Fast (28 page)

            ‘I could have told you he was a fast-thinker,’ said Forest. ‘That’s why we’re all still alive. He’s saved all our asses about a dozen times over.’

            ‘But he’s still trapped in there,’ said King.

            ‘She’s right,’ said Marlin. ‘He kicks ass in the long grass. He’ll make it. Any minute now he’ll be banging on that hatch for us to let him in.’

            All four of them looked at the hatch and waited.

#

Cairns studied the Marine on the pool bottom.

            It was hard to tell, but he looked to be searching his pockets while he clung to the templates. He had to be about ready to implode from the pain in his lungs.

            Cairns noted a trail of silver objects emerge from the Marine. The silver balls wobbled up to the surface.

            Bubbles. Air bubbles.

           
He’s breathing
, realized Cairns.

            ‘He’s breathing!’ yelled Cairns. ‘He’s got an air source. He’s moving again. Spread out and cover every pool!’

            Gunmen dashed everywhere through the labs, spreading out to cover every pool.

            Cairns stalked around the edge, his eyes locked on the swimmer. ‘You resourceful little parasite. Where do you think you’re going now? You can’t stay down there forever.’

            He watched the Marine swim into the underlab corridor heading east towards D-lab.

            He pointed down the corridor that paralleled the swimmer’s path. Two gunmen guarded that pool.

            ‘You two. He’s coming your way. Get in the water and cut him off!’

            The two men laid their guns on the floor. They drew boot knives and dove into the water.

#

Swimming along the bottom, Coleman knew his trick was exposed.

            The ‘oxy-mask’ he found in the first-aid room was just a small oxygen bottle with a plastic fitted mask. Emergency workers carried them to provide life-saving oxygen at accident scenes. Coleman used the oxy-mask like a scuba respirator. Not perfect, but it did the job. He had almost reached D-lab.

            The bubbles on the surface must have given him away. Cairns had to realize by now that he wasn’t surfacing any time soon.

            That left Cairns only one option.

            Ahead, two shapes dove into the water. Coleman inhaled deeply from the oxy-mask then shoved the bottle into his pocket.

            He stopped swimming and let the templates drag him to the bottom. It would be easier to let Cairns’s men exhaust their air and energy in reaching him. Also, in the corridor between galleries, it would be harder for them to attack him from both sides.

            Swimming single file, both men had knives. Without diving weights they would find it difficult to reach Coleman on the bottom.

            Coleman just watched them and waited. With the first terrorist less than two meters away, he used the second item he’d taken from the first-aid room.

            It was a quick-seal plastic specimen bag.

            Inside the plastic bag was the colt, already cocked and ready to fire.

            In the first-aid chamber, Coleman had stuffed his pistol into the specimen bag, pressed out the air and then quick-sealed the plastic locking strip. So long as the weapon was dry, it would still fire.

            He would only get one shot though.

            Coleman raised the colt and fired.

            The first terrorist saw the gun and tried to jerk himself away.

            The bag exploded outwards. The sound of the single shot
whumped
through the water. The tiny torpedo streaked out and hit the gunmen right in the throat, severing both his jugular arteries.

            Blood jetted from the man’s neck like squid-ink. His knife
clinked
to the bottom. Jamming his colt under his hip webbing, Coleman felt around and found the knife. The second man was coming. This one swam straight down under the expanding pink cloud blossoming from his companion’s neck.

            As trained, Coleman let the man attack first. If fighting was all about physics, then underwater fighting used a varied set of rules. When people used a knife underwater, they reacted to the increased water resistance by using short, direct stabbing attacks. Wide swings that took forever to reach an opponent were useless. And usually an opponent needed to get closer than usual to use their body mass to counter-weight the attack.

            The man swam straight at Coleman with his arm poised back ready for a powerful thrust. The blade shot towards Coleman’s face.

            Coleman was waiting. He jerked his head back, let go of the templates and grabbed the man tightly by his knife wrist. Game over. It was as simple as that. Locked together by Coleman’s grip, now both men had one free hand. The terrorist had a fist. Coleman had a knife.

            Coleman finished the job in three fast underhand knife jabs and then kicked the limp body away.

            He grabbed the templates and swam straight into the blood cloud.

#

‘Son of a bitch!’ bellowed Cairns as two bodies floated to the surface.

            He couldn’t see a damn thing. The pink blood cloud hid the Marine.

