I can’t feel my legs, the cold water has made them numb. Will the sea or hypothermia take me?
Something knocks into my pelvis. I jump, looking down to see the plastic dog bowls floating.
I try hammering on the door, my teeth chattering with the cold. Then the lights in the hallway, together with the one in my room, flicker and go out, leaving me in complete darkness. My lungs heave as panic overwhelms me. I open my mouth and let out a piercing scream. Then another. Then another and then again, doing what I promised Twafiq I wouldn’t, begging for someone to save me until my voice is hoarse.
The water’s lapping at the bottom of my breasts, and I feel the cold seeping into my bones, numbing me entirely. I wonder whether I’ll pass out before I drown, hoping that might make death easier.
I can’t stop fighting, can’t allow myself to give up. Feeling water slosh around me, I bang on the door again, my hands feebly beating against the wood that’s preventing my escape.
Taking in as deep a breath as I can, I let it out in the loudest screech possible, suspecting they might be hearing me on the upper decks and are ignoring me.
Suddenly I become aware that the distant sounds I thought were sounds of the yacht protesting its imminent death are something different. Popping sounds that sound like gunfire.
Is it a rescue?
The water’s up to my neck. This is a big yacht. If someone’s come for me, they’ve got to search it and find me. By the time they do, it might be too late. All they’ll be rescuing is my dead body.
Another rush of water seeps in as the boat lurches again, and I lose my footing. Trying to make my paralysed limbs move, I’m forced to leave my place by the door and swim across to the wall where there’s the most air. Discovering fast how hard it is to tread water when I’ve lost all feeling in my limbs. Keeping my mouth above water is almost impossible.
Don’t give up.
Seawater fills my mouth. I splutter and cough and spit it out, struggling to lift my head out of the liquid that’s intent on killing me.
My mouth’s covered, I can only breathe in through my nose. Just give up. Let yourself go under. As I long as I hear the sound of a battle going on, I refuse to stop fighting.
Until I don’t have the option any longer. There’s no air pocket left. Water seeps into my nostrils, my chest burns as I automatically inhale. Unable to fight anymore, my body goes limp.
Chapter 16
Hunter
It’s probably not a good time to tell anyone I’ve no head for heights. From the windows of the plane, the clear, starry sky enables me to make out the lights of the yacht very far below, looking more like a toy than something we could actually land on. Eying my fellow jumpers, I see the experienced skydivers appearing excited and exhilarated, ready to do their job. The other ‘passengers’, seeming much like myself, tense but focused. We’re all dressed in black clothing, and that, together with the dark parachutes, should hide our descent. The plane’s flying high, so the yacht will ignore us.
As I’m buckled into a harness I hear others speaking in their headset. Luckily Zaram’s men speak perfect English, so only one language is used for those last-minute instructions. Although I speak fluent Arabic, it would be hard to string words together in that language at the moment. My hands feel sweaty, my heart’s hammering in my chest. If men were meant to fall from the sky we’d have been given wings.
“Just let me drive. All you’ve got to do is hang on.” How the fuck Ryan can sound so calm is beyond me. “Relax, man. Just enjoy it.” I can’t even be embarrassed that my teammate has sensed my distress. I make my mind focus on Aiza. I’d do, and am doing, all that I can to get to her. To save her. Then to plan how to keep her at my side.
“Ready to go in five.” Sean will be making the first drop into the water. Latif, another with underwater experience, is going along with him. As well as the jammer, Ryan’s equipment includes a rope ladder to enable them to get back up the side of the yacht.
I’m a part-time bodyguard and intelligence officer, not a skydiver. While I’ve never had the slightest inclination to throw myself out of a plane before, there’s probably not much I wouldn’t do when it comes to Aiza. The thought of what Twafiq might be putting her through is probably far worse than jumping into the night sky. That’s what gives me the incentive. If, as my mind seems to expect, that parachute I’m so suspicious about fails to open and we crash and die on impact, at least I’ll have died trying. Ryan, it seems, is full of confidence and has no such doubts.
