by Sam Fisher
There was a metre of space between the water and the ceiling. He looked around. It was a large room. Water was pouring into it through another hole in the far wall. Harry was about to swim over to the hole when he caught a glint of light to his left. He darted towards it.
It was the glass upper half of yet another door. He could see through to the other side. An archway led on to a wide open space. He could see a vast spiral staircase. It was the main stairs of Dome Beta. Diving under the water, he searched for anything he could find to smash the window. The first dive was fruitless. He resurfaced and took a gulp of stale air. Desperately, he shuffled along the floor of the room. He saw a grey shape in the murk, swung his arm around and felt a sharp stab of pain. Drawing back, he watched as a swirl of red enveloped his arm. Quelling the panic, he focused on the shape he had seen. It was a piece of metal shelving. One end was a sharp edge where it had broken away from the rest of the unit. He grasped at the shelf and pulled himself up through the water. Ignoring the pain in his arm and the red water at his chest, he gripped the door handle and crashed the piece of shelving into the window. It offered little resistance, shattering into dozens of pieces. One small shard flew into Harry’s face and nicked his left ear. ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed and felt blood trickle down his cheek. Using the shelf, he smashed away the remaining fragments of glass clinging to the frame. He noticed the water level had dropped quite a few centimetres. Diving back under the water, he turned and headed back to the hole in the wall and the corridor beyond. When he tried to regain his feet, the water came over his head.
‘You can all swim, I hope,’ Harry gasped as he pulled himself up the barrier. There was little more than half a metre of air above the surface now. Kristy, Jim and Nick had scrambled up the wreckage and were clinging on for dear life, barely managing to contain their panic. Nick had vomited, some of it was floating around his neck, and there was a line of yellow running from his mouth. His cheeks were deathly white.
‘There’s a hole,’ Harry said. ‘Leads to a way out. But it’s a long swim, and I don’t know if we’ll have any air once we get into the next corridor. Come on, follow me.’
He swam to the doorframe, clinging to the wood for a few seconds then ducked down to peer into the adjoining corridor. The water was up the ceiling. He pulled his head back. ‘Damn it!’ he hissed. ‘Okay, Jim. You go first. The hole is to your right. Once you’re in the room and reach the surface you should be able to breathe, the water level is dropping there.’
Jim nodded and launched himself under the water. ‘Nick, you next.’
The boy was paralysed with terror. ‘Come on, Nick, you can do it.’
He stared at Harry. Then Kristy put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be right behind you.’
Harry looked at her in surprise, but she simply glared at him.
Nick dived down, kicking furiously, churning the water. There was barely any air space now and Kristy and Harry had to tilt their heads to breathe. ‘Follow me,’ Harry said. Filling his lungs, he shot down under the water and he felt Kristy do the same a second after him.
Harry glimpsed Jim’s feet as the American slid through the hole, and he saw Nick pull himself up along the wall, stick his head into the opening and propel himself forward. Swivelling around in the water, Harry was about to launch himself forward when he felt a rush of churning water. Something banged against his leg and twisted along his shin. He tried to kick it free, but it was stuck fast. He turned and went to reach down, but he couldn’t move. He had put his foot through a smashed computer monitor and it had twisted around, trapping him.
Kristy was only 2 metres behind him. She saw Harry twist and caught sight of the plastic object wrapped around his foot. She was barely containing her panic. She had never been a strong swimmer. Her lungs were burning. Every fibre of her brain was telling her to go on, to push through the hole in the wall. She had to save herself. Nothing else mattered. But then, she caught a glimpse of Harry’s face. He looked lost, overwhelmed, terrified. He gazed at her and she could see he believed he was going to die.
