by Chris Ryan
Hearst motioned for her to put the drinks down on a coffee table in front of the sofa. She obeyed, trying to take in as much detail about Bowman as possible. He was wearing the same clothes as he had on the night of the attempted assassination – so Li concluded that he'd been kidnapped that same evening. The jacket of the suit lay discarded on the back of the sofa and he was in his shirtsleeves. He looked tired, a resigned expression in his eyes – the typical look of the prisoner. Li wanted to give him a sign to indicate that she was there to help, but she couldn't. The most important thing she could do was assess whether he would be fit enough to escape. What about this illness the press office had mentioned? Was that real or just a smokescreen to explain his disappearance? It was hard to tell. Li silently apologized as she gave Bowman the used glass with its nasty mixture of orange juice and whatever else.
There were more glasses on the table and several ashtrays. As she loaded them onto her tray, she glimpsed papers underneath: some long paragraphs beginning with numbers; a sentence that went, whereas the contractor ArBonCo (known hereafter as 'the contractor').
It was some kind of legal agreement. Was this what Amber had heard Simon Ter Haar talking about – the agreement that Bowman had to sign and that would also be his death warrant?
She moved one of the papers to pick up a wet coaster. It revealed further papers underneath.
These papers contained a set of signatures.
Bowman had already signed.
There was something else there too. A piece of paper with a few lines typed on it and Bowman's signature beneath. Li tried to read it as fast as she could.
Forgive me. In time, Curaçao will recover. But I cannot live with the shame.
A suicide note. Li swallowed.
She finished clearing and left. It was a relief to get out. The staleness was oppressive.
There were no guards with Bowman at the moment; there probably didn't need to be – there was nowhere to go. Most likely they only had the one guard upstairs to wave a gun at anyone who misbehaved. Or to execute troublemakers.
She slipped into the next cabin. She needed to know every inch so that she could establish escape routes and possible hiding places. The cabin was big and opulent, like the previous one, but in mirror image. A navy blue silk dressing gown was draped over the end of the bed. She pulled open the wardrobe – shirts, linen trousers, deck shoes. This must be Hearst's cabin. In the bathroom was a handsome shaving brush. She had a quick look in his bathroom cabinet. Shaving foam and aftershave – plus various glass and plastic bottles. One of them caught her eye. She took it down and read the label. Temazepam. Sleeping pills. The bottle was full, so it didn't look as though Hearst used them a lot. In fact, it was surprising that Hearst used them at all: the rest of the cupboard was filled with vitamin pills. Why were they here?
Down in the water, Alex waited. The time dragged. He seemed to be checking his watch every three minutes.
Li had now been on board for about half an hour.
He heard the thrumming of an engine. After a few minutes a shadow slid over the brilliant blue surface. A boat was pulling up, a smallish motorboat the same size as the Fathom Sprite. It docked next to the boarding platform. Someone was coming aboard. Who? While he'd been down there counting the minutes Alex had conjured in his head a design for an unobtrusive periscope, but now he wished he had one for real. He'd have to get what clues he could.
Someone's weight dipped the boarding platform, making Li's gear swing. It only did it the once.
So, one person had come aboard.
A soft boom nearby in the water shook Alex for a moment, then he got himself together. That was Li's signal. A flash-bang on a long burn, attached to a paperweight.
Alex swam up to the hull, where Li's sea scooter hung, and attached his own scooter to the same set of magnets.
A big white shape cruised past. A shark. Li's boom must have attracted it. Alex's breathing inside the closed system grew rapid and loud. He forced it to slow. The shark would probably ignore him. But if he didn't calm down and concentrate on the mission he might make a mistake.
He slipped off his BCD gear, hanging it up with Li's, and pulled himself onto the boarding platform.
Behind him the motorboat rocked gently on the water.
Footsteps on the deck above! Alex shrank against the bulkhead. He was still wearing his wetsuit and hood, which would be a dead giveaway. They had decided there was no point in him bringing a disguise; with his fair colouring he obviously couldn't pass as a servant. If someone came down to the boat he would have to tumble into the water.
Slim legs in slip-on shoes reached over for the ladder. Li.
She pattered down and crouched next to him. 'You're well hidden,' she whispered. 'I couldn't see you from up there.'
Alex had loads of questions, but he had to get a swift and complete picture of the set-up first. 'How many are aboard?'
'Two with guns, one who was in the saloon and one who has just come aboard. He's the hit man we saw earlier at Ter Haar's. Otherwise there's Hearst, Bowman, a chef, a couple of maids and a captain and first mate on the bridge. But the staff are nothing to do with this, they're just running the boat.'
Alex groaned. 'We're up against the man who tried to drown Amber? I don't like the sound of that.'
Li was already thinking ahead. 'Bowman's signed. I'm sure they're going kill him now.'
'Where is he?'
'Down below in a cabin.'
'How many exits?'
Li shook her head. 'We can't sneak him out like that. But we won't have to. I don't think they're going to kill him here. They're going to drug him with sleeping pills and put him in the boat and take him somewhere.'
'Why?'
'Who knows? Perhaps Hearst doesn't want his upholstery ruined.'
'No,' said Alex, thinking hard. 'I reckon they want the body found. If they dump him here the body would break up and be eaten before it ever got back to shore. They need to have him identified as dead.'
Li nodded. 'That explains it. They could just shoot him here, but then he might never be found. With the sleeping pills, it will look like suicide.'
Alex looked at her. 'Why do you think that's what they're going to do?'
Li grimaced. 'I found the pills – and a suicide note. And Hearst has just sent me to fetch a bottle of water. '"Mr Bowman wants a long drink,"' he said.
Alex looked at her. 'You sound like you have a plan.'
Li nodded. 'I have. You need to get back in the water.'
20
STAND BY
'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 ma
gnets 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.
21
BOWMAN
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.
Pa
ulo 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.
