Sad Wind From the Sea - Jack Higgins [71]
Hagen slowly unfastened the straps of the aqua-lung. 'It must have blown the stern clean out,' he said. He pulled off his flippers and stood up. 'How are things below?'
O'Hara managed a tired grin. 'Not that it matters now, but I've finished it.'
Hagen nodded slowly. He felt inexpressibly weary and more than a little light-headed. He went below and dried himself and pulled on a sweater and then Rose called, 'Mark, come quickly!'
As he moved out on to the deck he heard his name being called faintly from the water. He went to the rail and at that moment Kossoff came swimming out of the mist. They all stood and watched the Russian approach and finally he floated in the water, bumping against the hull. His face looked yellow and old and he was half frozen. He managed a smile, and said, 'I always underestimated you, my friend.'
Hagen shook his head. 'I was lucky and you weren't,' he said. 'It was as simple as that.'
Kossoff gulped and swallowed a mouthful of water. When he finally managed to speak he said, 'You wouldn't leave me to drown?'
For a moment Hagen wanted to tell him to sheer off and then Rose touched his arm. 'Mark, we can't leave him.' He shrugged and reached a hand down to Kossoff and pulled him aboard.
The Russian sprawled on deck, coughing and gasping for breath. 'Thank you,' he managed to say. 'You'll never regret it.'
Hagen laughed shortly. 'I wonder,' he said and turned to move towards the wheelhouse.
Behind him there was a sudden flurry of movement and Rose screamed, 'Look out!' and threw herself against him so that he went sprawling on to the deck.
He scrambled to his feet and turned quickly. She stood between him and the Russian and suddenly she swayed and fell backwards. Hagen jumped forward and caught her in his arms and there was blood on her breast. Kossoff backed away, a knife in his right hand, and said calmly, 'Even at the end I seem to be fated to have bad luck with you, Captain.'
Before Hagen could make a move O'Hara appeared from the wheelhouse with the sub-machine-gun in his hands. 'You murdering bastard,' he cried. 'She was worth ten of you.' He pressed the trigger and a stream of bullets hammered Kossoff over the rail and into the water. When O'Hara relaxed his finger the gun was empty.
Hagen lifted her gently in his arms and carried her down into the cabin. He laid her on her bunk and slipped a pillow under her head. As he moved to leave she gripped his arm fiercely. 'No, don't go. Don't leave me.'
He released himself as gently as he could and reassured her. 'I'm only going for the first-aid box.' She subsided against the pillow and he went into the galley.
When he returned O'Hara was bending over her. 'She's passed out,' the old man said.
Hagen brushed him aside and sat on the edge of the bunk. With a pair of surgical scissors he carefully cut open her sweater and the shirt she wore beneath it. Gently he pulled away the blood-stained material and O'Hara gasped suddenly as the wound was bared. Hagen swabbed away the blood with a wad of cotton wool and examined the wound. 'She's lucky,' he said. 'The point bounced off her collar-bone.' The slash ran diagonally from her left shoulder down into the breast.
'It looks bad,' O'Hara said. 'It looks damned bad.'
Hagen wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. It was bad and the blood was pumping out of her at a frightening rate. He had to do something drastic before it was too late. 'Get on deck and start the engines,' he told O'Hara. 'I'll be up in a few minutes.'
The old man went without a word and Hagen packed the wound with pads of cotton wool and lint and bandaged it roughly, looping the bandage under her armpit and around her neck. She lay quietly and never stirred.