66 Metres (36 page)

The SEAL floundered, and Jake knew that oxygen poisoning was taking hold. The SEAL thrashed about, his eyes wild. At this depth on pure oxygen, the SEAL's physiology would skip the wah-wah phase and go directly into confusion and convulsions. Jake circled behind him and thanked his lucky stars as he saw the bail-out tank on his backpack, and pulled it free. The SEAL slid deeper. There was no way to save him. Jake couldn't haul him up. He watched him drift downwards in a cloud of bubbles, and disappear from sight. Jake realised he'd just killed a man.

He finned upwards, and found the sled wedged into the metalwork, just above the funnel. The second SEAL was unconscious. The Rose was attached to the sled. Jake levered the sled free, and then heard a boom. What the hell was going on up there? Nadia… The last thing he wanted to see was her inert body drifting down to meet him. Gunning the sled's motor, holding the SEAL by the top of his rebreather, he ascended. The bail-out tank ran out long before he reached the surface, and he wondered what degree of decompression sickness he was going to suffer. But as he approached and could see the keel of Pete's RIB, he knew it had already started. Tingling in his legs and arms, and his vision was narrowing, as if he was looking through a tunnel.

He clung on tight to the frame of the sled, still gripping the SEAL's gear though it tore at his shoulder, and broke surface, gasping in air. He tried to shout for help, but nothing came out. His vision blurred. Tingling in his arms faded to numbness. All he could do was breathe, unable to disentangle the shouting all around him. In his mind he saw Sean, swimming frantically towards him.
I'm coming dad, hold on!
A cool blanket of seawater washed over Jake's head. He closed his eyes.

***

Nadia trailed Adamson down to the Tsuba's prow. She watched him struggle, then give up, and vanish into the depths. Did she feel remorse? No. She'd had no option. He'd have killed her and as many others as he could. Did she feel good about it, some insidious pleasure at taking a life? No. Could she do it again? Had she crossed a line she could never uncross? If she looked in the mirror, would she see a killer's eyes?

Yes.

She checked herself over. The bullet he'd fired at her, slowed by the water as well as her stab jacket and wetsuit, hadn't even grazed her. She stared upwards and spotted Pete's hull. As she swam towards it, something reared up in front of her, making her stop dead. The sled with the SEALs – no, wait, it was Jake plus another diver. Blood trailed from Jake's shoulder, and he had no regulator in his mouth. She finned hard as the sled breached the surface and dragged Jake up above the waves, then he slipped free and submerged. She caught him, pulled him away from the sled, and rammed her regulator into his mouth.

As soon as she rose above the waves, she yelled to Pete, but Claus was already donning mask and fins. He dived in and swam fast towards her. He hooked Jake's chin into the palm of his hand, and towed him back to Pete's boat.

‘Get aboard, Nadia, quickly!' Pete shouted.

She didn't. Dipping her head back underwater, she swam to the sled, bobbing on the surface, and the SEAL next to it, still breathing, floating face up. Hanging from the sled was a bag. She reached inside and closed her eyes with a silent
thank you
as she pulled out the Rose. It looked undamaged – albeit smeared with algae – its small LED still pulsing every other second.

Finally, she could save Katya.

Lifting her head above the surface, she inflated her jacket, and waved to Pete. She would have smiled except for the carnage all around her. And Jake, being hoisted into the boat. He looked like hell, white as a sheet. She tried to fin towards the boat, but didn't move forward. That was when she realised someone was behind her, holding her back, probably by the top of her tank. Someone very large, because he blocked out the sun.

‘Hand the device to me, Nadia.'

It took a moment to process, because he'd spoken in Russian.

‘No! Let me go or I'll drop it.'

He let her go. Pete was shouting something, but she didn't catch it, water splashing in her ears. Something about Ben. She turned to see the Russian, and was taken aback by his size. Like some scary character from a kid's fairy tale. The man she'd seen earlier in Hugh Town. He held an odd-looking pistol. He didn't look like he needed one.

‘Is that what you want to do, Nadia, drop it?'

The question caught her off-guard, because that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, having gone through so much pain to recover it.

‘I will,' she said.

Pete shouted again, and this time she caught most of it, though she didn't take her eyes off the Russian, and clutched the Rose to her chest.

