Cockroaches by Jo Nesbo

Author:Jo Nesbo [Jo Nesbo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, International Mystery & Crime
ISBN: 0345807154
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2014-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

26

Thursday, January 16

Harry was brought around by the water; instinctively he breathed in and the next moment he was dragged under. He fought, but it made no difference. The water amplified the metallic click of something being locked, and the arm that held him let go. He opened his eyes; everything was turquoise around him and he felt the tiles beneath him. He pushed off, but a jerk on his wrist told him what his brain had been trying to explain and he had refused to accept. He was going to drown. Woo had attached him to the drain at the bottom of the pool with his own handcuffs.

He looked up. The moon was shining down on him through a filter of water. He stretched his free arm up and out of the water. Hell, the pool was only one meter deep here! Harry crouched and tried to stand up, stretched with all his might. The handcuff cut into his thumb, but still his mouth was twenty centimeters below the surface. He noticed the shadow at the edge of the pool moving away. Shit! Don’t panic, he thought. Panic uses up oxygen.

He sank to the bottom and examined the grille with his fingers. It was made of steel and was totally immovable, it didn’t budge even when he grabbed it with both hands and pulled. How long could he hold his breath? One minute? Two? All his muscles ached, his temples throbbed and red stars were dancing in front of his eyes. He tried to jerk himself loose. His mouth was dry with fear, his brain had started producing images he knew were hallucinations; too little fuel, too little water. An absurd thought struck him—if he drank as much water as he could the water level might sink enough for him to breathe. He banged his free hand against the side of the pool, knowing no one could hear him, for even if the world beneath the water was quiet, the metropolitan clamor of Bangkok continued unabated up above, drowning any other sounds. And if someone had heard him, so what? All they could do was keep him company while he died. A burning heat centered on his head and he prepared to experience what all drowning people have to experience sooner or later: water inhalation. His free hand met metal. The pool net. It was on the edge of the pool. Harry grabbed it and pulled. Runa had been playing didgeridoo. Hollow. Air. He closed his mouth around the end of the aluminum pole and breathed in. He got water in his mouth, swallowed, almost suffocated, tasted dead, dry insects on his tongue and bit around the tube as he fought his cough reflexes. Why was it called oxygen, from the Greek, oxys, meaning acid? It isn’t acidic, it’s sweet, even in Bangkok the air is as sweet as honey. He inhaled loose bits of aluminum and grit that stuck to the mucus in his throat, but he didn’t notice.

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