“Yes,” Mr Craig answered.
“Ven are you due back?”
“Next Friday, five days’ time,” Mr Craig answered.
Mr Ivanoff tugged at his chin. “So who do you report to? How often zer radio reports?”
For a moment nobody answered and Mr Ivanoff’s eyes narrowed. He aimed the small SMG at Dan. “You talk or zis vone he die.”
“You are bluffing,” Mr Craig retorted, “Now let us go and get off my boat.”
Before Andrew could open his mouth to warn Mr Craig Mr Ivanoff moved. He jerked the SMG to the left and pulled the trigger.
Brrrrt!
There were gasps of fear and horror and Andrew twitched and jerked with fright. He swivelled his head just in time to see Mr Craig fold in the middle and go crashing to the deck, his hands clutching at his stomach. Blood began pouring onto the deck planks. Ella screamed and began to sob hysterically.
Mr Ivanoff shouted angrily, “Shut zer bitch up or I shut her up permanently.”
Andrew was stunned and appalled at the brutality and unreality of it all. This isn’t true, he tried to tell himself. It can’t be!
Through what seemed like a fog of fear and pain he heard Dan speak to Ella and then heard a sharp slap. Carmen spoke loudly, “Be quiet Ella or you will be next.”
Ella shut up as abruptly as a door being slammed. But she kept sniffling and sobbing. Mr Ivanoff hissed menacingly. “Now you know ve zer business mean. So, answer zer question. Vot is your radio skedule?”
Dan answered in a quavering voice. “Once a day, at thirteen hundred hours. It is all written in the radio log in the wheelhouse.”
“Good! Now who is zer radio operator?”
Carmen spoke this time. “Andrew and I are, now that you have shot Mr Craig.”
“Who is Andrew?”
“My brother,” Carmen answered, indicating Andrew.
Andrew looked up and met Mr Ivanoff’s eyes. The look he received in return sent chills of apprehension through him. Mr Ivanoff sneered. “So, if you can do it ve don’t need him. Barry, get rid of him.”
Carmen gasped and then screamed, “No! If you harm him I won’t do anything for you.”
Mr Ivanoff curled his lip. “If you not zen ve hurt zis girl here, and ve kill zis other vone.”
At that the man with the beard and SMG gave an evil chuckle and said, “I will soon teach her to co-operate Mr Ivanoff. She’s a real good looker. I reckon she will be a lot of fun to tame.”
Andrew heard this with disgust and revulsion but that was overlain by his own rising terror as the import of Ivanoff’s words sank in.
He is going to kill me! he thought.
But what to do? For a few seconds he contemplated making a desperate effort to attack the men but the searing memory of what had just happened to Mr Craig held him still.
They will just shoot me and I will never get up with all this weight on me, he reasoned.
Before he could react, Andrew was grabbed by the second diver. The man tried to turn him over. Mr Ivanoff snapped, “Vot are you doing Viktor?”
“Getting all this diving gear off him Mr Ivanoff. No need to waste that,” Viktor replied.
“OK, make it quick,” Mr Ivanoff agreed.
Once again Viktor tried to roll Andrew over. But the steel shaft of the spear dug into the deck and wrenched at Andrew’s body. Pain lanced through him and he cried in agony. Viktor swore and dropped Andrew back on the deck, his face hitting hard enough to make his nose go numb. Andrew felt Viktor doing something on his back.
“What’s the problem?” Barry asked from close behind Andrew.
“The spear,” Viktor replied.
Mr Ivanoff spoke next. “Vot are you doing Viktor?”
“Taking off the air tank,” Viktor replied.
There were several sharp tugs and Andrew was pushed to and fro as Viktor unscrewed his air hoses from the BCD. Then the air tank was lifted clear and he was able to suck in a breath. But Mr Ivanoff’s next words choked off the tiny spurt of relief he felt.
“Leave zer veight belt on him Viktor. Zat vill help him stay down. But take out zat spear. If anyone find zer body ve don’t vant zat sort of evidence.”
Andrew was shocked and appalled. I am going to be drowned! his terrified mind screamed. But how to escape that fate? His mind raced with possible options but all he could think of was to stay still so that they did not knock him out. If I can get the belt off once I am in the water I might be able to get back to the surface, he thought. How to then survive the men with guns and boats was another problem.
A sudden stinging stab of pain made him gasp with shock and he actually did slump into semi-consciousness as the spear was pulled out. Part of Andrew’s mind told him what had happened. The spear had been a standard fish spear with a folding barb on the tip. It could not be pulled back out the way it went in so Barry must have dragged it right through.
Luckily there was no line attached, he thought, shaking almost uncontrollably as the reaction hit him.
With Carmen’s angry protests ringing in his ears Andrew felt himself being dragged backwards off the deck. For a split second he considered struggling but then he decided it was better tactics to make it easy for them. As he realized that he was about to fall onto the dive platform he tensed.
This is going to hurt, he thought.
Suddenly Andrew found he was flying through the air, terror swamping him and Carmen’s scream sounding loud in his ears. To his own surprise he only just tipped the edge of the dive platform with his right hand. He had enough of his wits about him to see that the first diver—Barry—was standing on the platform and that the rubber boat was now tied to the starboard bracket of the platform.
Splash! Instantly the water enfolded Andrew and he began sinking. Don’t panic! Don’t panic! he told himself, but the fear was so overwhelming all he could do was squirm and try to release the weight belt.
Already the pressure was building but he was not worried about that because in a free dive it equalized. He opened his eyes to work out which way was up so that he could use his fins to try to stop himself going too deep.
I must get back up to the surface to breathe, he thought.
Suddenly something slid over his arm and he winced and his heart leapt and hammered. What was that? he thought notions of sharks and other sea creatures coming to his mind. Desperately he looked around. Then he felt the thing again and his eyes focussed as well as they could without a face mask.
It was a rope. The shot line for controlled ascents, Andrew realized.
Instantly he reached out and grabbed the rope. He came to a jerking standstill and looked frantically up. What he was looking for was the spare air tank that was attached at ten metres to the shot line. If a diver coming up from a deep dive needed more time to decompress his nitrogen, he had a reserve of air handy and avoid getting the bends.
And there it was, a dark blob against the rippling light of the surface. It looked a small thing and a long way above him but Andrew knew it was his only chance.
I must reach it or die, he told himself.
Already he was having trouble holding his breath and was running out of oxygen. Frantic to survive he began hauling himself up the line hand over hand.
Dark dots began