Tommy heard Barbara's head hit the outboard with a sickening crack. Although he was beginning to feel numb, he fastened his stroke to reach her. The pain from his shoulder seared across his chest and down his arm. Heart attack? "Not yet," he told himself, "not yet."

Wyatt knelt up and was trying to drag one of the boxes aboard. It was floating just beyond his reach. Each time he touched it, the box drifted away on the waves. Tommy swam hard and grabbed the rope handle on the other side. When he used his working arm to drag it further from the American's grasp, Wyatt tumbled into the water and disappeared.

He surfaced, gasping and swearing. "Leave it, Lynley. You should never have meddled in this."

Tommy's mind felt heavy. The water was near freezing, and he knew he had only minutes left before hypothermia, unconsciousness and death kicked in. Images of Barbara making love to him, the scene at Landsborough and his imagined future with her and two children flashed through his mind without logic. His whole being ached, but beneath it, a rage started to break through. He had to help Barbara, and he had to destroy the powder. To do that he had to live.

"Barbara." Tommy looked up, straining to hear any answer. There was none. The rib looked stable. The bullets had only destroyed one two-foot section of the inflated side. "Thank heavens for baffles," he muttered.

The zodiac was slowly drifting away. He kicked his feet and forced himself to swim. His left arm was nearly useless. Barely able to do a weak, one-armed sidestroke, he finally reached the boat. His hand slid down the wet rubber in a squeal like fingernails down a blackboard. He reached up again. His fingers touched the rope, and he kicked higher, allowing them to close around it. With only one arm, any movement was slow. He edged his way along until he was at the point where the rubber had collapsed. Again he kicked, giving him the elevation to roll onto the zodiac.

"Barbara." He slipped and slid as he tried to reach her. A pool of blood mingled with the water beneath her head. Fearing the worst, he leant down to listen for her breathing. "Thank God!" Her breathing was rapid and swallow, but it was there.

A hand closed around his ankle and dragged him backwards. He kicked and flailed. One kick landed a blow on Wyatt's face. Tommy felt the man's nose break and possibly some teeth. Wyatt released his leg. Tommy lurched forward out of reach. He knelt up and scanned the boat for a weapon, but the rib was devoid of anything to help him. He felt under Barbara's jacket. The Uzi was gone. Wyatt disappeared from view. For a second, Tommy hoped he had succumbed to the water.

With effort and pain, Tommy moved the red plastic fuel tank out of the way then pulled off his wet jacket and folded it as a pillow which he eased under Barbara's head. She had a bump and a cut, but to his relief her skull did not seem fractured. "You'll be okay, Barbara. Just hang in, there."

Exhausted, he sat beside her catching his breath and pondering what to do. He was shivering. Even out of the water they were in danger from the cold. Tommy struggled to keep his eyes open. "Focus... Focus..."

Tommy knelt up and looked around. Wyatt was bobbing in the water about twenty yards away holding onto the handle of one of the boxes. The second box was floating a further twenty feet to the left. Tommy brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. It was only then that he noticed the engine's key and kill switch were still around his wrist. He scrambled over to the outboard. Inserting the key was hampered by his shaking hands. On the third attempt, he pushed it into place.

He pressed the starter, but nothing happened. "Come on; you damned temperamental piece of Japanese sh..." The engine fired the second time. He revved the coughing engine then spun the boat in a tight circle.

"Wait!" Wyatt yelled. "You can't leave me. I'll die."

"You tried to kill us. Why should I save you? So you can try again?"

Tommy's first instinct was to head for the shore and save Barbara, but he could almost hear her telling him to get the boxes.

"Get the boxes, Tommy. Finish the job we came here to do."

He paused. The voice seemed very real. He looked down to see Barbara staring back at him. "Barbara! You're okay."

"I wouldn't say that exactly."

She struggled to sit up by pulling on the rope around the rib. She made a funny noise then lurched up and vomited violently over the side. Tommy slowly spun the boat away from Wyatt to give her privacy while she reached over and washed her face in the water. The back of her head had a lump the size of a duck egg.

"I have to get you to hospital."

"No, the boxes." She thumped back onto the deck and reached up to touch her skull. "Ouch."

Tommy steered the boat towards the second box. "Can you take the outboard while I pull it in?"

"Yeah."

Tommy helped Barbara up to sit on the back of the rib. He unfastened the killswitch and attached it to her wrist. "Just keep it idling."

Tommy used his good arm to hook the handle of the box. It was awkward but not heavy as he pulled it out of the water and let it fall onto the floor. His cold fingers fumbled with the metal clips. Once undone, he slowly opened the lid and examined the contents. "There's a fancy respirator." He pulled it out and tossed it on the deck.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, material." He pulled it out and shook it. A heavy, rubber-impregnated forensic suit unfolded. "You should put this on to stay warm."

"Forget me. Any sign of the nerve agent?"

Tommy shook his head. "None. There's only some thin rope, a couple of large makeup brushes and about a dozen small metal empty jars."

"Are you sure they're empty?"

"Yes, they don't have lids on. It looks like this was the safety gear and dispersal system for mixing the powder and spores. The wretched biocide must be in the other box."

"Wonderful. We couldn't strike it lucky with the first one."

"We would have gone for the second anyway thinking they both had the stuff."

She nodded and sighed. "Yeah, true."

Tommy moved back and helped Barbara steer the boat back to Wyatt. Tommy reached over the side and seized the handle of the box and started to pull it. "Let go, Wyatt, you can't win."

"Nn...nnn...nnnn...ooo!"

Tommy looked at him. He was shivering uncontrollably and turning blue. Tommy sat on the edge of the rib. "Fine. We'll just wait a few minutes for you to die, then we'll take it anyway." Barbara kicked him in the shin. He looked over at her. "What?"

"He can tell us about the syndicate and who has the sub. You have to save him."

"How?"

"By not letting your temper rule your head. Pull him in."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm in charge of this operation remember? Oull him in."

"Yes, ma'am." Tommy grabbed the rope from the box and quickly knitted it around the rib's rope. He threw the end at Wyatt. "Let the box go, and you live."

Wyatt took the rope but still held the box. With Tommy's bad shoulder, he struggled to pull Wyatt closer. Eventually, the American released it and swam towards Tommy. The two weak men worked together and Wyatt was soon lying exhausted on the deck of the rib. Tommy sat on the side to recover his breath. The pain in his shoulder spread across his upper body. Every movement, every breath, hurt.

He turned when the engine stopped. Barbara was on her knees and crawled over. She snatched the rope from his hands with a muttered curse about half-doing a job. Tommy chuckled as she wrapped it around Wyatt's feet, threaded it around the line on the other side of the rib, grabbed his hands and knotted it around them and then to the rope beside his initial knot. Wyatt was too weak to object.

"That's a handy skill. Where did you learn to hog-tie?"

"I'm not taking any chances with the bastard."

"They're not proper maritime knots, Barbara. You might have to cut him free." She gave him a withering look and waved the end of the rope towards him. He understood her meaning.

"Let's get that box."

They motored over to the box. Tommy let Barbara help him pull it on board. She opened the clips and slowly pulled up the lid. "That's it?"

Tommy stared at the metal cylinder about the size of his forearm sitting inside a transparent perspex box held firmly in place by heavy grey foam. "It seems so."

"So, how do we destroy it?" she asked as she pulled the box out of its foam bed.

Tommy let out a long sigh then reached up and stroked her face. "Kiss me."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

Barbara shrugged but gave him a warm smile. Their lips met in a brief, tender kiss. "I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too, Tommy."

"I know." He pulled the box from her hands and rolled backwards off the boat.