Deep Fathom

Jack quickly lowered and secured the mirror, then sidled back to the stern ladder. He tested it with a hand. The safety ladder was permanent, secured with bolts, so it shouldn’t rattle.

From his belt, he removed one of the clear plastic bags. His hand settled around the grip of the pistol inside. Raising it above the water, he poked his finger through the thin plastic to rest a finger on the trigger. The safety was already off. He waited for an opportunity.

As he did, his eyes flicked to his watch. The eastern horizon was already begi

Overhead, the guard flicked his cigarette into the sea. The glowing butt arced over Jack’s head and hit the water with a sizzle. Yawning, the guard turned and leaned his back against the rail. Fishing in a pocket, the man pulled out a pack of Winstons. He tapped it, trying to free one of the cigarettes.

One-handed, Jack pulled himself up on the ladder, planted his feet — then pointed his gun and fired. He covered the dull sound of the pistol’s silencer with an inconspicuous cough. Gore splattered the white deck. Jack reached out and grabbed the man’s body as it fell. Using the man’s dead weight for leverage, he clambered over the rail, then lowered the limp body to the deck.

In a crouch, he ran to the cutter’s external reserve fuel tank, freed the second plastic bag and pressed a red button. Swallowing hard, he checked his watch, then tucked the package beside the steel barrel.

He twisted around and darted to the door leading to the lower deck stairs. Gun pointed forward, he peeked around the open door. No one was there. Swinging it wide, he raced down the dimly lit stairs to the lower deck. At the end of the passageway lay a stainless steel door with a single tiny window.

Jack entered the passage cautiously. Crates and rolls of tarpaulin were stored in the lower passage, creating potential hiding places. He continued carefully, gun pointed ahead of him, searching corners and blind spots. No one was about. Reaching the far door, he glanced through the tiny window and bit back a sigh of relief. Karen was tied to the thin bed inside.

Jack quickly tapped in the code to the electronic cipher lock and heard the telltale click of the lock releasing. He grabbed the door and yanked it open. Taking no chances, he rolled into the room, ready for an ambush. He spun, weapon ready. No guards.

Karen struggled in her bonds, eyes wide with surprise. “Jack!” As he stepped toward her, Jack realized that it was not surprise in her voice — but fear.

He heard a rustling behind him, from the doorway, and turned around. In the hall, David stood with a gun pointing at his chest. The crumpled tarpaulin he’d been hiding under was now a cape about his shoulders.

“Drop your weapon, Kirkland.”

Jack hesitated, then lowered his weapon and placed it on the floor.

David shrugged off the tarpaulin. “Kick your gun here.”

Hands raised, scowling, Jack did as he’d been ordered.

“You are so predictable, Jack. Always the hero.” David moved into the room. “With the right bait, I knew I could lure you here. But I must say you haven’t lost your training. You got past my own men without alerting any of them.” He lifted the pistol. “Luckily, I trust no one but myself.”

“You never were a team player, Spangler. That’s why I was promoted over you.” As his opponent’s face reddened with anger, Jack spoke more slowly. “That’s what’s really got a corn cob up your ass about me, isn’t it? It’s not your sister. It’s not Je

David took an angry step toward him, leveling the gun at his head. “Don’t ever speak Je

Jack risked a glance at his watch. Fifteen seconds. He had to keep David angry and close. “Quit the act, Spangler. Your sister and I had long talks about you. I know about you and your father.”

Sputtering, David pointed the gun. His face was almost purple. “What did she tell you…whatever it was, it was all lies. He never touched me.”

Jack crinkled his brow. Long ago, Je

David stepped nearer. “Shut the fuck up!”

Five seconds…

Jack braced his legs. His hands formed fists.

Spittle flew from David’s lips in rage. “He never touched me!”

One…

Jack swung a fist as the explosion roared through the ship. The deck bucked underfoot. His fist glanced off David’s jaw, knocking him aside.

The pistol went off, a wild shot. The bullet dug into the wall behind Jack. He spun and kicked the gun from David’s hand. It went flying across the floor.

David lunged. Jack instinctively dodged to the side, and as he swung back around realized the mistake. His reflexes had betrayed him. David might have been an asshole, but he was a keen killer. He landed near Jack’s discarded pistol, which had been his intent, and David rolled toward the weapon.

Karen yelled from the bed, “Run, Jack!”

He froze. “He’ll kill you—”

“No! His superiors want me alive! Go!”

Jack paused. David reached to the gun.

“Run!” Karen screamed.

Swearing, Jack darted through the door, slamming it behind him. Ahead, smoke filled the hall. Flames danced at the top of the stairs. Jack tore into a neighboring cabin. The bomb, primed with a small bit of C-4 from David’s own bomb, had been meant as a distraction so he and Karen could escape.

Jack crossed the cabin and tugged down the folded emergency ladder. Cinching down his diving mask, he mounted the ladder and twisted the release to the aft deck’s hatch.

An alarm sounded.

Flinging back the small door, he dove out. He rolled across the deck and to his feet. Men were ru

As the man dropped his bucket and reached to a holstered pistol, Jack ran at him, elbowing him across his Adam’s apple. The guard fell back, gagging. His way clear, Jack dove over the starboard rail.

Holding his mask, he struck the water, then kicked and dug his way toward the bottom. He flipped on his ultraviolet wrist lights just as bullets began to ping and zing through the water around him. He ignored the threat and searched for where he’d stored his equipment.

He quickly found it. Hidden in the shadow of the crumbling wall, Jack took a quick drag from the pony tank’s regulator, then tossed it aside. Karen would not be needing it. He looked up.

The cutter remained topside, but it wouldn’t be there for long. The exploding fuel tank was the signal for Charlie to call in the police. The original plan was for he and Karen to hide down here until the police chased them off.

As he fit his feet into his fins, Jack spotted movement from the corner of his eye. He twisted around, glancing up.

Small metallic objects, no bigger than soda cans, were sinking into the water around him. A dozen, maybe more. As he watched, one of them struck a tall column fifteen yards away. The explosion threw Jack to the sand, slamming the air from his lungs. His ears flared with pain. Bits of rock pelted him. Blind for a moment, he rolled across the sea floor.

As his vision snapped back, he spotted a dozen other charges falling around him. Another trap. He had less than five seconds until the area was blown to fragments.

Grabbing his buoyancy vest and attached air tank, he twisted the vest around and jammed his arms in the wrong way. The tank, instead of on his back, lay upside down on his chest. Swinging with his hips, he jammed the tank against a nearby stone wall and the valve snapped off. Compressed oxygen exploded out.