by Chris Ryan
Then he stopped. He whispered something. He nodded at Lili. She nodded back. Hwan dropped the phone. It clattered and swung by its cord. For the benefit of the person at the other end of the line, Lili grabbed Hwan and said, ‘You come with us. Try to run again and I’ll shoot you.’ And she dragged him away from the phone.
Lili intended to get up on to Taedong Bridge and cross the river. That would put them on the correct bank to make their way to the real pick-up zone. But then something happened that almost made her heart fail. There was the sound of a police siren. It was coming from the north. As they ran to a stone staircase that led up to the bridge, they saw flashing neon lights. The police car had stopped on the northern bank of the bridge, metres from the phone booth.
A dreadful thought crossed her mind. Had the authorities been able to trace Hwan’s call immediately and dispatch a police car to investigate? She hadn’t even considered that this would be possible. All she knew was, they had to get away. Crossing the bridge was impossible: it was blocked. Going back the way they had come would be foolhardy. Heading north, in the direction Hwan had told his contact they would be fleeing, was obviously out. It left only one option: to follow the river.
But first, they needed to be sure their plan had worked.
‘This way,’ Lili hissed. They ran away from the bridge, past the phone booth where the handset was still swinging, towards a line of cars parked on the broad riverside road. It was the only cover she could see. Hardly ideal, but it would have to do. They crouched down between two vehicles – an old black saloon and a scuffed van with rusty panels. Hwan pressed his back to the bonnet of the van. He was sweating again, and muttering something to himself, over and over. Lili peered through the binoculars from between the two vehicles. She had a good view of Taedong Bridge, where the police car was still parked. And she could see the Yanggakdo Hotel on its island where they had been staying. She could just make out the lights and movements of the authorities still busying themselves around the hotel.
‘What do we do now?’ Hwan whispered.
Lili checked the time. 02:45 hours. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘we watch.’
A minute passed.
Two minutes.
There was no change. Nothing happened. The police car remained on Taedong Bridge. The activity around the hotel continued. With each minute, Lili’s stomach felt more leaden. Her strategy hadn’t worked. There was no sign that the North Koreans had believed Hwan’s story. Hector’s reluctance to agree to the plan echoed in her mind. He had been right. She had been wrong.
Hwan was clearly having similar thoughts. ‘I don’t know if he believed me. He kept asking me questions.’
‘What sort of questions?’
‘How I escaped. How I knew where you were heading. I didn’t have good answers …’
‘Well, it’s too late now,’ Lili snapped. Anxiety gnawed at her. She even began to wonder if Hwan had said the right thing. Maybe he’d been tricking her all along.
She was on the point of turning to her companion to confront him when she heard the helicopter. It came as if from nowhere, appearing from the south, fierce searchlights burning down into Pyongyang. The lights even lit up their hiding place, but only for a fraction of a second as the helicopter powered its way north.
And then there were the police cars. The one guarding the Taedong Bridge stayed in place, as three others screamed over the bridge from the far bank of the river. And by the hotel, there was a commotion. More police cars were heading towards the bridge that led off the island. Lili imagined seeing Pyongyang from a great height. She envisaged the vehicles like fireflies in the night, all heading north in the direction of their prey.
‘What is it?’ Hwan hissed. ‘What is happening?’
But Lili didn’t answer. She just lowered her binoculars, pulled out her sat phone and dialled a number. Abby answered almost immediately.
– Yeah?
‘They’ve fallen for it,’ Lili said. ‘They’re on their way to the fake pick-up point. You can rescue Max, Lukas and Prospero. Do it. Now.’
17
Chai
02:50 hours. Sami didn’t need telling twice.
He and Abby knew that Lili’s plan was working even before she had called them. They had seen the first helicopter heading north, and now two more were going in the same direction. Sami strode from the treeline towards the water, rebreather and underwater welding unit still strapped to his body. He was ankle-deep again before he turned and urged Abby to join him. ‘Quickly. We don’t have time to waste.’
Abby hurried down to the water. They looked out at the barge. Its deck was deserted.
‘We can’t swim underwater,’ Sami whispered. ‘We have no way of navigating to the boat, and the current is strong. We have to keep our heads above water until we get there. We might be seen. It’s risky.’
‘Tell me which bit of this isn’t risky,’ Abby muttered. ‘Listen, when the time comes, you need to cut a hole big enough for somebody to swim through. And it’s quicker to do a circle than a square.’
Sami raised an eyebrow.
‘Ah, so I used to pay attention in maths,’ she said. ‘The perimeter of a – oh, never mind, just cut a circle, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Without another word, they fitted their rebreathing masks and strode into the water. Within seconds they were shoulder-deep. Then they were swimming.
The water seemed colder than before, the current stronger. It was a struggle to keep on target. Sami could tell he had less energy than before. The night’s work had taken its toll and it was an effort even to keep afloat. But he and Abby kept going, muscles and lungs burning, growing closer to the boat, bit by bit.
