A minute passed, and she saw him. Russo was unconscious, drifting lower and lower. She kicked her legs strongly, sweeping down and down, the water parting in front of her eyes. When she reached Russo, she saw his eyes were closed. She put her shoulders under him and heaved, propelling him back toward the surface. The going was hard and slow. Several pieces of heavy wreckage sank around them, luckily not close enough to impede her progress. Russo lay heavily against her upper torso but finally she managed to break the surface.
She held him up, swam to face him and then started slapping, holding his nose and breathing into his mouth. The slapping was therapeutic, but not the rest. Water splashed and sluiced up over and between them, making her choke and blink and cough. Minutes passed. Swimming and trying to breathe life into a man was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
They drifted steadily back toward the stricken tanker, pulled by the waves.
She took hold of Russo, swam him away for a few seconds and then tried again. Her own reserves were failing, her limbs becoming leaden and chest growing tight. But she’d never give up. Her breath was Russo’s for as long as she had it to give.
It was the helping hand that shocked her so badly she temporarily lost her grip on Russo. Caitlyn’s voice then filled her ears.
“Here, over here.”
Alicia grabbed Russo and then turned in the water. Caitlyn, Austin and four agents had jumped into one of the boats and made their way around the devastated oil tanker. Now two of the agents caught hold of the drenched Russo and hauled him into the boat.
At last, he fell in, and Alicia followed.
Crouched in the bottom of the boat, dripping sheets of water, she elbowed away all forms of help and continued to try to resuscitate Russo. He couldn’t go this way — not her big, dumb friend. Jumping off a boat couldn’t be an ending for Rob Russo.
She neared her limits without success. Men and women shifted all around her. The engine roared as they pulled away from the tanker and drove around the front to check on the escaping terrorist helicopters. Alicia didn’t know what else had happened. She was just… focused… on one…
Russo heaved a sudden, wracking breath and sat up so quickly he headbutted her right on the nose. Alicia flinched away, seeing stars, but she grinned. Her entire body calmed, and she managed to fall back onto her haunches, shoulders slumped.
“Did you kiss me whilst I was out?” Russo managed between coughs.
“Why? Is there a stirring down below?” She wiped blood away.
“The opposite,” Russo said. “I feel weird. Maybe it wasn’t you. To be honest it felt like a fish was kissing me.”
She gave him the finger then, feeling strength return to her body, she turned around to evaluate their position.
“The choppers are headed for the island of Molokai,” Caitlyn told her. “It’s fifteen miles off the coast of Oahu so, subtracting what we’ve already covered, it’s a five-minute flight away for them.”
“And for us?”
“A fifteen-minute boat ride.”
“What’s on Molokai?”
“Not a great deal. It measures thirty eight by ten miles, so it’s small. Old leper’s colony. There’s a forest reserve, a volcano and the highest sea cliffs in the world. There are a lot of places to hide.”
“Hide?” Alicia looked up. It didn’t sound right. “Ricci hasn’t hidden once during this entire chase. If you can say one thing about him that isn’t bad, he’s a clever, proactive son of a bitch.”
“He also wants to record a video,” Caitlyn reminded her.
“What happened to the…” Alicia surveyed the skies and saw all the police choppers had made it to safety, though two appeared to be in difficulty. They were currently hovering in place, probably trying to decide what to do. Her own radio had suffered water damage, so she couldn’t contact Vino.
The coastguard ship had taken on a load of water and was being attended to by its crew. Not in danger, but out of the chase.
“What next?” Austin asked.
Alicia pointed a finger in the direction of Molokai. “Don’t slow down. Take it to them like we have been doing since DC. They’re running scared, they must be. Molokai’s a friggin’ island. Let’s move and take them down on the beaches.”
Russo sat upright. “I’m ready for that.”
All four agents nodded.
Alicia held on tight as the boat accelerated hard, and Caitlyn thumbed her own radio to inform Vino what they were doing.
“We’re right behind you,” the agent said.
Alicia looked to the horizon.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Alicia stood upright at the prow of the boat, holding onto a metal strut, and surveying all that lay before her. The island of Molokai lay ahead, elongated and dark green, forested and mountainous, enclosed by incredible bright blue waters. She could see bays, sea cliffs and thick forestation. If a person knew where they were going…
Still, it was an island.
The helicopters veered around a rocky promontory and then swooped down toward a yellow sand beach. Alicia urged the motorboat’s pilot to greater speeds, but he complained that they were already going flat out. The boat bounced beneath her and spray coated her face and her hair. It began to heel to the right as the pilot took a wide turn into the approaching bay, following the flight of the terrorists.
She saw them disembarking now; jumping off the still roaring birds like cockroaches. She could see Ricci and then the banner. She saw them making ready.
The motorboat chased in, skipping over the breakwaters and then skimming the tops of the waves.
She glanced back, took in the rest of her crew ready to go; faces hard and grim and ready for action. Even Austin was armed, properly attired and standing there with a severe determination in his eyes. Maybe he was a good fit for the team after all.
She checked her weapons out of habit, re-counted spare clips and other armaments and then made ready to jump.
As they approached the beach she leapt into the surf, coming down on two feet and bringing her weapon around. The terrorists were in front of their chopper, taking shelter, and began to fire their semi-autos as the boat came within range.
Running through the waves, the FBI, Russo and the others all fired back.
Bullets sliced through the balmy air, ripped apart the frothing waters, and thudded into the boat. Alicia was aware that their best line of defense here was attack, and constant gunfire. Keep the enemy pinned down and huddled for cover.
She fired round after round, ran hard until she splashed through the shallows and then felt muddy sand under her feet. A bullet zinged by. She aimed at the place it originated, quelling that terrorist’s audaciousness.
“Shoot at me, will you?” she yelled. “Here, have a bit of that!”
Bullets ripped into the chopper’s sides.
Terrorists were digging into the sand, using it to disguise their rolling movements as they moved out of shelter for a second to take pot shots. Russo saw it and discouraged one, but they weren’t taking any casualties. Their protection was solid.
Alicia surveyed the waters. Two more FBI boats were zooming in. Soon, they would have strength in numbers, and the terrorists would be back to hiding behind hostages. She had to find a way around it.
Thin the herd. But it’s not working.
Take out Ricci. I wish.
Force them to make a move. It was the only option.
She emptied a clip into the furthest chopper, aiming high, but causing major damage, littering the area with metal and glass. One of the terrorists rolled clear, tried to rise and was shot in the back by one of the FBI agents. That left four, plus Ricci. Shouts went up among them. She recognized Ricci’s voice crying out orders.