would be focused well away from him. He hooked the strap over the power line, applying experimental pressure. It seemed secure. Nina watched anxiously from the trees; he gave her a thumbs-up.
A deep breath, and he shifted his weight to the strap. The line pulled tight, but still held. He fixed his eyes on the house, not looking at the dizzying drop. ‘High voltage,’ he muttered. ‘Okay, let’s slide . . .’
He threw himself off the pole.
The cable twanged and juddered with the extra load as he slid down it. The cliff-edge rolled past beneath his feet, nothing below for over a hundred feet. The island loomed ahead . . .
The strap rasped against the cable. He slowed . . . and stopped.
Ten feet short of the far side.
‘Shit!’ He tried to jolt free, but the line wasn’t steep enough for him to overcome the strap’s friction. Another futile jerk, then he changed tactics. Legs together, he brought them gently back, then kicked sharply. He jerked forward by about a foot. Another kick, and another—
The insulator on the pole ahead sheared apart.
He dropped.
Nina barely contained a scream as the line gave way, Eddie plunging towards the water – then the sagging line snapped taut again. His fall gave him a boost of speed.
Too much speed.
All thoughts of concealment gone, she ran to the edge as he hurtled helplessly at the cliff.
Eddie whipped up his feet just before he hit the rock wall. The collision was a hammer-blow against his soles, crashing up through his knees and hips. The cable shook, the strap squirming in his grip.
Another jolt – and he fell again, dropping by a foot before the line jerked tight once more. The power cable ran from the pole to a transformer on the villa – and one of the brackets securing it had just broken. His weight was now being taken by the insulator on the mainland side and the transformer’s connector, neither of which were designed to support the extra load.
Even through the strap, he felt the cable straining—
He swung sideways and lunged to grab an outcropping with one hand – just as the connector gave way. The strap flapped free, spiralling towards the churning waters. The drooping power line hung so close that he could hear the faint hum of current flowing through the cable.
If it sparked, the shock would kill him.
Very carefully, he scraped his boots against the rock until he found a toehold. He edged sideways, free hand clawing blindly for purchase. A crack in the cliff; he squeezed his fingertips inside, pulling away from the deadly line.
Another stretch, and another, and he struggled upwards to the stub of the bridge. Once he had a secure hold, he paused to catch his breath, then climbed to level ground.
Nina watched, relieved beyond measure, as Eddie waved to her before jogging to the villa’s front door. She sagged against the pole, looking at the waters below as she gathered herself—
Something moved.
It took her a moment to realise what; at first, it seemed as though the rock face just above the waterline was morphing like plastic. A blink, and the bizarre sight made sense. It wasn’t rock, but something made to look like rock, slowly being pulled away to reveal darkness behind it. Metal tracks led from the shadows into the sea.
What the hell was going on?
De Quesada shut off an electric winch, allowing himself a moment of pride as he admired his emergency escape route. Nobody else knew of it, except the men who had built it – and they were no longer able to tell others, or indeed do anything other than decompose.
The cave below was naturally hard enough to spot, in perpetual shadow amongst the cliff’s folds, and his camouflage had made it almost invisible. The entrance was concealed by a heavy tarpaulin hanging down like a stage curtain, painted in browns and greys to match the surrounding rock.
Hidden inside was the vehicle that would take him to safety; not a boat, but a Cessna Skyhawk floatplane, the little white-and-yellow aircraft perched on a set of rails down which it would slide into the channel. From there, he would turn west while his attackers were distracted by the boats at the island’s northeastern end, taking off as soon as he reached open ocean. He would leave Colombian airspace within fifteen minutes. By the time the authorities in Panama had been alerted, he would have already reached a safe house, where he would change identities