In Too Deep

by Jude Watson

  CHAPTER 10

  There was no hint of cruelty on Isabel’s face. That was the scariest thing of all. Just that same bright smile.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Amy asked.

  But Isabel didn’t seem crazy. Now Amy could see the ice under the warmth. “You don’t need a suit,” Isabel said. “It won’t matter in a few seconds anyway. Or minutes. The sharks might be feeding on the fish parts, but they’ll get to you eventually.” She kicked the bucket slightly with her bright white sneaker. “And I have plenty more. So. What do you say? Swim or talk?”

  “I’m not jumping in that water,” Amy said, standing up and going to the opposite side of the boat.

  “Well, if you won’t do it yourself, I can toss you in,” Isabel said. “Heave ho and all that. Martial arts training. Not a problem. Ian can help.”

  “Mum?” Ian’s voice wobbled a bit.

  She turned on him fiercely. Her voice was like a knife cutting glass. “Not Mum! How many times must I remind you? It makes me sound old!” She regained her composure and shrugged at Amy. “So, maybe my lazy coward of a son won’t give me a hand. But I don’t need one.”

  She moved toward Amy. Amy backed away until she hit the rail. There was nowhere to go except the water.

  “Little Amy and little Dan,” she said. “Who knew they would find a way to travel the world? Paris, Moscow, Venice, Seoul, Karachi. You sent the Lucian stronghold into a frenzy.”

  Karachi? Amy thought through her panic. She and Dan hadn’t been to Karachi.

  “Who helped you in Russia? How many clues have you found?” Isabel planted her muscled arms on the rail on either side of Amy. Up close, Amy could see the eerie tight perfection of her skin, the cruel glow in her dark golden eyes.

  “Throw some more fish in the water,” Isabel barked to Ian.

  Ian didn’t move.

  “NOW!”

  Ian rose and went toward the bucket. Amy’s heart banged against her chest, and she couldn’t seem to get a breath. Isabel was no longer pinning her against the rail, but she was close and ready to spring. Amy wondered what her chances were if she ran to the bow and jumped in. If she swam as fast as she could, how far could she make it before a shark chewed off a piece of her?

  Isabel turned impatiently to watch Ian, and Amy saw something out of the corner of her eye. A spray of bright colors in the sky over Isabel’s shoulder. Orange, purple, pink — striped paragliders soaring over the beach.

  The red-and-orange paraglider moved faster than the rest. It scudded across the sky, making a wide loop over the water. Amy realized that it was catching wind currents, heading closer and closer to the boat. She saw a pair of beefy white legs dangling. Meaty hands on the controls.

  Hamilton!

  Not by a flicker, not by a breath, did Amy indicate what she saw bearing down on them. Isabel urged Ian to hurry. The shark fins circled the boat.

  Amy tensed as Hamilton caught a downdraft. He temporarily blocked out the sun. Isabel looked up, shading her eyes, as he zoomed down. “Come on!” he shouted to Amy. She leaped up on the cushioned bench and grabbed for his ankles.

  “Woo-hoo!” Hamilton screamed as Amy tucked up her legs and held on.

  Isabel screamed in fury and tried to grab Amy’s legs. Hamilton steered the paraglider away. It lurched to the left, and Isabel sprang and snatched at empty air. At the same time, Amy kicked savagely at the bucket. It tipped, spilling fish guts and blood over the deck. Isabel slipped and fell into it. Blood and guts stained her pristine sneakers and white pants. She screamed.

  “Way to go, Amy!” Hamilton chortled.

  But another gust of wind sent them scudding sideways, and Isabel managed to grab hold of Amy’s ankle with a bloody, fishy hand. Amy screamed and kicked.

  “Whoa!” Hamilton shouted as the paraglider tilted.

  Isabel slipped and fell back into the fish parts. Amy tucked up her legs again as they sailed over the boat railing. She was barely clearing the water now. Only inches below the surface she could see the dark mass of the shark.

  “H-Hamilton …”

  “Just hang on!” he shouted.

  Amy’s sneaker skidded along the surface. The shark whipped around.

  “HAMILTON!”

  “Don’t worry! This baby has a motor!”

