Authors: Chris Ryan
'I've got Alex's trace,' said Hex. 'He's out of the water.'
Paulo was leaning back dozing, soaking up the last rays of the afternoon sun. 'Now we just have to wait for Li's signal. Amber, are you sure all boats have satellite phones?'
Amber was looking brighter. 'Of course they do.'
Paulo sat up. He couldn't doze now. If Li had called Alex out of the water, the operation had moved on a phase. They were no longer doing reconnaissance, they were about to take action. 'Hex, are you sure we're not in a dead zone?' he checked.
'We're out in the open water,' said Hex patiently. 'There are satellites above us. There are no dead zones.' Beside him was a satellite phone, borrowed from Danny.
Amber felt her insides churn, but this time it wasn't because of the oil she had swallowed. She remembered the man who had tried to drown her, his cold persistence as he chased her through the plantation, his ruthless expression as he watched her dive. They were up against dangerous people, and the sickness she felt now was fear for her friends.
Alex slipped back into the water and under the boarding platform. Over his shoulder was a loop of rope which he had taken from the deck. He put his diving gear on and hung the rope on the washing line between the magnets, next to Li's diving kit. He had to work quickly; he didn't know how much time he would have. Pulling one of the magnets free, then the other, he swooped down, came up under the blue hull of the motorboat and fixed the magnets to the underside.
Now Li's dive gear was attached to the motorboat. The rebreather unit was no longer of any use – underwater, it was immediately soaked and useless – so the emergency air supply tanks were vital to the plan and Alex took special care to check they were firmly attached. He slipped off the loop of rope and then swam to the stern of the boat. The propeller hung down on the stalk from the engine, like a big electric fan. He tried not to think of it starting up – the sound of his breathing was so loud that he couldn't tell if there was anyone in the boat – but in his mind's eye he could see his hands and face disappearing in a blur of ripped flesh. Quickly he threw the rope over the engine, round the arm that connected it to the hull, then knotted it and let the rope unfurl into the water. Now he had to test the knot. The propeller was now right beside his cheek, so close that he could see the rust spots on the blades and the scratches in the paintwork. He started to feel queasy all over again – funny how the silliest thing could bring you out in a cold sweat. But he made sure he tested the rope. No sense in not doing it properly.
Relieved, he swam out of harm's way, leaving the rope trailing down into the water. From the surface, no one would be able to see it.
So far so good. He'd done all the essentials. He had a number of other items to secure but that was just to make life easier.
Soon the two sea scooters also hung from the bottom of the boat.
Now he had to wait again.
For the second time Li descended the stairs with a tray. On it was a bottle of water from the bar plus an empty glass on a paper coaster. She made her way to the cabin where Bowman was being held.
She pushed open the door and the stale air hit her like the blast from an oven. Hearst was in there with Bowman, plus the guard she had seen on the main deck and the hit man who had chased Amber. The hit man had a pistol in his lap. Li put the tray down.
Hearst turned to Bowman. 'We can do this the hard way, Bill, or are you going to make it easy for yourself?'
Bowman looked at his captors. 'If you don't mind, I think I'll have them with a glass of water.'
Hearst waved his hand towards Li in an imperious way. 'Pour.'
Li unscrewed the top of the water and poured it into the glass. She could see the bottle of sleeping pills on the floor by the arm of the sofa. As she filled the tumbler right up, she felt like she was committing murder herself. She slid the tray across to Bowman, leaving the glass on its coaster. Hearst bent down and picked up the bottle of pills and poured out a heap. There must have been at least twenty – a massive dose. He pushed them across the table. 'Down the hatch, Bill.'
Bowman picked up some pills and looked at them.
'You said you wanted it the easy way, Bill,' said the hit man. He fingered the pistol.
Bowman seemed to decide he had no choice. He took two pills, then lifted the glass and washed them down with some water. The paper coaster was still stuck to the bottom of the glass. Li tried not to stare at it, her heart pounding faster. Would the others see what she had done?
The hit man spoke. 'Neil,' he said curtly, 'we don't want witnesses.'
Hearst twitched his head in the direction of the door. Li understood. She turned to go.
But while they were looking at her they hadn't been looking at Bowman. He had peeled the coaster off the bottom of the glass and crumpled it into his trouser pocket.
Good. He'd taken it. That meant he'd read the message Li had written on it. And he'd got the spare tracer, stuck on the coaster.
Li left the room and ran up the steps to the lounge. There was no time to waste. On a low table next to the sofa was a satellite phone. She picked it up and dialled.
Paulo answered. 'Yes?'
It was so good to hear his voice. Li used Spanish, in case she was overheard. 'I've got to be quick. Can you see the tracers?'
'Si,'
said Paulo. 'We've got two, but Alex's has disappeared.'
'OK, here's what you've got to do.'
