66 Metres (20 page)

He turned around, and moved his torch in a circle; he hoped Nadia knew this form of OK signal. She did the same, and he inspected the web of fallen metal, keeping an eye on the two divers, their mouths welded to their regulators. The metal struts above looked precarious, ready to fall at a moment's notice. If only he had a lifting bag… But of course he did, in a way. He took his deflated, disconnected stab jacket and filled it full of air, using his small emergency bottle, knowing he would regret this later if they got stuck. The jacket ballooned and rose fast to the ceiling. He heard metal creak and strain, but the ceiling held. He hoped they wouldn't pull on anything when he got them out. If he
could
get them out.

He sized them up. The male diver was larger and wider than the female. Looking each diver in the eye in turn, he considered the psychology of the situation, then pointed to the male diver, and did an impression of taking off his stab jacket. The diver shook his head wildly, while his companion looked from him to Jake as if watching a fast tennis match. Jake closed his eyes for two seconds then opened them. He repeated the gesture. The male diver didn't shake his head this time, but didn't comply either. The female diver pointed to herself, her hands moving to the release straps. Her companion seized her hands, held them, then turned back to Jake, and nodded, unclipping his stab jacket, his companion helping him. He was smart enough to know what Jake wanted, and released the empty tank onto the floor.

Jake pointed to the ceiling above them, the other side of the two girders. The man took a few breaths and then breathed out into the deflate hose of the stab jacket. He did this routine several times until the jacket was full, and lay it against the metal above them, using the stab jacket as a lifting bag. He then returned to face Jake.

Jake took a moment. Sean had once said ‘always acknowledge bravery'. A kid way wiser
than his meagre age. Jake moved his two hands as if clapping, and bowed his head to the diver.

But now it was his turn. He took off his fins, knelt beneath the stab jacket, and began heaving upwards with his shoulders, holding the pony bottle with his left hand while his right shoved against one of the two girders, a grating noise in his ears mixed with the sound of his laboured breathing. He pushed harder. Suddenly the girders shifted. One of them came loose, opening up an exit. The girl wasted no time. She let the regulator fall from her mouth and finned furiously, darting through the gap. The male clambered after her awkwardly, lugging the tank along with him. Something snapped above Jake and he felt more weight on him. A lot more. The two were free, heading towards Nadia. But if Jake moved, a pile of metal was going to pin him down, facing the wrong direction.

The weight increased and pressed on him. He was on his hands and knees, elbows locked, straining to hold up the metal above him, his pony bottle lying on the floor, regulator still in his mouth. His arms shook, threatening to give way. He tried to think of a way out. If he released and tried to back out, it would collapse on him, bury him. Breathing hard and straining, the weight building, he guessed this was it. One life for two. Simple maths, all that mattered down here. And it was fitting that he would drown, just as Sean had.
Because Sean's death had been his fault.
The creaking grew louder, metal straining, ready to snap. He prepared himself.

I'm coming, son. Sorry it's taken so long.

Someone grabbed his ankles and pulled
.
He resisted at first, then took a breath and let go with one hand, snatching up the pony with the other. Whoever it was tugged hard, and the stab jacket above cushioned him just enough that he could squirm backwards. He pushed off hard with his free hand as the roof crashed down in front of him, silt exploding in a sudden fog that engulfed everything in grey soup.

When it cleared a little, he saw who had grabbed him. Nadia. She'd saved him. She continued to tow him back out and up the steps, out of the cloud, as he no longer had his fins. Twisting around awkwardly, he saw that the other two were waiting there. He was impressed. Most would have bolted along the line and gotten out of the wreck. He signalled them forward, pointing to the line, then turned to Nadia. Before he could give her an instruction, she pointed for him to go next. She was right; he could run out of air at any moment.

Nearing the hatch, he saw lights outside. As he exited the Excalibur, he met Elise and Fi, Claus and Gary, the latter three carrying a spare tank each. Claus and Gary took care of the two divers. Elise looked him over. At that moment he ran out of air, and let the cylinder fall slowly onto the deck. Fi was closest, and swam to him and rammed her octopus regulator in his mouth.