Pete repeated. ‘Nadia, Ben's been shot. Jake's got the bends, we need to get them both to a hospital. Our radio's fried. His isn't,' he said, pointing at the Russian.

Ben?
Where was Ben? ‘What have you done with Ben?' she said.

‘The one you drowned shot him. Ben might make it. Up to you. Give me the device.'

She shook her head.

‘Then let it go, Nadia. Let it go now.'

She couldn't.

He reached over, seized her free hand, and hauled her, kit and all, into the boat. She still clasped the Rose.

She'd been outplayed.

She landed in the speedboat, almost on top of Ben, who was flat on his back, bleeding from his chest and mouth. She put the Rose down, as far from the Russian as possible.

‘Ben, can you hear me?'

He stared upwards, his breath rasping like sandpaper, occasionally coughing blood.

She unbuckled her gear, let it slide to the deck and stood facing the Russian. ‘Call for a helicopter!'

The Russian was so still for someone so large. And he spoke like a priest. ‘Hand me the Rose, Nadia. Then I'll call the helicopter.'

She considered her options. Even with a knife she doubted she could inflict much damage. Pete was yelling something lost in the wind and the waves slapping against the side of the speedboat. She thought of Katya, of Jake. And Ben, bleeding out at her feet. She reached out, picked up the Rose, and thrust it into his hands.

‘Take it.' Her voice cracked. ‘Now make the fucking call!'

She expected him to shoot her and drive off with the Rose, after having tossed her and Ben overboard. Instead, he switched on the radio, set it to channel 16, clicked it on, and handed her the mike.

She took a deep breath, then yelled. ‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is Subsea Divers, Subsea Divers. Medical emergency, gunshot wounds and decompression sickness. We need a helicopter at the wreck site of the SS Tsuba. Over.'

Waiting several seconds, she was about to repeat when the coastguard replied. He made her repeat the message, then asked for the GPS coordinates. The Russian pointed to the console, and she read them off.

‘Tell him the radio battery is dying,' the Russian said.

She did, and then the Russian switched the radio off. He turned to the other boat.

‘Help is on the way. I'm bringing Ben over to you. Stay calm and I won't kill you.'

He turned to Nadia. ‘Sit.'

He steered the speedboat over to Pete's RIB, the pistol hanging from his free hand. He waved it at Claus and Gary. ‘Take him onto your boat.'

Pete jumped in instead of Claus, and bent down low over his brother, who was coughing up more blood. Pete moved his hands under Ben so he and Gary could lift him into the other boat.

She caught Pete's eye. ‘I'm so sorry,' she said. ‘He wasn't meant to be here!'

Pete didn't answer, focusing on the transfer.

She stared into the boat, saw Jake's inert body next to Ben's, and went to cross boats, but the Russian laid a hand on her shoulder.

‘You stay, they live.'

She replayed it in her head. It was the basis of a deal, one also implying her fate. But he was looking at her strangely, as if searching her face. As if he knew her. She certainly didn't know him. She'd have remembered.

She spoke to Gary, who was trying to rouse Jake. ‘How bad is it?'

He glared at her. ‘It's fucking shite, Nadia. That's how bad it is!'

She recoiled. Of course they were angry. None of them had expected this, even if they'd volunteered, she'd dragged them into it.

Claus put a hand on Gary's shoulder. ‘The chopper will be fifteen minutes. A lot of damage might be done by then.'

She breathed fast, thinking. ‘Wait,' she said. ‘I have an idea.' She dived over the side before anyone could react, and swam to the SEAL, then towed him back to Pete's boat.

‘Give him pure oxygen. It's the best thing for him right now.' She reached the side of the speedboat.

Claus leaned over and unhooked the SEAL's backpack, and was about to pull him in, when the Russian spoke again.

‘Leave him in the water.' He aimed the gun at the SEAL. ‘Nadia, get back in this boat, or all deals are off. We leave now.'

Pete and Claus looked at each other. They went to undo the SEAL's weight belt, but the Russian waved the gun at them, so they backed off.

Without warning, the Russian shot the SEAL in the neck, the sound of the gunshot making Pete and Claus stagger backwards. The corpse sank beneath the waves in a blossoming cloud of red.

‘Do as she says,' the Russian said. ‘Save your friend.' He grabbed Nadia's wrist, and lifted her back into the boat again as if she weighed nothing.

