An anxious pause. Nathan Kellerman reached out a hand, and touched Angus’s wrist. The gesture was delicate, gracious, refined.
‘Angus. There is one more way.’
‘What?’
‘Find the Fischer results.’
‘What?’
The glittering green eyes of the Scottish scientist were fixed on the pained and twitching face of his boss, Nathan Kellerman. David leaned close to try and overhear this pained and fraught conversation. Angus asked Kellerman, ‘You know where they are?’
‘No. But…Dresler maybe. Maybe he does. He was the last option. If we failed at Tamara that was my very last option – I think he knows where they kept the data – but he will – it will be difficult to get it out of him.’ Kellerman coughed, into his own hand. He looked down at his palm, now cupping his own blood. The Jewish dynast fell back, and gazed at the sky, a kind of wild acceptance in his eyes. Accepting the sky and the sea. Then his barely focussed eyes turned to Angus, once more.
‘So Dresler knows, I think. And I always felt I could force it out of him, if I was truly desperate, but you’d have to take him…very close to the edge. I never wanted to risk it before, he was too useful.’ Another anguished cough. Then he continued, grimacing. ‘But now? What does it matter? Try it. Nothing to lose.’ Kellerman was sweating in the sun. ‘And this is my stop, Angus. Here’s where I get off.’
Angus grabbed at Kellerman. ‘C’mon, Nathan.’
‘I am fucked, Angus. Look.’ Nathan opened the jacket, like a prostitute letting fall her nightgown; a huge glistening oval of blood, like a red scarlet sea nettle, pulsed in his chest. Amy and David stared at each other. Angus had turned, he was trying to slow the boat; but even as the motor puttered out, Nathan Kellerman lifted himself to the side of the boat.
David shouted, reflexively:
‘No!’
It was too late. Kellerman was over the side and slipping into the water, into the cold Namibian waters. David stared, aghast. Kellerman’s white face was a sad oval in the blueness; Angus was steering the boat to a halt.
But Nathan was already half under, slipping deeper into the waves. His chest smoking blood.
And now the sharks were on him. The water was crazy with dorsal fins, evil and swooping. David glimpsed a vicious serration of teeth, already stained red. The devouring fish were tearing in a frenzy at the bleeding and flailing body, pulling it under. David couldn’t help watching: the sight was transfixing. The sharks were ripping at the arms and the legs, like a kind of obscene children’s game. Tagging and taunting the scapegoat. And then moving in for the kill.
Nathan Kellerman didn’t scream. He seemed to accept his hideous death as he was torn apart, and pulled under the waves for the final time. David stared down into the sapphire fathoms; the sharks were pirouetting around the dim black corpse. A belch of blood and gas burst to the surface, foaming the waters red.
And then silence.
Angus said nothing. He started the boat, once again, and they cruised through the anxious waves, under the dignified sun.
They motored past the desolate coves. Sea birds wheeled, their cries like dying falls. David stared at the black rocks and yellow sands.
He thought of the blood in the water; a man being eaten alive.
Then the Scotsman spoke.
‘All the data and the bloods were in that building. And Eloise. Everything’s gone. And he thought we’d be safe…’ Angus was shaking his head. ‘Kellerman was so stupidly stupidly wrong. Poor bastard.’ The Scotsman adjusted the rudder, to steer them closer to the shore. ‘We’ll be in Luderitz soon.’
David voiced the obvious question:
‘And then?’
‘We’ve got a few hours’ grace. But the Namibian authorities will have to intervene. So it will become common knowledge that we got out.’
Amy said, ‘And we’ll be stuck in Luderitz. What good is that?’
‘There is a means of escape.’
‘How?’
Angus explained, quite calmly.
‘The diamond shipment. Nathan reminded me. Every other day, Kellerman Namcorp transports rough diamonds to Amsterdam. Just like De Beers, flying gems into London.’ Another tilt on the rudder. ‘The shipments go via Windhoek.’
David protested:
‘But –’
‘I can get you on. They know me. And passport control is essentially run by the company itself. You’ll be landed at Kellerman HQ in Amsterdam. Back in Europe. Home safe and sound.’
‘And you?’
‘Dunno. Might take brunch…Whatever.’
‘You’re just gonna give up?’
The red-haired scientist gazed down the sunlit coast. The smoke storms were a long way