Black Gold (13 page)

Li loaded some glasses onto a tray. She had to keep busy, stay inconspicuous.

The
Black Gold
was quiet, just as it had been before. You'd hardly guess that the occupants had just sent a man to his death.

She kept doing sums in her head. It was about half an hour since the hit man had left with Bowman. The others had to pick Bowman up first – so it would probably be another twenty minutes to half an hour before they got to her. The waiting was hard.

The same set of thoughts kept going round in her head. Maybe she should grab one of the yacht's jet skis and make a run for it. No, that was silly; she wouldn't know where to go; nor did she know how much fuel they had. The ocean was a big place to get lost in, and if her escape attempt failed, she would have blown her cover. No, she had to stick to the plan: stay and wait for the others.

At least it should be easier now they didn't have to get Alex and Bowman off. Hex and Paulo could sweep in close on their own jet skis and she could slip into the water and just wait for them to get close enough for her to climb on too. The jet skiers would look like tourists on holiday, coming over to the yacht out of simple curiosity. It should be simple.

Better do something. She took the tray of glasses out of the galley and into the dining room. Neil Hearst was there, kneeling in front of one of the cupboards. He hadn't seen her. She froze, her sixth sense telling her to stay hidden. Inside the cupboard was a safe. He twisted the dial to and fro to open it, then put in a sheaf of papers tied with pink legal ribbon. Finally he closed it.

Li ducked back into the galley, her heart pounding in time with the pot bubbling on the stove. There was only one thing those papers could be – the documents Bill Bowman had been forced to sign.

It hadn't occurred to her before to go for the documents, but here she was with time on her hands. And she knew where they were. If she could take them, they would be very useful evidence.

If she
could.

Sometimes it seemed as though Li wasn't in command of her skills – they were in charge of her. Without thinking, she'd memorized the combination of the safe.

But first she needed to take the glasses to the dining room.

Bowman drew the last stroke of a stick figure hanging from a gallows. They were now playing Hangman. Alex had run out of lives trying to guess the word.

Bowman wiped out what was on the slate, then wrote three dashes.

Alex decided to try guessing a whole word instead of individual letters. Reaching for the slate, he wrote
Oil,
then passed it back.

Bowman drew the first part of the scaffold. Not right.

Alex tried again. He was a bit rusty on technique. The last time he'd played had been a few years back at school. He had certainly never thought he'd find himself underwater, waiting for rescue and playing Hangman with a man whose life he'd just saved.

Bowman was waiting for an answer. Alex wrote:
E.

Bowman put an
E
in the middle of the word. Alex could have sworn that inside the mask the grey eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Alex suddenly twigged.
Wet!
he wrote.

Bowman gave him a thumbs-up.

Alex's turn. Words he didn't really want to share leaped unbidden into his head.
Time,
and
Air.
No, he thought. Paulo and the others had to be on their way. He knew the tracers worked. Still, he looked at his dive computer again. Bowman only had about seven more minutes of air and now there wasn't much left in Alex's rebreather either. He'd had to spend far more time underwater than they'd originally planned for.

Bowman was waiting. Alex marked out a five-letter word.

E,
Bowman guessed.

Alex wrote it in. Bowman thought for a moment, then seemed to read Alex's mind.
Steak,
he tried.

Alex grinned; his turn to give a thumbs-up.

Bowman took the slate again and marked five spaces. Without hesitation, Alex took it back and wrote
Chips.
Bowman nodded vigorously. The two of them hung there laughing, diver style, air hoses pulsing, Alex's torch wobbling, bubbles shooting out of Bowman's regulator.

Alex stopped, but Bowman seemed to carry on just as intensely. Something didn't look right; Bowman was patting his chest, thumping it as though in discomfort.

Alex felt like the water around him had turned to ice. Was the oil chief having a heart attack? They had to surface. He grabbed the slate and wrote:
Stay calm. Breathe OUT.

Bowman nodded, his grey eyes wide behind the mask.

The BCDs had an emergency cord. Alex pulled Bowman's then his own and the BCDs inflated like lifejackets, shooting both of them upwards. It was all Alex could do to remember to breathe out as they rose rapidly through the water. He hoped Bowman had; if he breathed in, he could burst something in his lungs.

Moments later they were on the surface and the world suddenly became loud and wide. The scooters hung down, dragging in the water. With the BCD holding him up, Alex didn't have to tread water but waves were splashing in his face. He kept his mask on so he could see but pulled off his mouthpiece and swam to Bowman. He pulled Bowman's mask up and put it on his forehead – the diver's signal for trouble. Bowman was breathing hard now, still clutching his chest. Alex's own heart was doing somersaults. Would Bowman die out here after all?