It was the silence that got to Max, even more than the darkness. The faint thrum of the engines had stopped and there were no voices. Apart from their own steady breathing and, a minute ago, the sound of helicopters somewhere in the distance, there was nothing. No sound to indicate what their captors had in mind for them, or whether anyone was coming to the rescue. Occasionally, half-heartedly, he would pull at the chain that fixed him to the hull of the boat. Each time he did it, Prospero chided him in her rough voice: ‘Save your energy. You’ll need it for whatever our captors have in mind.’
Each time, either Max or Lukas would say, ‘Our friends are coming.’
And Prospero would say, ‘I hope not, kids. It’s a long way to the bottom of this river, and I can think of better ways to die.’
So could Max. Panic rose in his chest as he imagined the horror of being chained to the hull as the boat sank. He imagined shouting for help, and the moment when they couldn’t shout any more because the hull was full of water …
He found himself holding his breath, imagining what it would be like.
Stay away, he thought. Please stay away from the boat. You’ll kill us all if you scupper it now …
The boat was almost in touching distance. Its presence changed the current of the river and it was all Sami could do to stay afloat.
Abby was right next to him. It was clear she was also having difficulty, but together they finally reached the hull. It loomed threateningly above them. Close-up, it was much bigger than it had seemed from the shore. Sami uncomfortably imagined that huge block of metal and fuel sinking, with him trapped below it. The thought made him want to swim away. He had to muster all his courage.
He felt for the underwater welding kit strapped to his chest, then he looked at Abby. They nodded in unison. Then they pushed themselves below the surface.
Stay away, Max prayed. Please stay away. He tugged on the metal chain.
‘Leave it –’ Prospero started to say.
But Max interrupted. ‘Just … just let me think,’ he hissed. He could tell that Prospero had no faith that the cadets would come to their rescue. He had to work this one out for himself, but he couldn’t get the thought of drowning out of his head.
That thought triggered something in his memory. He was back in first class on the flight to Beijing.
Hector was explaining the plan for entering the river. When he had finished, Abby had spoken. What was it she’d said? I’m not going to lie. I’ve always been terrified of drowning. I’m beginning to wish we’d spent more time learning to dive and less time on the old Morse code.
And Hector had berated her. Morse is an important skill.
An important skill … and one in which all the cadets were thoroughly versed.
‘We need to warn them that we’re chained up,’ Max said suddenly.
‘How’re we going to do that?’ Lukas said. His voice had lost all patience. ‘Instagram?’
‘No,’ Max said. ‘Not Instagram. Like this.’
He clenched his fist and started to pound a rhythm against the hull. His thumping made a dull sound. He could only pray that it would be audible in the water.
A slimy metal ring protruded from the hull. Sami grabbed it. Then he turned his attention to the underwater welding unit, which he handled with great care. There was a thin metal lance attached to a handheld trigger mechanism. A narrow pipe led to the fuel canisters strapped to his chest. The weight of the gear kept him just below the surface of the water. He positioned the cutting lance so its end was almost touching the hull. Abby trod water next to him. He gave her a warning nod through the murky water, then prepared to ignite the welding unit.
A muffled thud stopped him.
He didn’t know what it was. It was very quiet, hardly there at all. But it seemed to come from inside the hull of the boat. For a horrible moment, he thought it was the vessel’s engines starting up again, but then there was another thud. Then a third and a fourth. The gaps between the four thuds had a distinct pattern. Long short long short. There was a pause before the thuds started again. Short short short short …
Sami understood immediately. It was a message, delivered in Morse code. The first two letters had been a C and an H. Short long. Short short. An A and an I.
C – H – A – I –
The thudding stopped. Sami repeated the letters in his head. Chai? That didn’t make sense. Then the thudding started again.
N – E – D – U – P – C – H –
He realised the message had gone back to the beginning. It was repeating itself.
A – I – N – E – D – U – P – C – H –
He grouped the letters in his head.
CHAINED UP.
Sami wouldn’t have thought it possible to be more scared. But he was. Was this Max or Lukas communicating with him? If he cut a hole in the hull, and they were chained to the vessel, he would kill them.
Unless he was able to free them before they sank.
That seemed to be his only option.
He fired up the welding unit with a flick of the ignition trigger. A blindingly bright orange flame shot from the end of the lance, causing the water around it to bubble and boil furiously. It was loud enough to muffle the Morse code thudding. He touched the intense flame to the hull and was immediately surrounded by an impenetrable cloud of pulverised metal. The flame penetrated the hull almost immediately. He started to trace a circle, working as fast as the welding unit would allow.
Light.
It appeared just to the right of where Max was thumping his message on the inside of the hull, and it burned his vision. It was the tip of a flame, white hot and intense. It was immediately followed by a spurt of water jetting into the boat.
‘They’re here!’ he shouted.
‘What the …?’ Prospero was plainly astonished.
‘We told you they’d come,’ said Lukas.
The welding unit’s flame arced upwards. Whoever was controlling it was moving quickly. The initial spurt of water became a jet, then a steady flow as the pressure from outside forced it into the hull.
‘We’re in here! We’re chained!’ Lukas shouted loudly, but Max knew there was no point. The water and the noise of the welding unit overpowered his voice. Max could just see Lukas’s face, and Prospero’s, by the light of the flame. They were shadowy and alarmed. Even Prospero was tugging at her chain in a futile attempt to loosen it.