            Infuriated, Cairns fired his pistol wildly into the pool, hoping to score a lucky shot. His pistol clicked empty.

           
Calm down and think. What’s he doing now?

            Trying to escape.

            Cairns pointed at two gunmen back in the main lab. ‘You two – get in that pool RIGHT NOW! Swim down and flush him out!’

            Cairns peered back into the cloudy water. He had total control of the research level now. All the barriers were gone. All the pool hatches were open. The Marine had nowhere to safely emerge.

            Seconds ticked by. One of the diving gunmen pulled himself from the pool near Cairns’s boots.

‘He’s not down there,’ the gunman reported.

            ‘Don’t be stupid,’ snapped Cairns. ‘Of course he’s down there. Unless he can swim through walls.’

            The second gunman emerged. ‘Can’t see him, sir. No sign.’

           
That’s it
, thought Cairns.
Enough games.

            Cairns unclipped a hand grenade from his vest. He paused, holding the grenade above the water. How much pressure could the template case withstand underwater?

            He tested the weight of the grenade in his hand. Should he drop a depth charge and see what floated up? Should he risk damaging the templates?

            Another unpleasant option presented itself. He clipped the grenade back on his vest and activated his radio.

            ‘Gould, assure me there are no other exits from the underlab except the lab pools.’

            ‘That’s right,’ hesitated Gould. ‘The only other possible way would be if….’

            ‘If what?’ demanded Cairns. ‘Answer me!’

            There was a pause on Gould’s end. ‘If he had help from someone with sublevel security clearance. I’m checking the system activity records now.’

            Gould checked the system records. ‘I think we might have a big problem.’

            ‘You
don’t
say,’ hissed Cairns with acid sarcasm. ‘Where’s the other exit?’

            ‘The underlab was accessed less than fifteen minutes ago. The registry shows it was Vanessa Sharp’s authorization codes that flooded the saturation chamber. Your diver is probably heading that way now. But he has to get past you in D-lab.’

            ‘He just swam right under me in D-lab!’ burst out Cairns.

            ‘Then he’s definitely heading back to the saturation chamber. You might cut him off in the eastern stairwell. That’s the quickest way out of the sub-level. I’ll start draining the underlab.’

            ‘Bora, did you hear all that?’

            ‘Yes,’ replied Bora instantly. ‘We’ll be there in thirty seconds. I’m sending men to cover every stairwell exit.’

            ‘What level are you on?’

            ‘Basement.’

            ‘Good, cut them off and take them down. We’ll herd them your way from this end.’ Cairns triggered his radio again with an after-thought. ‘And Bora, kill any civilians you find with them.’

            ‘Understood.’

            Cairns pointed at the two wet gunmen as the water level started dropping. ‘You two get back down there and flush the diver towards Bora.’

#

The water receded in the saturation chamber.

            Vanessa operated the controls this time.

            Despite the situation, five grimly smirking faces emerged from the dropping water level.

            Coleman stood in the middle of the chamber holding the templates. A minute earlier he’d been banging on the hatch with his colt, but now he stood inside the chamber with solid footing again.

            ‘I knew you’d make it,’ said King, his big face grinning.

            ‘No time to celebrate,’ warned Vanessa. ‘The underlab is draining.’

            Coleman spun to the hatch. ‘They’ll try to corner us in the stairwell. We have to move fast.’

#

Two gunmen hustled Gould into the main lab, presenting him roughly before Cairns.

            ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded, suspiciously eyeing his two ‘escorts’.

            Standing in the center of the lab, Cairns tapped his steepled index fingers thoughtfully on his upper lip. He stared at Gould.

            When no answer came, Gould surveyed the lab. Anything to break Cairns’s caustic eye-contact.

            The lab wasn’t the way he remembered it.

            Near the pool, three bullet-riddled gunmen lay tangled among an equally bullet-riddled creature. Two more gunmen, both with wet fatigues, lay in a bloody mess in the corridor to D-lab. One man’s throat appeared torn away. All the plexiglass barriers had been cut or blown out with explosives. Bullet damage scarred every surface. A spreading red haze colored the main lab pool.

            There seemed to be blood spots over absolutely everything.

            ‘What the hell happened in here?’ asked Gould.

            Cairns stopped tapping his index fingers on his lips. He began pacing a slow circle around Gould. Gould’s two escorts backed warily away.