As we hear the countdown begin through our headsets, the door opens. I take one last look around the interior of the plane, noticing the two sheikhs are looking decidedly pale. Rami looks quite nauseous. Having company in my misery helps me feel a bit better, so I give them a cheeky thumps up as Ryan steps into the void, and then we’re falling, following Sean and Latif, who I can’t make out far beneath us.
After a slight tumble Ryan gets us right way up. As the air rushes past far too fast, it’s hardly possible to catch my breath. I’m wondering when the fuck he’s going to open the parachute, having to clench my fists in an effort to ignore my every reaction to pull every rope in sight. As the ship hurtles up towards us, I know he’s leaving it too late. Something must have gone wrong…
Then a jolt, and our downward progress is drastically slowed. We start to float through the air, and I make myself a promise—I’m never doing this again in my life. Fuck, Aiza. You’re going to be my woman, and I’ll ensure you’re kept safe and out of harms way. Since she’d been taken at the airport it’s all been action or planning, the few minutes of floating through the air giving me time to analyse my part in her abduction. Now I wonder whether I could have done anymore to prevent it. Fuck, I failed you, Aiza. I’ll not let you down again.
We’re going too far to the right, Ryan makes an adjustment. Then to the left, then out over the stern. Luckily my teammate knows what he’s doing. Soon the helipad on the top deck of the yacht is rushing up to meet us. Remembering my instructions, I prepare to bend my legs, and we land, curling and rolling.
With expert ease, Ryan has the parachute rolled in seconds and back in his pack. He takes out the jammer, turns it on and finds a secure place to hide it.
Communicating with hand signals, we follow the route learned from the blueprint Cara was able to obtain, and quietly start descending the stairs. Guns equipped with silencers and lethal knives in our hands, we make our way to the bridge. Ryan signals, two men.
Like thieves in the night, we enter. With no remorse or second thoughts we slit their throats, their blood running and staining the otherwise immaculate wood. Ryan indicates something. The wheel’s making small adjustments by itself as it continues to take the yacht on its preprogrammed course.
Suddenly there’s a loud boom breaking the quiet of the night air. Sean’s done his job. The yacht lurches. We leave the bridge, going to the lower deck where Ryan throws the ladder over the side.
“Jon and Rais have gone into the water.”
Hearing they’ve missed the ship, anxiously I look out into the darkness, unable to make out anything in the black sea. Then the ladder bucks, and within moments Sean’s on top, followed by Latif. He turns, and like us, looks out over the water.
“Gust took them off course,” Latif notes. “Saw them veer off to starboard.”
With relief I see the ladder’s moving again.
“How long since you last did that, Jon?” Rais queries the man appearing behind him.
“Too fucking long.” Jon shakes the water out of his hair as well as the implied insult, then replaces his helmet. “Come on.”
Without wasting any time, we go first to the crew quarters. Ben’s already got a number of sailors and engineers corralled in the mess room. I go to help, checking for weapons and disarming them. Ryan and Seth disappear, coming back with officers and the rest of the crew, methodically searching this part of the boat. Faiza, Hafeez, and Latif head to the staff quarters. Up to now most have bee
n sleeping and we’ve taken them by surprise.
The captain makes the most fuss, but he quiets down with my fist to his jaw.
“Hunter, go after Rami and Rais. They’ve headed to the master suite,” Ben instructs.
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I turn and run through the central hallway leading to the state rooms in the bow, clearing each room as I pass. Alerted by the listing of the ship, two men looking like bodyguards suddenly appear ahead of me. Using their surprise to aid me, I take them down with two bullets.
Stepping over their bodies I carry on, finding Rais and Rami stumped by two massive, locked doors. Not unexpected. I take out the small explosive device from my pack and we retreat to a safe distance. The C4 does its job, the doors hang from their hinges.
Inside, a man in Arab clothing is hidden behind two men who look like they’ve previously had arguments with Mike Tyson. I don’t hesitate, shooting as soon as we enter, and both men fall. Rais rushes forwards and checks, finishing one off with his knife. My silencer’s crap now, the sound hardly deadened.