Amber and Hex looked quizzically at Paulo as he finished the phone call.
'Who's this third trace?' said Hex.
'Why doesn't Alex's show?' said Amber. 'They were both on the boat.'
'The third trace is Bowman,' said Paulo. 'Li has given him the spare. Alex's has gone because he's underwater again. This is the plan. Bowman's will start moving soon and we need to shadow it in the boat – but not get too close. Alex will be with the boat all the way. They're going to drug Bowman, put him in the motorboat and dump him somewhere near to land so that he's washed up dead. He'll have at least one armed guard, possibly two.'
Amber shuddered. 'My old friend the hit man, no doubt. What do we do about them?'
'We don't,' said Paulo. 'When we see Bowman's trace move, we make sure we're nearby, but we don't actually go in to get him until we see it disappear again. That means the hit man has thrown him overboard and he's in the water – with Alex. The hit man goes, and we pick Bowman and Alex up.'
The others nodded, taking it in.
'What if the hit man decides to stove in Bowman's skull for good measure?' asked Amber quietly. 'That'll kill him before we even have a chance to rescue him.'
Paulo answered. 'They wouldn't bother with the sleeping pills then,' he said.
'We hope,' said Amber.
'What about Li?' said Hex, thinking carefully.
'She's staying on the boat,' said Paulo. 'We go and get her afterwards. When Bowman's trace disappears we need to move in fast. Alex will be using the emergency air supply and he and Bowman will run out of air quickly.'
Li was in the galley. The chef was chopping meat, while she was up the other end, pretending to wash glasses behind the bar. If anyone came along she could duck down so that she wasn't seen.
She had been there for nearly an hour when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Several sets, moving clumsily as though carrying something awkward. She looked through the window. Hearst, carrying a diver's weight belt, was in front, followed by the hit man, his head and shoulders appearing first. He was walking backwards.
As he reached the top of the stairs, Li could see that he was carrying Bowman, his arms hooked in Bowman's armpits. Bowman's head lolled, his eyes closed and his arms hanging limply. Coming up from below was the other guard, supporting the feet. They manoeuvred the awkward weight past the galley, Bowman swinging between them like a heavy hammock.
Li watched them for as long as she dared over the top of the counter, then ducked down out of sight. She didn't need to see any more. It had begun.
Alex felt the boat rock as someone – the hit man? – got into it and found their balance. Feet were moving about on the boarding platform above. There was a scraping noise and the boat dipped. Something heavy had just been loaded.
Hanging just a couple of metres under the boat, Alex gave a final glance at the equipment hanging from the bottom of the boat. It should hold.
The boat tipped slightly towards the rear as the hit man moved to start the engine. But the boat didn't rock nearly as much as when he had been on board on his own; his weight was counterbalanced by something. Bowman's dead weight in the bottom.
Alex hoped that Li had managed to carry out her part of the plan.
The engine spluttered into life. In moments they would be on the move. Alex made sure of his grip on the rope. Then the propeller bit and the boat accelerated. He found himself streaming behind in its wake like a fallen water skier, his weight belt keeping him a few metres below the water line. At first he could barely do more than hang on for dear life. But bit by bit he got used to it. It was like being a torpedo.
So long as they carried on at this speed, it was good; it meant that the hit man was oblivious to the cargo he carried below. Alex prayed it would stay that way.
'Hey, guys,' said Hex. 'That's Bowman. Time we were on the move.' He rattled off the co-ordinates to Amber and she started the engine, checking her compass to ensure they were on the right course.
Paulo was looking at the other trace on Hex's screen: Li, still on the
Black Gold.
'She can look after herself for a while,' said Amber. 'It's Bowman who needs our help first.'
Paulo nodded. Li was resourceful, brave and kicked like a mule. But she was staying in the lion's den and he couldn't help but feel uneasy.
The sun was setting. They'd been out there for a long time, waiting and worrying.
The hit man sped away from the
Black Gold.
He had a particular spot in mind, where the currents would take Bowman into land. On the floor of the boat lay a large shape covered by a tarpaulin – Bowman, hidden from view in case anyone came past and looked in. People who had been given sleeping pills in large quantities generally looked pretty ill; in fact, there was a risk that Bowman might die before he got him into the water. If so, all well and good.
All was going to plan, but one tiny thing surprised him. It was taking quite a bit of throttle to get the boat up to speed. Surely Bowman wasn't
that
heavy. Reaching the position he had aimed for, he checked his hand-held GPS and cut the engine. The boat drifted.
He kneeled in the boat, got his hands under Bowman's shoulders, tarpaulin and all, and heaved, lifting him up onto the edge of the boat. His head flopped into the water. The hit man tipped the rest of him in quickly, in case the cold water brought him round. As he did so, something fell out of Bowman's pocket. The hit man gave it barely a glance; it looked like a small coin.