  “Then USE IT!”

  The motor kicked on. The paraglider rose inches above the water. They skimmed along, and it rose higher and higher. Soon they were soaring over the bay.

  “Okay!” Hamilton yelled. “I think I have the hang of it now….”

  Amy’s arms began to ache. “Hamilton, I can’t hold on!” she shouted. If she fell from this height, she didn’t think she would make it.

  “No problemo, Ame-o,” Hamilton called. With his powerful legs, he simply bent his knees and pulled her up higher. “Grab on to the harness,” he told her. Amy grabbed the paraglider bar, and they lurched to the side. “Whoa, baby,” Hamilton said to the paraglider, correcting the movement.

  “That was a little too close,” Hamilton said. “Sorry. This is my first time on one of these things.”

  “And you flew down to rescue me? Weren’t you scared?”

  “Holts don’t feel fear,” Hamilton said. “Haven’t you heard?”

  The other paragliders were soaring toward them now. She saw Eisenhower’s red face. He was shouting something.

  “What is your dad saying?” Amy asked.

  “Don’t know,” Hamilton said. “I turned off my radio. He probably wants me to land so we can question you. He has no idea why you’re in Australia. It’s driving him bonkerinos. But you came through and gave me that clue. So I owe you.”

  He soared to the far end of the beach, coming in near the shallow water. “There’s a road at the end of the beach,” he told her. “You can find your way back.”

  “Looks like I owe you one now,” Amy said.

  “You bet. I’ll collect one day. Don’t forget the Hammer. The Holt brigade is behind that hill, so they won’t see you if you run fast. Keep your knees bent when you jump and run like a hurricane wind. I’m going to take off again.”

  He gently steered the paraglider down. “Now!” he yelled, and Amy let go.

  She bent her knees as she hit the soft sand and took off. Hamilton rose, catching an updraft, and was soon sailing high above her.

  Her legs were shaking, but she managed to run up to the road. She slowed to a walk when she knew she was safe. She tried not to think about the sharks and the bloody water.

  Jamming her trembling hands into her pockets, she started to walk. Images bombarded her — fire, blood, sharks, Isabel’s lipsticked mouth like a scar. The sun around Isabel’s head had looked like fire….

  Damp grass against her bare legs. Smoke. Fire. Her mother bending over her, her hands on Amy’s cheeks …

  Amy shook her head hard. She didn’t have to remember! She didn’t want to! The images made her feel sick and dizzy and scared.

  You don’t remember what you should never forget.

  But what if she didn’t want to remember? What if she wanted to lock away a memory forever?

  CHAPTER 11

  Mummy wasn’t happy.

  That was never good.

  But this time, it was sour-faced Spasky getting the heat. That was sweet.

  Natalie kept her posture straight, even though it was difficult on the cushy sofa. She kept sliding forward on the slippery satin. But even while Mummy ranted, she could spot slumping shoulders.

  Ian sat next to her. He’d come back seasick, his face the color of her new chartreuse Prada purse.

  “This is your fault.” Isabel’s voice had taken on the cool, precise tone that Ian and Natalie privately called the scalpel. It sliced you open and left you bleeding. She paced in front of Irina, her high heels making dents in the thick carpet of the hotel suite. Her heavy charm bracelet jangled along with her agitation. “I had to soak for an hour to get the smell out. I had to throw away my entire outfit. And it was Cha
nel!”

  Natalie shuddered. Nothing worse than losing couture.

  “Not to mention that the girl got away!” Isabel put her hand to her throat, where Amy’s jade necklace gleamed against her sleeveless white dress. Natalie had no idea why she was wearing it when she could be wearing diamonds.

  “Excuse me, but I don’t see why this is my fault,” Irina said. “Reminder: I was not on boat.”

  Ian stiffened beside her and Natalie stared at Irina, fascinated. Didn’t she have any idea how to handle Isabel when she was angry? You had to agree with everything she said and apologize, no matter how unfair the accusations were. Otherwise, you were toast.

  Isabel wheeled and approached her. Natalie knew that look. Irina was about to get it. Both barrels between the eyes. This was going to be very good.

