As the water filled the Barracuda’s wings, Kurt frantically tried to shout something that might make Andras call a halt to the proceedings. If he could just convince him they were valuable enough to spare, even if it was just for a while, it would give them a chance.
“We know about your submarine,” he shouted.
Andras raised an eyebrow. “Do you, now?” he said. “That’s more than I thought you knew. But, at any rate, it’s not mine.”
Feeling the slightest bit of traction, Kurt pressed. “We know what you’re up to. We know about the energy weapon.”
This seemed to hit closer to the mark. Something in Andras seemed to stir, and his eyes began to light up. He stepped closer.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s the spirit. I knew you wouldn’t give up.”
It seemed as if he’d realized Kurt’s desperate gambit and was taking great delight in being part of it.
“Come on, what else?” he shouted
Kurt didn’t respond right away, and Andras grabbed Mathias and yanked the key and its rope from around the man’s neck.
“Come on, now,” he shouted sarcastically, “You’re Kurt Austin of NUMA! Surely you can do better than that. Give me some more. Give me something that will make you matter.”
Katarina stood and rushed forward as best she could. What she had in mind, Kurt didn’t know — and most likely she didn’t either — but she didn’t get far. One of the armed men grabbed her and yanked her back, flinging her to the deck, and Kurt’s blood burned even hotter.
“Time’s running out, Austin,” their tormentor said. He brought out the knife that he and Austin had already traded twice and flipped open the titanium blade. He locked it into place and tied the key’s lanyard through one of the holes on the handle.
The Barracuda’s wings were awash now; any second the cockpit would start filling. There were precious few seconds left.
“We know about the superconductor,” Kurt said, hating himself for being led along. “We know who sold it to you,” he lied. “We know it was loaded on the Kinjara Maruin Freetown.”
Andras looked down as if thinking. He glanced briefly at Mathias and then turned back to Kurt, smiling maniacally.
“Good enough,” he said, moving forward with the knife in his hand. “Good enough for half anyway.”
He leaned toward the Barracuda, raised his arm, and plunged the knife into the thin skin of her outer hull. The knife punched though and lodged tight, just out of Kurt’s reach.
“Unfortunately, half won’t save you both.”
The water poured into the cockpit and swirled up around Kurt’s knees. They were going down.
He glanced at Joe. “Whatever happens,” he said, “follow my lead.”
Joe nodded as Kurt filled his lungs, breathing deep and fast, as the Barracudabegan to roll and pitch nose down.
The water churned, the nose of the sub disappeared, and the rest followed, dragging him and Joe under. The last sound Kurt heard clearly was Katarina screaming his name.
36
ON BOARD THE MOTOR YACHT, Katarina fell forward as the Barracudawent under. She stared at the swirling waters where the small sub had been moments before.
“No,” she cried in a cracking whisper. “No.”
She lowered her eyes and lay facedown on the deck, shoulders shaking as she sobbed.
Andras stared at her. “Now, that’s a pitiful sight.”
He walked toward her and crouched down. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking in his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I have far more pleasant plans for you.”
She spat toward his face, but he stepped easily out of the way. “Why do you all try the same tricks?” he asked. He stood back, and kicked her for good measure.
Stepping away, he turned to the pilothouse. “Start the engines.”
As the diesels rumbled to life beneath the deck, Mathias, the key master, came toward him. Mathias was not one of Andras’s men; Djemma had put him aboard, perhaps to watch Andras.
“You gave them the key,” Mathias said. “What if they escape?”
Andras laughed. “I almost hope that they do. It would make things more interesting,” he said. “But they won’t,” he added. “At least, not both of them.”
“Why?”
“Because people have to pay for their crimes, and death is not much of a punishment.” Andras glared at the key master with fury in his eyes. He felt a particular mix of hatred and respect for Kurt Austin. He had suffered his own pain at Austin’s hands once upon a time.
Satisfied that Mathias had been put in his place, Andras turned toward the bow.
Mathias grabbed his arm, turning him. “I will inform Djemma. He will not find this so amusing.”
Andras’s eyes narrowed to slits. “It wasn’t done for amusement.”
“Then for what? I see no purpose to it.”
“There is purpose in everything I do,” Andras assured him. “This, for example.”
In the blink of an eye, Andras raised a tiny pistol and fired it. The report was no louder than a cap gun. There was no shouting, no wailing in pain, or even much reaction on the part of Mathias. Only a suddenly limp appearance to his face as a tiny hole appeared in the center of his forehead. He stumbled back, cross-eyed and shaking, but not dead, not yet.
As the key master backed into the railing, Andras pulled the trigger again. Mathias tumbled backward, falling overboard and splashing noisily in the water.
He disappeared for a second and then bobbed to the surface, supported by the gray life jacket he wore. A trickle of crimson blood flowed from two small holes in his head, but he didn’t move or even tremble.
Andras put the pistol away, raised the shotgun for all to see, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Anyone else have a problem with authority?” He looked around from face to face.
No one spoke, and Andras glanced at the boat’s pilot.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The engines roared, and the motor yacht moved off. The two powerboats quickly joined it, and the three vessels raced off to the north, trailing long wakes out behind them.
THIRTY FEET BELOW THE SURFACE and dropping, Kurt held his breath as he and Joe rode the Barracudadown. As the pressure grew in his ears and the light from above started to fade, Kurt tried to calm himself. A plan was forming in his head, but first he had to fight off the natural reaction of fear and panic, knowing those things would kill him as quickly as anything else.
Without goggles, everything around them was a hazy blur, but it was a yellow-green blur, which meant that the Barracuda’s lights were still on. And that meant the shotgun blasts hadn’t taken out her electrical system. And even though she was full of water, Joe had given her instruments and controls that were waterproof up to great depths.
If he was right about their location, the seafloor would catch them near a depth of a hundred twenty feet, and then Kurt would take his shot at turning that floor into something other than a receptive grave.
It wouldn’t be easy, but they had a fighting chance. In fact, the way Kurt figured things, their odds were almost even. It really all depended on just how the Barracudalanded.
He pinned his eyes open even though the salt water stung and burned them. With the sub’s nose pointed down, the forward lights began to illuminate the seafloor ten seconds before they hit. Kurt saw light-colored silt with a few dark outcroppings that he assumed were volcanic rock.
It rose up at them faster than Kurt expected. He braced himself and was slammed forward as the nose of the little sub thumped the floor like a giant lawn dart.
The impact jarred him, but he kept his wits and immediately went into action.