Alex didn't know what to do about heart attacks, but he did know that it was always important to keep the airway open. He turned Bowman onto his back and tilted his head back, the way he'd been taught in Duke of Edinburgh Award life-saving sessions. Bowman coughed and spluttered, his eyes rolling, his breathing harsh and ragged. He was trying to swim. Alex put his arms around him to steady him. 'Keep still,' he said. 'The lifejackets will keep us afloat. Rescue will be here soon.'

Bowman nodded. Alex could feel him trying to relax, but every now and again a spasm passed through his chest. Alex felt his legs twitch and kick in the water.

'Have you had this before?' Alex asked. But a spasm gripped Bowman and he couldn't answer.

What if Bowman stopped breathing? Alex wondered if he could give the kiss of life, out there in the water. He looked around at the horizon. It was dark. He hadn't noticed while they were underwater, but night was falling fast. They were out in the sea, in the dark. If they weren't picked up soon, they were bound to die.

Bowman relaxed.

'Has it gone?' Alex asked him.

Bowman nodded. His eyes were wide; frightened.

'Is it your chest?' Alex asked.

Bowman shook his head. It was as if he was afraid to talk in case he set off the pain again. Still, at least he didn't look as if he was suffering for the moment.

Alex patted his jacket. The torch still hung off it. He flashed it around. It still worked. If he saw any boats nearby at least he had something to signal with.

He shortened the lanyard so that it held the torch near his face, then froze. There was a white triangle sticking out of the water, like a tooth.

Not a tooth. A fin.

A shark.

Of course. Sharks were drawn to feeble, weak movements – they thought it was something dying. Bowman's thrashing must have attracted one. And it was evening.

Feeding time.

Li kneeled by the safe. Her fingers worked quickly on the dial, twisting it back and forth until she heard a faint click as the tumblers dropped into place and she felt the door release. She'd done it. She was in.

She pulled the heavy door open and pulled out the documents, then swiftly closed it again. She heard a noise behind her and got to her feet, picking up the tray and holding it over the papers.

Hearst was standing by the door when she got there, his arm barring the way. Had he seen her? No. He wasn't looking at the tray. Or even her face. He was looking at her legs in the short black dress.

Li kept her eyes down. That way she'd look shy – and maybe he'd think she didn't understand. She nodded in the direction of the galley, as though trying to indicate she needed to go back there.

Hearst let her pass, but she could feel his eyes on her as she went.

Luckily the galley was empty. Li slipped inside and stood to the side of the door, hoping that Hearst would assume that the chef would be in there too. Once he'd gone she'd slip out.

But for now she had the documents.

Alex had the sea scooter in front of him, Bowman clinging onto his waist. As they zoomed through the water they made a wake like a small boat. A spray of seawater washed over them like a constant tidal wave. Alex's ears buzzed; the scooter made a noise like a drill on the surface.

The shark's fin was still alongside them. It was matching his speed. He would have to do more.

He turned roughly in a big circle. The shark carried on, its fin zipping past him, like a saw through the water. Alex turned even more sharply and the scooter almost wrenched his arms out of their sockets. He held on for dear life and powered out of the turn.

Bowman gripped his waist even tighter. Alex felt him curling up – had the pain hit him again? Heart attacks could be brought on by stress – and this wasn't likely to help matters. 'Sorry, mate,' he muttered under his breath. 'It's this or be eaten by the shark.'

He glanced up. The shark was further away. He knew sharks could swim fast but he also knew they weren't very manoeuvrable.

Bowman's grip was slipping from around his waist. Alex wanted to pull him up like a slipping garment but he didn't dare let go – the sea scooter was so powerful he needed all his strength to control it. Then Bowman coughed and tightened his hold.

The shark was coming for them again. Alex whipped around in another circle, holding onto the handlebars like grim death. He felt his legs wave out like the back end of a car.

Bowman slipped away.

In the constant noise, the constant wash of fast water, it took Alex a few moments to realize there were no longer arms hanging onto him. He cut the throttle and looked round.

And thought he was seeing a mirage. On the water, lit by glowing torches, was a jumble of figures. They separated into two jet skis with riders. One rider was leaning into the water and hoisting Bowman out. The other was coming towards him.

A strong pair of arms topped by a head of curly hair leaned down like a circus rider and pulled Alex out of the water. Alex grabbed the back seat of the jet ski and clambered on. The two sea scooters dangled from him, bumping against the hull as Paulo pulled away.

Alex leaned forward and yelled in Paulo's ear, 'Get going – shark!'

