He held completely still.
Voices echoed. “Come on,” someone shouted. “Move.”
Kurt was about to slide back down a level and hide, when the footsteps abruptly moved to the left, pounding on the deck above, and headed away from him. It sounded like several people in a hurry.
He opened the hatch just a sliver and looked through. No one there.
Quietly, he pulled himself up and peeked around the corner. Three men stood in front of another airlock. This one reminded Kurt of the revolving doors in a center-city office building. As it opened, two of them went in and the third waited.
The sound of more footsteps descending the ladder came next. Kurt looked up just as another man dropped in beside him.
“What the…”
Kurt clapped a hand over the man’s mouth and plunged the carbon steel blade into the man’s chest, slamming him against the wall in the process. A second man dropped in, landing on Kurt’s arm and knocking the knife to the floor.
Kurt spun around and threw an elbow into the second attacker’s temple. It sent the man sprawling to the deck near the airlock.
By now, a third man had come down the ladder, his hands and feet sliding on the rails instead of using the rungs. He landed and grabbed Kurt from behind, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s throat and trying to choke the life out of him.
Kurt pushed backward, ramming the man into the bulkhead wall. The grip loosened only a bit. Kurt pushed back again, this time trying to snap his head back in a reverse head butt of sorts.
The second impact shook the man loose, just as the airlock pinged like an elevator in a hotel lobby. Kurt was pushed to the ground as this third assailant rushed past.
By the time he got up, the airlock door was closing. The four remaining men were crammed into it, looking back at him. One of them shook his head, smiling sadistically.
Four against one, and they’d run off. Kurt could only think of a single reason for that: they were about to scuttle the station.
A quick glance at the dead man in the ladder well confirmed it. He carried wire strippers in his breast pocket, a roll of electrical tape on his belt, and a length of red-and-blue flat cable. In all likelihood, the station was set to explode.
Kurt grabbed the wire cutters and continued up the ladder. Based on the escaping group’s show of haste, he doubted there was much time.
ELEVEN
Joe’s plan was in full bloom now. He’d set up a pulley system, running the cable from the front of the last Jeep, around the tubular steel brush guard on one of the SUVs, and attached it to the tail end of another SUV.
His plan was simple: push the hooked vehicle into the water and over the edge. As it dropped, the cable would drag the Jeep forward rapidly enough for Joe to pop the clutch and get the engine going.
Ready to go, he checked on Bradshaw once more, crossed his fingers, and moved to the SUV he was using as a deadweight. He couldn’t open the windows without power, so he smashed them in. He opened all the doors and the tailgate and even popped the hood. Anything to let air out and water in to help the SUV sink faster.
He put the transmission in neutral, released the brake, and then hopped out. Digging his feet hard into the sand, Joe began pushing. Little by little, the SUV began to move, its pace quickened as it reached the firmer soil at the water’s edge. With a last great shove, Joe pushed it off and stepped back, almost losing his balance and tumbling into the toxic soup.
The SUV rolled out and began to fill with water. It nosed over just like the first vehicle had, then stopped as the wire cable pulled taut.
Joe ran back to the Jeep and hopped in. He made sure the key was turned and released the brakes. It began to move forward, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as the sinking SUV pulled on the cable.
Joe waited as long as he could and then popped the clutch.
The engine surged, stuttered, and then fired up. He pressed in the clutch and held it as he hit the brakes. The Jeep stopped a few feet shy of ramming the pulley vehicle.
Foot still on the clutch, he gave the Jeep some gas, revving the engine. After a few seconds, it began to hum nicely, and when he finally let off the gas, it went into a steady idle. With the parking brake firmly set, Joe got out and moved to the winch at the front of the Jeep.
He put a hand on the release lever and yanked it downward. The jaws of the drum parted, releasing the metal cord. It flung forward under great tension and whiplashed across the pulley car, shattering the windshield, before sliding across the sand and following the sinking SUV down into the lake.
Joe gave a salute to the departing vehicle and climbed back into the Jeep. He put the radio on the charger and watched as the red light lit up.
He glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. “You’re good, Zavala,” he said to himself. “You’re very good.”
Guessing it would take several minutes for the radio to store up enough power to be useful, Joe decided to check on his patient.
He jumped out of the idling Jeep and moved quickly to where Bradshaw lay. The man was unconscious, but he was still breathing.
“Hang in there,” Joe whispered.
Out on the lake, the water began to stir. A slight bulge was forming near the center, halfway between the shore and the floating truck. Something was moving beneath the surface, like a killer whale charging the beach.
For a second, Joe hoped it might be Kurt in the speeder. But the object broke through and revealed itself as a twenty-foot-long submersible with a wide, rubber-skirted bottom. The reason for that design became clear seconds later as the sub rose up out of the water and began racing across the surface, leaving a wide swath of foam beneath and behind it.
“A submersible-hovercraft,” Joe marveled. “That’s even better than a truck that swims.”
For twenty seconds, the hovercraft traveled northward along the surface, then it turned slightly to the east, raced out of the water on the far side of the pit and up onto the ramp.
Joe realized he was witnessing the group who’d ambushed the ASIO making their escape.
“I don’t think so,” he said. He rushed to the idling Jeep and climbed in. He paused for a second, considering Bradshaw. There was nothing he could do for him. But as soon as the radio was charged, he’d call for help.
He jammed the transmission into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The tires spun in the gravel as he tore off after the fleeing hovercraft.
Down in the empty station, Kurt continued to look for Hayley. He climbed and checked two additional levels as quickly as he could before finally pushing through the uppermost hatch and coming out in some kind of control room.
In the far corner, two figures sat bound and gagged on the floor. Kurt ran over to them and pulled the gag off Hayley’s mouth.
“Explosives,” she blurted out, not even uttering a hello. “Under the panel.”
Kurt cut her loose and left her with the knife as he rushed to the panel and slid beneath it. He found the blocks of plastic explosives and the timer. It read 01:07 and was counting down by the second.
He took out the wire cutters as Hayley freed the guy beside her. He was about to snip one of the wires when they rushed up behind him, crowding him more than he would have liked.
“Either of you know anything about explosives?” he asked.
They shook their heads.
“We should get out of here,” Hayley said, gulping.
The clock hit 00:59. They had less than a minute. Kurt shook his head. “We’ll never make it.”
The guy from the ASIO reached for the timer. Kurt slapped his hand. “Press the wrong button and you’ll blow us to bits.”
He pointed. A tiny lock symbol was illuminated at the top of the screen. If Kurt was right, they would need to enter a code to stop the countdown.