He clunked the engine into gear, gunned it, banked around Pete's RIB, and headed back to shore.

She caught one last glimpse of Jake, half-conscious, the rebreather's regulator in his mouth. Then she saw Pete giving CPR to Ben. She watched until they were out of sight.

She slumped at the back of the boat. The Russian didn't say anything. She thought he'd slow the boat, shoot her, toss her over the side. But they carried on at high speed, bouncing off the wave-tops. At least the sea had finally calmed. Occasionally he turned around to stare at her, as if searching for something. At one point they heard a helicopter, then saw it in the distance going full speed the other way. Jake would make it. A ten minute low-altitude helicopter ride while on pure oxygen over to the recompression chamber. The spear in his shoulder would hurt like a bitch but he'd recover from that. But Ben…

The Russian suddenly pitched forward and vomited blood into the sea, like a demon from a horror film. He slowed the boat, waved the gun in her direction, looked like he might collapse, but recovered quickly. He wiped his mouth with a wet rag.

‘You missed a bit,' she said, pointing to the left-hand corner of her own mouth. He dabbed at his face then accelerated again.

‘Say nothing,' he said.

She wondered what was going on, but complied.

Finally she sighted shore up ahead, but it wasn't Hugh Town. A different island, one she'd not seen before. It was little more than a long mound, upon which stood a single large square house and a wooden jetty. Moored there was a sleek white motor cruiser with a raised wheelhouse and an upper sundeck, and a lounge area below with smoked windows. Built for speed, power and comfort.

The
Dragonfly's
engine whine diminished, and the Russian cut it to a murmur, the sound of the backwash reasserting itself as they surfed towards the jetty.

‘What now?' she asked.

‘Now is uncertain,' he said.

‘Really?' She'd assumed her imminent death to be the only certainty.

Two men dashed out of the house, and ran towards them.

The Russian turned to her as the boat drifted towards the jetty. ‘I must be sure. Is there one person who really cares about you?'

Nadia had had more than she could take. She wanted it over. ‘Go fuck yourself. I'm not playing games. I don't even know who you are, except you're dying.'

He held up a hand. ‘My name is Lazarus. Quickly, who is the one person you really care about?' He reached forward and held her hand inside one of his giant paws. How could someone so big be so gentle? There was a terrible earnestness in those eyes. And then she understood.
He knew
. She didn't know how, but he knew.

‘Katya,' she whispered. ‘My sister.'

He nodded, slowly. ‘I wasn't sure until I hauled you into the boat. Life has its own poetry.' He smiled, for the first time not a horror story character.

‘Lazarus… Is she..? Is Katya…?'

The boat bumped into the jetty. He threw a rope onto it, as the two men came thundering down the wooden planks. The larger one grabbed the line and secured it. She recognised him, though he'd lost some weight – the slicked black hair, the leer that twisted his mouth.

Slick aimed his Glock at Nadia. ‘Lazarus, you dumb fuck, you were supposed to kill her.'

Lazarus heaved himself up, and stepped onto the jetty, making the boat rock violently, forcing Nadia to grab both sides.

‘My price just went up,' Lazarus said. ‘I want her as well as the other one.'

Slick kept the barrel of his Glock trained on Nadia's face. ‘Why?'

Lazarus leaned closer to Slick. ‘Sisters,' he said. ‘I save both of them, they're in my debt forever.'

Slick's face hovered somewhere between sneer and smirk, then he lowered his weapon.

‘Come on then, bitch. Family reunion time.'

‘Wait…' She swallowed, tried to get the name out of her mouth. ‘Katya… Katya's here?'

But he didn't have to answer, because at that moment a brunette in a summer dress and heels stepped out of the boat onto the jetty.

Nadia knew it wasn't over. They weren't out of the fire yet, but she didn't care. She leapt onto the jetty and started running, barely able to see clearly as she sprinted towards her sister.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nadia, out of her wetsuit and into dry clothes and a light jacket brought by her sister, glanced at the motley crew squeezed into the motor yacht's lower deck lounge. The interior smelled of polished wood and leather, and was relatively stable as long as Lazarus stayed put. He'd cleaned himself up, and seemed to be holding it together, though occasionally he'd close his eyes for a minute, a look of intense concentration on his face, and he'd used the bathroom twice since they'd set off.