Because the stern of the Duke was open to the ocean, there were fish swimming in the dock water. These were mostly mullet and grunt and he paid them little or no attention as he swam strongly underneath the yacht’s hull and caught hold of her screw. The rope itself was a thick one and he used his diving knife’s serrated edge to cut it. Even so, it was several minutes before the rope was finally severed and he was able to untie the end attached to the screw so that it wouldn’t foul the propeller when they were underway. Meanwhile the end tied to the floor support sank down in the water, startling a small school of mullet. Mistaking the rope for some kind of predator, an eel perhaps, the fish turned back on themselves and swam straight past Dave, missing his face by inches, almost as if they intended to use him as cover. He was still marvelling at their speed and beauty and congratulating himself on the ease with which he had completed his task when he saw the real reason for the sudden departure of the mullet. Not the rope at all, but the streamlined, silver-blue shape of a great barracuda. The fright of seeing it made him drop his flashlight.
Swift and powerful, with two well-separated dorsal fins, a jutting lower jaw and a large mouth with lots of sharp teeth, the six-foot barracuda was a fearsome fish and Dave knew its aggressive reputation well enough to be extremely wary of it. Barracudas were responsible for more attacks on Florida swimmers than sharks. And while they didn’t ever eat people, they were quite capable of inflicting the severest injuries. Instinctively Dave started to swim gently away, toward the bow of the Britannia and, curious, the big fish followed. Barracudas were reportedly attracted to shiny objects and Dave could not decide if the blade in his hand was a source of help or the cause of his continuing danger. He swam on his back, not wanting to take his eyes off the creature in case it decided to attack. It wasn’t that he thought the fish might kill him. But the razor-sharp teeth of some barracuda were impregnated with a toxic substance that could poison you. The last thing Dave needed in the middle of the Atlantic was a badly infected bite.
He swam deeper so as not to hit his head on the hulls or rudders of other boats. And the barracuda swam slowly after him, sometimes disappearing in the dark shadow of one boat, only to reappear in a brilliant flash of silver as it entered the sunlit water again. It was, Dave reflected as coolly as he was able, like being followed by a vicious and slightly cowardly dog that was only waiting the right opportunity, such as when his back was turned, to make an attack. And no matter how powerfully Dave kicked his way through the water, the barracuda maintained the same ten feet between them with an effortless flick of its stealth-shaped tail.
Dave risked a glance at his watch. Valuable minutes from an already tight schedule were ticking by. And finding that he had already swum the entire length of the Duke and was now right under the bows of the Jade at the front of the floating dock, he sensed that he would have to do something soon, or his small supply of oxygen would give out. Swimming into a pool of sunlight, Dave glanced up and saw the Jade’s bow ladder touching the water about ten feet above his head. Paddling into a more vertical position he saw the sun catch his wristwatch and, at the same time, the barracuda turn fractionally toward the small burst of reflected light. There was only thing for it. Reluctantly, Dave unbuckled the watch and transferred it to the hand still holding the knife. For a second or two he let the sun play on the collection of shiny metal in his hand. Only when he was quite sure that the barracuda was watching the two bright objects did he let them go. As they sank toward the floor of the dock, the barracuda flicked its tail and cruised down after them. The creature’s man-trap jaws opened and closed on the fish-scale silver of the watch’s metal bracelet.
Dave hardly hesitated. He kicked hard for the undulating surface and the ladder above his head.
Even as he reached and then caught the ladder he felt the great barracuda come up after him. Adrenalin shot through his heart and shoulder muscles, launching him up the ladder with such speed that he almost thought it was someone else’s arm hauling him out of the water. Inches under the bottom step of the ladder and the heel of Dave’s bare foot, the barracuda arced through the oily surface then disappeared into the shallow blue water below.
Dave plucked the rebreather mouthpiece away and gulped a deep, unsteady breath of the open morning air.
‘Holy shit,’ he gasped. ‘That was close.’
Now the fish was gone, so was the strength in his arms and it was a minute or two before he managed to climb up onto the Jade’s deck. Standing there, he took another deep breath and tried to gather himself. The next instant he heard a gunshot and something zipped over his head, ricocheting off the Duke’s forward bulkhead. He threw himself flat onto the deck, incredulous at this latest turn of lethal events.
‘Jesus. What now?’
Lying there, he tried to determine the direction the shot had come from. Who could have fired it? Had he and Al overlooked someone among the crew or the supernumos? Someone with a gun? Or had Kate simply escaped and armed herself with a gun he hadn’t known about? He raised his head a few inches to see if he could spot the gunman, then ducked again as another shot clanged into the radio mast above him. Why didn’t Al do something about it? Unless this was the double-cross he had feared.
He had to find out. He crawled toward the rail of the boat and shouted, ‘Hey Al, it’s me, Dave. Who the fuck is doing the shooting?’
There was a brief and, Dave thought, ominous silence. Then Al said, ‘Is that you, Dave?’
‘Of course it’s me, you idiot. Who the hell do you think it is?’
‘What the fuck are you doing down there? I thought you was some nosey parker not staying indoors like he was supposed to.’
Dave jumped to his feet. Angrily tearing off his rebreather, he started up and along the wall of the ship.
‘You could have killed me, you dumb fucker.’
Dave waited until he was back on board the Britannia before saying anything else. Al had put the gun in the galley, out of the way, so as not to irritate Dave any further. Otherwise, he was unapologetic.
‘The fuck I was supposed to know that was you?’
‘I told you not to drink on top of that medication, didn’t I? Jesus, you could have shot me.’
‘You go over the side of this boat and you surface at the other end of the fucking ship? What am I? A fucking telepath? Do I look like Mister Spock? Naturally I assumed this would be the boat you’d want to get back on, bein’ how it’s the one you got off of and how it’s supposed to be our getaway vehicle carrying millions of dollars in cash.’
Al pointed to the sports bags, stuffed with money, that now filled the boat’s lounge and covered the deck, as if Dave needed reminding. He said, ‘My drinking ain’t got nuthin’ to do with the way your sense of direction is so completely all over the place. With how you end up swimming from one end of this fuckin’ marina to the other.’ Al frowned and then nodded at Dave’s wrist. ‘Hey, your watch is gone. And there’s blood on your leg.’