for fear of swamping the survivors before help arrived. He hovered as close as he dared and counted four figures in the water, clinging to an overturned hull. One of the survivors waved to him. It appeared that they were all right.
60
Kang had dived deep after striking the water and his effort paid off when the rest of Parnell’s boat landed where he’d just been. He opened his eyes only for a moment, but the brownish murk in the Thames diminished underwater visibility to nothing. He stayed under as long as he could, holding his breath as the distorted sounds of twisting wreckage and rumbling engines filled his ears. After what seemed like hours, he moved toward the surface, hands forward as he rose blindly in the water.
He broke the surface with a stale gasp of air bursting from his lungs. Kang hyperventilated for several minutes before his breathing returned to normal. He opened his eyes, to find that he was not out in the open water, but in the large air pocket formed by the capsized hull of Spitfire. He was also alone. The question in his mind about other survivors was quickly answered by the thumping sounds he heard outside of the hull. Moving closer, he could hear muffled voices on the other side.
He’d held on to his weapon through the crash and his first impulse was to use it; none of the other survivors were of any particular use to him now. Clearer thinking caused him to reconsider this hasty course of action and he began to work on his more important need to escape. Kang knew that the British patrol ships would be closing in on the wreckage soon, and the reverberating thumping he heard echoing off the overturned hull was the sound of a helicopter hovering over the crash.
Kang swam over to the opening that led to Spitfire ’s bow cabin. He braced himself in the hatchway, where he could rest and save some of the energy he was now using to tread water. Once comfortably set, he pulled his hands out of the water to inspect his weapon. Until it had dried and was cleaned, it was useless. Kang holstered the weapon and began looking for other tools that he might find useful in evading capture.
The bow cabin was partially submerged and littered with foam bunk mattresses and other items that had tumbled loose when the boat capsized. Light filtered through the cracks in the broken hull, illuminating the tapered space. The ship’s smooth hull retained its graceful lines until Kang’s eyes reached the port side, where Merlin had landed its fatal blow. There, the hull was driven in and shattered. The strong odor of fuel also permeated the air around him.
Kang began rummaging through the items floating in the grimy water and found a large black waterproof bag held partially afloat by the air trapped inside. The bag felt heavy as Kang pulled it toward him, weighted down by its contents. Positioning the bag to prevent its contents from spilling out and falling to the deep river bottom, Kang opened it and found the boat owner’s scuba gear.
Kang could scarcely believe his good fortune. Fate had provided him with the means of escape. He opened the valve on the tank; the pressure gauges jumped as the compressed-air mixture filled the lines. The tanks were nearly full, more than enough to see him safely to shore. If he paddled leisurely, the river would carry him far downstream from the accident and out of the immediate search area.
The chill of the river made him shiver as he looked through the dive bag. The owner’s fins, mask, and wet suit were all there. Kang stripped down to his underwear and placed the rest of his clothing in a plunge bag used for collecting artifacts from the sea. The brightly colored wet suit was loose-fitting on Kang’s lean frame; it obviously belonged to a man of substantial size. Still, the wet suit didn’t bind or restrict his movement, and it would insulate him from the cold of an extended river swim.
Kang suited up quickly, not knowing how much longer he had before the patrol boats arrived. He strapped on the tank and checked the regulator, blowing it clear of any water or debris before inhaling.
Just as he prepared to slip under the water, he noticed a fluorescent red pouch floating in the cabin. The bold black letters read EMERGENCY FLARE PISTOL. Kang retrieved the watertight package and checked its seals. Everything inside the waterproof pouch was dry.
Quickly, Kang pulled out the flare pistol and loaded it. He then slipped down into the water, leaving only his eyes and the hand with the pistol above the surface. Kang aimed at the point where Spitfire ’s bow tanks were slowly leaking fuel, ducked his head beneath the water, and fired. His hand slipped below the dark water just as the flare struck the fractured port side of Spitfire. The leaking fuel immediately erupted into flames.
Kilkenny heard a loud thumping from inside Spitfire ’s hull, as if someone had swung a sledgehammer from inside. Grabbing hold of one of the fluted contours on the ship’s hull, he hauled himself out of the water and onto the capsized craft. He looked around the perimeter of the ship for the source of the noise, when a flash of brightness caught his eye.
‘Everyone into the water!’ Kilkenny shouted. ‘Grab anything that floats and push off! The ship is on fire.’
The others wasted no time heeding Kilkenny’s warning. Roe and Yakushev pulled cushions and life vests from the water and helped Stone swim away from the wreckage.
Kilkenny took one last look before diving in, when he caught sight of something moving beneath the surface of the water. He paused for a moment to get a better look at the strange multicolored object. Kilkenny recognized the large cylindrical shape of a scuba tank and knew immediately that someone else had survived the crash, someone who didn’t want to be rescued by the authorities.
The diver had emerged from beneath Spitfire when Kilkenny first spotted him. Kilkenny sprinted across the ship’s keel and made a running dive into the water as the bow tank exploded. Shards of flaming Kevlar rained down from the fireball that ballooned up from the ship. The shock wave from the blast rocked Kilkenny just as his arms opened a hole in the surface of the water.
The diver was now a good fifteen yards ahead of him and Kilkenny knew that he would have to swim flat out in the choppy river to catch a man wearing fins. The sound of the explosion masked Kilkenny’s entry into the river, his body churning the water in a flat-out freestyle sprint. Kilkenny was closing the distance, but the diver’s form was darkening. The man was moving deeper under the water.
The waterborne shock wave from the blast punished Kang’s ears with a sharp, painful ringing. The pain increased with each foot he descended underwater. At ten feet beneath the surface, the pressure against his ears was a full third greater than on the surface. The agony pounding in his head was almost more than he could bear. Any deeper and he ran the risk of passing out from the pain. Still, he had the disk with the American codes and he had a way out; all he needed to do was keep moving.
Kilkenny cleared twenty-five meters of his open-water race, about where he expected to overtake his submerged opponent. He stopped and studied the water carefully; it seemed to be the same uniform murky brown all around him. Then he saw a flicker of color muted by the silt, then another flash of hazy color. It was the diver.
Breathing deeply into his abdomen, he filled his lungs with air and plunged beneath the surface. Once under the water, Kilkenny entered the murky darkness as a blind man fighting against an opponent who was better equipped for this environment. Better equipped to swim perhaps, but six years with the SEALs had taught Kilkenny that he didn’t need his eyes to fight underwater.
Using a deep flutter kick, Kilkenny pushed himself through the water with his arms extended ahead of him. He aimed his body in the direction that he had last seen the diver heading, hoping to intercept the man’s torso on the way down.
His estimate of the diver’s depth and speed was a little off, and Kilkenny swam down into the man’s legs. Kang’s right leg brushed past Kilkenny’s hand, gliding up his arm before striking him in the shoulder. A heavy rubber fin slapped against Kilkenny’s chest. Kang shuddered when he realized that he’d touched something solid in the water.
Kilkenny, still pointed head-down, wrapped his right arm around Kang’s leg and trapped it against his body. Gripping the neoprene-covered calf, Kilkenny locked the joint and struck the side of Kang’s knee with the flattened palm of his hand. The knee dislocated with a gratifying snap that echoed in Kilkenny’s water-filled ears. The deafened Kang felt only the numbing pain of his throbbing leg, which now hung in the water at an unnatural angle.
Kang rolled to protect his injured leg and turned to face his attacker. His pain and anger gave way to a
