That’s enough for now!
For a moment, he thinks he can make out the whirring sound of engines. Is it the sub?
Have to get out of here, he thinks.
He has completed his mission. The cargo is gone, no doubt about that. He cannot see any other trucks in the vicinity, only cars now. He has come to the right spot. Before leaving the truck, he shines his flashlight into the driver’s cabin. The door is open. He sees that the glove box is open, too. He checks it. All the papers, including the cargo manifest are gone.
He swims back and follows the side of the deck facing downwards, the starboard side of the vessel.
Järv shines his flashlight right along the hull of the ship. It looks undamaged.
When he gets close to the car ramp, he sees that something has severely dented the smooth side of the vessel. There is indeed a hole in the side of the M/S Estonia. He kicks his fins a few times to accelerate. It is actually a small hole. It is about ten to fifteen inches across, and circular. It looks as if an explosion took place there—coming from inside the ship.
Why so high up on the side of the keel? This hole could not possibly have sunk the vessel. Not a chance. Why did someone blow a hole through the side of the M/S Estonia and at that level?
He checks his diving computer. Seventeen minutes. Time to leave the wreck.
• • •
Modin is trying to calm his breathing. He succeeds. He has to, otherwise he will get carbon dioxide poisoning. He has the feeling he must move toward the stern, toward the stairwell. That’s where the exit would be—a way out.
He blows hard into his diving suit. The large briefcase will weigh him down. He forces so much air into the suit that he starts to hover again as he kicks his way toward the stern.
When he reaches the large stairwell, he ascends. Soon he sees the wall on the other side. He gets through the layer of silt wafting up from below. He looks at his diving computer for the first time in quite a while. Does he have any air left? Diving time? He concludes that he has been down for eighteen minutes. Seemed like an eternity.
As he rises, he is forced to release some of the air in his suit. The inflated suit is forcing him ever faster toward the surface. At a depth of 230 feet, he is able to stop. He has been rising up through the stairwell.
He holds on to the banister and examines the briefcase he is holding. It is made of silvery metal and has a black handle made of sturdy plastic. There are two locks on the briefcase. He has a strong urge to pry them open and get the answers.
What’s in this briefcase? Why is it so damn important?
He shines his flashlight around to get his bearings. In front of him, the left-hand corridor with a row of cabins, among them the one with the air bubble. He hesitates, looks at his diving computer, then at his air gauge. He swims into the corridor, finds the cabin, which is now clearly visible, moves carefully past the corpse, and raises his head above the surface of the air pocket. He is able to stand on a filing cabinet and just squeeze his head above the surface.
He pulls up the briefcase, rests it on a ledge and starts to test the locks. The lid flies open. The briefcase is tightly packed and dry inside. He removes his diving gloves and lets them float nearby. It is bitterly cold, but he ignores it. He browses quickly through the briefcase. There are various archive files inside. He tries to identify what they are. One of the files is marked with the words:
Confidential letter to the Prime Minister
He swiftly opens the file and finds photographs of different men and their personal details. The file carries the insignia of the head of Russian Intelligence, the GRU, and appears to be a detailed description of Olof Palme’s murderer—in English! The file contains the answers to the questions about the murder of Olof Palme; questions the Swedish people have been asking for the past twenty-five years.
Who, why and how? Fuck, Modin thinks. It’s all been documented, by the GRU.
Modin has no time to read any more, but it is enough to know the nature of these documents. I can’t hand this over to the U.S. government, not a chance in hell. It will cause our nation to collapse, drag us down into the B-league of nations.
I’ll take care of this one, he thinks. He pulls down the zipper on his diving suit, pushes the file marked Confidential letter to the Prime Minister into his suit and pulls up the zipper again. He can feel the secret file against his chest.
This one makes us equal, President Obama and me. We will each take half. CIA and NSA can take care of the other files, containing details of GRU Stasi spies in the West. Who cares, anyway?
