Cold Grave (42 page)

Fitz lifted himself higher. Alessandro reappeared, this time kneeling and peering down at them.

If he leans a bit more forward, they might be able to jerk him in to the tank, Anya realised.

‘Give me your hand,’ he ordered.

Fitz tensed, ready.

One chance. That’s all they had.

Anya climbed three rungs.

‘Closer,’ Alessandro demanded.

Anya closed her eyes. Any higher meant she was blocking FitzHarris’ path upwards. It all came down to her.

She slowly climbed two more rungs, then another and braced herself to pull with every ounce of strength she had.

With a swift move, Alessandro lunged forward and grabbed her hand, wrenching her arm with it.

Ripping pain tore through her shoulder. Her left hand lost contact with the rail. FitzHarris pushed upward and took her full body weight on his shoulders. Her ringed hand was splayed on the floor above, the metal rim of the hatch cutting into her lower arm.

From the throbbing, his knee was pressing her wrist.

She screamed at the sight of an axe held above his shoulder and desperately struggled to break free.

A sudden pull from behind launched her back first into the water, her head and feet following. The shock of cold forced her to draw breath, sucking water into her lungs. Kicking hard, she reached the surface and coughed uncontrollably to expel the vile fluid. Gasping, she lifted both hands. All fingers were still attached.

FitzHarris had saved her and was wrestling with the axe, still in Alessandro’s hands. With the small amount of light, Anya propelled her way to the ladder. Before her legs could reach a rung, Fitz had taken a hit to the head and descended into the abyss. The last hint of light disappeared with a clunk.

‘Fitz! Fitz!’ She panicked. There was no sign of him. Nothing but abject darkness. Anya could barely breathe.

A small beam of light appeared from the water.

‘I’m OK.’ He was panting. ‘Boy scout, remember?’

Relief filled her. The light from his pocket torch approached and Anya wrapped one elbow around the rail in order to reach out to him.

Within seconds he was back at her side, breathing heavily.

Another clunk, then a pump started up. The water began to slosh about them.

‘What’s happening?’ It felt like a weight on her chest. Every breath was becoming more difficult.

‘The tank’s filling.’ He held on to her arm with one leg on a lower rung. ‘The water’s rising fast. We don’t have long.’

Above them, the sound of another shot rang out.

They both shouted for help, but the hatch remained closed.

‘If the torch battery goes, we’ll become disorientated. We need to get as high as possible.’ Freeing his belt, he wrapped it around Anya’s wrist and the metal rung, finishing with his own before fastening it tightly.

The water reached chest level. FitzHarris blessed himself with the free hand.

Anya’s thoughts flashed to Ben. She didn’t want him growing up without his mother.

She screamed for help again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

FitzHarris banged on the hatch with the torch and attempted to force the door. It was too heavy, even when they both pushed.

Anya tried not to waste oxygen.

The light shone on Fitz’s watch. Five minutes had passed. The water was now up to their chins and their foreheads hit the inside of the hatch.

They didn’t have long.

Anya thought of her parents, and the agony of outliving another child. They didn’t deserve that. If only she told them more often that she loved them and shared Ben with them more.

Fitz banged frantically with the torch before the light vanished. They strained to keep their noses pressed against the tank ceiling.

‘I’m sorry . . . I got you involved,’ he said, taking a shallow breath before going limp by her side. With an arm around his shoulders, she tried in vain to keep his face above the water.

Exhausted, she thought of Martin’s smile and the feel of his touch. He would give Ben a good life. Silent tears dissipated into the water. There was so much she wished she could have changed.

The tip of her nose touched the hatch. Lightheadedness and fatigue took hold. She closed her eyes, held her breath and prayed one last time.

In the distance, an expanding white light appeared, warm and comforting. A child skipped forward and Anya knew everything would be all right. She reached out to take Miriam’s hand.

44

Anya awoke on her side and coughed out water. Someone held a mask on her face. She tried to rip it off and coughed again.

Karen’s face came into focus. ‘Breathe slowly, slowly. It’s oxygen. You’re safe now.’

Anya remembered the tank. The water up to their foreheads. Swallowing water, then blackness. ‘Fitz!’

‘He’s okay.’ Karen pressed Anya’s shoulder back to the floor. ‘You can’t kill that old coot. He’s breathing by himself, and responsive.’

Martin was on his knees tending to FitzHarris.

‘Who—?’ Anya struggled to speak.

‘The captain. He saw the pump lights go on from the bridge controls and came to see what Fitz was doing taking on ballast. He found Cockroach dead and Alessandro, the chief engineer, had been shot in the arm. He’s upstairs with the doctor now. If that string wasn’t coming out of the hatch, no one would have found you in time.’

Anya breathed in, and out. The plastic smell of the mask was a godsend. She looked across at Martin, who reached for her hand.

‘Alessandro . . . the chief engineer.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Karen said. ‘He’s safe. Bullet went clean through. He was lucky.’

Anya’s mind was beginning to blur. She pulled herself to her elbows.

‘He told us what happened,’ Karen explained. ‘Cockroach pulled a gun on him and they fought. He had no idea you two were in the tank. If it wasn’t for the sharp eye of the captain, you’d still be there.’

‘He tried to kill us.’

‘Yes, yes, we know. But he’s dead now and you’re safe. I want you to breathe deeply,’ Karen said. ‘You could have aspirated water.’

