No Remorse Part 35

98.

Mac squatted by the base of the falls and ate the last of the bananas he'd scavenged. He tentatively pressed his bandaged left thigh and tried to stretch the stiffness from the leg. The injured muscle trembled. It was on the verge of cramping after four hours of trudging from where he'd hidden the launch in a narrow inlet. Ziad's bullet had only zinged the skin but it had still bruised the muscle. Yet each time his body cried out for him to rest, he saw the image of Scotty on the operating table, his eyes slowly closing. No, he couldn't wait for Tally to contact Wisebaum and arrange a raiding team or useless negotiations. And Khalid wouldn't be waiting. His new bomb-maker would probably have arrived by now.

But Mac had a plan. He had argued with Jog, who had wanted to come along. But there was no way he was going to risk Jog, after losing Scotty. His plan only needed one man.

As he walked to the falls, he thought about a lot of things. About Bob and Elena, who would soon have Sophia back. About Danni's folks, who would be left wondering. And about Scotty's family and his daughter, Sandra. But mostly he thought about Tally. He'd felt something special when she'd put her arms around him. His skin had broken out in gooseb.u.mps as a whole lot of conflicting emotions had flooded through him-joy that she was alive, guilt that he'd not been there to protect her, happiness that she was with him. G.o.d knows what abuse she'd suffered. Now, as he thought about her, his eyes welled up, and he felt ashamed at the selfishness his emotion represented. He wasn't sure whether there was any future at all for him, but if there was, he'd be happy if Tally wanted to be a part of it.

Arriving at the waterfall, Mac didn't waste any time. He stripped off his s.h.i.+rt and checked the SOCOM pistol he'd taken from their equipment crate on the Rabi, with four fully loaded magazines and also a flashlight. The place was on the left side at the base of the waterfall. It was deeper there. Taking a huge breath, he dived down into the black. It would be easy to become disoriented and run out of air. Suddenly, he felt the ceiling rise and found the metal grate. He ran his fingers across the metal until he found a bolt. The metal was stiff and he needed to wriggle the bolt to slide it out. He almost had it, but his lungs were bursting, demanding he inhale.

He refused to obey his body's demands and forced himself to keep wriggling the bolt. Finally it slid out and the grate swung down towards him. He surfaced into a cramped pa.s.sageway and frantically sucked in the warm air to fill his lungs. This tunnel was much narrower than the one they had used before, which led back to the resort and had been specifically excavated as a ventilation shaft.

He was still crawling half an hour later when he heard a low rumble and felt the ground vibrate. Dust fell from above. A blast of air rushed past him, back the opposite way to the usual ventilation draft. The tunnel filled with dust, making it difficult to breathe. They were using explosives, probably sealing the other exit where he and Tally had gotten out. Fortunately, they couldn't seal this one-it was their ventilation.

His throat was killing him from the dust. At the end of the shaft, it joined a metal duct and went off in three directions. The left duct would take air into the air conditioning unit. The one straight ahead ended at the interior of the fortress and was now covered by a heavy steel grate. Impossible for him to s.h.i.+ft. Taking the right-hand duct, after about fifteen metres he came to another metal grate of lightweight aluminium. Maybe they didn't know about this grate or hadn't got around to reinforcing it. He pushed against it and it slipped off. He peered out. It was a different part of the fortress from where he and Tally had first escaped. He levered his body out and dropped to the floor.

He crept along the cavity and opened an access panel at the back of a cupboard in the maintenance building. There was n.o.body inside. Moving stealthily to the door, he opened it a crack and peered out. The access tunnel leading to the resort had been sealed off by a ma.s.sive concrete door. That meant the fortress was operating autonomously, and the only way in or out was through the sea tunnel. They would only seal the tunnel if Khalid was in the fortress.

Two submarines were berthed at the dock and two guards stood smoking near them, their weapons at the ready. The hatchway was open. Someone must soon be leaving in a submarine. Two more guards were posted outside the control building. As he watched, the door to Khalid's quarters opened and Ibrahim limped down towards the dock, carrying one of the bomb backpacks. The new bomb-maker was here. Ibrahim must have been protecting him in the fortress that morning during their attack on the resort.

Mac closed the door. s.h.i.+elding the flashlight, he found a mask, weight belt and an air tank ready to use. He took a star flare from a metal storage container. Timing his move to when the guards were all watching Ibrahim loading the backpack into the submarine, Mac slipped out the door and along to the ma.s.sive storage area extending back behind the dock, separated from the rest of the fortress by a three metre concrete wall with open access at both ends. In front of him were rows and rows of two metre high bottles of LPG. At least a hundred, he estimated. Enough gas to power the generator for a year or more. Or to destroy the place.

