From that point forward, more and more space in the notebook was devoted to the Dougherty family. By page one hundred, a third of the way through the book, they had become his sole obsession. Every clipping in the subsequent two hundred pages dealt with him. He had saved important and trivial stories: a report of a campaign speech that Brian’s father had made two years ago, a piece about a surprise birthday party given for the late President’s widow, a UPI dispatch concerning Brian’s adventures in one of Madrid’s bullrings…
On page two hundred ten was a Dougherty family portrait taken at the wedding of Brian’s sister and reprinted in People magazine. Beneath it was a two-word, handwritten notice in red: The enemy.
On page two hundred thirty, the last lingering veils of sanity were cast off, and the screaming face of purest madness was revealed. The compiler had pasted up a page from a magazine, a color photograph of Brian’s oldest sister, Emily. A pretty young woman. Button nose. Large green eyes. A splash of freckles. Auburn hair to her shoulders. She was facing sideways and laughing at something that someone had said or done out of camera range. Neat printing spiraled around her face, hundreds of repetitions of three words that filled the rest of the page to every border: pig, whore, maggot, pig, whore, maggot, pig, whore, maggot…
The pages that followed were hair-raising.
Gunvald tried calling Harry once more. No response. He could communicate with no one. The storm was his only companion.
What in the name of God was happening on that iceberg?
Brian Dougherty and Roger Breskin were the only members of the group who had extensive diving experience. Because Brian was not an official member of the expedition, merely an observer, Harry didn’t think the kid should have to assume the front position in the descent through the tunnel, which might prove to be dangerous in ways that they had not yet imagined. Therefore, Roger Breskin would lead.
They would follow Roger in an orderly procession: Harry second, then Brian, Rita, George, Claude, Franz, and Pete. A lot of thought had gone into that arrangement. Brian would be between Harry and Rita, the only two people that he could fully trust. George Lin was behind Rita and might be a threat to her and Brian. Because of his age and convivial temperament, Claude Jobert seemed the least likely of all suspects other than Pete, so he would be behind Lin, where he would surely notice and attempt to prevent any foul play. If Franz was the guilty party, his freedom to strike out at Brian would be severely limited by the fact that Pete would be keeping a watch on him from behind. And in the unlikely event that Pete Johnson was the would-be murderer, he wouldn’t find it easy to get past Franz, Claude, Lin, and Rita to reach Brian.
If they had been descending through the water-filled tunnel in darkness, their order on the line wouldn’t have mattered, because in darkness anything could have happened. Fortunately, the aluminum cargo boxes had contained three powerful halogen lamps designed for use underwater at levels of considerable pressure. Roger would carry one at the front of the procession; in the middle, George Lin would have one; and Pete would be in charge of the third. If each member of the group maintained then feet between himself and the person he was following on the way down, the distance from the first to the third light would be approximately forty yards. They wouldn’t be swimming through bright light, but Harry figured the illumination should be sufficient to discourage murder.
Each of the heated wet suits came with a waterproof watch that featured a large, luminescent digital readout. Harry looked at his when he finished suiting up. Eighteen minutes past eleven.
Detonation in forty-two minutes.
He said, “Ready to go?”
Everyone was suited up, masks in place. Even George Lin.
Harry said, “Good luck, my friends.” He slipped on his own mask, reached over his left shoulder to activate the air feed on his tank, and took a few deep breaths to be sure that the equipment was working properly. He turned to Roger Breskin and gave him the thumbs-up sign.