“Enough!”
The leader was back. He stood over them, his back to the door so the guards outside couldn’t see what he was doing. He held the gun, but he didn’t point it at them. Not yet. Instead, he looked at it, turning it in his hand, studying it. Then he handed it to one of his colleagues. “Too noisy,” he said calmly, before muttering something to the man by his side in their own tongue. The man nodded, and turned away from his leader so as to face the door. Lucya watched as he held the weapon aloft, pointing it at the small window. His position and proximity to the doorway meant that whatever the leader did next would be blocked from the view of those outside. The security men and women wouldn’t risk entering as long as the pistol was pointed at them, and neither would they have any reason to do so. As long as they were looking at the wrong end of the gun, it meant it wasn’t being pointed at any children. This didn’t give Lucya any hope, and her worst fears were confirmed when the leader walked to the front of the room, bent over with difficulty, and picked up what looked to be a steel pole. As he brought it back, Lucya realised it was a table leg. She could see more of them by the wall. The men had ripped them from a desk in order to provide themselves with additional crude arms.
The Korean held the pole in one hand, running his eyes up and down it. He slapped the palm of his free hand with it. It sounded heavy. Dangerous. He turned his attention back to Lucya and Erica, side by side, on their knees.
“Who first?” he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he lifted the metal leg to shoulder height and swung it backwards, ready to strike a fatal blow.
Thirty-Two
DAN MITCHELL COULD honestly say he had never seen so much bodily fluid and blood in his life. Neither had he heard so much screaming. Impressive as his wife’s lung capacity and vocal cords were, Dan hardly noticed. He was too busy shifting from top to bottom, alternately reassuring her to her face that yes, she was doing very well, that no she wasn’t splitting in two, that yes she could keep going, and that no he wasn’t going to let the baby fall on its head. He also reminded her to breathe, to push with the contractions, and to relax in the ever briefer pauses between them.
He had half hoped that the noise would bring neighbours to see what the fuss was about, and that he could send them off in search of anyone from medical, but the folks on deck ten were either uninterested, or preferred not to interfere. Whatever the reason, nobody came knocking.
When the baby eventually crowned, he felt quite lightheaded. Repeating to Vicky that she should breathe, he realised the advice applied equally to himself.
“I can see the head!” His excited words were drowned out by Vicky’s moaning, and went entirely unheard. “Take a deep breath, and push with the next contraction.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” she bellowed.
The contraction came immediately, and with an almighty effort, the baby’s right shoulder was delivered, then the left. Dan held the tiny, delicate head in his large hand. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the child’s neck. He said nothing about it to Vicky, just kept muttering encouraging words whilst slipping a finger between cord and neck.
With one final push, the baby was born, slipping into Dan’s hands.
“You’ve done it! The baby’s out!” The words stuck in his throat as his emotions choked him.
“Why isn’t it crying?” Vicky was panting, exhausted.
Dan lay the child on the towels with which he had covered the floor. It was a delicate shade of blue, and made no noise. It didn’t seem to be breathing. His mind raced through everything he knew about childbirth. It wasn’t much, but he’d been to the classes, he’d been vaguely aware of the documentaries on television that Vicky had insisted in recording and watching back at mealtimes, and he seemed to remember having read something a long time ago.
“Dan? Why isn’t the baby crying?” She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, face paler than he’d ever seen it.
Something clicked. He checked the nose and mouth were clear. Then with one finger, he gently tickled the infant’s left foot, then the right.
The tiny thing coughed, then wailed. Incredibly, it made even more noise than Vicky had managed.
The relief was immense, and Dan noticed that he, too, had started breathing again. He looked up at his wife, and found she was blurred. Everything was blurred.
“Let me see,” she said quietly.
“Of course.” He wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, wrapped the baby in a thick towel, and lifted it gently into her arms.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well what?”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Oh! I didn’t even notice!”
“You big idiot.”
He hugged her, not caring about the blood on his hands.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Dan pulled a couple of the towels over Vicky.
The door opened and a man hobbled in, leaning on a walking stick. “Hello, I am Doctor Lister. I heard you were looking for someone from medical? Oh, my. It would seem I am rather late.”
Through the open door, they heard the sound of an explosion in the distance.
• • •
Daniel joined Jake at the bow of the Lance.
“You, sir, are a bloody genius if I may say so.”
Jake shook his head. “Not yet. If the Ambush doesn’t target that sub and put it out of action before she dives again, then we’re no better off. They won’t fall for the same trick twice.”
“Even so, Jake, using the raft? Very clever. I would never have thought of that. Lucky those guys targeted it and not the Ambush.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Jake said, grinning. “That radio made sure the Ambush knew what was going on. At least, I hope they understood my message. Where are the others? Are they okay?”
“It was a bit of a ride back there. That wave knocked poor Bodil out of her chair, but she’s alright. The boys are taking her back inside.”
They both stared at the enemy submarine. It was turning, no longer facing where the raft had been.
“Why aren’t they diving?” Daniel scratched his head. “They must know they’re a sitting duck. Surely the Ambush will have picked up the sound of them coming out of the water.”
“That was the plan. Even if they hadn’t surfaced, the torpedo launch must have shown up on the passive sonar. And yet, they’re not diving. Which means…”
“They don’t think they’re in danger.”
“Right. Which means…”
“They think they really did just sink the Ambush?”
Jake turned white as the implication dawned on him.
“Hang on.” Daniel was catching up. “If they think the Ambush is gone, that makes the Arcadia a target!”
“With no protection, they think they’re free to fire on her. Shit! Come on Ambush, where are you? Oh! The radio!” He reached into his pocket, but the radio had gone, knocked out when he was thrown to the deck. “It’s gone! Where’s the third one?”
Daniel stared at him.
“The third radio, Daniel? Where is it? If I broadcast another message, they’ll understand the Ambush is still out there!”
“The others have got it,” he said. He turned and started to run to the back of the ship.
Jake spun back round and looked out to sea. The strange angular stealthy submarine had completed her manoeuvre. She was facing directly towards the cruiser. “Come on…” he whispered. “Where are you guys?” He scanned the horizon, hoping to see the familiar black tower of the navy’s pride and joy, but the surface of the sea remained stubbornly unbroken.
He heard footsteps behind him. Daniel was back. “Here!” Arm outstretched, he held the radio in front of him. “It’s tuned in, go!”