Mac put on the scuba tank and began to breathe. He then began to twist the valves to release gas from the cylinders. The soft hiss of the cylinders was not loud enough to be heard over the generator, but the trick was trying to judge when to stop opening the bottles, in case one of the smokers ignited the gas prematurely.

After opening twenty-five bottles, Mac quietly approached one of the access openings. His stomach dropped. Two guards were standing right outside, and both were smoking. He couldn't risk firing the pistol. His only hope was surprise.

He uncapped the flare and pulled out the detonation cord. Put on the mask. Stepping out behind the men, he brought the b.u.t.t of the pistol down on the back of one's neck, then swung around, hitting the second man in the face. He ran the few paces to the dock and pulled the cord of the flare. As he jumped into the water he tossed the flare over the wall of the storage area.

The blast hit an instant after he submerged. He blacked out for a moment. It was like being thumped with a giant table-tennis bat. The surface of the water curved down from the force of the blast and the air above flashed as bright as the sun. He closed his eyes. His ears popped from the change in pressure. Small stones and dirt tumbled into the water past him as he drifted down in the black depths of the staging area.

Searching with the flashlight among the boulders littering the seabed, he located his flippers and the sea scooter. Now he needed the proximity key. Hopefully the hatchway would still close after the blast, so that the barrier grate would lower and allow him out the tunnel. As he hunted around in the sand, two brilliant lights switched on above him.

A submarine was coming.

99.

Holding the proximity key, Mac ducked down behind the boulders. The submarine submerged and manoeuvred just behind the grate, waiting for the hatchway above to close. Through its transparent hull he could see Khalid at the controls. He must have been sealed inside the sub when the blast hit. The thermobaric explosion would have sucked all the oxygen from the air inside the fortress, but apparently wasn't sufficient to damage the submarine.

And now Khalid was about to escape with one of the backpack bombs. Or more.

The hatchway started to close.

Mac uncoupled the two spear guns and the spare scuba tank from his Sea Scooter and swam up towards the rear of the sub. As he neared the propeller it suddenly started up, forcing him back against the wall. The sub shot forward, ramming its bow against the grate. Did Khalid know how to operate the vessel? Mac could see a bandage over Khalid's busted nose and another wrapped around his head as he looked around, as though familiarizing himself with the controls. Suddenly, a spotlight dazzled Mac's vision. He'd been spotted. The sub began to turn slowly around. Moments later two giant metal claws stretched out from the sub towards him. If they managed to grab him, Khalid could tear him apart. He easily dodged past the claws and swam underneath the sub, giving Khalid the finger.

Above him, the hatchway closed and the grate lowered. Khalid turned the sub to face the grate, then edged the craft slowly forward. As it pa.s.sed over him, Mac shoved the spare scuba tank into the propeller. The force spun the tank until it became jammed against the propeller's protective cage. The propeller seized up. Inside the sub, Khalid was glancing around, no doubt wondering why the sub wouldn't move. The propeller began to spin slowly in reverse, until the tank locked the other way. The sub was positioned half over where the grate had previously closed.

Mac saw an opportunity. He swam quickly down to the bottom and swiped the proximity key against the panel. The grate shot up and rammed the sub upwards until it became jammed between the top of the grate and the roof. Now Khalid was trapped. The grate made a terrible grinding vibration as its gears kept trying to force it closed. Under the enormous pressure, a tiny circular crack was forming along the acrylic hull.

Mac powered the Sea Scooter through the s.p.a.ce between the grate and the ceiling created by the trapped sub. Mac could see that Khalid was beginning to panic, shaking his arms and obviously yelling abuse. Khalid revved the throttle forward, then in reverse, but the sub didn't budge.

Mac left the Sea Scooter and swam up to the acrylic hull. Gave Khalid a wave. He was enjoying this.

Through the open hatchway came a splash as a figure jumped into the water. Ibrahim! Fully kitted up with scuba tank and a spear gun. Mac unhooked the two spear guns from his Sea Scooter and crouched behind it. Ignoring him, Ibrahim signalled Khalid to stop the motor. f.u.c.k! The bodyguard was going to clear the scuba tank.

The h.e.l.l he would allow Khalid to escape! Mac powered the Sea Scooter back through the s.p.a.ce above the grate, heading straight at Ibrahim. Ibrahim ducked behind the propeller and aimed his spear gun. About three body lengths away, Mac released the Sea Scooter and aimed his spear guns. The Sea Scooter deflected off the propeller cage and began to drift down to the seabed. Mac fired the first spear. Missed. He aimed the second spear and fired. Ibrahim raised his arm and knocked the spear aside as though it was a toothpick.

The hatchway began to close. Soon the grate would lower again, and Khalid would be freed.