Anya coughed and coughed again. Suddenly, she gagged and the world went black.

Ben was asleep at her side when she woke in the hospital.

‘You gave us a scare.’ Martin stroked her hair.

Karen checked the intravenous drip and adjusted the dose on the tubing. ‘Before you ask, Fitz is having a good sleep.’

‘Alessandro shot Cockroach.’

‘We know.’

Her mouth was dry, and she tried to lick her lips. ‘Cockroach gave up the gun and Alessandro shot him.’

‘Did you see it?’ Martin asked.

‘No.’ Anya had her back to him at the time. ‘I was trying to help Fitz out and heard the shot. Cockroach was on the ground.’

Martin and Karen exchanged glances.

‘It sounds to me like he had no choice,’ Karen replied. ‘Cockroach lunged at him.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Try and keep her calm,’ Karen told Martin, and excused herself.

‘Don’t worry about anything now. All that matters is that you’re safe, Annie.’ He kissed her forehead and took her hand.

She glanced at Ben, who stirred. He opened his eyes, blinked, then went back to sleep.

‘I need to talk to Fitz,’ she said, and tried to sit up. ‘He knows what happened.’

Martin held her by the shoulders. ‘Karen just explained. He’s out of it, and you’re confused. You need to rest.’

‘I need to wake him.’

‘You can’t.’ Martin frowned. ‘He aspirated a lot of water and dropped his oxygen saturation a little while ago. He’s on a ventilator and may not make it.’

There was silence apart from the beep of the monitor.

‘I’m sorry, Annie. All we can do now is wait.’

Anya fought the urge to sleep. Her body had the weight of lead, and refused to do what she wanted. Ben roused and asked to go to the toilet. Martin lifted him up.

‘Can you please check on Fitz,’ Anya managed.

‘Sure. I’ll get a snack for Ben too and be right back.’

The regular beat of her heart was hypnotic. Her lids became heavier and she began to drift off. The sound of the monitor faded.

She forced open her eyes and caught a glimpse of a blurred figure standing over her bed. At first she thought it was a bad dream, then she realised he was in the room. The equipment was switched off.

‘You should have kept your mouth shut,’ Alessandro said through gritted teeth. ‘Cockroach panicked when he saw that nosy bitch and pushed her into the tank.’

Anya needed to buy time. Long enough for someone to walk into the room before he tried to hurt her.

‘Why put her in the morgue?’

‘What choice did I have? She was too big to jettison. You think I could move a body and throw it over the side without someone seeing? I had to hide it somewhere until port. The morgue’s the only place that isn’t manned around the clock.’

Anya glanced at the doorway. No one was there.

‘Why shoot Carlos?’ Her voice rasped from coughing and screaming for help.

‘Carlos is paid handsomely to forge the records. Then I found out he was being paid by Lars Anderson to feed that woman the real figures. Cockroach shot him to warn others what happens to traitors.’

‘But you didn’t kill him.’

‘I still needed to find all his money.’ Alessandro smiled. ‘If you don’t mind, I’m tired and I need to get some sleep.’

Before she could call out, the pillow was over her face, pressing hard against her mouth and nose. With what little strength she had, she bucked and clawed at his powerful hands and struggled to fill her lungs. She reached out to her side for something – anything – to make him stop. Suddenly, the pressure released and the pillow was gone. She took a deep gasp.

Captain Burghoff stood at her bedside, holding a fire-extinguisher.

‘Take some slow deep breaths. I’ll buzz for the nurse.’

Karen ran in and assessed the scene. Once she saw Anya was all right, she moved to Alessandro on the floor.

‘What on earth happened?’ She felt for a pulse. ‘He’s breathing, but only just.’

‘He tried to kill Doctor Crichton. I did what was necessary to subdue him, under the circumstances,’ the captain replied, clearly in control.

‘Why were you here?’ Anya managed.

‘To arrest him. Security are searching the centre now.’

‘But how . . .’

‘I suggest you rest your voice.’ He placed the extinguisher on the floor and stood behind Karen.

She had pulled on gloves and was feeling Alessandro for fractures. Blood covered her gloves.

‘I hit him on the right side, behind his ear.’ The captain turned back to Anya. ‘I recognised Alessandro’s handwriting on one of the fake logs your husband gave me. Alessandro had to be involved in falsifying the records. His gunshot wound was superficial, and Doctor Novak has confirmed it was self-inflicted.’

‘If he needs a medical evacuation,’ he addressed Karen, ‘let me know asap. The Fijian authorities will be notified as soon as I am informed.’

The captain spoke with little emotion, even though he must have worked closely with Alessandro on the cruises.

Doctor Novak arrived and threw his hands in the air. ‘What now?’ He mumbled to himself as he grabbed dressings and equipment.

Karen didn’t bother with details. ‘Skull fracture, his coma score is three. He’s opening his eyes and flexing to pain. I’m keeping pressure on the wound.’

Captain Burghoff wheeled a chair to Anya’s side and sat down. ‘You deserve to know why you were placed in that ballast. According to another crew member from the refuse centre, he and Carlos were paid to illegally dispose of waste – by Mats Anderson, the late owner’s son. He communicated with them by a fax machine in Alessandro’s office. The scheme on one ship alone saved the company millions of dollars over a year. We don’t know how many other ships are involved, or where Carlos hid his money. That secret, both men are keeping.’