by J. F. Kirwan
Bliss.
She opened her eyes and gazed beyond the dive hut to the forest. She’d explored it yesterday, just before sunset. A challenge. Dense foliage, a dozen shades of green, roots and thorny bushes, the sound of the sea lost after only twenty metres, replaced by the loud buzz of invisible, bloodthirsty insects. After wading through fifty metres, her shins covered in small scratches and bites, she was almost lost. But she ploughed on, rewarded on the other side of the island by a close encounter with a huge green turtle as it lumbered up the soft sand slope to dig a hole and lay eggs.
She’d watched it from a distance until it grew dark and the mosquito shift came to feast on her, despite having plastered her skin with repellent earlier. The turtle struggled, terribly weary judging by its slow, jagged digging movements, but it never stopped. Nature imbued its progeny with an incredible will to prolong the species. She walked beside the turtle as it lumbered down to the sea, and clapped as it floated and then disappeared beneath moonlit waves. By the time she’d walked around the beach back to the dive centre, she’d missed dinner, and didn’t care.
In the hammock, she turned her head back towards the emerald sea that shifted to cobalt blue farther out in the depths. She heard the distant whine of an engine. Shading her eyes, she searched for the boat – not so easy with the sun low in the sky, flashes of white skittering across the wave-tops. It was the same speedboat she’d arrived on, a sleek five-metre affair with a rectangular orange canopy to stave off the sun, a single powerful engine at the rear. Several passengers. Her breath shallowed. One of them stood out from the others. At the prow. Only a silhouette, but his broad-shouldered swimmer’s physique gave him away. She rolled off the hammock and stood under the shade of the palms.
She thought about running to the jetty to greet him. But she was still pissed off with him. No visits, no letters, no communication whatsoever. He was probably with someone else, married for all she knew. After all, it hadn’t been a big romance. Made love three times, had a couple of deep conversations. Not a relationship. Barely an affair. A fling, that was all.
He disembarked, and saw her. He handed his holdall to one of the locals, and walked straight towards her.
As he approached, she folded her arms. ‘Nice of you to drop by,’ she said. But he didn’t slow down. He came right up to her, took her head in both hands and kissed her, hard, urgent, passionate. The opposite of Sergei, who had been seductive, smooth, confident.
She came up for air. ‘You have some explaining to do.’ But her body was already reacting to him. The chemistry between them burst alive, and was kicking. But her anger was there, too.
‘Why didn’t you come to see me?’
‘Later. Here’s what matters. I haven’t made love to anyone since the day you were taken away.’
She eyed him. Was it true? She searched those deep blue eyes.
Damn. She’d been looking forward to a storming row, him being guilty, begging her to forgive him. And now this? He’d been faithful, whereas she’d slept with Sergei less than forty-eight hours ago… She felt her face redden with embarrassment. She hoped he’d mistake it for sunburn. But she realised it touched her – if he wasn’t lying about it. No one had ever cared about her that much. She needed time to work out how she really felt about it, but sensed that time was the one thing that was in short supply.
‘Where’s your room?’ he asked.
Unbelievable. But at least now she was on more familiar ground. ‘What, the hammock isn’t good enough?’
He took her hands, held them behind her back with one hand and kissed her throat, his chest brushing against her breasts, while his other hand held the back of her head. He nudged her back towards the hammock. Cheering erupted from one of the breakfast tables. The Brits, naturally.
‘Okay!’ she said. ‘But you let me use my hands.’
His mouth cracked a smile. ‘Deal.’
***
Her head rested on Jake’s chest. She watched the ceiling fan – no aircon on Anspida – and wondered if she should mention Sergei. No. But that didn’t mean he should give her anything less than full disclosure.
‘Tell me,’ she said.
He blew out a long breath, then began. ‘Lorne made a deal with me. Said she’d quash the homicide charge if I stayed away. No contact whatsoever.’
Bitch!
‘She also said you’d be out after three years. Katya managed to exert some influence, aided by that friend of hers, Bransk, so you got out a year early.’