• • •
Jöran Järv is back on the starboard side of the M/S Estonia. He has put the Geiger counter back in his leg pocket and is swimming with small, light strokes toward the submarine. He is looking for Modin. He must be out of the wreck by now. The time is approaching one hundred. He has twenty minutes bottom time, according to his diving computer.
Where the hell is Modin?
CHAPTER 145
Andres obtained help to pull on his breathing apparatus. He would be diving with Jaak, a tall lean guy with a goatee. They had been informed that there could be divers down by the wreck. Maybe also a submarine!
He leaned over the railing and saw a ray of light down deep. He felt calm. He was a skillful diver, even in his old Estonian diving gear. Now, using his top-of–the-line U.S. Navy equipment, he’d be unbeatable. The Swedes wouldn’t stand a chance. He fastened his diver’s knife onto the one thigh and put on his mask. He nodded to Jaak.
• • •
Modin swings the briefcase through the shattered cabin window. It remains lying there on the hull. He then swims back to the stairwell. He enters down the stairs. His brain is programmed to the fact that the vessel is lying on its side, so he swims vertically, yet gets further down in the wreck by way of the stairs. He is swimming as if in a trance, fast, focused, and determined. He knows exactly what he is doing and, above all, why. He is making his way to Deck 4. It is nearby and he should be able to get there quickly. He tries not to look downward, as there are likely to be skeletons scattered around the stairs. He swims into the left-hand row of cabins on Deck 4. He glances quickly at the numbers on the doors, 40-09, 40-11. Time is running out, the air down to the last third, barely enough for ten more minutes. Then, that would be it. He seems to see a sparkle of light from further down the corridor. He ignores it, leveling out the pressure in his suit. He passes the 220-foot mark and finally finds what he is looking for.
• • •
Jöran Järv is using his flashlight to signal to Bergman, who is hovering above the side of the M/S Estonia. He sees Bergman signaling back with rather jerky movements. He looks at his diving computer again. Twenty-four minutes. Only one minute left.
They have to start decompression any moment now, but still no sign of Modin. He is still inside the wreck.
Järv stops right next to Bergman, who looks uneasy but unruffled. Bergman points up toward the surface then at one ear. He has heard something. Jöran confirms; he has also heard the sound of an engine. A ship has stopped right above them. That’s the only explanation, because all is silent now.
They will have to hurry. Where is Modin? Järv signals to Bergman to follow him. They are going to look for Modin.
The time is up!
• • •
Cabin 43-03. That is where he left his family some 16 years ago.
His thoughts travel back in time. He asks Monica and the children to stay in the cabin as panic reigns outside. He fears the children will be trampled to death by panic-stricken passengers when trying to find a way out. He will go out and see what is going on. Then, when the worst of the crush is over, they will all make for the open deck together.
What he has not taken into account is that the ferry is sinking so fast. An error of judgment on his part. The ship is beginning to list at an alarming rate. He cannot get back into the stairwell. He must choose between dying with his family or saving himself. There is no other
choice. He chooses the latter.
Until today, his last chance of redress has been that the ship was sunk by an explosion, a bomb, maybe from the Russian GRU, or a torpedo from a Russian submarine. The former crew member of Estonia, Adam Alarik had said so.
But now he knows that this is not what happened. There is no hole in the ship. He cannot blame anyone—not Loklinth, not the GRU, no one but himself. His family’s death is his fault, and his alone. He left his wife and children in the cabin. They had no chance.
Modin tries to swallow. He can’t. His tongue, his whole mouth is completely dried out. He doesn’t care anymore. He’s in a bubble; a bubble of self–loathing.
Modin enters cabin 40-03, the family grave. The cabin number is etched in his memory. It is the number of one grave among so many others on the M/S Estonia.
He breathes with clenched teeth. He knows the air will not last much longer. He remembers the woman who was sitting on a couch in the corridor, wearing nothing but her underwear, screaming at the top of her lungs. That was when Modin first felt the fear of death. Only then did he realize the full gravity of the situation: that the ferry was sinking fast. He did not realize the gravity of the situation until it was too late.