Paulo grinned back at him. 'Believe me,
hombre,
I've seen it.' But as they glanced towards the sinister fin, they could see it was moving away. Now they were on the jet skis, they could outrun it.

Hex was already racing off ahead towards a white boat: the
Fathom Sprinter,
controlled by Amber. He was struggling to keep upright as his passenger leaned and swayed.

'You must be Bill,' Hex shouted over his shoulder.

His only reply was a ragged cough. Hex looked round: Bowman was clutching his chest; he didn't look good. Hex twisted the throttle as far as it would go. They had to get back and call the coastguard. Fast.

Li walked into the saloon with a tray of glasses. Under the tray was the contract, hidden from view.

Hearst was in there. He didn't acknowledge her, but went straight to the satellite phone and pressed a button. Then he listened, looking puzzled. Li's mouth went dry. That was redial; it would probably get him the satellite phone in the
Fathom Sprinter.
Hearst pressed cancel and hit redial again. Li tried to look as though she was taking no notice. If Paulo or one of the others did answer he wouldn't know who it was.

She moved out to the sun deck. There was a set of white-painted metal steps leading up to the deck above. She hadn't been up there yet, but she could see another table and chairs. If she took the glasses up there it would keep her on the move until Paulo and Hex arrived.

She climbed the steps. The breeze was fresh up on this deck. Maybe it was a good place to wait – she'd be able to spot any approaching lights and she could see the bridge, and the dark-skinned captain looking at a row of green, glowing instruments.

Somebody came up the stairs and she looked behind her. Hearst. What did he want?

He smiled – that nasty, ingratiating smile. Li smiled back.

His expression changed. Why? She suddenly realized. Coming up from below, he could see she had papers under the tray – papers tied with pink legal ribbon. His eyes became flinty. He climbed the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers.

'I think,' he said, 'you have something of mine.'

Hearst came up onto the deck. 'You know what I find fascinating about you? For a Filipino you have excellent teeth. I didn't think any of you activists would have the nerve to actually come to my boat, but here you are.' He put out his hand. 'Hand the documents over.'

Li threw the tray at him. She heard the glasses smash but already she was vaulting over the rail and onto the deck below, the folder tucked under one arm.

She landed like a cat, and glimpsed a movement through the window of the saloon – the commotion had alerted someone. She was moving in seconds. She had to get to the jet skis.

She ran for the launch platform, hurdling the canvas chairs. Beside her, there was a hiss of compressed air and a ripping sound. A vicious-looking arrow shot into the canvas of the chair just ahead of her. They were firing at her with the harpoon.

Li vaulted down onto the platform. Another harpoon whistled past, so close she could feel it on her face.

She released a jet ski and it hit the dark water with a splash. She squeezed the contract down the top of her wetsuit and jumped on. The jet ski wobbled and she grabbed the handlebars to stop herself falling, just as a figure loomed over the steps to the launch platform, a slender rod in his hand. The harpoon gun. She had to get away before he fired again.

Li started the engine and roared off. The jet ski wasn't like the ones she'd used earlier; this kind had no seat – you stood up on it like a scooter.

Behind her, another jet ski hit the water. The wail of the engine came in stereo. But there was another noise too. Gunfire.

Someone was shooting at her. With bullets.

She glanced behind. Two lights were haring around on the water – two jet skis now after her.

Headlights; she hadn't realized the jet ski had headlights. She turned hers on and they illuminated a small triangle of choppy navy blue water ahead of her, but they also spoiled her night vision. She turned them off; she was probably better off without them. As she pushed the throttle up to full speed, the machine pulled away like a turbo-charged motorbike. These were serious performance vehicles.

Either side of her, out of the corners of both eyes, she could see the lights of the other jet skis. They were gaining on her, trying to cut her off.

She pulled the handlebars to one side, then the other. The bike slalomed through the water from side to side like a skier down a mountain. Two headlights followed her, veering to head her off. Their lights were like beacons homing in on her. The sound of jet skis was everywhere, echoing off the water – it sounded as though there were a hundred of them.

She made the corners sharper to give them something to think about but misjudged one and found herself sliding along at ninety degrees, one side in the sea. She put her foot out on the water as though it was a solid surface, then righted herself and carried on. She still had the contract safe, stuffed down her wetsuit. It would have been fun if she hadn't been fleeing for her life.

She glanced back, hoping one of the jet skiers behind would fall, but both headlights continued to pursue her doggedly. The gunfire came again. She slalomed, forcing her pursuers to do the same. While they were sliding like that, they couldn't aim. She made the slaloms more and more extreme, leaning further over each time.