Pain rushed through Kristy’s chest as she stopped, turned and clawed at the monitor. It was stuck fast. She yanked at it, feeling shards of glass rip her flesh, but it would not give. The pain in her chest was crushing her. The desire to open her mouth and breathe was almost overwhelming. She pulled again, and Harry twisted in agony as the glass cut him too. Then it gave, the plastic casing slid through Kristy’s fingers and Harry’s bloodied foot slipped free. She felt strong hands grabbing her by her wrists and pulling her. Then they were at the opening and Harry was shoving her through. She smashed her head against the edge of the hole and clawed at the jagged concrete of the damaged wall. With a last desperate effort, she pulled herself through and scrambled into the air, gasping as she saw Harry break the surface, his face blue and streaked with blood.
44
Dome Gamma
Michael Xavier approached the group of survivors in the Dome Gamma ballroom, and heard sobbing. A woman was on her knees leaning over a prone form. Taking two steps closer, he realised the woman was his wife. She was crouched beside an older woman. It was not until he bent down next to her he recognised one of the guests at their table, Sheila Hoffman, the wife of the architect who had designed the hotel.
Hilary moved her hand over the woman’s face and closed her dead eyelids. Then she threw her head into her hands and wept. Michael put an arm around her shoulders and she melted into him. ‘There,’ he said softly. Hilary sobbed and clutched at his shirt.
‘Why is this happening, Michael?’ she managed to say.
Michael Xavier could not answer her. He knew that things had been made very much worse by the actions of his brother, but the man could hardly be blamed for the disaster. ‘I wish I knew, Hilary,’ he said and put a hand under her chin. She pulled away, but he insisted she look up at him. ‘Come on. We have to focus, Hil.’
She surveyed his face, holding his earnest gaze, and clambered to her feet. ‘What are we going to do?’
Michael kept his arm around his wife’s shoulders and led her back towards the others gathered close by. Hilary sat down, and Michael stood in front of the group. There were 14 of them, including Hilary, Michael, Johnny, and the two men who had come with them to check out the stairs and the exit. They were all injured in one way or another.
‘The staircase to the east of the building and the emergency stairs are both impassable,’ Michael told them. ‘It seems to me we have only one choice. We have to go down to the lowest level using the escalators. There are three emergency subs there. Also, if any rescue attempt is to be made from the surface, a sub will have to hook up with the universal dock in Beta. Failing that, a sub may be able to dock with Dome Alpha. The only route to any of these is via the lowest level and the linkways.’
‘That’s madness,’ Johnny Xavier burst out. He had been sitting on a pile of debris close to the others. Standing, he walked over to his brother. ‘I know this building as well as anyone,’ he said to the group. ‘You’ve all seen the devastation up here. It’ll be far worse down there.’ And he pointed towards the floor. ‘Besides, the escalators don’t work and may well be severely damaged.’ He started to pace in front of the group. ‘We have to stay put up here. Any rescue attempt will be made through one or other of the docks, but they will know we are up here and get through to us. If we go down they’ll never find us.’
There was a heavy silence broken only by the crackle of electrical cables close by and the constant dripping of water.
‘The top of the dome won’t last much longer,’ Michael reasoned, letting his words fall like lead weights. ‘Stay here and you’ll drown or be crushed to death. Going down is our only hope. The emergency bulkheads will cut off the top of the dome if pressure on the glass reaches a critical level. Johnny, you know that.’
‘What does he mean?’ It was Hilary. She glared at Johnny, then turned towards her husband. ‘What do you mean, Michael?’
‘What I said. Look for yourself, Hil. All of you. Look at the cap.’
Heads turned towards the apex of the dome. It was just visible in the gloom. They could all see the cracks running down the sides of the dome.
‘It’s designed to take the stress,’ Johnny insisted. He turned to the gathering. ‘Believe me. Going down is suicide. None of us have any idea what is down there. The cap will hold.’
Michael whirled on his brother. ‘Why are you doing this, Johnny?’
Johnny turned away from the others and took a step towards Michael. ‘I know you find it hard to accept that you might be wrong about anything, Mike. But why should any of us believe you? Tell me that, brother. You built this hotel, you brought us all here tonight.’ And he waved a hand back towards the others. ‘Why should any of us trust your judgement?’
Michael fixed his brother’s eyes. Johnny broke away and spun on his heel. ‘It’s up to each of you to decide what to do,’ he said.
