check of his breast pockets to ensure he had his passport and all his money.
He picked up the diving suit, sat down on the deck, removed his boots, pushed his legs inside and, lying on his back, wormed his way into it. Once he was inside up to his chest he got to his feet, pushed his arms through, being careful not to tear the cuff seals, then lifted up the front and pushed his head through the neck seal. After putting his boots inside the suit, one down each side, he made a quick adjustment of his clothes to ensure comfort and yanked tight the watertight zip across his back to create a seal. After slipping on his fins he picked up the diving apparatus, placed it over his head and buckled the rubber straps that criss-crossed his back so that the bag fitted snugly across his chest.
The nuclear device in its log-like casing was neatly wrapped inside a canvas bag and had a short length of line tied around it that he attached to one side of the diving apparatus harness. The atomic bomb was waterproof to a depth of one hundred feet, more than enough since he would not be going deeper than a quarter of that. The final items were a pair of rocks he had brought from Kastellorizo, which he placed in pockets on the thighs of the suit. Zhilev had carried out a ballast test in a quiet cove of the island prior to leaving, to ensure he had the precise weight including the nuclear device to keep him below the surface. He tied the line connected to the compass and depth gauge board to his harness and picked up his facemask. He was ready.
Zhilev checked around the deck one last time to ensure he had everything then put the facemask on. A quick turn of the regulator bypass valve filled the bag and then he switched the regulator to a trickle flow. He placed the mouthpiece in his mouth, checked his watch and began to breathe. Zhilev stood quietly for two minutes, the prescribed time to test the set and ensure it was working properly. If the gas was bad or the system faulty in some way, it was better to collapse on the deck than in the sea. He looked out over the water once more to check for boats then picked up the nuclear device, climbed carefully over the side and lowered himself into the sea.
As he let go of the boat and quietly drifted away he was suddenly filled with sadness for the little craft. They had not spent very long together but in that short time she had become a friend to him. They had had their ups and downs, such as the times the engine would die suddenly and for no apparent reason. He would curse and shout at it, but after a little tinkering here and there, patching a leaky fuel hose, or unclogging a filter, and always accompanied by words of encouragement, it would run once again as if all it really wanted was some love and attention. In an odd way Zhilev felt the little boat had similar affections for him. They made a fine pair, both old and in their winter, but plodding on without complaint, needing little more than fuel to keep going. It was love, or the lack of it, that was the great sadness of Zhilev’s life and one he was hardly aware of. He had never known it from, or given it to, anyone but his brother. Perhaps that was the deeper reason for his mission, the severing of his last emotional attachment to the rest of humanity, but he would never admit as much. Watching the little boat drift off into the darkness, he was alone again. He had thought about sinking her, and knew it was the wisest course if he was to maintain the strictest security, but his heart would not allow it. At least the boat had a chance if it did not founder, but both their fates were uncertain. Hopefully it would be discovered by a fisherman, the plight of its crew a mystery, who might love it as Zhilev did.
He turned away and faced the lights of Elat, putting the boat out of his mind, and concentrated once again on his task.
The air in his suit gathered at the top keeping him on the surface like a large float. He raised an arm, pulled