‘What else?’ she asked. As in, who else.
‘I was in training at various MI6 camps for six months.’
She’d noticed his body, already fit two years back, now more muscled, and yet leaner.
‘Then Hong Kong and Shanghai, chasing up leads on the client for the Rose.’
She’d hoped for at least a couple of hours off on her birthday. Never mind. ‘And?’
Jake sat up, shuffled backwards on the narrow bed so his shoulders were against the bare wall. ‘Salamander is a ghost. I’ve never seen anything like it. It took immense digging to even unearth his name, which we only confirmed a year ago when an ex-agent gone rogue came back into the fold, begging for protection, which we failed to deliver. You’ll have to tell me more about this Bransk, how he knows about Salamander, since almost nobody seems to know anything, including us, the FSB, Mossad and the CIA.’ He took a breath. ‘You remember Cheng Yi’s last words?’
She’d gone over them a hundred times in her head. Salamander’s name was apt. Happy in water or air, lives in darkness. You won’t hear him coming… Despite the balmy heat, Nadia felt a shiver. She’d hoped Jake and Lorne would have some stronger leads.
‘That still leaves a year,’ she said.
‘Followed a trail to Nairobi, then Watamu in the south-east, but the leads went cold again.’
The corners of his mouth lifted.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘You won’t like it,’ he said, moving back down the bed, his mouth close to hers. ‘Promise not to be jealous?’
She grabbed a handful of chest hairs and pulled. ‘Tell me.’
‘Okay. I did some diving in Watamu.’
‘And?’
He grinned. If he’d been lying about not having had a lover… She got ready to knock that smug look right off his face.
His face lit up. ‘I rode a whale shark.’
‘Bastard!’ She kissed him.
‘Maybe we should go diving? Best diving in the world is twenty metres away. Anspida is your average idyllic island on top. The jewellery is all underwater.’
She took his hand, kissed his palm, then placed it where it counted. ‘Not yet,’ she said.
***
Vladimir relaxed. She hadn’t seen him when he’d arrived on the boat with the others. He’d worn a floppy hat and had hung back, made sure he was last off the boat, by which time she was ensconced with her man. God, she was a young woman now. And she had someone who clearly cared for her. She seemed happy. Maybe he should leave; might be better for her. But she wasn’t safe. She had no idea what she was up against.
He did.
He’d stay a few days in case someone turned up. Salamander would make his move soon; he didn’t like loose ends, and never forgave. The only people who knew about him bore his mark, the tattoo. Everyone else who’d even begun to have an inkling about him was dead.
He scratched the scar on his inner forearm. The six-inch strip of flesh hadn’t fully healed – the tattoo had been deeper than usual. He’d need another to mask it. The facial surgery had been necessary, though maybe not enough. Even after he’d burned all records, the surgeon had been kidnapped and tortured. His sniper shot had been a mercy for the surgeon, but killing the assistant later that evening before Salamander’s men found her had been a cold-blooded necessity.
He’d resigned himself to being a killer a lifetime ago, and Nadia and Katya were in danger. His maxim still held –
the only thing worth killing for was family. So here he was. Only a ghost can protect you from a ghost. He would stay in the background, rather than meet her as he’d once planned – dreamed – it would put her off balance when she was most vulnerable.
She wouldn’t recognise him in any case, not after the surgery. But if he spoke… Difficult to disguise a voice, something of the original always remains.
Back to work. Two Germans had arrived on the afternoon boat. Their bodies were not just muscled, but toughened as well, their shins and arms like leather, like a few Thai boxers he’d known. He watched them. The instructor, Dominic, came over, so Vladimir pulled his head out of his book.
‘Are you diving this afternoon?’
He considered it. ‘Maybe, I’m still a bit tired from the flights.’ He’d wait and see what Nadia was doing, and the two Germans. They hadn’t looked at him. He didn’t kid himself that it was because he was good at being incognito. Plan for the worst. There was something he had to do, because he didn’t have a weapon, and if they were Salamander’s men, they would for sure.