The man left standing must be Sheikh Twafiq. To give him his due, he’s standing up straight, his face betraying no emotion at the death of his men. As Rais advances, although he must know his yacht’s compromised and seriously damaged, there’s no fear in Twafiq’s eyes. Instead, his cheeks flame red and his body is quivering with unsuppressed rage.
“How dare you?” he spits out. “Who do you think you are? Are you pirates? You have no business boarding my yacht.”
Rais roars, and one punch with all his strength behind it has Twafiq flat on the floor. “We’re asking the questions, you piece of shit. Where’s Princess Aiza?” He’s not asking nicely. To encourage an answer, he raises his knife and pins one of Twafiq’s hands to the floor. Then takes out another blade and does the same to the other.
Trapped and at Rais’s mercy, Twafiq lets out a snarl of rage. He stares unflinching into the desert sheikh’s eyes. Though he must be in considerable pain, he doesn’t show it. “She’s not here.”
“She’s on this yacht. You bought her, you fucking sorry excuse for a man.”
Trapped and threatened, Twafiq only laughs. “You won’t find her.”
Has he already killed her?
I watch as he lifts his head and gives a gloating look down the room, the direction towards the stern which is sloping downwards. The lower decks must be filling with water.
My eyes go to Rami’s. In a split second we both understand.
“Finish him, Rais.” My gut tells me we haven’t got much time.
“Leave him with me.” Yarub, quiet up to now, nods at Rais. “I’ll make him hurt, I promise. Go find the woman.”
Though it’s clear Rais wants to deliver retribution himself, he nods his thanks to Yarub and then comes to Rami and myself. “She’s down at the stern.”
“Yeah, I picked that up.” I’m already moving.
We run through the staterooms, calling out. A couple of members of panicked staff are returning to this deck, obviously having found the lifeboats are sabotaged. Angry and confused, they have weapons at hand. We’re better prepared and trained, and soon take them out. Swinging around a corner there’s another huddle of frightened men. A short gunfight, and we’ve got them beaten.
Taking the first set of stairs, we start to search, throwing open doors left and right. When we can’t find her, we go down to the next level and do the same there.
The expressions on the faces ofRami and I are mirrored.
“Where the fuck is she?” Rami shouts in despair, banging his fist against the wall.
“I don’t know. She has to be here somewhere,” Rais yells as he runs for the next set of stairs.
These lead down to the engine deck. Beneath us seawater is slopping around. The yacht suddenly lists further to the side, and the bottom of the stairwell now has water waist deep. We don’t hesitate, just go straight down. Rami starts wading off towards the bow, yelling her name in a voice thick with despair, while Rais and I eye up the deepening water in the other direction. The boat’s well down towards the stern now, the engine room must be totally submerged.
Creaking sounds come from all around us mingled with mini waves from the water sloshing. Then there’s roaring noise, which I suspect heralds the yacht’s final death throws, but I’m not giving up. The sheikh and I exchange grim glances, and I know he’s on the same page. We’ll find her, or die trying.
Suddenly I signal him to still. “Hear that?” I thought I heard a weak cry.
Rais heard it too. “It came from down there.”
Quickly I speak through the radio. “Sean. Get down to the engine deck with your diving equipment. Quickly, man.” Knowing there’s no time to waste, I don’t bother waiting for his acknowledgement, just step forwards into the freezing cold water.
A slushing by my side shows Rais is coming with me. We wade, then the water’s up to our chests, then our necks. As we push on, the rapidly rising water is to my chin now, and still coming up as the ship lists even further towards the stern. The ship’s sinking. Still neither Rais or I have any other thought than getting to Aiza, even if I’m starting to think there’s no way we’ll get to her in time. I’m not leaving without her.
The water comes up over our heads. I start to swim, noting with dismay how little space there is between the water and the ceiling. Submerged, our comms have been knocked out, the only light coming from the waterproof torches we hold. We communicate with hand signals as we try to fight against the flow, hanging onto the handrail to stop from being swept away. Creeping forwards too slowly, we come to a locked door. A quick glance at each other, then try to break it down. Under the water our kicking has little effect. I dive to check the lock. My lungs soon start burning. I need air, but I’m not leaving Aiza. Although my brain is shrieking self-preservation, somehow I remember a skeleton key is part of my pack. Hoping to fuck I don’t drop it, I take it out and have the door opened.