  “Excuse me,” Isabel said witheringly. “You had one simple assignment. Find Amy. Bring her to the boat.”

  “Excuse me for second time,” Irina said. “She did go aboard boat, which was the objective. I do not see—”

  “You do not see because you are a fool!” Isabel let her contempt drip from every word. “You were supposed to deliver Amy at three-twelve exactly. And you were supposed to arrive by Argyle Street so that Ian could spot you with the binoculars and I could prepare the boat. You didn’t do any of it! You were fifteen minutes late. Fifteen minutes! That gave the Holts enough time to get organized. Even those thick skulls don’t need too long to figure out a plan!” Isabel planted herself in front of Irina. “They had us under surveillance. And you are responsible for counter surveillance. So add it up, Irina. Not only did you fail … you failed miserably.”

  Natalie smirked. Why shouldn’t she let Irina know how much she was enjoying this? Irina had never gotten it into her head that she wasn’t the boss. Ian and Natalie were the personal representatives of Vikram and Isabel. They were the de facto Lucian leaders. Irina couldn’t bear that.

  Isabel held up her thumb and index finger a fraction apart. “I was this close to getting her to tell all the clues they had. This close! That little mouse was terrified.”

  “What if she didn’t?” Irina asked.

  “What if she didn’t what?”

  “Cooperate. You would throw her to sharks?”

  “Don’t bore me with what ifs,” Isabel said, turning and waving a hand. “I am about results. And now we’ve been defeated. By the Tomas. Unacceptable!”

  Isabel’s narrow, toned shoulders lifted up, then down. When she turned around, her expression was calm. Not that her face ever showed much emotion. Isabel kept the best plastic surgeons in London very busy. She’d been pulled, pricked, smoothed, and plumped. Natalie wished her mother wasn’t quite so obsessed, but she guessed that once you were in your forties, it was a gigantic amount of work to keep yourself up.

  “The thing is, Irina, this isn’t the first time you’ve failed to achieve our objectives,” she said. “You’re slipping. You’re … well, frankly, you’re old.”

  “Reminder,” Irina said. “We are the same age.”

  “Old thinking,” Isabel said. “You don’t keep up. You were once the best spy in the business. I give you that. But if you don’t shape up, you’re going to be out. Do you understand? It’s crunch time, as the Americans say. There is no such thing as failure for a Kabra.”

  “Don’t you mean, no such thing as failure for the Lucians?” Irina asked.

  Isabel looked uncertain for a moment. “Of course that is what I meant.”

  “Because this contest is about power for the Lucian Cahills, not the Kabra family,” Irina said. “Unless I’ve been misinformed.”

  “Well, naturally.” Isabel’s fingers drummed on her leg.

  Somehow, Irina had succeeded in making Mummy uncomfortable. Isabel flicked a piece of lint off her dress as though it were a missile. Natalie hoped her mother would demolish Irina, or they’d be in for a very bad afternoon.

  “And I would also argue that perhaps Kabras do know failure occasionally,” Irina continued, keeping her voice bland. “Your children, for example.”

  You hateful witch, Natalie thought. She waited for Ian to say something, but he was like a statue next to her.

  Irina smiled. “It seems that Amy and Dan Cahill have bested them at every turn. How many clues have you two collected?” she asked. “I mean, the two of you, alone. How many?” She put a finger to her temple. “Let me think … oh, I remember! One.”

  “Mummy!” Natalie half rose. “She can’t talk to us that way!”

  Irina turned back to Isabel. “The truth is that those two have turned out to be much smarter than we expected. And what if they discover what really happened to their parents? Now, they are resourceful. If they have an even greater reason to win — revenge — they will be dangerous.”

  Suddenly, Isabel undid the clasp of the jade necklace and threw it at Irina’s feet.

  “That is what I think of those Cahills. Not to mention your ridiculous obsession with Grace Cahill. She was a batty old lady who thought she knew best. Well, she and her grandchildren won’t get in our way — no matter how much they know.”

  Irina picked up the necklace. She ran her fingers along the carved dragon in the center.