Bowman sank, the green tarpaulin billowing up and distorting as if it was boiling. The weight belt ensured he sank quickly and he was soon out of sight.
The hit man turned away. Time to go.
The small silver tracer glinted in the sunlight on the floor of the boat.
Alex had to act fast. As soon as the hit man cut the engine, he was ready. Sure enough, the boat began to rock as the hit man prepared to throw Bowman's body overboard.
Alex let go of the rope and rapidly pulled the magnets off the hull while the boat was rocking above him. He let the two scooters drift slowly down. A head and shoulders appeared over the side of the boat, a trail of bubbles coming from the lips. Alex would have to work fast.
Moments later Bowman was floating down, the tarpaulin cocooned around him. Alex swam strongly towards him. It was like catching someone falling from a high building in slow motion; every second counted. His hand met the tarpaulin and he thrust it aside. Where was Bowman's face? He couldn't find it. The tarpaulin was like a giant, live curtain, moving with a mind of its own. He could feel something inside it struggling, but whenever he grabbed at it he only caught empty material. What if Bowman died here and now because Alex wasn't quick enough?
Then Alex saw Bowman's face; his mouth and eyes shut in tight lines. Tiny bubbles were escaping from his mouth. Alex pushed the regulator of Li's emergency air supply into Bowman's mouth and pinched the man's nose to force him to breathe correctly through it.
He waited. Was Bowman still conscious?
Suddenly, the big man came to life, his hands flying to the regulator. He began to take big, desperate gulps.
Alex had Li's mask on his arm. He put it over Bowman's face and the man took over, adjusting the mask so that it was comfortable. Alex relaxed. Bowman was OK and, what's more, he knew how to handle the equipment. Alex handed him Li's BCD and Bowman struggled into it.
It was only then that Alex realized he could stop worrying about the plan. It had worked. Li had successfully managed to swap the sleeping pills with Neil Hearst's vitamins.
Alex scribbled on his slate.
Friend.
He pointed to himself.
Bowman gave him a thumbs-up. The tarpaulin fell away from him like a cloak. He looked rather comical underwater in his shirt and suit trousers, making Alex think of a stunt man.
Wait here,
he wrote on the slate. Then he dived down after the sea scooters, powering like mad with his fins to catch them up as they sank into the deep blue. He grabbed them and pulled them back up. Glancing up to the surface, he checked that the motorboat had gone. The hit man thought he had done his job. Bowman was safe – for now.
But there was another problem to contend with. They didn't have much air. Li's rebreather obviously couldn't be used because the mouthpiece was wet – which also meant they couldn't buddy-breathe with Alex's. After Li's emergency tank ran out, there was Alex's own emergency supply and that was it. Twenty minutes' air total.
He wished they could get moving themselves, but he didn't know how far they were from the shore. Anyway, while they were underwater, the others couldn't see their trace, so swimming off would be pointless. Since the team had his co-ordinates from when the boat had stopped, they knew their position and would be coming. They had to stay where they were and just wait.
He hoped they would come quickly.
'Surely,' said Amber, 'the trace should have gone. He should be out of the boat and underwater with Alex by now.' She pulled on a pink sweater. Now the sun had set, it was colder.
Hex zipped up his black fleece. 'It's about ten seconds since you last asked. Look, it's still moving.' He showed her the screen. The small dot that was the tracer Bowman was wearing when loaded onto the motorboat was still moving steadily.
'I don't like it, it's taking too long,' said Paulo.
'Bowman hasn't gone in yet,' said Hex steadily. 'We'll see the trace vanish when he does.'
They settled back to wait.
Alex looked at his dive computer. They'd been waiting for ten minutes. He checked the dial on Bowman's tank. Nearly empty. He quickly pulled his own off his BCD and set it up so that Bowman could switch to his emergency tank. Bowman gave him a worried look; clearly he knew that air tanks weren't supposed to run out that quickly.
Alex stayed calm; he had to give him confidence. But as he swapped the tank it was like a final countdown starting. Ten minutes and then that was it – they would have to surface and take their chances. In the open water, even with the small scooters, they could be swept around by the current. Their strength would go and they would be far more at risk of drowning. Down here they had more control.
He looked into the miles of sea around him and the blue glowing surface and wished he could conjure up the white boat. Had something gone wrong? The sea scooters hung below him on their lanyards, drifting gently in the current. How far away was the bottom? The green tarpaulin had vanished, tumbled away into the blue. Had it floated all the way down or was it still going? Alex shuddered. He felt very alone.
Bowman pointed to Alex's slate and pencil. He wanted to write a message. Alex handed them over and Bowman drew a noughts and crosses grid, then put an X in the middle to start a game.
Alex took the slate back and marked a nought in the bottom left-hand corner before handing it back. He hoped they wouldn't have to play for very long.