Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

times, but the strain was worse each time. He was beginning to lose hope. Botvinik was sick enough to let him die slowly like this, but Kelly clung to the hope that he desperately needed information on the rebel group in order to save face with his superiors in the Soviet Union.

At last, the rattle of the fasteners being released was transmitted dully through the water. The lid was raised, and Kelly almost sprang into a sitting position breathing in huge lungfuls of air as he did so. He was roughly grabbed by the arms and hoisted out of the tank and dragged before Botvinik.

The Russian spoke slowly and deliberately. “Where is the rebel camp?”

Kelly breathed in deeply several times before answering; he needed to purge his lungs of carbon dioxide in case, as was likely, he was returned to the tank. With an elaborate display of patience, Botvinik repeated the question.

“I don’t know,” Kelly answered, but he allowed a trace of hesitation to enter his voice. His only hope of staying alive was to convince Botvinik that he really did know. Botvinik’s face was purple as he slapped Kelly across the face. He screamed in Russian at the Spetsnaz guards who dragged Kelly back to the tank. As he was lowered, Kelly kicked and thrashed around wildly, his aim being to displace as much water as possible from the tank to provide as large an air pocket as possible.

As the lid was lowered, Kelly again fought against the feeling of hopelessness and panic he felt deep inside. Perhaps the easiest solution was just to sink into the water and end the torment. Then he remembered he’d experienced that exact feeling in the icy waters off Norway but look at all the things that had happened since. He mentally resolved to fight on.

He repeated the process of submerging at regular intervals and again this gave him some relief, but the torture seemed to have gone on much longer this time. He wondered if this was just a trick of his tormented mind. When he began to find breathing difficult, he knew the air in the pocket was turning bad. One way or another it couldn’t go on.

Kelly found himself starting to black out for short periods. He would awaken suddenly, inhaling water and rise quickly choking and coughing. He knew this would quicken the loss of oxygen in the air, but there was nothing he could do.

The third time it happened, he surfaced into the pocket, but found himself gasping for air, unable to breath. He heard the fasteners being released. Even with the lid lifted he was still gagging and struggling for air. Again, he was lifted out of the tank and dragged before Botvinik and asked the question and again he denied any knowledge.

He was breathing deeply but was still semi-conscious and unable to stand unaided. Botvinik made a sign to the two guards who released Kelly allowing him to slump onto his knees. Botvinik brought a baseball bat from behind his back and, placing one end under Kelly’s chin, he lifted his head so that he was fully aware of what was to happen next.

Botvinik said something to the two guards, but they seemed reluctant to comply. The Russian looked in disbelief and screamed at them, pointing to the door with the baseball bat. Reluctantly it seemed, the two guards left the room, closing the door behind them.

Kelly was regaining his composure all the time and he felt his strength returning, however he remained in a slumped position, his head had fallen back on his chest and his whole aspect said ‘helpless’. A slim chance, a very slim chance had arisen, and Kelly didn’t want to waste it.

With the guards gone Botvinik set about Kelly with the baseball bat. Kelly took the beating and waited for the opportunity to arise, but the beating was taking it out of him. He managed to ward off some of the blows with his arms and deliberately took others on the fleshy part of the legs when he could manoeuvre himself to do so.

Botvinik stopped for breath; it was the moment Kelly had waited for. He crawled on all fours into a corner, his back towards Botvinik, then, unseen by the Russian, forced two fingers down his throat until he gagged. He could feel the bile rising in his stomach. Slowly he struggled around on his knees to face Botvinik, for all the world a dejected and beaten man. Then he struggled slowly to his feet, gagging as he did.

Botvinik advanced, the baseball bat raised, the look on his face said that the game was over. As the baseball bat descended, Kelly vomited bile and stagnant water into the Russian’s crazed face.

Skadi

The down swinging bat missed Kelly by a sea mile, but Kelly’s lunge at Botvinik with his fist found the Russian’s midriff with unerring accuracy. The punch, delivered with all the force Kelly could muster, winded the Russian and doubled him up. As his head came down, Kelly clasped Botvinik’s neck with one hand, forcing the head down while at the same time bringing his knee up sharply.

Botvinik’s rapidly descending nose met Kelly’s rapidly ascending knee with a sickening crunch. Botvinik crashed to the floor. It was his turn to crawl away on all fours, whimpering and choking in his attempt to call for help, but the combination of broken nose and lack of wind prevented any sound above a wheeze. Even so, Kelly needed to act fast. He quickly caught the retreating Botvinik and swung his left arm around the Russian’s neck. Clasping his right bicep with his left hand, he then placed his right hand onto the side of the Russian’s head and with all of his strength jerked his arm downwards. There was a sharp crack and Kelly was left holding the dead weight of the Russian.

Quickly he picked up the bat and moved to the opening side of the door. Flattening his back against the