Ark Angel

completely unfair. By a miracle, he had survived an assassin’s bullet in London. And was it just for this? For another even worse death just a few weeks later?
    Something grey flashed past one of the windows. A large fish. A shark? Alex felt a sense of total despair.
    Even if by some miracle he did find a way out, the creature would be waiting for him. Perhaps it already knew he was there. In just a few brief seconds, his situation had become doubly hopeless.
    But then he saw the grey shape again and with a shock of disbelief realized that it wasn’t a shark at all. It was a diver in a wetsuit.
    Someone was looking for him.
    He had to force himself not to cry out. He kicked hard with his fins and reached the last window just as the diver was about to swim by. Alex’s arm pushed through the jagged gap and he caught hold of the diver’s leg. The diver twisted round.
    Brown hair floating loose. Blue eyes full of worry behind the mask that covered them. The diver hovered on the other side of the window, and Alex recognized Tamara Knight.
    Desperately he made the distress signal that he had been taught years before, chopping with his hand in front of his throat. Out of air. Help! He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe, straining to draw what was left in his tank, aware that his lungs were never more than half filled. Tamara reached into the pocket of her BCD and pulled something out. She passed it through the window. Alex was confused. He was holding one of Paul Drevin’s inhalers. What good was that? Then he realized she must have taken it from his room. It was the gadget Smithers had given him in New York. How had she known about it?
    And would it work underwater?
    Dizzy, barely in control, Alex swam over to the chained door. He had to struggle to remember how the inhaler worked. Twist the cylinder twice clockwise. Why hadn’t Tamara set it off herself? Of course, she couldn’t. It was fingerprint sensitive. Alex had to do it. Breathe! Now the inhaler was armed. He rested it on the chain, then swam back further into the hold.
    10 psi. The needle on his air gauge didn’t have much further to travel.
    The door blew open. There was a ball of flame, instantly extinguished, and Alex felt the shock wave hit him, throwing him against the truck. He wasn’t breathing any more; there was nothing left to breathe.
    Where was Tamara? Alex had assumed that there was a way out through the next hold, but what if he was wrong?
    Everything was going black. Either the blast had knocked him out or he was suffocating.
    But then he felt Tamara’s arms around him. She was pulling his regulator out of his mouth. It was useless, and he let it go. He felt something touch his lips and realized she had given him a second regulator, the octopus attached to her own tank. He breathed deeply and felt the rush of air into his lungs. It was a wonderful sensation.
    They stayed where they were for a few minutes, their arms wrapped around each other. Then Tamara gently nudged Alex on the shoulder and pointed up. He nodded. They were still a long way down and with the two of them sharing a single tank, it wouldn’t be long before Tamara’s air supply also ran out.
    Tamara swam through the broken door and Alex followed. There was an open hatch and they slipped through it, travelling slowly up. They paused when their gauges showed five metres. This was the safety stop that would allow nitrogen to seep out of their bloodstream and prevent them from getting the bends.
    Five minutes later they completed their ascent, breaking through the surface into the brilliant afternoon sun.
    Alex had no air to inflate his BCD, so he unfastened his weight belt and let it fall. Then he tore off his mask.
    “How…?” he began.
    “Later,” Tamara said.
    It was a long swim back to the island and Tamara wanted to make sure they weren’t seen. They allowed the current to carry them round Little Point, then kicked in for the shore behind the house. Tamara checked there were no guards in sight before they ran across the beach and into the shelter of the palm trees.
    Alex heaved off his tank and threw himself down onto the ground. He lay there panting. Tamara was lying next to him. In her wetsuit, with her hair loose and water trickling down her face, she didn’t look anything like a personal secretary … and suddenly Alex realized that she had never really been one.
    “That was too close for comfort,” she said.
    Alex stared at her. “Who are