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“It’s a Marder,” the man said. “The 77.”
“Good,” Kholkov replied.
“The bolts are frozen, though. We need the crowbar.”
One of the men on the pier kneeled beside a backpack and pulled out a crowbar. The diver swam over, took it, and dove again.
There were five more minutes of muffled metal-on-metal banging, then silence for a few moments, then suddenly a giant bubble burst on the water’s surface.
The minutes ticked by until finally both divers broke the surface again. One of them gave a hoot and lifted an oblong object from the water.
“Bring it!” Kholkov ordered. When they reached the pier he knelt down and took the object, which Sam could now see was an all-too-familiar loaf-shaped wooden box. Kholkov studied the box for a full minute, turning it this way and that, peering closely at its surface, before carefully lifting the lid and peeking inside. He closed it and nodded.
“Good work.”
From the river tunnel, a shout: “Help! Pull us in, pull us in!” Several of the men rushed down the pier and began hauling the rope hand over hand. After ten seconds a man appeared at the end of it. Lights panned over him. He was semiconscious, half his face covered in blood. They pulled him onto the dock and laid him flat.
“Where’s Pavel?” Kholkov demanded. The man mumbled something incoherent. Kholkov slapped him across the face and grabbed his chin. “Answer me! Where’s Pavel?”
“The rapids . . . the line got cut. . . . He hit his head. I tried to reach him, but he was gone. One second he was there, then he was gone. He’s gone.”
“Damn it!” Kholkov spun around, paced halfway down the pier, then spun back. “Okay, you two carry him and get back to the lagoon.” He pointed to the other man. “You and I will set the charges. If they’re not already dead, we’ll bury the Fargos alive! Get moving!”
CHAPTER 19
Kholkov and his men left. Gesturing for Remi to follow, Sam scrambled down the rope, shifted his weight back and forth to get a swing going, then nodded to Remi, who jumped off onto the catwalk, followed by Sam. They knelt down together.
“You think he meant it?” Remi whispered.
“I doubt they have enough explosive to bury us, but they can certainly seal the main entrance. Did you check for an opening up there?” he asked, nodding at the tangle of roots.
She nodded. “It was nothing but a crack—no wider than a couple inches, and a good six feet to the surface.”
“But you saw daylight?”
“Yes. Sun’s going down.”
“Well, exit or not, at least we’ll have an air shaft—but they’ve got the damned bottle.”
“One thing at a time, Sam.”
“You’re right. Let’s get off this catwalk before the—”
As if on cue there came a whump from the main cavern, followed by two more in quick succession.
“Down!”
Sam pushed her to the ground and lay on top of her. A few seconds later they felt a gust of cool air wash over them. A cloud of dust billowed through the tunnel and filled the cavern, the heavier particles peppering the surface like rain. Sam and Remi looked up.
“Ah, alone at last,” Remi murmured.
Sam grinned, stood up, brushed himself off, and pulled her to her feet. “You want to stay for a while?”
“No, thanks.”
“Well, then we better get busy on our escape pod.”
Remi put her hands on her hips. “What’re you talking about?”