Nadia left the wreck, and Jake watched as Elise looked at her, and nodded once. They all headed to the deco stop ten metres below the surface as a group, Elise in charge. Jake watched the wreck disappear into the haze as they ascended. Thirty-four men had drowned on it. Almost thirty-five. He imagined Sean down there, staring up out of the hatch.

Next time.

The rescue helicopter was hovering above the two boats when they surfaced. The skipper of Dolphin One called the shots, as the couple were his divers. In the end, after discussion with Pete, the chopper took the couple back to treat them for shock and debrief them properly. Jake and the rest of them returned to shore, he and Nadia back in Pete's boat, Elise's ahead. Very little was said – partly but not wholly due to the rough sea conditions.

At one point, as they were nearing shore, he leaned across to Nadia. ‘You saved me back there. I owe you one.'

‘Did you practise that little manoeuvre somewhere?'

He sat next to her, holding the guide-rope tight so as not to be bounced into the drink.

‘Once, with my favourite buddy. His name was Sean.'

She studied him, her eyebrows dipping, no doubt curious about his use of the past tense. ‘Now we're even.' She gave him a crooked smile. An infectious one.

And then, right at the same moment as he recalled what he needed to do, which was to turn in the young woman who had just saved his life, he heard a ringtone, a classic based on the old TV detective series
Inspector Morse
. Lorne. Nadia was closer to the console than he was, Ben was driving and Pete was clearing up kit at the back of the boat. She fished out his waterproof case, and held it out to him.

Inside the case, Lorne's phone continued to ring, pulsing the SOS code in Morse beeps. Jake stared at it, and the harbour getting closer, and wondered what to do.

Chapter Eleven

Nadia watched Jake's eyes, then stared at the phone through the translucent plastic case. She almost dropped it there and then. Her instinct was to toss it over the side. Kadinsky sent updates every month on various equipment and gadgets used by intelligence and undercover law enforcement agencies such as the CIA and MI6. Anything from the latest SUV and van models used for stake-outs and major arrests, to guns and sniper rifles, to… mobile phones. She stared at the latest MI6 high encryption model, then into Jake's eyes.
He knows
.
He fucking knows!
She felt as if Slick had just punched her in the stomach again. And there was nothing she could do. The harbour was close. The coastguard would be there to debrief them, as was standard procedure following any diving incident, especially one requiring a helicopter. All he had to do was say a few words.

Game over.

But he wasn't answering the call. She continued to hold the case towards him in her outstretched arm, which was shaking. Even Ben cast a glance back at them. Jake met her eyes, and there was that recognition, that indefinable, mutual ‘
I know you know
' look between them. He took the mobile, leaned forward and put it back where it had come from. It stopped ringing.

Nadia couldn't disguise her relief. ‘Thank you,' she said, her voice sounding small. She closed her arms around herself.

He said nothing for a while, then two words, quietly, so only she could hear.

‘The Rose?'

Her training screamed at her to lie, but her instincts told her she had no option but the truth right now. Her life, and Katya's, were in Jake's hands. She nodded.

Again, he was quiet. Seagulls began to flap above the boat, the harbour welcoming committee. Her mind raced around, seeking options, but landed nowhere.

‘Why?' he asked.

Why? Seriously?
She felt as if she was back in her cell in Lubyanka prison, but with Jake instead of Kadinsky asking an impossible question, her entire future hanging in the balance, along with Katya's. But the harbour wall was nearing, cars parked there, one of them the coastguard, another a police sedan.
Why?
She thought about the whole story, from Viktor to Kadinsky to the rape to the training camp to nine ops including one where she'd shot two men…
Not the best brochure. Besides, that wasn't why she was here. It was really simple. And she had to reach him on an emotional level, right this second. She recalled seeing him on the rooftop earlier, and played a hunch.

‘Did you ever lose somebody you really cared about, Jake?'

His steel blue eyes chiselled into hers. Clearly he had. Probably this
Sean
, whoever he was.

She continued. ‘What would you do to bring them back?'

His eyes flared, then he looked away. The engine whine diminished. She glanced at the shore, people staring their way, Elise's boat already sliding into position against the harbour wall.

