As she spoke, a metallic bang on the side of the boat rang out and feet clattered past outside the door of their impromptu cell. They were still and silent for a moment, then the feet passed back the other way, accompanied by Holloway’s grunts of effort. They heard the ring of an air tank clipping a door frame, and then the sounds receded back above them.
Aston returned to work on the hinges, leaning in hard and working slowly at the screw. It turned a fraction and then slipped. “Damn!” he swore as the screwdriver skidded and punctured his free hand.
“Let me take a turn,” Slater said. “You keep watch.” Aston hesitated. “Don’t be a caveman. I know how to turn a screw.” She snatched the tool and set to work while Aston watched from the small window. He caught a glimpse of movement near the shore and at the limit of his field of view he spotted the robed and hooded man pushing a wooden rowboat out onto the water. The oars silently hit the lake and the man rowed expertly away toward the far side of the boat and out of Aston’s sight.
“What are you up to?” Aston muttered to himself.
The man had exulted when the creature took Carly and cried out in horror when Holloway had bagged the beast. Was he about to attempt to rescue it?
More clattering and voices caught Aston’s attention and he looked up to see a large shark cage being lowered over the side. Flippered feet were pressed against the bottom of it and as it passed the window he clearly saw Holloway, in full SCUBA gear, eyes ablaze with a zealous fire. He held a large gun in one hand, like an oversized automatic pistol with an extra-long barrel. In the other hand he clutched a plastic case of six over-sized syringe darts, filled with a straw-yellow liquid. Aston recognized the arrangement. He’d used similar himself on large marine mammals from time to time. But he wondered if six large doses would be anything like enough to make that monster even slightly woozy.
The cage and Holloway sank below the window and disappeared under the water. Aston tried to imagine what the billionaire was seeing down there in the murky lake, eerily lit by the glare of the hull-mounted halogens. It was nearly full night now, but the moon, though bright, was quickly becoming occluded by ever-thickening clouds. Stormy weather moved swiftly in from the south. He saw Holloway’s flashlight spike through the flatter glow of the spots and sweep left and right as the man inspected his prize.
The surface of the lake began to dimple with fat raindrops as the bad weather finally reached them. The moonlight faded altogether as clouds closed in and the rain quickly increased in intensity. The rush of the rain hitting the Merenneito and the lake filled the air, making every other sound secondary. A wind whipped up as the rain grew heavier still. Aston stared, surprised at the speed with which the conditions had changed. But it was all academic now, with the prize bagged and about to be doped. Would Holloway have enough doses there? Aston’s scientific brain kicked into gear, trying to estimate size and weight, guess what drug the billionaire might have, how much he would need. Slater worried at the screws of the hinges. It became darker and darker outside.
A sudden blistering flash of lightning lit up the night and thunder smashed through the sky. Aston cried out as the brightness briefly illuminated a shape right outside the window.
“Slater!” he whispered sharply. “Look!”
She hurried over and lightning flashed again. The robed figure had rowed, obviously unseen, around the Merenneito and stood in his dinghy to reach up and grasp the ropes of the dive cage. He had no idea Aston and Slater were only inches away, watching as he sawed through the cage bindings with a large Bowie knife.
With a thunk and a sudden rocking of his rowboat, the man successfully cut the tether and the rope slipped beneath the surface as the cage sank like a stone. The man in the boat staggered at the change in tension and sat down hard as lightning lit up the night again.
Aston and Slater both stifled cries as the face of the mysterious zealot was revealed in stark, white light and black shadows. Alvar Laine sheathed his knife with a grin and took up his oars again.
“What the actual fuck?” Aston whispered. “He’s… That’s…” He trailed off, lost for words. “He faked his own death?” he managed eventually. “How?”
“Who cares how? He clearly decided we were getting too close and needed to throw some fucking interference at us. I’d say he succeeded!” Slater spun back to the cabin door and set to work once more with her screwdriver. “We have to get out of here right now!” she said.
The top hinge was free and she had two out of three screws freed from the middle one. As the third screw came free, Joaquin’s voice cried out from above.
“Ellis? Ellis! Mister Holloway!”
“He’s just realized the cage has gone down,” Aston said. “Hurry!”
The third screw came free and Aston jammed his hands against the top of the door, forced his fingers into the gap the removed hinges allowed, and hauled back. The door flexed in its frame. Slater joined him and they wrenched hard twice more and the lowest hinge gave up its grip on the wall, shearing out through the tough plastic, and the door fell in. They tumbled back with it, tangled atop one another and jumped to their feet with grins of triumph.
“Let’s go!” Aston said.
They ran out into the SCUBA room, the back doors open to the dive platform.
“The dinghy is gone!” Slater said, aghast.
Aston clasped his hands on top of his head. “Laine must have cut it loose. We are surrounded by fucking lunatics!”
An angry roar drew his attention and he turned to see Joaquin barreling toward him, the huge man’s face twisted in a snarl of rage.
Chapter 36
Superintendent Paavo Rinne ground his teeth in frustration as he squinted against the stinging rain. Heavy clouds hung low, swept along by a damp, chill breeze that sliced through his jacket and uniform.
A flicker of lightning licked the horizon, and a low rumble rolled across the lake, scarcely audible over the whine of the engine. He’d seen weather like this plenty of times and knew he needed to take care of business and get back to safety before Lake Kaarme turned into maelstrom.
Bright headlights on the police launch drove ahead of them, highlighting the rain and the wave tops as the boat bounced along. But weather be damned, he would not turn tail and run. He would bring those crazy foreigners to justice. He took care of a peaceful town and while it had its problems and its legends, they were known and respected. Then these Americans and Australians came blundering in, upsetting the status quo and killing his staff. His family! The thought of what they might have done to Pieter Lehtonen before leaving his boat adrift and blood on the shore drove Rinne to distraction.
Mikael pulled the collar of his coat up around his exposed neck, leaned in to Rinne, and shouted in his ear. “We should turn back. This weather is going to be insane!”
Rinne turned to the deputy, his face as stormy as the night. “No,” he shouted back.
Rain dripped down the veteran officer’s heavily lined face, tracing rivulets across his ruddy cheeks. “They’ll still be there in the morning. Even if the storm is worse then, at least we will have the light!”
“And let them see us coming? No.” The police launch skipped and danced on the choppy lake, Rinne’s knuckles white on the rail. “We push on! This ends tonight. The storm will give us cover and we can easily round them up. I’ll have them in holding cells and you’ll be back home to your warm hearth in an hour.”
The deputy stared for a moment and must have seen the clear determination in Rinne’s eyes. The man seemed a little disturbed, like maybe he saw more than simple resolve there. And perhaps he did. Rinne was under no illusions, knew he was acting irrationally. Perhaps they could wait until morning. But something in his gut told him there was danger afoot this night and he needed to be there, get amongst it, maybe stall it. He had grown up to feel his town like a friend. Like a lover. And tonight, Kaarme was disquieted.