Ibrahim thrust his spear out. Fired. Mac twisted his body and the spear pa.s.sed through muscle on his shoulder. Jagged needles of pain railed down his arm and radiated across his chest and neck. Ibrahim jerked the cable, reeling him in for the kill.

Clenching his teeth against the pain, Mac brought his legs up and kicked Ibrahim's injured leg. Blood clouded from where Scotty had shot him and Ibrahim dropped the spear cable.

Mac retreated down to the floor of the staging area. His arm was numb. But there was no way to extract the spear because of its harpoon tip. He had to get the spears from the other Sea Scooter before Ibrahim freed the sub and resumed his attack.

Mac glanced up as Ibrahim cleared the scuba tank. Khalid tried to reverse the sub. It held fast. But soon the hatchway would close and the grate would lower. The cracks in the hull were growing and jagged fractures began to fan out from the two large cracks like a spiderweb. Mac glimpsed Khalid signalling frantically to Ibrahim as he desperately tried to reverse the machine from the jaws of the grate. But there was nothing further Ibrahim could do to help and he turned back to Mac, who was behind the boulders. Removing a diver's knife from his ankle sheath, Ibrahim swam down towards him.

The hatchway closed. The grate began to lower.

As he desperately reached out again with the proximity key, Mac's air supply ran out.

100.

Khalid wiped the sweat dripping into his eyes. He couldn't stop the trembling. He tried not to think about the cracks, but the sound, like brittle twigs breaking, was making him physically sick. He was too fraught to even consider any breathing techniques.

Although Ibrahim had removed the scuba tank that McCloud had used to foul the propeller, Khalid still had to wait for the grate to lower while the submarine cracked like an eggsh.e.l.l. He cursed Ziad for suggesting the use of an undersea tunnel. After this experience, he decided, he would never get into a submarine again.

His shaking hands shoved the throttle to full reverse, but still the grate would not release the submarine. He glanced above him. Now the hatchway was fully closed.

The grate suddenly released the sub. Khalid wasn't quick enough and it powered backwards, cras.h.i.+ng against the rear wall of the staging area. He quickly put the throttle in neutral. Glancing down, he saw Ibrahim heading down to finish off the American. He could watch Ibrahim get rid of the troublemaker, or risk throttling forward, hoping he could get past before McCloud closed the grate on the sub again. He eased the craft forward. Then decided he had better wait.

He began to feel relief. Nothing would stop him now. With two backpacks in the sub, he now had the means to destroy the holy city of Mecca. There was no way the House of Saud could survive that. He watched as Ibrahim moved in for the kill.

101.

Ignoring his air problem and the exploding pains in his shoulder, Mac swiped the proximity key. The barrier grate shot up again, trapping the sub inside the staging area. Ibrahim glanced up for a moment, then kept coming. Determined to finish him.

With lungs crying out for oxygen, Mac unhooked the spare tank from the second Sea Scooter. He started the airflow but only had time for two quick breaths before Ibrahim was upon him. He was holding Scotty's two spear guns in the shadows, and when Ibrahim was almost at arm's length he fired. Ibrahim stopped, as though surprised, and looked down. The first spear was sticking out his gut.

He slashed out at Mac with the knife, but to no effect. Mac fired the second spear into Ibrahim's chest. He dropped his knife and grabbed the two spears, struggling wildly to pull them out. Suddenly, Ibrahim seemed to lose strength, and stopped moving. His body drifted down, head first, to the seabed.

Using Ibrahim's knife, Mac cut the straps of his empty air tank. He put the spare over his good shoulder and slowly swam up to the grate. He shoved the empty air tank into the propeller again. Now Khalid would be going nowhere. But Mac, too, had limited air in his spare tank. As he waited for the hatchway to close again and the grate to lower, Mac glimpsed a flailing, panic-stricken Khalid inside the sub. Eyes bulging, Khalid screamed words that were impossible to hear.

The grate finally lowered and Mac watched as Khalid tried and failed to get the sub to move. Suddenly, a fist-size hole appeared at the centre of the spiderweb of cracks, and water began to fill the cabin. Khalid's mouth opened in a scream of silent horror as he thrashed his arms and legs about in the rising water. The level quickly rose to Khalid's face and he pressed his nose and mouth against the top of the hull, sucking in the last remaining bubble of air. The flickering lights in the cabin revealed Khalid's final terror as he shrieked out his last breath.

Mac quickly swam to the Sea Scooter and powered seaward, leaving Khalid's lifeless stare in his waterlogged coffin.

102.

Mac surfaced half a mile out to sea. He could see activity aboard the Princess Aliya. A fis.h.i.+ng trawler was tied up alongside, and armed wetsuit-clad men were escorting cuffed crewmembers along the jetty to the maintenance compound. It was obvious they were Special Forces, but Mac was less clear about whose. Should he make his presence known, or try to get back to the launch?