Li could feel the surface of the water becoming increasingly choppy. It was now like riding over bumpy hills. But they seemed to be able to follow her, no matter what she did.

Time for a different tactic.

She stopped and swerved around 180 degrees so she was facing them, throwing up a great wave like a flourish.

She had to do this before they had time to fire.

Hearst and his guard saw the slight girl pull the papers out of her wetsuit and rip them in half. She threw her arm up in a big arc and the torn papers scattered into the water. Then she was off.

Li looked behind her. Papers were floating on the surface of the water, bobbing on the waves. Hearst and the guard were trying to gather them up before the ink ran too much.

Then she heard a roar behind her. A moment later came the sounds of shots. The chase was on again. Li put the jet ski into a spectacular slide, travelling ten metres sideways with her foot on the water. Behind her, one of the jet skis went over completely then bounced upright, the engine idling while it turned in a circle. Only one to go now. And he wasn't shooting. Good – perhaps she'd made things more even.

She pointed the nose of the jet ski down into the water. The jet ski began to dive. How far would it go? Li committed to the move and went with it. For a moment she was completely submerged, then she came up again like a dolphin.

A shot rang out. Something magenta-coloured whizzed past her into the water. She thought she'd dealt with the gunman.

But now something else was in front of her, visible in the light of the other jet ski. A craft she recognized. The motorboat. With one occupant.

The hit man.

His boat was stationary and she was heading straight for it. The light of the pursuing jet ski illuminated a figure kneeling in the boat. He was aiming something and Li suddenly realized what the magenta glow had been. A flare. He was trying to shoot her with a flare pistol. It lacked refinement as a weapon, but would be more devastating at close range than a pistol.

He'd missed before but she was now so close that no matter how she swerved he would not miss. If it hit her it would blow a hole in her like an exploding firework.

Li steered straight, then pulled up and threw her weight to the side. The jet ski soared up, sliding along sideways – but not in the water, in the air. She flew right over the boat in something like a karate leap, then was engulfed by water.

She came up, spluttering, on the other side of the hit man's boat. Bobbing in the water beside her jet ski, she saw a magenta glow through the gloom, then an orange flash that ended in a muffled boom. The hit man had shot the other jet ski and its fuel tank had gone up. She could see his silhouette against the orange flames; the hit man was still in the boat, but no longer in firing position.

Li's engine had stopped. The air seemed so quiet without the roar of the jet skis and the fizz of moving water. Now there were new sounds to get used to – a
whump
of fuel burning and a man screaming. She stayed where she was, treading water. If she got up again, the hit man might see her. Her best hope was to hide by the jet ski and wait until he went away. She thanked her lucky stars she'd kept her headlights off, it was her best chance of not being seen.

That
whump
noise was getting louder.

It wasn't just the fuel burning.

It was a helicopter.

Then she saw them – the tail and nose lights of two helicopters. Suddenly they turned on searchlights – great triangular beams that swung around the dark water. One found the hit man's boat and fixed on him like an eye.

More lights appeared, this time at surface level. The whine of engines added to the orchestra of noises. One of the searchlights passed over them and illuminated three motorboats.

Who were they? Where had they all come from?

The hit man decided to run for it. He opened the throttle on his engine and swept away, one helicopter following him, its searchlight locked on; it wasn't letting him go. Li chuckled – the hit man looked like he was trying to escape being kidnapped by aliens.

A powerful light shone in her eyes. She put her hands up and squinted at the direction it had come from.

A silver dinghy puttered up beside her. 'Are you all right?' The torch tilted upwards so that she could see a face. Greg, the coastguard. Danny was there too. Their strong arms reached into the water to help her in.

Li kicked the few metres to the edge of the boat and caught the rope on the edge. Rescue. Now that she could stop fighting to stay afloat she suddenly felt exhausted. Her other hand was still on the jet ski, trying to pull it with her.

'If you rescue me,' pleaded Li, 'will you promise to rescue this too?'

'Forget her,' said a voice. 'Just get the jet ski.' Paulo's face appeared by Danny's shoulder.

Li relaxed and let them pull her into the boat. Paulo was ready with a warm blanket. He put it around her while Danny and Greg caught the jet ski and tethered it to a ring on the side of the dinghy.

The surface of the water was mayhem. Two motorboats were screaming into the distance, the helicopter following them. The other helicopter was still pursuing the hit man. Li shook her head, amazed. 'Who are all these other people?'

'The police. We had to get medical help for Bowman and they got involved too.'

Li's fight for her own survival had been so intense that she had momentarily forgotten everything else. 'You got him, did you?'

'Yeah. He'll be fine.'