“They do, but I. Can’t. Swim. What happened to the shithead I was carrying?”
“He swims like you,” Rapp said.
Fingers of darkness were stretching across the turbulent water. Rapp scanned the foaming surface for a glimpse of CYCLONE but didn’t see the warlord. While he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to question the jihadi later, Rapp was also thankful he didn’t have to try to keep two men afloat.
“What’s that roaring?” Saxton said, still sputtering.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Rapp said, adjusting his hold on Saxton’s neck.
“What?”
“The rushing sound means we’re almost out of this cavern.”
“Fantastic.”
“The bad news is that I sugarcoated our exit.”
“What do you mean?” Saxton said.
“There’s a waterfall.” Rapp said.
“A what?”
“Don’t get all weak-kneed on me. It’s a short drop.”
“I hate you,” Saxton said.
“Get ready,” Rapp said as the roar grew louder. “We’re about to get flushed down the toilet.”
Saxton might have tried to say something, but Rapp couldn’t hear the Ranger over the thundering rapids.
That was probably for the best.
CHAPTER 41
AS someone who hunted his nation’s enemies on their turf, Rapp had been in some tight spots. In Paris, he’d once entered a hotel room through the window to find a team of killers with automatic weapons waiting in ambush. On another continent in another operation gone sideways, Rapp had allowed himself to be captured by Hezbollah thugs in hopes of locating and saving Stan Hurley before the jihadis executed his curmudgeon of a mentor.
Those encounters had nothing on rocketing down a pitch-black rock tunnel with a nonswimming Ranger in his arms and the sound of a churning waterfall in his ears. On the positive side of the ledger, the growling rapids made conversation with Saxton almost impossible.
Almost.
When it came to communicating his feelings, the Ranger was extremely persistent.
“I swear to God I’m going to kill you!” Saxton screamed.
Rapp didn’t bother pointing out the hilarity of the Ranger’s statement. By simply releasing the man’s shirt and scissor-kicking with the current, Rapp could rid himself of any threat the soldier posed. But he didn’t do so, mainly because he thought Saxton had a point. If they survived the journey through the aqueduct, the waterfall, and the unpredictable currents sure to be roiling the water below, Rapp was of a mind to kick his own ass. But first he had to live through the next two minutes.
This was no sure proposition.
“When we get to the waterfall, I’m gonna let go and swim ahead of you,” Rapp yelled.
“The hell you say?”
“I need to put space between us,” Rapp said. “Otherwise we might knock heads during the fall.”
“I thought it was a short drop,” Saxton sputtered.
“Short might be in the eye of the beholder,” Rapp said. “You’re going to fall for what will seem like forever. Once you hit the water, the current’s gonna grab you. Don’t fight it. Not at first. Go limp for a five-count. Then breathe out and watch for bubbles. If you’re near the bottom, push off the riverbed. If not, just kick your legs and follow the bubbles. Your body is buoyant. It wants to float.”
“Mine doesn’t,” Saxton said.
“Five seconds,” Rapp said, “and don’t cheat. Give me the full one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi. Once you break the surface, I’ll be there. We’ll get to shore together. Okay?”
“Let me go,” Saxton said. “I’m gonna try something.”
Though the Ranger was doing an admirable job of not panicking, Rapp was worried that Saxton would devolve back to thrashing his limbs if Rapp released his hold. Still, Saxton had put his life in Rapp’s hands. The least Rapp could do was show the Ranger a little trust of his own.
“Okay,” Rapp said, uncurling his arm from around Saxton’s neck. “You’re free.”
Rapp felt Saxton grip his shirt with a strength only available to Rangers and drowning men. Then he heard the sound of Saxton submerging. Rapp was in the process of reaching for the Ranger when he heard the soldier coughing up water.
“Grab me,” Saxton said. “Hurry.”
Once again Rapp snaked his right arm around Saxton’s neck, but this time the Ranger didn’t resist. Something felt different. Rapp did a test sidestroke to confirm his suspicion. The Ranger was more buoyant.
“What did you do?” Rapp said.
“Inflated my shirt,” Saxton said. “Can’t swim, but I’ve done my share of drownproofing. Maybe it will help once I hit the pool.”
