Matt looked out of the window. The boats were getting closer and they had been joined by three more, making five in all, moving in from every side. They were police launches – grey, solid steel with identifying numbers printed on the side. They were coming out of the night like miniature battleships, with bullet-proof windows and bows shaped like knives.
Richard pulled himself to his feet. Machado aimed the gun at him. “Nightrise doesn’t want you,” he said. “So I hope you don’t mind a burial at sea.” He was about to fire at point blank range. He licked his lips, enjoying himself. Richard stared at him helplessly.
“Put the gun down,” Jamie said.
Machado didn’t hesitate. He laid the gun on the floor although his face was filled with puzzlement. He had no idea why he’d done it. But Matt did. In his moment of triumph, the captain had forgotten Jamie. He’d thought he was still asleep… but he’d been wrong. Jamie had seen what was happening and had used his power. If he’d told Machado to stop breathing, the man would have stood there until he died. And, Matt reflected, maybe that was what he deserved.
“This is the Hong Kong police. Heave to…”
The voice echoed out of the water, amplified through a megaphone. There was a man standing on the bow of the nearest boat – except he looked far too tall to be human. He was black and was dressed in the uniform of a senior officer in the Hong Kong police. But it was obvious he was no policeman. He was like something out of a nightmare with his bald head and empty, staring eyes. It was freezing cold out on the water but he wasn’t shivering. He showed no feeling or emotion at all.
Richard lunged forward, grabbed hold of the steering wheel and slammed down the throttle. Matt felt the floor tilt beneath him as the cargo boat surged forward. Captain Machado had been standing there, dazed, as if unsure what to do, but now he seized hold of Richard and the two of them began to grapple for the steering wheel.
“Get rid of him, Jamie,” Matt said.
“Jump overboard,” Jamie commanded.
Machado let go of Richard and lurched out of the cabin, moving as if in a trance. There was shouting, a shot, then a splash as Machado was gunned down even as he hit the sea. The Hong Kong police had assumed he was trying to escape. Or maybe they knew who he was but had decided to kill him anyway. Machado floated face down in the water. He didn’t move.
Richard had control of the cargo boat. He spun it round, taking the police by surprise. Seconds later, he burst through them, weaving round one of their boats, heading for the Central side of Hong Kong.
“The gun!” Richard shouted.
Matt snatched it up and handed it to him. Then Jamie shouted and pointed. “Watch out!”
A face had appeared at the window, glaring at them with furious eyes. For a moment Matt thought one of the policemen had somehow boarded Moon Moth. Then he remembered the single crewman – Billy – who had sailed with them from Macau. He was holding a gun, bringing it round to aim at the cabin. Richard shot him through the window, a single bullet between the eyes. The boat lurched crazily. The wheel spun. The crewman disappeared.
Then the nearest police launch opened fire. The noise was deafening as the bullets smashed into the metal plates of the cargo boat, cutting a line along the bow and ricocheting back into the water. One of the windows shattered and Richard ducked as tiny fragments of glass showered down onto his shoulders and back. The cold night air rushed into the cabin, carrying with it the spray of water and the foul, decaying smell of the pollution. Moon Moth surged forward. Richard was fighting with the wheel, trying not to be shot. Matt looked back. The police launches were regrouping, preparing to come after them. The man at the front suddenly opened his mouth and howled, a sound that split the night, louder than all the boats put together. Matt knew at that moment that he wasn’t a man at all.
“We’re going to have to jump!” Richard shouted above the roar of the engines and the raging wind. “Jamie, can you swim?”
Jamie nodded.
“I’m going to take us in as close as I can.” He turned to Matt. “If we get separated, meet at…”
But Matt didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. There was another burst of gunfire, this time strafing the stern and the cargo hold where the fireworks were packed.
“Now!”
Richard abandoned the wheel and the boat began to zigzag. Matt needed to ask him what he had just said, but everything was happening too quickly. Richard snatched up his backpack and forced it over his shoulders. Jamie was right next to him. The five police boats were getting closer, only a few metres behind.
“Go!” Richard shouted.
Jamie hurried out to the deck and without stopping disappeared over the side of the boat. But Richard hadn’t followed. He had climbed down from the cabin and was balancing himself, clinging to a handrail as Moon Moth, its engines screaming on full power, swerved drunkenly through the sea. Blood and water streamed down his face and his eyes were wild. Matt had never seen him like this before. Gritting his teeth, he brought the gun up and fired into the crates of fireworks, again and again, emptying the chamber into the same spot.
Nothing happened until the final shot. Then there was a flare of magnesium, burning through the tarpaulin. Richard noticed that Matt was still there, that he hadn’t jumped overboard. “Jump!” he pleaded.
Matt jumped.
Even as his feet left the deck, the fireworks went off. There were thousands of pounds worth in the hold. A tonne of gunpowder. But there was nothing beautiful about the explosion. It was just a blinding, burning wheel of fire that seemed to take Richard and hurl him into the air. That was the last thing Matt saw before he hit the water. For a moment everything was panic. The sea was black and freezing. He was still wearing his clothes and trainers. He was being sucked down. He had to fight with all his strength just to get back to the surface.
He emerged, gasping for air, into a brilliant, blazing nightmare. It was as if the whole night was on fire. Moon Moth was alight. The fire was burning so intensely that the metal plates would surely melt away. With no one to steer it, the boat had turned a full circle and was ploughing into the police launches, which had been too slow to get out of the way. It was right in the middle of them and Matt could just make out figures in helmets and full riot gear staring at the destruction, knowing that they were too close, that they were part of it. One of their boats was already on fire. The tall man was still howling – but this time in agony. Every part of him was on fire. His suit and the skin beneath it were peeling away. At the very end, his head split open and something began to snake out of it – a second head, but not a human one. Then there was a great rush of white flame as more of the fireworks exploded and he was blown out of sight.
Individual fireworks were going off, one after another and Matt saw cascades of red, blue, white, green and yellow as blazing missiles were shot into the air, reflecting in the water below. About fifty rockets screamed out at once, some of them twisting into the sky, others slamming into the police boats. One of them spluttered across the water and plunged down in front of him, missing his head by inches. He saw a policeman on fire, jumping into the water to save himself. Another was less lucky. He seemed to be holding a spinning Catherine wheel, unable to let go of it even though it was burning into his chest. Fireworks were cracking and buzzing and whining all around him. He didn’t make it into the sea. He died where he stood.
Matt was treading water, forcing himself to breathe. He was so cold that his lungs had shut down. He knew that he couldn’t stay out here much longer. Two of the police boats were undamaged. Very soon they would be looking for him. But where was Richard? Where was Jamie? The surface of the water was like a black mirror, reflecting the light, but he couldn’t see them anywhere. He wanted to shout out for them but he didn’t dare. The policemen would have heard him.