  “You thought it was important,” Isabel said. “Another one of your mistakes. I had it thoroughly checked this morning. It’s just a necklace. A cheap piece of sentimentality that the girl clings to. It was a waste of my time to steal it. Well, I’m done wasting time. Now, if you could manage to do one simple thing.” Isabel tossed her cell phone to Irina. “Call the Fixer.”

  Who’s the Fixer? Natalie wondered.

  Irina cleared her throat. “I am no longer sure of his reliability.”

  “Of course he’s reliable,” Isabel countered. “We’ve used him many times. Tell him I’m in Sydney and I need a few things. I’ll contact him later with a list.”

  Isabel picked up her purse. “Ian, Natalie. Come. We’re going shopping.”

  Natalie popped up. At last!

  “Let yourself out, Irina.”

  The door slammed behind them. Natalie had to practically skip to keep up with her mother’s fast pace. “Irina is just jealous of you,” she said. “She wants to be leader, and she’s just hopeless at it.”

  “Right,” Ian said. Natalie shot him a look. He was supposed to sound enthusiastic. Isabel counted on them for support.

  She expected her mother to smile and agree, but Isabel just stabbed the elevator button. “Shut up, Natalie, I’m trying to think,” she snapped.

  Natalie rubbed her fingers along the fabric of her sweater. Cashmere. Her mother had bought her one in every color. Whenever she felt upset, she thought of them stacked in her huge closet at home in London. She had the best mother in the world.

  Isabel stabbed the elevator button again. “Call the concierge, Ian,” she barked. “First, order a car. And second, tell them to fix their elevators.”

  “Yes, Mummy.”

  “And don’t speak to me, either of you,” Isabel said as the elevator doors opened. “I have to think.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The echo of the door slam faded. Irina stared at the phone. She would have to call the Fixer. He could be out of the country on a job, but that would be too much to hope for.

  There was one in every city, she supposed, a person who could get anything you needed. Passports, cars, explosives, poisons. The Lucians found such contacts valuable. The Fixer was one of the best. He did not balk at anything, he could get anything, and he asked no questions. She had used him herself.

  What would Isabel need from him this time? What was she planning?

  Restlessly, Irina paced the room. She had lost Isabel’s confidence. She no longer knew the plan, only parts of it.

  She ran her fingers over the cool green stones of the necklace. Isabel’s insults had washed over her like water. They hadn’t stung.

  She slid the necklace into the pocket of her black jacket and zipped the pocket shut. She never fel
t sentimental. Ever. Yet she understood sentiment. Having something a loved one had touched. Keeping it near.

  When she had finally made herself clean out Nikolai’s room all those years ago, she had folded his favorite pair of pants and found something in the pocket. Her own school medal for First Place Vaulting Championship. The metal was tarnished, the ribbon tattered and faded. But Nikolai had carried it with him. He had touched it every day. A reminder of his mother. She was away so much. He needed something real to keep her with him. She hadn’t known.

  She hadn’t known.

  That had been the moment she had broken. She had held the pants against herself and sobbed. She had screamed out her agony. She had put herself back together slowly, but she was never the same. She was still broken. She had lost her son.

  She slid her hand into her other pocket and touched the medal. Now it was her turn to keep something close as a reminder. To touch something he had touched.

  Irina, the problem in Helsinki needs your attention.

  My son is sick. It’s not a good time.

  She still remembered Isabel’s brittle laugh.

  Children are sick all the time.

  No, it is more than that. The doctor said …

  Don’t bore me with details. Do your job. The tickets are waiting for you at the airport.

  So she had kissed him, kissed his golden curls. She had whispered that she would be gone for only two days. Anna, her neighbor who watched him, whom he adored, Anna would be by his side. Irina would bring him back anything he wanted.

  A monkey, he said, and she had laughed.

  She had to go undercover. No communication, no phones, nothing. So she did not collect Anna’s increasingly frantic messages. She did not get the doctor’s call. She touched down in Moscow two days later and discovered that her nine-year-old son was dead. She was holding the stuffed monkey, an expectant smile on her face, when a weeping Anna told her the news.

  Now Irina rose. Once Isabel had forced her to do something that she regretted with every waking breath. It would not happen again.