for this diabolical situation. Her own behavior, her lack of action, had made it possible.

It was easy to see with the clarity of hindsight that growing up in a family with power and influence had made her ignorant and complacent. She’d been blind to the corruption and graft that were such an integral part of life in Indonesia, and to the suffering of the large mass of those less fortunate. But the clan’s true rot had started with Arung, her older brother, after her father’s death.

Like many women in her position, she’d never questioned the source of the family wealth that made her privileged lifestyle possible. For the last six years she’d been too busy flying between Jakarta and Palo Alto, completing an MBA at Stanford University, to think about who was paying for it, and how.

A sweet, pungent aroma drifted toward her from under the thick wooden front door. On the other side, one of Samudra’s mujaheddin sat smoking a clove cigarette, no doubt cradling a standard-issue automatic rifle in his lap.

Earlier that morning her dear friend Djoran had taken a huge risk when delivering breakfast to her bungalow. Under the bamboo cover of her tray, next to her orange juice and fresh fruit, lay a large metal key, a small handgun, a silencer, a roll of black packing tape and a folded note.

The note lay open on the wooden floor beside her. She picked it up and re-read it for the third time.

My dearest Kemala,

It pains me to inform you that Thomas has been captured and badly beaten, along with Wayan. Carter and Erina were captured this morning also. They are all being held in the cell on the compound’s western perimeter.

I am most saddened to say Samudra is planning to execute them early this evening and film the event.

The key I have provided will open the door to their cell.

You must free our friends, take them to the hidden bunker that I informed you about and flee from the island.

This is, I believe, your sacred duty.

My role is to stay close to Samudra and discover exactly what he is planning for Sydney. He has not as yet informed us of his intentions. Except that seven of us depart for Australia tomorrow.

Finally, I have provided you with a handgun and silencer. I know how much you deplore violence. But these are desperate times and we are called upon to perform desperate duties that go against our true nature and the highest calling of our faith.

Pray to God, but please do whatever it takes to free these people and get them and yourself to safety.

Have strength, my sister, and may God be with us all.

Your most loving friend,

Djoran

The key now hung around her neck, hidden under her loose-fitting garments, and she clutched it as her thoughts turned to the four people held prisoner by her brother.

Wayan was an ambitious boy, with the potential to bloom into a fine man and leader of his people.

She’d never met Carter. Though Carter had left the order, Thomas often spoke of him with warm affection, saying that if he reconnected with his spirit and true path in life, he was capable of greatness.

Erina remained an enigma to her. She felt the younger woman had never trusted her, always questioning her motives for befriending Thomas. Kemala often felt Erina was judging her and became very guarded, almost secretive, in her presence. She admired the younger woman’s spirit and skill nevertheless, and hoped one day to be her friend. She saw much of Thomas in her.

Thomas was without doubt the finest man she’d ever encountered, the one she’d been waiting for all her life. She still remembered the moment when she recognized the stillness and compassion in his soft brown eyes.

She had loved him ever since that first fateful meeting in Jakarta, sharing tea after they met at a talk about Sufism in the modern world. For the first time in her life, and from that day on, she felt connected in mind and spirit with another human being without any reservation.

Her family hated the order, so a true relationship between them was impossible. Thomas, recognizing the threat he posed to her safety, had never initiated any inappropriate contact. Still, she’d often thought longingly of how she might be with him.

Thomas lived a principled life – it was what had attracted her to him. He inspired her to look again at her own life, her own beliefs, and remove the blinkers from her sheltered eyes. Because of him, it became increasingly impossible for her to ignore the reality of her family’s activities.

When Samudra became clan leader and his agenda became evident, she could no longer remain loyal to her family. Nine months ago, after much angst, she had taken Thomas into her confidence and told him everything she knew about her brother and the clan.

To her great relief, he recognized the enormity of the threat and together with Djoran constructed a plan to discover Samudra’s true intentions and stop him.

Five days ago Samudra’s chief lieutenant, the vile westerner Alex Botha, who they called by the Muslim name Abdul-Aleem, had kidnapped her from the family’s compound in Jakarta and brought her here. She had been kept locked up in the bungalow ever since.

In that time, she had not laid eyes on Samudra and remained ignorant of what he intended doing with her.

For all she knew, he might wrap her in a sheet, lay her in a shallow grave and have her stoned to death, an archaic form of execution favored by some Islamic fanatics. According to their strict interpretation of Islamic law, by stoning a sinner to death, the executioner cleansed the sinner’s soul, thus allowing their spirit to enter heaven despite their moral transgressions.

The irony of murdering another person to cleanse them of their sins was not lost on her and brought the weakest of smiles to her lips. Her brother, in his self-righteous arrogance, would believe he was doing her an immense personal favor by killing her in this manner. To him, she was a delusional whore who deserved no mercy.

She was grateful for one thing: Her mother and father were no longer alive to witness the shameful turn the family’s business had taken, and its tragic fallout. Yet while they would have been appalled at where Arung and Samudra had taken the clan, they would never have forgiven her for moving against her younger brother.

Regardless of what her parents might have thought, she knew now what she needed to do, even if it threatened to destroy the Sungkar clan.

She stood and walked toward the thin dirty mattress on the floor, knelt down and lifted the top corner, exposing the handgun and silencer.

Samudra’s fanaticism was like an incurable disease, festering and spreading. Ultimately, it would prove fatal for him and many others. She needed to put an end to the madness. Faith without action meant nothing. Her time had come.

She picked up the gun.

The metal felt cold in her hands. She observed the details of the small wooden handle, then checked the magazine and counted six bullets ready for duty.

Her heart started to race and her chest flushed with adrenal heat.

She placed the weapon back on the bed with the awe and care accorded a sacred icon. It both scared and excited her.

From this moment forward she knew nothing would ever be the same for her again.