Michael had a hand to his forehead, his eyes closed. Then he looked up and walked over to Hilary. Their daughter, Emily, was next to her. Hilary had an arm around the girl’s shoulder. Mother and daughter stared at Michael as he approached.
‘I’d like you to trust me,’ he said.
Hilary flicked Johnny a glance then looked at the ground for a second. Pulling Emily with her, she strode forward and threw her arms around Michael’s waist. He kissed her, then crouched to kiss Emily.
‘I believe we have to go down, and now,’ Michael said, turning to the group. ‘But as my brother says, it’s up to each of you to decide what’s best for you.’
Craig Deloray, the Australian security man, stepped forward. He had improvised a sling from a strip of fabric. He was followed by two others, the engineer, Miguel Bandonis, and the financier, Sigmund de Silva.
‘Johnny,’ Michael said, turning to his brother. ‘Please. You’re making a mistake.’
‘I don’t think I am, Michael. I think you are.’
‘Is that your final word?’
Johnny did not reply, just walked back towards those who had decided to stay.
Michael watched him. Then he took a deep breath, turned and never looked back.
45
The two escalators descended directly from the banqueting hall. But Johnny Xavier was right, they had stopped working. They were also cast in darkness.
‘Here, I’ve got this,’ Bandonis said, pulling a torch from the back of his belt. He swept the beam over the top of the right-hand escalator. It lit up the first 5 metres, then petered out. ‘Let’s go then,’ he added, gripping the rail and stepping onto the steel tread. It was wet with water.
The light spilling back from the torch was so faint it barely did any good at all, but gradually their eyes began to adjust. Hilary held Emily’s hand tightly with her left hand and grasped the rubber handrail with her right. She felt a horrible sense of dread deep in the pit of her stomach, but knew she had to project the illusion of remaining calm. After two steps on the wet metal, she stopped, pulled off her high heels and tossed them over the railing onto the parallel escalator.
Michael was close behind Hilary and Emily. He took a step down to join them.
‘You okay?’ he asked his wife.
‘Oh yes!’ Hilary declared. ‘Reminds me of a holiday in St Tropez.’
Michael looked pained.
‘I’m sorry,’ Hilary said suddenly. Then she did something she had not done for a long time. Taking her hand from the rail, she put it on Michael’s cheek, feeling the soft warmth and revelling in it for a second.
‘I’m so sorry about...’ Michael began.
Hilary shook her head.
Craig Deloray and Sigmund de Silva, who had been a few steps behind, approached them. Michael looked up at their vague shapes emerging from the gloom. Then he squeezed Hilary’s hand.
The escalators ran in three stages from the top floor of the dome to ground. The first led down to the second floor where the cinema and theatre were located. Another set connected the second floor to the first level which was dominated by a set of conference rooms. The final escalator hooked up with the ground floor, and the casino, Poseidon’s Gold. From there, a wide, carpeted staircase descended one level to the lower ground floor.
‘Miguel? Can you see anything?’ Michael called.
‘Looks like the escalator is in one piece, sir,’ he called back.
Then Michael noticed the torch beam wobble.
‘Miguel?’
There was no reply.
The light moved downwards, casting strange shadows across the wall, a silhouette of the engineer, crouching down.
‘Miguel? What is it?’ Michael repeated, and edged his way carefully in front of Hilary and Emily. They had frozen to the spot.
Michael came up behind the engineer. Bandonis turned as his boss approached. In the light from the torch, Michael could see the mangled body on the metal steps. It was a man in a tux. His dead face was blackened. There was a huge red and grey opening running from his left temple to his lips. His legs were twisted under him. One arm hung from a few sinews.
‘My God!’ Michael exclaimed.
Bandonis rose unsteadily. Michael took four steps back up the escalator to where Hilary and Emily were standing outside the circle of light.
‘There’s a dead body a few steps down,’ he said.
Hilary put a hand to her mouth. The two men, Sigmund de Silva and Craig Deloray, had come up behind Hilary and Emily. ‘Miguel and I will move the body to the right side of the escalator.’