By the time the welding unit had made a semicircle, the water in the hull was ankle deep. Max, Lukas and Prospero were covered in spray. Lukas had stopped shouting. They were all banging on the hull, trying to attract the attention of the person with the welding unit.
They were silenced by a terrible creaking groan. The boat shifted in the water. The flame disappeared: its operator had been knocked back by the movement of the sinking vessel. It was totally dark again, but Max could hear the water gushing into the hole in the hull.
He was frozen with fear. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even move. He knew the ship was going down. In minutes, perhaps even in seconds, his nightmare about drowning would become a reality.
The barge was sinking much quicker than Sami expected. He’d only cut a semicircle in the hull. He knew he didn’t have enough time to complete it. He had to work quickly. Instead of completing the circle, he started to cut across it. The water bubbled and billowed. The hull was still sinking but he kept at it, fiercely concentrating on keeping flame to metal. The line of his cut was jagged and uneven, but he had almost completed the semicircle …
Then the cut was complete. Sami extinguished the welding unit. The metal semicircle flew into the hull from the external pressure of the water, which gushed into the hole in a torrent. The boat sank a little more. Sami’s every instinct screamed at him to get out of its way, to swim to the surface. But he couldn’t. His job wasn’t finished yet.
Sami cursed inwardly. The hole in the hull was too small for him to squeeze through with his rebreather on. He’d have to ditch it. He unclipped it from his body and felt it float away. The welding unit, though, he kept strapped to his chest. He grabbed the edges of the semicircle and squeezed his way into the boat. The cutting apparatus scraped against the jagged edge of the metal, but within a few seconds he was in.
His head and shoulders were above water, but he couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. He inhaled deeply, then shouted. ‘Max? Lukas?’
His friends screamed back. He only heard parts of what they were saying. ‘Sami … chained up … get out … save yourself …’
Sami ignited the welding unit again, more for light than heat. The angle of the sinking boat was such that Max and Lukas were neck-deep. Beyond Max was a third person – a woman with a bruised, leathery face. Their eyes were dead with terror. They shouted at him, but he couldn’t understand them and there was no time to try.
Lukas was the closest. Sami gulped another lungful of air and dived towards him.
The water glowed, burnt orange. It had covered his mouth. Max stretched his neck upwards to suck in a final, desperate mouthful of air.
Then he was under.
The deafening roar of the water gushing into the boat became muffled, hardly there at all. He could see the welding unit glowing underwater, and the blurred silhouettes of Sami and Lukas. Within seconds, Sami had freed Lukas, cut through his chain. They surfaced for oxygen. Max tried to do the same, but he couldn’t: his chain wasn’t long enough for him to reach the tiny pocket of air above. He looked at where Prospero had been. She was underwater!
His lungs were on fire. He started to panic. He needed air. He had to have it. His chest felt as though it would implode.
Then Sami was there. The welding unit was still burning, but to Max’s horror he saw it flicker. Would there be enough fuel to cut through his chain? And what about Prospero’s?
He felt dizzy. All of a sudden he was only half aware of his friend. He was desperate to inhale, even if it meant sucking in a lungful of river water …
Suddenly he felt the chain release. He urged himself upward, his body shrieking for oxygen. But the air pocket was no longer there. They were completely underwater!
He felt his blood pounding. Time seemed to slow down. He didn’t know where he was or where to go. Then he felt somebody tugging his left arm. He allowed himself to be dragged through the wate
r. It felt thick, like treacle. He could barely move.
Sharp metal. He was being squeezed through a hole with jagged edges that cut into his wetsuit. It was totally black, and he was alone. There was nobody with him any more. He knew, in the tiny corner of his mind that wasn’t blanketed from lack of oxygen, that he had to get to the surface within seconds, or he’d die.
But which way should he swim?
It was like floating in space. There were no directions. No up and down. Maybe, he thought, he should give up, let the overpowering drowsiness that had crept up on him simply take over …
No. The urge to survive kicked in and he realised what he had to do. He exhaled, feeling in front of his face for the bubbles, because they would always float to the top. He realised he was upside down. He righted himself and powered after them with all the strength he could muster. It took everything he had: the sinking barge had created an undertow that threatened to drag him deeper. With difficulty, he broke the surface of the water.
He had never gasped so hungrily and noisily for air – huge, reviving chestfuls of sweet oxygen. The dizziness and drowsiness disappeared. He wiped river water from his eyes and checked his surroundings.
He could just see the tip of the barge’s stern. There were people in the water, splashing frantically. Some of them were shouting in Korean. They were obviously frightened, too concerned with saving their lives to pay any attention to the cadets. They were trying to swim to the bank.
All except two. Abby was next to him. She had removed her mask and her face was a picture of panic as she tried to stay afloat. Lukas was just beyond her. He had obviously broken the surface a little after Max, because he was still gasping for breath.
‘Where’s Sami?’ Abby shouted. Her voice was unusually high-pitched and stretched. ‘Where is he?’
Max spun around, kicking hard to keep his face above the water. He could still feel the chain manacled to his ankle as he desperately searched for his friend. There was no sign of him – or of Prospero.
