‘Sure.’ Coburn had some doubts about which way up the Zodiac was going to hit the water. ‘Say when you’re ready.’
‘Very well.’ Hari waved to the Somalian to get him to ease back on the throttles. ‘We shall go when we are moving a little slower.’
The runabout had stopped zigzagging. Yegorov had given up trying to evade the lights and was attempting to regain his lead by making a straight run for the island.
Rather than watching the runabout, Hari had been observing the white caps, waiting for a lull in the wind.
It came too early. The Selina had barely started to lose speed when Hari gave the instruction to launch.
For a second the Zodiac became airborne, lifting several feet off the deck before the weight of its outboard motor came into play.
Slamming into the water stern first, it swung round, and but for the rope would have quickly drifted out of reach.
Coburn was the first to jump. Keeping well clear of the Selina’s propellers he swam over to it and steadied it in the wind until Hari joined him and they were able to slither into it together.
Looking like a walrus with his hair plastered across his face, Hari was taking his time to get them underway. ‘We are lucky the sea is warm,’ he said.
‘Never mind how warm the sea is.’ Coburn cast off the rope. ‘Get the goddamn motor going.’
‘You should learn to be more patient.’ Hari started the outboard. ‘Yegorov will not escape so easily. If we do not run him down before he beaches his boat, we shall capture him on the island before he goes too far.’
Away to the east, the lights of what Coburn had supposed were cottages had long since disappeared. To the north, though, where another rain squall was beginning to obscure the flames from the Osa, he could see the Sandpiper’s boats at work.
How many of the Osa’s survivors would be North Koreans, he wondered, sailors who’d been forced at gunpoint to fire the Styx? And if Yegorov was to get away, would their testimony alone be sufficient to implicate the FAL?
Hari had other things to think about. He was ignoring the waves, and instead of reducing speed when Coburn thought it would be wiser for him to do so, he was going faster and faster, hanging on to the transom as the Zodiac bounced from the crest of one wave to another.
The technique was working. But it wasn’t working well enough. Although the Zodiac was gaining on the runabout, Coburn could see that Yegorov was going to arrive at the island ahead of them.
Hari had reached the same conclusion. ‘Do not worry,’ he shouted. ‘We can still pursue him. In the meantime you should not look back at the Selina. The halogens will hurt your eyes.’
It was good advice. The intensity of the light flooding out over the white caps told Coburn that the Selina was still on the move, still coming and not yet in danger of running aground.
For the next few minutes as the squall approached, he too was forced to hang on, shifting his weight forwards to stop wind gusts from lifting the bow while he tried to estimate how much further Yegorov had to go.
Even though the first of the rain drops had begun to hit them, by now the island was clearly visible, no longer a dark shape, but a forbidding chunk of land, bordered not by the beaches Coburn had expected to see, but ringed with surf pounding against boulders and rocks that had been dislodged from surrounding cliffs.
In one place only was there a gap in the surf — a river mouth, he decided, or maybe where wind and tidal currents were creating a break between two banks of sediment.
Aided by the Selina’s lights, Yegorov headed straight for it, accelerating once he was in calmer water in the hope of beaching his runabout at a small bay he could see ahead of him.
The beaching was successful. The decision that had led him to it was not.
The bay was so tiny it was hardly a bay at all. Little more than a hundred feet wide, it was a narrow strip of sand that over the years had built up at the foot of a large waterfall that was cascading out of a cleft in the lichen-covered cliff behind it.
Boxed in with nowhere to go, Yegorov had but one option.
Clutching what looked like some kind of waterproof satchel he hurried to the base of the waterfall and started to climb, searching for footholds that weren’t there, and doing his best now the rain had begun in earnest, but being driven back with each step by the torrent of water pouring down on top of him.
Hari was careful how he approached the beach, conscious of the rocks and of the Zodiac’s comparatively fragile hull, making sure it wasn’t washed up on the sand too far.
‘So, this ends well for us,’ he said. ‘He has trapped himself. Before we go to speak with him, I should like to know if on board the Sandpiper the medical facilities are good.’
Given the circumstances the question was bizarre, so much so that Coburn couldn’t imagine the reason for it. But that was before he saw the gun. Hari was holding a Colt automatic, shaking it to clear the water from the muzzle and ejecting a round to ensure the action was operating smoothly.
‘Give that to me.’ Coburn held out his hand. ‘Now. Don’t tell me it’s a precaution.’
‘No. I have no wish to end my days in a place like this. You should be paying more attention to someone who can harm you.’
Yegorov had abandoned his attempt to climb the cliff face. He’d emerged from beneath the waterfall and was limping towards them, appearing to be unarmed, but still holding his satchel and with one hand concealed inside it.
‘He comes to offer us a deal, perhaps.’ Hari stuck the automatic into his waistband. ‘We must listen to him carefully.’
Despite being soaked to the skin and dazzled by the Selina’s lights, Yegorov’s attitude was not that of a beaten man.
Without giving Hari a glance he approached Coburn and spat out a mouthful of water. ‘Lucky for you you’re not back at that nice village of yours,’ he said. ‘This time tomorrow it won’t be there.’
Coburn waited.
Yegorov raised the satchel. ‘C4,’ he said. ‘Two blocks, one detonator and a dead-man’s trigger. Your call. You can trade your Zodiac for my boat, or you and your long-haired friend here can try rushing me, and we can all go out in a bang together.’
Hari had decided to take over. ‘The Koran does not teach you this,’ he said. ‘A good Muslim should act, or hold his silence. By making such a threat you betray your faith in Allah.’
The remark unsettled Yegorov. ‘Do I look like a fucking Muslim to you?’ he said.
‘No.’ Hari shook his head. ‘No, you do not.’
Coburn was too slow. Before he could do anything, Hari had drawn the Colt and fired.
The bullet smacked into Yegorov’s left leg, shattering his knee-cap and driving him backwards until he collapsed moaning in agony on to the sand.
‘Jesus.’ Coburn had been caught so unprepared he didn’t know whether to be angry or not. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’
Hari shrugged. ‘The risk was not great.’ He put the gun away. ‘A non-believer does not volunteer his life so willingly. He understands now how foolish he was to shoot at us on the Pishan and attack my village. Are you not curious to know what instead of C4 it is he carries in his bag?’
Coburn didn’t care. Standing with his back to the glare of the Selina’s halogens, staring at a floodlit waterfall on a desolate, rain-swept beach, what motivation he had left was fast disappearing and he was finding it difficult to believe that everything was over.
Hari didn’t think it was. He’d gone to collect the satchel, but Yegorov was refusing to let it go, somehow overcoming his pain and hanging on to it until Hari kicked him in the head.