The shot made surprisingly little noise. A reflected flash as the grenade arced past a floodlight, then it was lost to sight—
The cabin exploded. The burning torso and one remaining leg of the sniper somersaulted from the crane and smashed down inside a small boat, toppling it from its stands. ‘B3, hit,’ Eddie said, before calling out across the suddenly silent dockyard. ‘It’s clear! Come on!’
‘Eddie!’ Nina’s voice. He looked across the ship’s bow to see her and Spencer running down the quay between the two dry docks. They reached its end, passing the crane as Lonmore and Petra emerged hesitantly from behind a container.
De Klerx’s men regrouped and headed for the ship, two of them carrying the wounded man. The Dutchman and Anastasia climbed back into the truck, restarting it. Nina hugged her husband as she reached him. ‘Thank God you’re okay! And, uh, wet.’
‘Good job you’re wearing a wetsuit,’ he replied. ‘Is everyone else all right? Apart from the obvious,’ he added, assessing the injured man’s leg wound; he would live.
‘We’re fine,’ said Lonmore, breathless from the short run. ‘Spencer, what about you? That explosion behind us — we thought you’d been caught in it!’
‘I’m fine, Dad.’ An awkward pause, then the two men embraced. ‘I’m glad you are too.’
‘We’re not out of here yet,’ cautioned Eddie. Over the truck, he heard a new sound: sirens. Distant, coming from the nearest town, but approaching quickly. ‘Everyone get on the boat.’ He tossed the MGL on to the bow, then ushered Nina and the Lonmores aboard.
De Klerx’s men stayed on the dockside, waiting for their boss to arrive. The Dutchman pulled the truck up alongside them and jumped out. ‘Load the Crucible!’ he ordered. They climbed up to release the chains holding the great sphere in place.
‘What about him?’ Eddie protested, pointing at Beel. The pilot had passed out, the pool of blood from his shoulder wound spreading across the concrete.
‘The Crucible is our top priority,’ said Anastasia, coming around from the other side of the cab. ‘But I’ll help you with him.’
Nina recoiled at the sight of her blood-splattered face. ‘Jesus! Are you okay?’
‘Just shaken up,’ the blonde replied.
Eddie joined them, and together they brought the unconscious pilot on to the ship. Behind them, De Klerx’s remaining men strained like pallbearers to carry the Crucible. ‘You should drop that fucking thing in the sea,’ muttered the Englishman, glaring over his shoulder at the glinting artefact.
Anastasia didn’t reply, instead returning to De Klerx the moment the injured man had been laid on a bench inside the cabin. Annoyed, Eddie searched for a first-aid kit, then started to treat the bullet wound.
By now, the Crucible had reached the ship, the raiding party lifting it on to the foredeck. The sirens drew nearer. ‘Come on, quickly,’ snapped De Klerx. The sphere was finally lowered into place. ‘Tie it down! You two, get Doyle’s body.’ A pair of men went back to the truck and lifted the driver’s corpse from its cab, returning to the ship with their grisly cargo. De Klerx went to the wheelhouse and put the engines into reverse, backing the vessel out of the dock. Once it was in open water, he swung about, then powered into the blackness of the Aegean.
Anastasia stood beside him, looking through the front windows — not at the sea, but the Crucible on the deck before them. ‘We got it,’ she said, tiredness driven aside by triumph. ‘We got it!’
‘Was it worth it?’ Nina demanded from behind them. ‘All those people dead, including some of your own — and Trakas. Was it worth becoming a murderer?’
Again, she did not reply.
31
It took most of the night before the ship finally made port, the vessel forced to travel below its top speed out of caution at navigating the island-strewn Aegean in darkness. The eastern sky was starting to brighten by the time it heaved to at a pier. An ambulance awaited, taking away the two injured men as well as the dead driver. Nina was certain they were not going to a public hospital, or anywhere else that might ask questions about how they had received their gunshot wounds.
Another two of De Klerx’s men went to get the panel van and minibus in which the team had travelled to reach the dock, backing the former up to their vessel. The sun had breached the horizon by the time the Crucible was loaded, and was well clear of it when the vehicles finally brought the exhausted group to Athens airport.
A business jet awaited them. The fact that the Crucible and the group’s weapons were put aboard without being checked by customs officials told Nina that she was not the only person willing to abuse United Nations diplomatic procedures to move items from country to country. Fenrir Mikkelsson had undoubtedly had a hand in it.
By now, though, she was too tired to care. ‘Next stop, New York,’ she said as she slumped into one of the cabin’s comfortable chairs.
‘Well, Boston,’ said Lonmore from across the aisle. ‘Although I’m sure we could make a diversion,’ he went on at her stony glare. He ducked into the cockpit, returning after a discussion with the pilots. ‘Okay, New York it is.’
‘What’s the flight time?’ Eddie asked.
‘Just over eleven hours, they think. Apparently there’s a strong headwind over the Atlantic that’ll slow us down.’
Nina yawned; her sleep on the ship had only been fitful. ‘Great. Wake me when we get there.’
The aircraft was larger than the one that had brought her to Greece, with enough seats to accommodate all of De Klerx’s men as well as the Dutchman and Anastasia. After the Crucible had been put into the hold, they trooped past Nina, Eddie and the Lonmores to fill the rest of the places. Anastasia gave Spencer a cold look as she went by, which he returned. The pre-flight checks were completed, then the aircraft departed, leaving Greece — and the chaos that had erupted — behind.
Despite her fatigue, Nina slept little better than she had on the ship. The main culprits for her frequent returns to bleary consciousness were the Lonmores, father and son, who were engaged in a long discussion. But Anastasia also woke her with a phone call to her own father, brushing past to visit the cockpit. Eventually, though, sheer weariness wore the redhead down, and she slumped against Eddie’s shoulder.
She had no idea how long she had been asleep when her husband nudged her back to wakefulness. They were over the ocean, thickening clouds casting shadows over a slate-grey sea far below. ‘What time is it?’ she mumbled.
‘Too early,’ Eddie replied. His wary tone instantly put her on guard, residual sleepiness evaporating. Something was wrong.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We just started descending, but we’ve only been in the air for six and a half hours. There’s no way we’re close enough to the States to be coming in for a landing.’
Nina sat up. He was right: the jet’s engines had throttled back, and its nose had tipped slightly downwards. She looked around. Petra and Lonmore were both asleep, an empty glass on his lap, while Spencer stared blankly out of a porthole. He caught her movement and peered at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Do you know why we’re descending ahead of schedule?’ she asked.
‘We are?’
‘We are,’ said Anastasia from behind them.
Lonmore jerked awake, stirring Petra, and blinked at her. ‘Huh? What was that?’
Nina turned in her seat, Eddie standing and facing the Icelander. De Klerx rose too, staring back at him almost challengingly. ‘What’s going on?’ rumbled the Yorkshireman.
‘We’re making our descent,’ Anastasia announced. ‘We’ll be landing at Reykjavik airport in thirty minutes.’