The object was falling fast. He swam as hard as he could, willing himself to intercept it, dropping the pistol and pulling the water with both hands, ignoring the pain in his arm. His lungs couldn’t draw enough air out of the tank, and he was seeing red as the heavy object fell past his depth. He gave one last pulsing heave with his arms and legs, stretched out to his maximum reach, and grabbed for it, feeling his fingers close on a cloth bag, heavy with weight.
Dazed with the effort and pain, Kaz just floated, suspended, inhaling deeply. As he regained his breath, he carefully squeezed the bulky bag into his coverall leg pocket with his good hand, listening to the distinctive underwater whine of an outboard motor above. Looking straight up, he could see Svetlana splashing at the surface. And coming in fast from his right, the pointed black silhouette of the Zodiac.
He kicked hard, blowing excess air from his lungs as he ascended, watching as the boat coasted to a stop. Looking up, he saw the white-suited figure disappear out of the water and then oddly reappear, splayed and splashing, as if thrown back in. Just as he breached the surface, he heard the motor crank back up to full speed, and saw the boat turn abruptly and speed away.
Kaz swam through the waves towards the person in the water and was unsurprised to see that it was Michael, his suit over-buoyant, spread-eagling him faceup on the roiling surface. Kaz looked towards the sound of the Zodiac and spotted it pounding away through the crests towards the submarine.
“Michael, you okay?” His voice sounded odd to him, the words taken away by the wind.
“I’m fine, Kaz. So good to see you—that was nuts!”
Kaz’s arm was screaming with pain in the motion of the waves. Holding on to the buoyancy of Michael’s suit, he felt a surge of dizziness, dimming his vision. He heard the sound of a helicopter, and then some loud splashes next to him.
“Geez, Kaz, I leave you alone for ten minutes and look what happens!” JW was next to him in the water, supporting him, sliding a life jacket over his good arm. Two Navy divers were next to Michael. The Sea King dropped more divers and a raft; experienced hands grabbed Kaz under the arms and lifted him cleanly in, propping him against the inflated side, next to Michael. JW appeared beside him with scissors, neatly cutting off the sleeve of his coveralls at the shoulder and frowning at the bullet hole through his bicep.
He soaked the wound liberally with disinfectant, the added pain clearing Kaz’s head, and quickly wrapped it in gauze and bandage and pulled it into a sling. He looked critically at his work. “That’ll do for now.”
Kaz fumbled for his leg pocket with his good hand, trying to pull out the white bag.
“Let me do that!” JW scolded. He worked it free and held it up, the weight swinging with the boat’s motion.
“What’s in there?” Michael asked.
“A good question,” Kaz said. “Open it, Doc.”
JW slid the zipper open, looked inside and glanced quizzically at Kaz. Frowning, he carefully reached in and pulled out a Soviet pistol by the tip of the barrel.
“Where did you find this?”
Kaz blinked twice, then scrambled to sit tall to see over the edge of the raft, turning to look at the submarine. The Zodiac was already stowed, and there were a few submariners working to close the forward hatch, the big boat beginning to move forward. A smaller, white-suited figure was standing facing him. She saluted suddenly, waved once and disappeared into the submarine.
Kaz watched for several long seconds after she’d gone, then raised his fingertips to the corner of his good eyebrow. He held them there for a moment, then lifted his hand and waved back.
60
Galveston Beach, Texas
“Hold my hand?”
It was evening, and the sun was just disappearing, the rich red light reflecting off the crests of the low, curling waves. Kaz had driven them out past the western edge of Galveston, beyond the lights, to where there was nothing but tall grass dunes, the flat of the coarse brown sand, and the endless Gulf of Mexico to the south. Small, stiff-legged birds hurried along the waterline, hunting for one last morsel before dark.
Laura slipped her hand into his, and they walked on the hard sand in silence, enjoying the quiet. Thankful for it.
Kaz looked up, and stopped. The Moon had waned to a delicate, thin arc, a sliver catching the sunlight. In the darkening sky he could barely make out the ghostly shadows of the flooded lava plains, and squinted to try to see the small circle of Mare Serenitatis. Luke’s resting place.
Laura followed his gaze. “How did it go this morning?”