Problem was, he had no choice. He was out of air, and the Sea Scooter battery was almost dead. The spear in his arm meant he was going nowhere fast, floating shark bait. Fortunately, a man on one of the trawler's Zodiac rubber boats spotted him. Commandos dragged him aboard and took him to the jetty where a woman holding an old grey cat came over to him. He recognised her as Sheriti.

"You rescued Mai Fanning," she said. "Tell me, why did you follow me that day at the markets in Dubai? Who are you working for?"

"First, Sheriti, maybe you'd be so kind as to help with this spear?"

Later, he helped Israeli commandos locate the tunnel. They removed the uranium canisters and Khalid's body. Ibrahim's body was never found. Around at the resort, behind the sand dunes they discovered unmarked graves with the bodies of nineteen teenage boys and girls. All of the employees and Khalid's sister Rubi were gone. When Jog and the Rabi returned to collect Mac, the Israelis were well underway removing the treasure from the fortress. During the search, they found doc.u.ments that linked Danni to the Banglades.h.i.+ millionaire, and evidence about the fate of the other captives.

103.

"Derek, it's Lee McCloud." Closing his eyes, Mac tried to concentrate on his role and put out of his mind the joy he'd witnessed seeing Sophia run to the outstretched arms of Bob and Elena, and Maddie and Wade at Charles De Gaulle airport. The Bennetts were staying at Jog Khoury's farm until things had been smoothed over.

There was a brief silence, before Wisebaum said: "Can't talk right now, Mac. Give me a number."

A few minutes later his cell phone rang.

"Jesus, Mac. Where have you f.u.c.king been? We thought you'd been killed on Andaran. Is Tally with you?"

"Tally's dead. And my friend, Scotty. I've been on the mend in Grand Comore hospital."

"Oh... Shame about Tal." A long silence. "I guess at least I'll be able to settle Hannah's mind. She's been holding out hope. So what do you want? You don't work for us anymore."

"I thought you might want to know where Khalid is."

"What? You saying he's not dead? We heard he got killed by pirates. He and one of the wives. Got a satellite photo of his boat. Bit of a mess."

"Actually, the main reason I called was that I thought you might be interested in helping arrange something for Tally. A memorial service. Some of her workmates might like to pay their respects..."

"Uh, sure, sure. That'd be appropriate, now that we know. How about we meet to discuss it? Probably best if it's away from the office. Nothing personal, but people here are still pretty upset with you about her and Rosco. You're not exactly flavour of the month here, know what I mean?"

The guy's callousness seemed to know no bounds. Mac forced himself to hold it in, for Scotty's sake.

"Yeah, well. I don't feel real good myself. Look, I have to come to Montreal on the eighteenth to sign some papers with Tally's legal people. She left everything to her sister Benita, but they need to confirm her death with a witness. In person, apparently."

"Okay, give me a call when you get here. Gotta go."

Wisebaum disconnected.

Mac turned to look at Tally.

Her face was grim. "The b.a.s.t.a.r.d didn't even ask how I died."

104.

Fluffy clouds drifted across the serene Montreal sky as Mac crossed the bridge and turned onto Chemin Senneville, going over the plan again in his mind. He dialled Wisebaum's cell.

"Already here," said Wisebaum in an upbeat tone. "Go past the stables on your right and turn left just after the creek."

"Gotcha."

Mac parked next to the only other vehicle, a metallic blue Audi. He tucked the Sig Sauer in his sock. A .38 was in his jacket. The damp ground revealed three sets of footprints heading down to the beach.

"Over here," Wisebaum said, stepping out from behind the thick trunk of an ancient maple. He had an overly friendly grin on his face as he held out his hand. The sun reflected off his s.h.i.+ny head. The patent shoes were scuffed and his expensive suit seemed out of place on the dark coloured s.h.i.+ngle. "You look a bit the worse for wear, Mac?"

Droplets of water showered on him as he brushed against the maple's low hanging branches. He grasped Wisebaum's clammy hand. "Broken nose, spear gun in the shoulder. Bullet grazed the leg. Not a purple heart to be seen."

"Well, I did try to warn you against going back to Andaran."

"You didn't seem to be exactly organizing the cavalry."

"A long story."

"Love to hear it."

Mac took off his sungla.s.ses and gazed out across the lake, where a few amateur fishermen were trying their hand on a day as close to perfect as it gets in Montreal. They trudged along, pebbles giving ground and crunching under each footfall. Mac heard some other crunching behind them and turned to see two guys in suits step out of the trees to follow them.

"Secret Service?"

"One never knows where the threats might come from, Mac. I seem to recall you telling me that once."