Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)

His fins were ripped off; water forced itself into a gap where the helmet sealed around his neck, filling the helmet with frigid liquid, cutting off his air supply and chilling his face in the process.

Kurt had ahold of one large boulder—he clung to it and pulled himself along. The water pressed him downward; there was no swimming, only crawling.

He scraped across the two boulders, then pushed up against the wall of stone behind the waterfall and caught under a ledge for a moment. Bracing himself, he refused to be held in the trap. He found a foothold and pushed himself outward and up.

Suddenly, he was on the far side of the vortex. Instead of crushing him downward, it carried him up on a rapidly ascending elevator.

He breached the surface in a swirl of foam on the back side of the falls.

Kurt lunged forward and pulled himself onto the rocks. He was battered, bruised and exhausted, but the risk had paid off. He was now hidden behind enemy lines.

46

Joe Zavala had been taken down to the rock-strewn beach. His hands were bound with a zip tie, and while his feet were free, his boots and socks had been taken away to make it more difficult and painful should he try to escape or fight.

Paul sat on Joe’s left, tied and bound in a similar fashion. Emma was on his right, also restrained. Though many thoughts were competing for Joe’s attention, Kurt’s death was not at the top of the list. Joe had heard the words, felt the pain they carried and then locked the thought away in some distant corner of his mind. After so many risky adventures together, both of them knew a day like this might arrive. In Joe’s position, Kurt would have done the same.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Joe said. “I’m not sure how, but we’re going to break free.”

“And then what?” Emma asked.

“Depends on the manner of our escape,” Joe said. “If we can get to the Air-Crane, we’ll fly. If not, we go on foot or by boat on the river. There are rapids downstream, but we could navigate them in the Zodiac.”

“They have to slip up at some point,” Paul said.

“They will,” Joe assured him. “Until then save your strength and do everything you can to lull them into thinking they’ve won.”

“It’s not about us,” Emma said. “I know you want to escape, but there’s a far bigger danger here.”

“One we can’t prevent without first getting free. You can’t give up,” Joe urged.

“Getting free will require fighting,” she explained. “Most likely, shooting. All within a stone’s throw of the frozen supply of mixed-state matter. One stray bullet could set off the disaster. If it means preventing that, I’m fine giving up.”

One of Urco’s men came out of the tall grass, where he’d probably been listening. His approach killed off any further conversation. He moved in behind Emma, cut her loose and stood back. “Come with me,” he said. “Urco wants your help.”

Emma stood and was led away. Joe sensed she was close to despondency, but then she didn’t know there was still hope. She hadn’t been privy to Kurt’s backup plan. He had wanted it that way. And now, seeing how much power Urco had over her, and how deeply the fear of a disaster had clutched at her heart, Joe was glad he’d kept the secret. He could imagine Emma telling Urco what she knew all in the interest of preventing a catastrophe.

As Emma and the guard left, Joe glanced at Paul.

Paul nodded. He was ready. Joe was ready, too; he’d already been working the zip tie back and forth, twisting his wrists this way and that, in order to weaken the plastic. Before long, it would be weak enough to snap.

Then Joe would rest, waiting for the sound of a rifle firing from somewhere high in the rocks.

Gamay would take out several of their captors before the men knew what hit them. Joe and Paul would spring into action at the same moment and, with a little luck, the tide would be turned.

47

As soon as Kurt’s strength returned, he began moving across the rocks behind the waterfall. Not planning to get back in the water, he shed his cumbersome air tank, damaged helmet and deflated BCD. Hooking them together, he tossed them in the water. Empty, the aluminum cylinder would float, but the deflated BCD, with its integrated weights, would drag them down.

They vanished and Kurt continued on foot, looking for a place to start his climb. He would have to climb upward and then over, where the ridge was thick with foliage thanks to the constant overspray from the waterfall.

Climbing it would be easy; getting there was more difficult. The footing behind the waterfall was treacherous. Kurt watched every step. Halfway in, he noticed something that didn’t belong in a pristine mountain lake. A sheen of discoloration lay across the wet rocks. Even in the flat light, he could see all the colors of the rainbow.

Oil and water, he thought. Or, more likely, gasoline.

It vanished where the churning water mixed it into the depths but clung to the stones, leading like an arrow into the mouth of a large cave.

That second boat had to come from somewhere.