Michael disappeared for a few moments. The others heard a heavy weight being shifted over the wet metal steps and then Xavier was back, his face pale.
‘Hil, you cover Em’s eyes and help her past, okay?’
Hilary Xavier nodded.
Michael took Emily’s right hand, Hilary turned her daughter’s head away holding her against her hip. Slowly, carefully they crept down the frigid steps of the escalator. Hilary tried hard not to look, but morbid curiosity overwhelmed her. She glanced to the right as they passed the body. The dead man’s blind eyes were staring straight at her, his mouth slack and open. She recognised him ... just. Unable to contain herself any longer, Hilary gasped. She had seen the man earlier. He had been alive and well and tending to his famous charge. Now Kristy Sunshine’s manager, Brett Littleton, was as dead as dead could be, a mutilated corpse on the icy steel steps.
46
A few minutes after leaving the banqueting hall, they had reached the second floor of Dome Gamma. It was pitch black. Michael and Hilary Xavier, with their daughter and Craig Deloray, followed Miguel Bandonis and Sigmund de Silva. Bandonis held the torch as steady as he could. The carpet was sodden and water had gathered in puddles in the lush fabric. And it stank – a blend of food, the crisp ozone of electrical activity and the stench of the ocean floor, a rich salty compost odour.
Bandonis swept the torch around the walls and into the dark recesses of the landing. The walls ran with water. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and a metre square piece of plasterboard hung down from one edge. The torch revealed electrical wiring and a brightly coloured plastic conduit running along the cavity above their heads.
‘There’s an emergency override for the ceiling lights here somewhere,’ Michael said. He looked over to Bandonis.
The man was shaking his head. ‘There should be.’
Michael held his gaze then closed his eyes for a second and sighed.
‘There’re a couple of floor lights,’ Bandonis offered.
‘Forget it. What about the lower floors? What are the cuts there?’
‘Not sure, sir. I think emergency lighting for the casino was untouched.’
Michael Xavier looked at the engineer. ‘Well, that’s something at least.’ He turned to the others. No one spoke. ‘After you, Miguel,’ Michael said.
The next pair of escalators were shorter, and they all reached the conference suite level without incident. Michael took the torch from Bando
nis and walked half a dozen paces over to a wall panel adjacent to the doors to Conference Room 1. From his pocket, he removed a credit card-sized piece of black plastic and ran it down a slot to the right of the panel. Nothing happened.
Bandonis was at Michael’s shoulder. ‘It’s down too,’ he said. He pulled a penknife from his pocket. ‘Here, let me try this.’ He leaned in and ran the knife along the slot. Stopping about two-thirds of the way down, he pulled the knife back towards him a fraction of a millimetre. There was a quiet click and the panel swung outwards. Michael Xavier held the torch while Bandonis fiddled with a collection of wires. The engineer tugged on a red lead, unthreading it from the others and slotted the copper end into the opening of a junction box. He flicked a switch to one side and the lights came on.
‘So, what now?’ Craig Deloray asked as Michael and Miguel approached. His face was wreathed with sweat. Michael had forgotten how badly injured the man was.
‘You okay to go on?’
‘Don’t have a choice, do I?’ Deloray replied and forced a half-smile.
‘What is the plan, precisely?’ Sigmund de Silva asked. He was sitting on a low wall that surrounded a flowerbed in the centre of the hall close to the foot of the escalators. He looked exhausted. Like the others, his face was smeared with sweat and dust and blood.
Michael took a deep breath. ‘We have to get to the emergency subs on the lower ground level.’
‘And if they’re not working?’
‘Then we have to head that way.’ He pointed to his left, the west side of the building. ‘The linkway to Beta is on the same floor. If we can get to Beta, there is another set of emergency subs. We can try to reach the universal dock or press on to Alpha and the other dock. I’m assuming any rescue effort will use the Cousteau or one of the other subs.’
‘But Miguel, you reckoned half the subs were duds,’ de Silva said.