He begins to take deep breaths—likely his last. He shines his flashlight in front of him. Visibility is good now and he braces himself for what he will see.
CHAPTER 146
Andres lands in the water with a splash. He bobs at the surface with his head still above. He turns around and signals to his companion Jaak. Andres wears a black hood, a black diving mask, and a black suit. All that can be seen of him in the moonlight are the whites of his eyes. The rest is a dark shadow against a dark sea.
Jaak jumps in, his legs bent. He is holding the top of his diving mask with one hand, the other is resting on his chest. He signals almost immediately that he is going to descend.
Both divers disappear below the surface.
At a late stage, the skipper has decided that the divers should go down to check the lay of the land before he releases the depth charges. To see if there was anyone down there and if there’s really a submarine as the sonar suggests.
He does not want to bomb the wreck to pieces if there’s no reason. The explosions of the depth charges would be picked up all across the Baltic Sea.
• • •
Modin shuts his eyes and floats gently into the cabin like a large fish. He does not dare to look. All of a sudden, he doesn’t want to see what is left in there.
What do I do if they’re not in here? If the cabin is empty?
He opens his eyes cautiously. He has braced himself. It’s time, he feels. Too late to regret his actions. What happened back in 1994 has happened. What is happening here and now is only the natural consequence.
He finds a skull at the bottom of the cabin, and clothes. A blue wrap with a white blouse underneath, covering the upper body. Monica. He cannot see her legs. She is wrapped in a gray blanket. Right next to her lies the skull of a child. Ellinor. He recognizes her by her red nylon jacket. It gleams in his flashlight beam. The hood is still up around her skull. Her mom dressed her warmly in case it was cold up on deck.
He hovers several feet above Monica and Ellinor, completely still, holding his breath. He can do nothing else. His air supply will soon be up. Nothing matters. He is not going to leave them again. They are together, at last.
He exhales the air left in his lungs and sinks slowly to the bottom of the cabin. He stretches out a hand, holds it in front of him, and finally touches Monica’s head. He pats her slowly and gently. Tears fill his diving mask. It is hard to focus.
He slowly takes the sack from his diving suit. He had brought it for this very reason. He no longer knows whether he should take them up with him. They are lying at peace here. You get used to the status quo over sixteen years. This is their rightful place, their cabin now, his cabin, his grave, his future.
It’s all right. I’m here, darling. I said I’d come back. I promised, you see. Daddy’s here now, Ellinor. I want you to know, that I will never again abandon you, never! What I did was wrong, but I’m back now.
He lies down gently on the floor of the cabin, his head turned toward Monica’s. He looks into her eye sockets, holds the flashlight close to her.
Where is Alexander? Where is Alexander? It startles him. He sits up and begins to dig in the cabin. He looks everywhere but cannot find any trace of his beloved son.
Where are you, dear boy? Did you leave the cabin? I told you to stay. Didn’t you listen to me?
• • •
Bergman is swimming up ahead. He is using powerful kicks, swimming toward the opening in the side where Modin disappeared twenty minutes earlier.
This is all going to hell, he thinks. I had a feeling it would end like this. Modin wants to stay on board.
Jöran follows close behind. He is waving vigorously with his flashlight and the light ripples across the side of the vessel. Bergman turns round. They are close to the shattered cabin porthole. It looks black inside. He sees a rectangular document case near the hole. Modin has been there, alright.
Bergman can see Jöran pointing to his diving computer and then making the up sign. Bergman looks at the briefcase and then signals to Järv to take it. Then he consults his manometer. Only three or four minutes of air left. Barely enough to get back to the submarine. He points to Jöran, indicating he should swim back with the briefcase. Then Bergman points to himself and down into the cabin porthole. Jöran nods. He has understood.