I’m feeling dizzy from lack of air. Rais doesn’t look much better as we swim into the dark, neither of us going to give up.
I swim like a dog quartering the land to flush game, and then, fuck, the beam of light from my torch shows me a lifeless body floating at the back of the small space. Kicking my legs, I swim forwards, taking her in my arms, then making one last effort, start to swim back the way we’ve come. Rais swims on his back, one arm clutching my shirt, helping both me and my burden along.
The burden that’s naked, unmoving. Aiza! You can’t be dead.
The water’s now up to the top of the stairwell, it’s only when my head rises above it I can gasp in much needed air. My lungs heave as I take the next set of stairs. As soon as we’re in a steeply sloping but dry corridor, I set her down and immediately start performing mouth to mouth.
“Come on, Aiza. Fucking come on!” I scream, wanting to shake her, but instead lower my lips to hers again.
Rais is doing compressions on her chest while I breathe my life-giving air into her mouth.
Sean’s finally arrived. Thank God I didn’t wait for him, we’d have been too late. His footsteps falter as he sees what’s on the ground.
“Is she?”
As I raise my head I spit out. “No.” My denial forcing me to keep trying again. Her body’s so cold to touch, in the light of the torches it’s blue.
Compressions, air, compressions, air. Neither Rais or I will be giving up. Rami’s appeared and drops by my side. “Let me take over.” He tries to push me out of the way.
I snarl back. No one is doing this for Aiza other than me.
Then, thank every god there is, she coughs, and sounds like she’s choking, I turn her to her side and she’s violently sick as all the water she’s swallowed and breathed in is expelled.
Sean appears with a dry blanket in his hands, purloined from a state room the water’s not yet reached.
“Hunt…?”
“Hush, don’t speak. Save your energy. We’ve got to get off of this boat.�
�
“I think it’s sinking,” she informs us weakly.
I chuckle, though the situation is far from amusing. “We’ve already figured that out.”
I stand, holding my so precious and alive bundle in my arms, and start to carry her up the stairs, Rami and Rais reaching out to touch her as if to reassure themselves she’s really there.
Then we come to a halt. Christ, I thought we were home free. Standing dripping with blood from where the knives had pinned him to the floor, and with the extra wounds Yarub had inflicted, is Twafiq. He’s accompanied by half a dozen of his men carrying automatic rifles, all pointed at us. Without being told, I know Zaram’s man has to be dead.
My radio’s out, luckily Sean’s isn’t. I close the gap between us, speaking loudly so his mic picks up my voice. “You’ve lost, Twafiq. All we want is the woman we came for. Let us go, and you concentrate on saving your yacht.”
A muttered sound escapes Sean. Yeah, well there’s no point telling Twafiq that Sean’s so efficient at this job there’ll be no saving his yacht now.
“No. I keep the woman and my yacht. If my yacht can’t be saved, my slave will be going down with me.”
I snarl that he still thinks she’s his. “No one’s coming to rescue you, Twafiq.”
“Then we’ll die together.” He looks at the bundle in my arms. “It would have been a waste if she’d just drowned, so thank you for saving her. If I only have a short time to live, I can still make good use of her. Give my slave to me.”
Aiza gasps in horror. I squeeze her, letting her know there’s no way I’m giving her up.
It looks like there’s no way out of this without bullets flying. In the narrow stairway, ricochets might hit us even if the bullets miss. I can’t put Aiza down to get my gun. It’s a standoff.
Then rapid gunfire comes along the corridor behind Twafiq. As his men turn around to face the new threat, Sean raises his rifle and rains fire from this side. Twafiq jerks, his eyes blazing in anger as his body jumps like he is being pulled with strings like a marionette, and then he falls to his knees, his mouth working, trying to curse us until the end.
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 14