"They're staying right on us," Hugo Voorst observed, looking up. "They
don't have us yet, but they've probably figured out we'd make a beeline
for Andikythera, so all they have to do is just work the corridor for
all it's worth."
"Then let's get on with it." Armont nodded through the rain. "Do we
have everything you think we might need?"
"We've got everything we can bloody well keep afloat," Reggie yelled
back. "We're leaving half of what we need." He knew that seven men in
the single Zodiac, together with their
gear, was going to be pushing it to the limit. The sea was still
rising, which meant they would be bailing for their lives as soon as
they cut loose.
"All right, then, Willem, set the timer on the flares." Armont shook
his head sadly.
"If we keep having to abandon equipment," Hall could be heard
grumbling, "this is going to be a damned expensive operation. Where in
bloody hell is it going to end? When we're down to a bow and arrow
each?"
"It's beginning to feel that way now," Willem Voorst groused. He had
finished and was clambering into the single raft. With his weight
aboard, it listed precariously, taking water as the waves washed over.
He settled in, grabbed a plastic bucket, and started bailing.
Now the Seahawk was coming down the line again, making an even slower
pass. Time had run out.
"All right, cut her loose," Armont ordered.
The radio they left had been set to broadcast a Mayday; the engine was
locked at full throttle; and a couple of life jackets with saltwater-
activated beacons had been tied to a line and tossed overboard. The
flares had been set to a timer, giving them three minutes to put some
blue water between them and the decoy.
With a sigh, Dimitri Spiros leaned out and severed the last connecting
line.