Bergman swims into the cabin. He will give Modin two minutes of his life. That is all he can spare. Two minutes.
• • •
Andres and Jaak sink rapidly toward the wreck. They are following an anchor line that is fixed to the stern of the ship. Andres takes hold of the tip of his nose and blows. His ears are slightly clogged. Lately he has been having trouble with his ear pressure. May be chronic, he thinks.
They can now see a light to their left.
There are others at the wreck after all. He reaches for his knife, just making sure it’s still there. He continues to sink. Jaak is close behind.
• • •
Modin is looking at his diving computer. Twenty-nine minutes. He is four minutes over time and air is running low. He is trying to save as much of the air supply as he can, using up as little as possible to extend the time. He feels a warm glow emerging inside him, a kind of exhilaration. He knows what will happen. He is going to die here. It is not scary. It is as if his body is preparing itself for the beyond. He remains calm. He has heard that this happens, and it is true. Not so bad, almost beautiful. He takes Monica’s head, puts it inside the sack. Then he reaches out for Ellinor’s head and puts that in too. He searches for Monica’s wedding ring and finds it on her finger. He loosens it and puts it in his leg pocket. He takes off the gold watch he had given her when she turned twenty-five. That was in 1992. The watch is waterproof and looks almost new. He wipes a little dirt from the glass. He puts it in the sack. Finally, he takes Ellinor’s teddy bear, which she seems to have been holding. Modin looks at the teddy bear, shakes off some mud and puts it in the sack. He does not know why he is putting these things there. It is as if he doesn’t really believe that he’s going to die. But he will. There is no salvation any more.
He lies down on his side with the flashlight next to him so that it is shining on the sack and his hand. He lowers his head so it rests on the floor, at peace. He wonders how long the air will last. He breathes as little as possible and tries to lower his heartbeat and relax.
• • •
Bergman swims up the stairwell. He is trying to find traces of Modin. He knows that Modin has been on Deck 7, but figures that he is no longer there. He fears the worst.
He has almost certainly gone to look for his family, Bergman thinks. He knows their cabin had been quite far down, on Deck 4. Modin complained about that once. They had a lesser chance of escaping from there, because the stairs had been bl
ocked with panic-stricken passengers, holding on to door handles and racks for dear life as the ferry was listing, too terrified to let go. Modin had not been able to get back to the stairwell, which was slowly filling up with cold seawater.
Bergman swims down the stairs. He sees corpses lying furthest down by the walls and ceiling. He avoids looking at them. Instead, he checks every door he passes on his way down.
Then he sees a fresh handprint on the wall. It’s in the corridor leading to the cabins on Deck 4. He again peeks at his manometer. Not much time left! He enters the corridor and swims along further into the wreck. After a while, he turns off his flashlight. He can see a light ahead.
Is this Modin? Good God, let’s hope it is him—that idiot.
CHAPTER 147
Jöran Järv is back at the submarine. He is swimming over its deck and figures he can be seen from the cameras or periscope. He leaves the briefcase on deck, then he reaches for one of his reserve air cylinders and takes it from the stern deck. He fastens it to the metal ring on the right-hand side of his diving suit. He pushes off with one hand and floats toward the Estonia again.
He feels he is short of breath. From pure anxiety.
• • •
Bergman swims along the corridor toward the faint light deep down in the wreck. As he arrives at high speed, almost overshooting the target, he sees that the light is coming from one of the cabins. He fills his suit with air and stops by the door to the right. He can see a diver: Modin is lying on the floor. He swims up to him and gives him a nudge.
“Modin!”
Modin opens his eyes without moving his head. Bergman can see he exhales slowly. A stream of bubbles rises toward the ceiling of the cabin. They amass high up and push away the water. Modin’s exhalations have created a small air pocket in the cabin ceiling.
Bergman grabs Modin’s wrist tightly and drags him toward the door. Modin makes no attempt to resist. He is apathetic.
Under Water (Anton Modin Book 3) Page 34