The gesture appeared to have the desired effect. Her expression softened as if she had returned from wherever she’d been and her eyes flickered as they moistened. Stratton felt for a pulse in Mani’s neck. The doctor’s heart was beating rapidly, along with his breathing. The man was slipping away as his blood flowed from his body. He would not last long without a massive blood transfusion and surgery to close the internal injury.The journey to the escape barge would kill him even if Stratton could carry him all the way there. ‘Can you hear me?’ he asked him.
Mani’s eyes flickered open and he looked at Stratton like a child waking up to find his father there, happy to see him. ‘Is it bad?’ he asked.
‘You’ve lost a lot of blood,’ Stratton said.
‘I thought so.’
‘Did you take anything from the Afghan’s belly? Was it you who opened him up?’ Stratton asked.
A frown grew on Mani’s brow as he fought to collect his thoughts. He smiled. ‘It was very small,’ he said. Then he had a sudden thought: ‘Was he a spy?’
Christine began to take an interest in the odd conversation.
‘Where is it?’ Stratton asked.
Mani started to slip away, his eyes glazing over.
‘Doc . . . Is it here, in this room?’ Stratton persisted.
Mani struggled to hold on to consciousness. ‘Mandrick has it,’ he gasped. ‘I gave it to Mandrick . . .’
It was his last word. The air left his lungs and his muscles relaxed.
Stratton got to his feet, fighting to retrieve the map of the prison in his memory and see the warden’s escape pod on it.
Christine withdrew her bloody hands, unsure where to wipe them. As she got to her feet she realised that Stratton’s clothes were soaked through.At the same time it became apparent to her that the cacophony of alarms was not inside her head but was real.‘What’s happening?’ she asked.
‘We need to get out of here.’
She didn’t move, wanting to know more. She was stubborn by nature and did not follow others easily, regardless of how obvious the reasons might be.
‘The prison’s flooding. Everyone’s evacuating. If we hurry we might make it to the escape barges.’
Christine did not need any more information. Together she and Stratton hurried out of the hospital. When they reached the steps leading down to the main corridor, Christine paused in horror as if she had not quite believed what she’d been told. ‘What happened?’ she asked as she caught up with Stratton and entered the water, which was thick with debris and seaweed.
‘This is what you get when you play with electricity,’ he said as he waded ahead of her through thousands of assorted ration packs and plastic cutlery.
Hank Palmerston made his way up the final stairway to level one and along a poorly lit corridor. At the end of it, around a slight bend, he saw Mandrick pulling on a wetsuit. The scene was illuminated by a bright halogen light from inside the hatch of a sophisticated escape pod, its interior the size of a Smart car.
‘Taking your time, Mandrick?’ Hank called out as he approached.
Mandrick was surprised to see the CIA man but he quickly composed himself and zipped up the front of the suit. ‘I’m in no great hurry,’ he said, picking up his waterproof bag.
‘This all your doing?’ Hank said, closing the gap between them.
‘I have to take the credit.’
‘How’d you do it, cutting the power and bypassing all the safety procedures?’
‘I used a virus program. It was far more effective than I expected. Cost me five hundred dollars from a hacker in Moscow. Well worth the investment.’
‘So how’s it all work from here? I’m curious. I mean, soon as you pop to the surface you’ll get picked up along with everyone else. My boys’ll be waiting for you when you open the hatch.’
‘Forgive me if I sound smug but I had thought of that. This is a very sophisticated pod. It doesn’t have to be on the surface to decompress. I can do it right here without leaving the dock. Like every good captain I’ll be the last to leave my sinking ship.’
‘Then in your own sweet time you’ll float up to the surface - during the night, I expect.’
‘A calculable risk.’
‘Sink the pod and swim ashore,’ Hank said, stepping closer while deciding on the best way to take Mandrick down.
‘I think I can make it by daylight - or be well out of the area, at least.’
‘I suppose you have enough to buy a nice little house in some far-flung corner of the globe?’
‘A nice big house, actually.’ Mandrick held up his waterproof bag. ‘But you’re right. I should get a nice little one at first - low profile and all that.’
‘If we don’t find a body, Mandrick, we won’t stop looking for you.’
‘That has been my biggest concern. But luck clearly favours the bold. At the very last moment - less than an hour ago, in fact - I believe I found myself a little insurance.’
‘What kind of insurance?’
‘To be honest I’m not entirely sure. Something we found stitched inside the gut of one of your Afghans - the one you interrogated about the helicopter he shot down . . . Durrani. Yes, I do listen to your interrogations. ’ Mandrick opened the waterproof bag, removed his minicomputer and lifted the flap to reveal the small card. ‘I suspect it’s what Gann believed Charon was after. It must be valuable . . . if not to the CIA then to someone else. It’ll become clear once I find out what it is. It’s going to be fun. Maybe it’ll give me something to do during those long evenings in front of a cosy log fire. Or perhaps I’ll go for the moonlit beach. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’
‘So do you wanna make a deal - right now?’ Hank took a step closer, trying to figure his way through this. Mandrick was far too confident and since he’d told him the essence of his plan it suggested that he did not believe Hank would get out of the doomed prison alive. Hank only had one weapon to stack a fight in his favour.
‘You’re not in a position to make any deals. Besides, there’s only room for one in this pod. Sorry.’
Hank let his hand fall by his side. He still had the heavy crank key. He held it like a club and moved forward to close the gap between himself and Mandrick even further. ‘You ain’t going anywhere, my friend.’
Mandrick took the pistol from the bag and aimed it at him.
Hank stopped in his tracks. This was the closest to checkmate that he had ever been. He’d had a gun pointed at him before, but not by someone like Mandrick. He knew Mandrick’s background. He’d been one of the South African’s selectors. Hank took a step back and dropped the crank key. ‘OK. You win. Get on your way. I won’t try and stop you . . . We’ll finish this some other time - if I ever get out of here, which is probably a long shot by now.’
‘Sorry about this, Hank. But we’ll have to finish it now.You might get lucky.’ Mandrick pulled the trigger.
The sound of the shot was deafening in the small rock corridor. Hank staggered back, dropped to his knees, felt his chest and looked at the blood on his hands in disbelief.
‘Look at it this way,’ Mandrick said. ‘I’m doing you a favour.You’d probably end up suffocating to death in some black freezing-cold air pocket all alone. It’s better this way.’
Hank looked into Mandrick’s eyes as he struggled to breathe. Mandrick pulled the trigger again and this round went through Hank’s head, killing him instantly.
Mandrick placed the bag into the pod, paused to check that he had everything and climbed through the narrow opening. Halfway in he turned onto his back and with barely enough room to manoeuvre he sat up, grabbed the edge of a door that had a small glass peep-hole in it and swung it shut. He pushed down a lever and twisted it, securing the door before shuffling further back into the pod. He heaved himself into a comfortable bucket seat, a line of air bottles to one side and a small operations panel with various dials and gauges in front of him.