He got up and headed back to his room. He passed Nadia’s, heard soft moans of ecstasy. If there was time later, he’d buy her boyfriend a drink. Or knock him flat. One or the other. Some decisions could wait.
First things first. He took out his knife, a length of nylon rope from his dive kit, and headed into the forest.
Chapter Seven
‘There are three types of shark.’
Jake was in dive instructor mode. Nadia wasn’t averse to it. He’d asked if she’d dived with sharks before, and she’d replied no. But she didn’t like being passive. She held up one finger, the second one, and gave him her blandest smile.
It didn’t put him off his stroke. Several other divers plonked themselves onto the bench. Dominic – the lanky, foppish-looking chief instructor – hustled his diving group over to listen. From his grin, clearly he knew Jake, and had heard this particular lecture before.
Jake caught Dominic’s eye, nodded, and continued. ‘First, there are reef sharks, about four feet long. They’re more afraid of you than the other way around, but they can nip you, if you harass them, or box them into a corner.’
‘How do you know if you’re harassing them? How close can you get?’ One of the British divers. The way he’d said it, it was a challenge.
Dominic tossed Jake a whiteboard marker. Jake neatly snatched it out of the air, turned to the whiteboard, and drew a crude side view of a shark with a thin body. He pointed to the pectoral fins. ‘These will drop down, move closer together, and…’ he sketched the same shark as seen from above ‘…the shark’s body will move from side to side.’ He added little arrows, and Nadia imagined the shark dancing, its body gyrating. ‘If that happens,’ he said, ‘back away fast.’
‘What if you’re in a cave?’ The dude again, pressing Jake.
‘Stick to the sides or the ceiling,’ Jake replied, zero antagonism in his voice. ‘Don’t block the entrance. Point is, even if they bite you, it’s a defence mechanism. They want to get away, or get you away from their nest. You can add to this class the slightly larger nurse sharks and leopard sharks, because they’re really not interested in us.’
Nadia held up two fingers, adding the forefinger, in a victory ‘V’, because he was winning this.
‘Second type is longer, six to eight feet, sometimes local, like grey reef sharks and black-tips, sometimes ocean-going – pelagic – like silver-tips. The first two are often in groups.’ He drew a longer and broader shark. ‘If you get cut around these sharks, they’ll attack, and the sheer numbers mean you won’t make it. Other predator fish like trevally, known colloquially as Jack, will arrive almost simultaneously, and all you’ll see is a whirlwind of silver, and every half-second one will dart in and tear off a piece of your flesh.’
‘Ever seen that?’ The Brit again.
Jake nodded to Dominic.
Dominic took a sip of his tea. ‘We occasionally do shark-feeding here, with chain-mail arm protection, using chum – that’s chopped-up fish intestines or heads – as bait.’ Several divers immediately sat up, their eager faces swivelling towards Dominic. He held up a hand. ‘Not very often, and only with advanced divers and instructors. It attracts the bigger ones to the reef, and they begin to associate humans with food, and then, as Jake already mentioned, there’s the trevally. They get pretty antsy. They’re just too unpredictable, too fast.’
Nadia added her ring finger.
Jake resumed. ‘Third are big, lone sharks. Bulls, tigers, the blue shark, and the great white.’
‘Ever seen a great white?’
This guy was a pain. Harmless, but a pain.
Jake didn’t take the bait. ‘There’s a saying amongst divers. The first time you see a great white…’ He flourished an open palm to Dominic.
‘Is the second time it’s seen you.’
Jake drew three flattened circles. ‘This is what you see when a shark is heading towards you. This one…’ he pointed to the reef shark ‘…can bite you. This one…’ he pointed to his type two ‘…can kill you, but it usually takes a few of them. And this one…’ He put down the pointer. Stared at the divers one by one. ‘Is out there. Fifty metres from where you’re sitting right now. If you swim away from the reef, just fifteen metres away, you’ll see him materialise out of the blue. A face, the mouth, the eyes. He’ll be coming straight towards you. It won’t be coincidence he’s heading your way. If this happens,’ he said, leaning forward on his knuckles on the bench, ‘DO NOT head for the surface. DO head straight back to the reef. NEVER lose sight of the reef. The really big sharks won’t approach the reef unless there’s already blood in the water.’