She'd run out of time. She gripped his hand, spoke urgently but quietly. ‘My sister. They'll kill her. They'll… bury her alive.' Her voice cracked. She stared at the corrugated aluminium floor.

The engine stopped, and there was a clunk as Ben slipped the props into neutral. The boat glided to its berth, and she heard shouts as Pete tossed a rope and someone caught it. Jake released his hand. She was still staring down when she heard clapping from people onshore. Jake put his mouth next to her ear.

‘We'll talk later. Say nothing.'

He got up, and she heard him climb out of the boat to a few cheers and animated talking. She stayed head down, still feeling winded, finding it hard to breathe, as if she was in that shallow grave with her sister, holding her tight while they slowly suffocated in earthy darkness. Perhaps that was the best she could hope for.

Ben came to her rescue, helped her to her feet, got her out of the boat, and out of the melee, onto the sidelines. Nadia glanced at her watch. Katya had twenty-four hours. Nadia had no idea what her next move would be, what manoeuvring area she had left. Almost none, she figured.

She watched as Jake and Elise teamed up to deal with the coastguard. At one point Fi brought her a cup of tea, so strong the bitter tannin made her grimace. She wondered what to say to the coastguard or the police when it was her turn. Her turn never came.

The debriefing took two hours, but eventually people started leaving. Finally, Elise, after casting Nadia a withering look, headed off with Fi back into town, and Jake came over to her.

‘Let's go,' he said, a little briskly. ‘I'm knackered, to be honest.' He looked at her, not unkindly. ‘Enough nitrogen and excitement for one day, I'd say.'

‘You wanted to talk,' she said.

‘Not now. Not here.' Again, brisk, but not unkind.

They walked back towards town side by side. She stared out to the sea. Black clouds jostled in the sky. The wind skittered sand across the stone walkway, sudden gusts sandblasted her shins.

Jake followed her gaze. ‘It doesn't look good, Nadia.'

He'd said it as if he understood what ‘not good' amounted to for her. Maybe he believed her. That was something.

But not nearly enough.

He made her eat fish and chips. Refusal didn't seem tactically wise. She hadn't been hungry, but it all ended up inside her. But now she was tired too. The sea, post-dive fatigue, the stress…

They went to Jake's room. Him sitting in an ancient sky blue armchair, her sitting on the edge of the bed, since there was only one chair. Just her, Jake, and the phone. He set it on the coffee table. She stared at it like it was a ticking bomb. Because it was.

‘How did it go with the coastguard? They never asked to talk to me. How did you manage it?' she asked.

‘It was a successful rescue, at the end of the day. There were some stern words for the other skipper. And a few raised eyebrows when the couple told how I got them out. But then we focused on getting the hatch welded shut later this summer so no one else can enter. It went smoother from there. I played down your role, and Elise played along.'

It seemed to be all he was going to say about it. Still, a brownie point for Elise, even if she clearly loathed the sight of Nadia.

Jake took a breath. ‘Tell me everything,' he said. ‘From the very start.'

She'd been thinking about it. ‘Only if you promise to help me save my sister.'

His brow creased. He leant forward. ‘You know what the Rose is?'

She nodded.

‘If it got into the wrong hands –'

‘Maybe it will just be used for leverage.' She knew she was echoing Sammy's arguments, not voicing her own hidden doubts she'd been harbouring ever since Sammy had told her what it
could
do.

‘Do you know who the client is?'

She shook her head. He said nothing, and she realised she wanted to know more. ‘Does it really work?'

He sat back, and seemed to age five years in as many seconds. ‘There was this professor. Bit of an arsehole, really, but utterly brilliant. I met him once, which was one time too many. Ego as big as a football field. Anyway, as soon as he graduated from Cambridge the MOD snapped him up – gave him a Fellowship at Shrivenham Military College, and after only two years, at the age of twenty-four, he became a full professor. He was a code-breaker, best seen in decades.' He raked fingers through his hair, but the deep frown remained. ‘He developed the Rose concept as a hobby at first, expanding his research using labs in Cranfield, then the Generals started taking it more seriously. It was tested successfully at Devonport ten days ago on one of our own subs. No missile launch of course. But if the sub had been at sea… Scared the crap out of the admirals.'