Sam took a deep breath, and then shook his head. “Even last week, Hurricane Hilda formed farther north in the Atlantic than almost any other hurricane in history. It would have destroyed half of Manhattan, if it wasn’t for that sudden freak change in direction, that had it move mysteriously north and then east back out into the Atlantic where it dissipated.”
Tom glanced at a man fishing off his yacht. Despite being a UNESCO world heritage site and protected, some people ignored the rules. “Have you ever considered whether we’re supposed to survive?”
“No. Survival is the one common instinct, shared among all living creatures — we all want to survive.”
“I didn’t mean whether we wanted to or not — simply whether we should?” Tom’s jaw was set firm. “I mean, when you look back on the history of the human race, we haven’t exactly been kind to the planet, or the rest of those animals who we share it with, have we? Globally, when things go wrong, we always look at how to save ourselves and our profits, more than what is right.”
“That’s not always true. Sometimes the human race surprises you in its ability to band together for the greater good — where altruism beats greed.”
“Really?” Tom grinned. “Name one.”
“The Montreal Protocol.”
“The what?”
Sam smiled. It was his I’ve won this argument grin. “The Montreal Protocol was agreed upon in 1987 and entered into full force by 1989. It consisted of two treaties designed to protect the ozone layer by phasing out the production of numerous substances that were responsible for ozone depletion. As a result of the international agreement, the ozone hole over Antarctica is slowly recovering. In comparison, effective burden sharing and solution proposals mitigating regional conflicts of interest have been among the success factors for the ozone depletion challenge, where global regulation based on the Kyoto Protocol has failed to do so.” Sam took a deep breath and continued. “The two ozone treaties have been ratified by 197 parties, which includes 196 states and the European Union, making them the first universally ratified treaties in United Nations history. To this date, it’s considered the world’s greatest unified achievement of the human race for the benefit of the planet.”
“I stand corrected. When a gun is put to the human race’s head, sometimes it doesn’t respond by pulling the trigger itself.” Tom grinned and stood up. “Think this yacht has a bathroom onboard?”
“I’m sure you’ll find one down below.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Tom walked down the spiral staircase, and used the bathroom. As he walked out to leave, he spotted a muscular and wiry man with pale white skin standing at the back of the yacht. The guy sported a yachting outfit that must have come straight out of the Calvin Klein catalogue. With his right hand, he was dabbing at his nose with a designer handkerchief.
“Are you okay?” Tom asked.
The guy was roughly average height, and had to lift his eyes to Tom’s, six inches above. The stranger had the most unusual green colored eyes that Tom had ever seen. Tom thought he could see something in them, too.
What was it, recognition?
Oh shit!
The man reached inside his trouser pocket and removed a small flick knife. He jabbed it at Tom’s gut with a quick and well-practiced move. Despite Tom’s size he was surprisingly agile. Stepping to the left in an instant, he jammed his attacker’s arm holding the knife against the side of the yacht. Putting his entire hundred and fifty pounds of force behind it, he watched the man grimace in pain.
“Sam!” Tom yelled. “I might need a little help down here!”
The man recovered quickly. Unable to move his armed hand away from where Tom had pinned it, he kicked Tom directly behind his right knee. The blow landed on Tom’s wounded leg, sending a sharp pain behind his knee and thigh as though he’d been shot.
An instant later, the man changed the direction of his efforts. Instead of trying to push Tom off, he twisted, and pulled.
With the injury to his right leg, Tom was unprepared for the change in force, causing him to fall backward. He recovered in time to take a step backward, where he stepped off the back deck and fell into the water.
Tom surfaced upright a second later. The yacht’s freeboard — the space between the waterline and the deck — was too high to reach. Instead he quickly swam across to the diving barge. He glanced backward, and spotted his attacker racing across the flotilla with Sam already running after him.
He lost sight of the chase for a moment when several hands reached to pull him up aboard the barge. At last sight, the guy was leaping over the boat deck, headed for the seaplane at the end of the mooring. Sam was already on his way, climbing down from the top deck to continue the pursuit.
As soon as he’d gained his feet, Tom started after them, gaining on them because of his long legs, but still limping with his injury. He was still yards behind when the guy reached the end.
The guy scooped up the tethering rope to the seaplane and tugged it hard, then clambered in and started the motor. As soon as the propeller started turning, he moved the seaplane away from the barge, just before Sam caught up. Tom watched in disbelief as Sam smoothly dived into the water, swimming powerfully, and caught the back of the pontoon.
Using the pontoon as leverage, Sam heaved himself from the water and climbed on, clinging to the struts and making his way to the cockpit. Tom shook his head, half in admiration, half in dismay. He stopped for a moment to orient himself, and then headed for Ridley’s pleasure cruiser. The tiny Robinson 22 helicopter looked like his only choice.
Ridley looked out at Sam climbing onboard the back of the seaplane’s pontoon as its pilot circled around, ready for takeoff. “What the hell does he think he’s doing? This time he’s definitely going to get himself killed.”
The de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter was a single engine, propeller driven seaplane. With its high wing, and high power to weight ratio, it was designed for short take-offs and landings. Its single propeller whined loudly, and the aircraft started to skip along the still water of the Great Blue Hole until it built up enough speed to break the confines of gravity. It was setting up on a direct approach to the flotilla.
Ridley looked at him, his mouth wide open. “What the hell is the pilot trying to do?”
Tom yelled, “Duck!”
The aircraft took off right over their heads. Tom and Ridley instinctively dropped to the floor as the pilot banked sharply to avoid the collision.
Tom stood up and moved toward the Robinson 22. “Is your helicopter fueled?”
“Of course, it’s bloody well fueled and ready to fly. Why?”
“I need to borrow it.”
Ridley shrugged, as though the three hundred-thousand-dollar helicopter was a trivial possession. “Sure. What are you going to do?”
Tom grinned, and called over his shoulder. “What I always have to do. Make sure my mate doesn’t get himself killed in the process of being a hero.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter was designed to carry ten passengers and one pilot to remote areas where other aircraft simply couldn’t reach. This one had been upgraded with a STOL kit that allowed a short take-off and landing, by modifying the wing with a contoured leading edge and drooped wingtips for increased performance. Without it, Sam doubted the floatplane would have gotten off the water within the Great Blue Hole.
The narrow and robust aluminum fuselage was connected to two slender floats by a total of six struts — joined by three on each side — and a single boarding ladder that led to the rear hatch. There was also a forward hatch next to the pilot, but no ladder, which made it impossible to reach while the aircraft was moving.