It was deadly quiet. Dominic grinned. The Brit piped up. ‘Bullshit. There’re no sharks that big just out there.’ Other divers turned to him, then to Jake.
‘You’re welcome to find out. We call it Anspida Roulette. See how long you can stay off the reef.’
Dominic clapped his hands. ‘Okay, my group, over here – dive briefing time.’
The divers separated into groups, including the Brits and the Japanese.
‘You’re a good speaker,’ Nadia said. ‘Had me convinced.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Let’s get in the water before they all do.’
The female Japanese instructor – long, sinewy, slender body, dark brown hair in a ponytail – strode towards Jake.
‘Jake-san, so lovely to see you again.’
Jake fumbled with his octopus regulator. ‘Yukio, good to see you, too. This is Nadia,’ he said quickly.
Yukio stared at him a moment then turned to Nadia. ‘So nice to meet you,’ she said, with a small bow and a big smile.
‘Likewise,’ Nadia said.
‘You’re lucky to dive with him. Jake is a great diver.’
‘I got that.’
Yukio bowed again, then to Jake said, ‘Later,’ and headed back to her group of divers.
Nadia said nothing as they finished setting up their gear, grabbed their fins and weight belts, and walked to the shore, her feet burning again, running not an option while carrying so much kit.
‘History,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘Recent or ancient?’
‘B-N,’ he said.
That made her smile. ‘Nice recovery,’ she said. B-N: Before Nadia.
‘Buddy checks,’ he said, and they faced each other, ankle deep in warm, sandy water.
Two other divers jogged fast towards them. Fit, late twenties, rugged-looking.
‘Hey, are you Jake?’ the one in front asked. German accent.
‘Yup.’
‘Great. I’m Lars; this is Matthias. Dominic said you’re diving deep. Any chance we can come with you? He and Yukio are tied up with inexperienced divers. We’re both a hundred plus dives, but the rules say we still need to go with an instructor.’
‘Sorry,’ Jake said.
‘We could just tag along, we’d be no –’
‘Nope, this is sort of…our honeymoon dive,’ he finished.
The one behind touched the other’s arm. ‘Oh, of course, sorry, another time. Maybe the cave tomorrow?’ They turned around and headed back towards Dominic’s group.
Jake came back to Nadia. ‘Right, where were we?’
‘Good question. I seem to have blanked out during a rather important ceremony. Yukio will be crushed.’
Jake made a face, and proceeded through the buddy check: air, computers, releases, buoyancy and weights, and the dive plan. She and Jake sloshed a few metres forwards, leaned on each other to put on their fins, donned their masks, and then plunged down the reef that dropped two thousand feet to the ocean floor.
***
Getting into the Germans’ room was easy, and they were down on the beach, about to dive. Vladimir checked the floor and the door hinges for any traps, any ‘someone-has-been-in-here’ telltales. There were none. Looking without touching, as far as he could, he searched the room. The hut was Spartan: two beds, a sink and toilet, a wooden chest of drawers, and a shelved recess with a beige curtain in front of it. Nowhere to hide anything, because the maid would easily discover it. Which left the two suitcases: one red, one dark blue, both locked via a three-digit passcode.
If there was anything important in there, like a weapon, the owner would need to be able to open it very fast, possibly in the dark. Vladimir put his fingers over the small reels and closed his eyes. He moved the first reel one way, then the other, just one notch. Nothing. He reset it to its original position. He did the same again with the other two reels, then returned to the first one, this time moving it two notches up, then down. Click. He released the buckle, and unzipped the bag slowly, so he could peer inside, just a crack, so nothing would shift from its original position.