She told Katzka none of this, yet she sensed he understood all he needed to know. Communication by empathy. It was not a talent she'd suspected he possessed. But then, there were so many things about Katzka that she found surprising.
He looked out at the night. And he said: "I think it's dark enough." They stepped out of the car and walked through the open gate, into the container yard. The freighter loomed in the mist. The only light aboard the vessel was a weirdly greenish glow from one of the lower portholes. Otherwise the ship seemed abandoned. They walked onto the pier, passing a tower of empty crates stacked on a loading pallet.
At the ship's gangplank they paused, listening to the slap of water on the hull, to the myriad groans of steel and cable. The shriek of another jet taking off startled them both. Abby glanced up at the sky, and as she watched the jet's lights lift away she had the disorientating sensation that she was the one moving through space and time. She almost reached out to Katzka for a steadying grip. How did I end up standing on this pier, with this man? she wondered. What strange chain of events has brought me to this unexpected moment in my life?
Katzka touched her arm, his contact warm and solid. "I'm going to look around on board." He stepped onto the gangplank. He'd taken only a few paces towards the vessel when he halted and glanced back up the pier.
A pair of headlights had just swung through the gate.The vehicle was now rolling towards them, across the container yard. It was a van.
Abby had no chance to duck for cover behind the crates. The headlights' beam had already caught her, trapped at the end of the pier.
The van skidded to a halt. Shielding her eyes against the glare, Abby could see almost nothing, but she heard doors open and slam shut. Heard footsteps crunching across the gravel as the men moved in to cut off any escape.
Katzka materialized right beside her. She hadn't even heard him scramble off the gangplank, but suddenly there he was, stepping between her and the van. "OK, just back off," he said. "We're not here to cause any trouble."
The two men, silhouetted by the headlights, hesitated only a second. Then they began to advance.
"Let us by!" Katzka said.
Abby's view of the men was partially blocked by Katzka's back. She didn't see what happened next. All she knew was that he suddenly dropped to a crouch, that there was a simultaneous crack of gunfire and the zing of something ricocheting off the concrete pier behind her.
She and Katzka lunged at the same time for the cover of the crates. He shoved her head to the ground as more gunfire rang out, chunking out splinters of wood.
Katzka returned fire. Three quick blasts.
There was a tattoo of retreating footsteps. A terse exchange of voices.
Then the sound of the van being started, the engine revving and tyres spitting up gravel.
Abby raised her head to look. To her horror she saw the van was rolling towards them, bearing down on the crates like a battering ram.
Katzka took aim and fired. Four bursts that shattered the windshield.
The van bumped crazily onto the pier, swerved right, then left, a battering ram gone out of control.
Katzka fired two last, desperate blasts.
The van kept coming.
Abby registered a blinding glimpse of headlights. Then she flung herself off the pier and hurtled into pitch darkness.
The plunge into icy water was shocking. She sputtered back to the surface, choking on brine and spilled diesel, her limbs flailing at the black water. She heard men shouting on the pier above, then a thunderous splash. Water boiled up and washed over her head. She surfaced again, coughing. At the end of the pier the water
HARVEST
seemed to be glowing a phosphorescent green. The van. It was sliding under the surface, its headlights casting two watery beams of light. As it sank, the greenish glow faded to black.
Katzka. Where was Katzka?
She whirled around in the water, stroking as she scanned the blackness. The surface was still churning, wavelets slapping her face, and she was struggling to see through the sting of salt in her eyes.
She heard a soft splash and a head popped out of the brine a few feet away. Treading water, Katzka glanced in her direction, and saw that she was holding her own. Then he looked up, at the sound of more voices — from the ship?There were two men, maybe three, their footsteps thudding up and down the pier. They were yelling to each other, but their shouts seemed garbled and unintelligible.
Not English, thought Abby, but she could not identify the language.
Overhead a light appeared, the beam cutting through the mist and slowly skimming the water.
Katzka dove. So did Abby. She swam as far as her breath would carry her, away from the pier, towards the blackness of open water. Again and again she came up, gasped in a breath, then dove again. When she resurfaced a fifth time, she was treading in darkness.
There were now two lights moving on the pier, the beams scanning the mist like a pair of relentless eyes. She heard the splash of water somewhere close, and then a quick intake of breath, and
she knew Katzka had surfaced nearby. "Lost my gun," he panted. "What the hell's going on?"
"Just keep swimming. The next pier."
The night suddenly lit up with shocking brilliance. The freighter had turned on its deck lights, illuminating every detail on the pier. There was one man on the gangplank, and one crouching at the pier's edge with a searchlight. Towering beside them was a third man, his rifle aimed at the water.
"Go," said Katzka.
Abby dove, clawing her way through liquid blackness. She'd never been a good swimmer. Deep water scared her. Now she was swimming through water so dark it might as well be bottomless. She came up for another breath, but could not seem to get enough air, no matter how deeply she gasped.
"Abby, keep moving!" urged Katzka. "Just get to that next pier!" Abby glanced back towards the freighter. She saw that the searchlights were tracing an ever-larger circle on the water. That the beam was flitting towards them.
She slipped, once again, underwater.
By the time she and Katzka finally clambered out onto land, Abby could barely move her limbs. She crawled up rocks slippery with oil and seaweed. Crouching in the darkness, the barnacles biting into her knees, she vomited into the water.
Katzka took her arm, steadied her. She was shaking so hard from exertion she thought she might shatter were it not for his grip.
At last there was nothing left in her stomach. Weakly she raised her head.
"Better?" he whispered.
"I'm freezing."
"Then let's get someplace warm." He glanced up at the pier, looming above them. "I think we can make it up those pilings. Come on."
Together they scrambled up the rocks, slipping and sliding on moss and seaweed. Katzka made it up onto the pier first, then he reached down and hauled her up after him. They rose to a crouch.
The searchlight sliced through the mist, trapping them in its glare.
A bullet ricocheted off the concrete right behind Abby. "Move!" said Katzka.
They sprinted away. The searchlight pursued them, the beam zigzagging through the darkness. They were off the concrete pier now, running towards the container yard. Bullets spat up gravel all around them. Ahead loomed the containers, stacked up in a giant maze of shadows. They ducked down the nearest row, heard bullets pinging on metal. Then the gunfire ceased.