Page 147 of Enemy of My Enemy

Saudi Arabian Coast

Gasping,he struggled to stay above the surface. Waves sucked him deep as the water formed a tight whirlpool. He thrashed, desperately trying to claw his way out.

He fought for every inch against the swirling water. Waves beat him, tried to drown him, until his fingers closed around cold steel. He tried to rest, for a moment, but the water rose too quickly, swallowing him down, and he nearly lost his hold.

Hauling himself up the ladder nearly broke him in half. He heaved, puking water he’d swallowed as he forced himself to climb, outrace the rising tide swallowing the hold and pulling the tanker down.

When he made it to the opening, the tanker had already tilted on her side, and the ladder met the ship’s deck at an oblique angle. He had to crawl upside down, hanging over the swirling maelstrom, and drag his exhausted body over the lip of the cargo manifold.

Weak arms shook as he collapsed face-first to the tilted deck. He heaved again, coughing out seawater as he forced himself up, clinging to pipes and railings as he dragged his feet beneath him. Blood rained down the side of his face, a cut on his forehead pulsing warm and wet.

Panting, he scanned the deck. No sign of Cook.

He’d lost his rifle in the water, and the sat phone Irwin had given him was ruined. He cursed, bending over at the waist, and tried to drag air into his lungs.

He had to get Jack to safety. Jack was in danger. God, what if something had already happened? Irwin. How would he contact Irwin?

He had to get back to the car. Faisal had a satellite phone. He could call from there.

Jogging faster than his battered body wanted, Ethan headed for the side of the ship and the ladder he’d climbed up. The deck kept tilting, and he ran at an angle, stumbling.

At the railing, frayed ends of a sliced rope greeted him. Below, his inflatable boat drifted, deflated, just a mess of bullet-riddled red rubber floating with the remnants of the rope ladder.

“Fuck!” He kicked the deck, grasping the railing in both hands as he growled. The tanker was tilting even farther, and soon she’d be on her side against the reef. He squinted down at the water line. They’d gone down maybe ten feet? Lower than before, that was certain.

Only one way off the tanker now. Ethan clambered over the railing. Beneath him, the water turned from turquoise to almost black, the drop of the Red Sea shelf giving way to a mile deep of open waters. Blood dripped between his eyelashes, down over his lips.

Into the sea, with the sharks, and bleeding. It was almost fifteen miles back to shore, a mix of reefs and sand bars.

He closed his eyes before he let go.I’ll get back. I’ll get Jack to safety. I swear it.

Ethan hit the water like a torpedo, sliding feet-first into the depths. At least he remembered to hold his nose. The salt water stung his eyes, burned in his cut, but he fought his way to the surface. Gasping, he swam hard from the tanker, toward the nearest sandbar.

It took hours, swimming from sandbar to sandbar and then dragging himself across the barren, scorched cays. The sun set, but the temperature didn’t drop. Around him, the reef came to life in the moonlight, fish splashing and sea turtles paddling curiously near him. He swam away. Sea turtles meant sharks, and it was already night, well into their hunting hours.

Halfway to the shore, he collapsed facedown in the middle of another seemingly endless sandbar. His parched, chapped lips cracked, and sand stuck to his oozing head wound.

Get up. Get moving. Jack needs you.One arm dragged him forward, and then a knee.Jack. Jack needs you. Move. Move!

He pushed to his feet. Stumbled forward. When he entered the water, again, he tripped, falling beneath the surface. Spluttering, he barely managed to pull his above the waterline.

A dark shape swimming in the shallows on his right made him freeze.

A black triangle, rising above the water, cast a long shadow in the glow of the full moon.

Terror fueled him as he swam hard, shouting, forcing his muscles to work, forcing his body to go faster.

The fin stalked him, staying on his right.

He broke bits of coral off with his bare hands, hurling it at the fin, bellowing as he smacked at the water. One of his throws landed, and the fin dipped underwater, vanishing.

He moved quickly, scrambling across the sandbars and back into the water, swimming for the next cay while the shark was gone. His eyes stayed open, scanning the water.

Only three more cays and stretches of ocean, a couple miles, and then he’d be there. Ethan dropped to his knees, counting out a thirty-second break as he pictured Jack’s face.

In the end, he crawled out of the water and dragged himself to his parked Land Rover, gasping for breath. He barely summoned the strength to break the window. Ethan clung to the door as he wrenched it open and collapsed inside, reaching for the glove compartment with trembling hands.

Finally, he had the satellite phone. Shaking fingers dialed Irwin’s number. The moon had dropped low in the sky, and Ethan stared at the dull glow through the windshield as he lay across the front seats.