Blood in the Water: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller by Oliver Davies (read full novel txt) 📗

“Aye, we can kit you out with the drysuit and other gear you’ve asked for and fly you up there alright.” Jack Morrison assured me, “but are you sure this is a good idea, Conall?” Jack had arrived within ten minutes of Trish’s call, and he didn’t look at all happy with my provisional scheme, such as it was.

“If Shay cuts their engines as planned and I’m already in the water waiting, that’s our best chance of covertly slipping anyone onto Kværnen.”

“I don’t like it,” Trish disagreed. “You’re pretty much asking Jack to break every safety rule in the book, Conall. I know your main aim here is to make sure none of the hostages is hurt, but wouldn’t it be better to wait until they reach Tórshavn and have Jordan and Phelps picked up there?”

“Shay must have thought of that himself, before deciding to risk this, and we have no idea what he may have heard them planning. Once the hostages are no longer needed, Jordan and Phelps won’t want to risk them getting loose and raising the alarm. And they’ve already killed once, probably twice, depending on what caused Butler’s death.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

“Look, Jordan’s worked on that yacht. He’ll head for the engine room as soon as they realise there’s a problem. That gets him away from the group in the stateroom. But what if Shay fails to neutralise him, or gets injured and can’t go after Phelps? I might be able to make all the difference if that happens.” The clock was ticking. “Call Anderson if you think you need to, but is there any reason that Jack and I can’t get moving in the meantime?”

There wasn’t, and she knew it.

“Alright then, get going. Just bear in mind that if Anderson orders me to turn you around, I’ll have no choice but to do it.”

“Don’t expect him to thank you for the call,” I warned her. “This is definitely something he’d rather not know about until after the fact.” Maybe she’d take that warning seriously and think things over properly before she picked up that phone.

Jack was already making his own call as we headed out to where he’d parked. He tossed me the keys, and I slipped into the driver’s seat. Once he’d buckled up, I pulled out and turned on the emergency lights before whisking us out of town and gunning it for the airport.

“They’ll be waiting at the ready for us when we get there,” he told me after putting his phone away. “I just hope your cousin is as capable as you say he is.”

I wasn’t at all worried about Shay bringing Kværnen to a stop dead on target. He could calculate mass, velocity, and loss of momentum easily enough. And Jack’s Sikorsky could easily stay up long enough to loop around out of sight until it was time to come back. It had a maximum range of over six hundred miles, enough to fly out there and back twice over before needing to refuel.

Once we were on the helicopter, Jack introduced me to the winchman and winch operator and slapped my arm wordlessly before heading forward to take up his seat next to the captain. Nobody expected me to be in any mood to chat, thankfully, and they were only waiting for me to get ready before taking off.

I moved down to the aft end of the long, utilitarian cabin to check through my gear and change. I’d need a good few minutes under the water to avoid the very slight risk of being spotted from any of the decks, but a full scuba tank set up was out of the question. I needed to move quickly and quietly once I was out of the water. The little mini dive tank I’d asked for held less than a litre of compressed gases, but it was small, light and good for up to twenty minutes. It could simply hang clipped to my chest as I swam. I stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt and pulled the thermally insulated undersuit and booted drysuit on up to my waist. Everything else could wait until we were almost in position. I’d boil in that suit if I fastened it up now.

Once I was buckled into one of the fold-down seats lining the side of the cabin, we were good to go. The winch operator handed me a headset, so I could listen in on any radio chatter, and I put it on.

We headed due north until it was time to veer into the low curving course that the captain had plotted to keep us well out of sight of the Kværnen as we overtook her. Every passing minute of inaction was just making me feel more anxious about what might be happening on that yacht. Was Shay still okay down there? Where the hell had he managed to hide when Jordan and Phelps went on board, anyway? Well, at least he had control of the onboard cameras. He could keep watch on everyone, but he’d have made damned sure they couldn’t see him.

“Five minutes, Conall,” Jack’s voice finally informed me over the headset. “Keep an eye on your compass, and for God’s sake, activate your GPS signal if you get into any trouble in the water so we can swing back and pick you up. Swim south-west at a slow, steady pace every other minute after we drop you. The current pulls steadily to the northeast here, but it’s slow. We’ll get you down to a few feet above the surface.”

Good. I didn’t want the trouble of unbuckling a harness while I trod water. I loosed my restraints and pulled up my undersuit and then my drysuit and fastened them both up. Using the handholds, I moved back to where the rest of my gear was waiting. Once the gloves were sealed on, I strapped on the dive watch, making sure