opening told Ethan he was fine.
Kat went next, quickly followed by Luke and Natalya. Ethan heard each canopy grab air as they threw out their drogue chutes.
‘It’s a piece of piss,’ said Sam, looking at him. ‘Just run like hell, jump as far as you can, and throw out your drogue chute. Now go!’
Ethan remembered what Johnny had told him when he’d watched him and Kat do their BASE jump. He visualized it, did his best to recall what he’d seen through the binos as Kat had leaped into nothing. Suddenly shots peppered the ground near his feet. He didn’t think any more; he ran.
Then he was at the cliff edge and jumping into the darkness, chucking his drogue chute out as hard as he could. He expected to feel it grab air instantly, pull out his main canopy.
It didn’t.
It threw him head over arse. And now he was piling towards whatever rocks lay below him, head-first. This was nothing like a skydive.
He tumbled, tried to stabilize, but it didn’t feel right. He was falling too slowly. It felt like he’d fallen off a diving board. When the hell was he going to pick up enough speed to allow his drogue to grab air and pull out his main canopy?
Panic burst in Ethan’s skull. He forced himself to ignore it. He could hear the windrush getting faster – he was picking up speed.
But the increased speed still wasn’t enough: he still wasn’t stable.
Shit . . .
He ran through everything he’d done, from clipping the rig on, to jumping far enough from the cliff, to throwing out the chute. He’d done it to the letter. No detail missed. Not a goddamned thing.
I’m dead . . .
Then the canopy blasted open above him. He looked up, checked everything, steered himself away from the cliff. For a split second he forgot what he was doing and pulled a steering toggle too hard. He nearly turned himself back into the cliff. But his reactions were so sharp now that he pulled away in time. Moments later, he had the canopy under control and was zipping through the dark, the cold sea air clammy on his skin, leaving salt on his lips.
Above him, Ethan heard Sam’s canopy grab air. It was soon followed by the sound of gunfire from the clifftop. But there was nothing he could do about that now; he just had to get into the ocean and hope the sub found them all.
Ahead he spotted the rest of the team. The night was dying now and light was spilling over the horizon, making the sea visible below.
Another sound chugged into the air, and Ethan spotted the tiny dot of a boat heading out from the island. It was still a fair distance away, but the men were shooting anyway. They had obviously seen the team jump from the clifftop and were now heading directly for them.
More gunfire cracked through the air. Ethan could see that the boat was zigzagging across the water, and he guessed it was searching for them. He realized they couldn’t be seen – not yet anyway. But that didn’t stop him feeling helpless. Like the rest of the team, he had no choice but to keep on gliding until he touched down in the sea. Then he had to hope that the x-rays in the boat wouldn’t be able to find them before the sub arrived – and that the ones on the cliff couldn’t see them well enough to pick them off like fat geese.
Ethan heard a splash, quickly followed by three more. That meant that the only ones left in the air were him and Sam.
The boat was clearer now, no longer a dot, and he could make out two men in it. They had stopped zigzagging and were heading straight for the point where Ethan had heard the team drop into the water; they must have heard them too. They were on a collision course.
Without hesitation, Ethan pulled hard on his steering lines, altered course. He knew there was no point just piling into the water with the rest of the team. The men in the boat would be on them in a moment, and then they’d all be dead. He had to intercept the boat before it reached them. If he could get to it first and put it out of action, they’d have a chance of surviving till the sub arrived. It would be a gamble; he’d have to time it just right,