The harness and pack were dead weight on her back. She pushed at the buckle on her chest to release them. A muted clunk, and the straps popped free. She shrugged clear and kicked out from beneath the overbearing jellyfish, but some of the lines had wrapped around her legs.
Her panic returned. She forced herself to stop swimming, bringing up both legs in front of her as she tried to unravel the cords. Currents shoved at her like impatient subway crowds. One leg freed, but the other was still snagged, the lines pulling tighter around her ankle as the floating chute was yanked back and forth by the waves.
Calm, stay calm, she told herself as she unlooped them. The pack sank past her, other lines pulling at her leg. She resisted the gentle but unyielding pressure, using her arms to propel herself back up before continuing her task. Only a few more to go. A distant thudding rumble reached her through the water, the sound of an engine, but she couldn’t spare it any thought as she finally tugged away the last cord and swam clear of the parachute.
She burst into open air, gasping. More waves slapped at her. Spluttering, she blew away water as she tipped backwards to keep her face clear of the surface, then tried to get her bearings.
The column of black smoke rising from the cliffs made it impossible to miss the wreckage of the Pactolus. The luxury yacht’s remains were barely identifiable as a ship, the mangled mass wreathed in fire. There was no beach, the weather-worn rocks rising straight out of the sea. Nowhere to get safely ashore.
She looked the other way. This low in the water, she couldn’t see the small boats carrying Eddie and the others, but she did spy another vessel, a motor yacht, heading towards where she had seen De Klerx’s men. It was going to rescue them… and, she desperately hoped, her.
‘That’s the ship that cut across our course!’ Velis said, seeing the other vessel moving towards the bobbing mercenaries.
Trakas turned to Anastasia, who along with Eddie was being watched at gunpoint by Axelos. ‘Your ship, I assume?’ he asked her in English. Her only reply was a dismissive narrowing of her eyes. ‘Your friends will be saved, then. Those who are still alive.’
‘Never mind them,’ Eddie said angrily. ‘What about Nina? We’ve got to see if she got off the ship!’ The smoke from the Pactolus had blocked his view of the yacht’s last moments.
‘We’re not going back,’ Axelos said coldly. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘A pity,’ said Trakas. ‘Dr Wilde would have been useful.’
‘For what?’ the Yorkshireman growled, but no answer came.
‘Where are you taking us?’ Anastasia demanded.
Trakas chuckled humourlessly. ‘You came here for the Crucible, no? Now you will see it.’
‘Hey!’ Nina cried, waving her arms. ‘Over here, hey!’
She had been in the water for twenty minutes, reluctant to move too far from the smouldering wreck of the Pactolus for fear that anyone coming to investigate might miss her. But now the motor yacht was finally approaching, having picked up the men in the sea.
A figure on its deck signalled to her: De Klerx. Both relieved and aggrieved to see him, she swam exhaustedly to the ship. He and another man reached down and pulled her from the sea. ‘Are you all right?’ the Dutchman asked as she slumped to the deck, water streaming from her soaked clothing.
‘Yeah, no thanks to you,’ she replied, wringing out her hair. ‘What the hell were you and Anastasia doing? We came out here to talk to Trakas, not start World War Three.’
‘You were never going to succeed,’ he replied with a dismissive sneer. ‘A man who would go to such lengths to get the Crucible would never voluntarily give it up.’
‘So you decided to take it anyway, huh?’ Another man offered her some towels. She gratefully wrapped one around herself. ‘What about Eddie, and the others? Where are they?’
‘Trakas took them.’
‘Where?’
De Klerx went to the cabin door, gesturing for her to follow. ‘We think a place called Riklos. He owns a shipyard there.’
‘You think? You don’t know?’
‘The two men I left on this ship had to choose between following him and rescuing us.’ They entered the cabin. The other survivors of the failed raid were inside, now down to four. ‘But I have spoken to Mr Mikkelsson. Even while we were travelling to Greece, he had used his diplomatic connections to obtain information about Trakas’s businesses. Riklos is the only place he owns that could operate an industrial particle accelerator.’
‘You think that’s where he’s keeping the Crucibles?’ The Greek’s denial of any knowledge about the smaller of the two Atlantean artefacts came back to her, but she put it aside; there were more urgent concerns.
‘It must be.’
A hatch at the cabin’s rear was open. The room beyond was dark, but Nina glimpsed distinctly military-looking cases stacked within. Weapons. ‘You’re planning to raid the place?’
‘Yes. It will be night by the time we arrive, but we can still find the Crucible — and rescue Anastasia and the others.’
‘I hope that’s not the order of priorities,’ said Nina, dropping on to an empty chair.
‘No. Getting Anastasia back is my top priority.’
‘Yeah, I bet it is.’ That there was something going on between the Dutchman and the young Icelander had been hard to miss. ‘Just remember that getting Eddie back is my top priority — and the Lonmores, too.’
‘I am sure you will not let me forget.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ she said, responding to his sarcasm in kind. ‘And I hope this operation goes better than your last one.’
26
Eddie surveyed the shoreline ahead as the helicopter began its descent. ‘Guess that’s where we’re going.’
The two boats had taken their passengers to the island where he, Nina and the Lonmores had landed before travelling to the Pactolus, the chopper returning at Trakas’s summons. With Axelos and one of the surviving yacht crew acting as armed guards, the prisoners were put aboard. Trakas took the front passenger seat, leaving Spencer to sit uncomfortably in the rear under the glares of his father, his stepmother and Anastasia.
The flight west to the Greek mainland took over an hour. A cove at the edge of a range of rocky hills was home to a sprawling boatyard. Numerous craft of varying sizes were under construction or being maintained, but a large factory-like building some way back from the waterline suggested that more went on at the facility than simple repair work. An electrical substation was located beside it, fed by high-tension lines running down from the hillside.
The helicopter landed near a perimeter gate. Eddie saw that it was guarded — and that the two men who hurried to meet the aircraft were armed, Italian Spectre sub-machine guns slung at their waists.
The new arrivals were quickly escorted to the factory, the chopper lifting off behind them. Trakas was greeted by a man in thick-framed glasses, whose report was well received by the shipping magnate. ‘This way!’ he told his unwilling guests with a smile.
‘Where are we going?’ demanded Anastasia.
‘To see the Crucible! Is that not what you wanted?’ He led the way through the facility, accompanied by the man in glasses. A number of assembly lines snaked around it, the mechanical guts of several boats in the process of being pieced together, but the Greek’s destination was off to one side of the long building.
Eddie felt concern when he spotted radiation warning signs on the walls. ‘Oh, great. First the Midas Cave, now this — I’ll be lucky if I don’t sprout a third bloody arm.’