Cold Kill by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page A

his pea coat and jumped over the side, arms flailing.
    He hit the water, which engulfed him, so cold it numbed him immediately. He kicked for the surface, feeling his boots fill with water. He kicked harder, but his jeans were sticking to his legs, dragging him down. He took in a mouthful of water, then broke through to the surface and spat fiercely. He saw the child several metres away, kicked hard and swam towards her.
    A wave crashed over him and his mouth filled with water again. He spat and gasped for breath. His pullover was hindering his movements so he trod water and pulled it off. The weight of his wet trousers was pulling him down. Despite the cold his leg muscles were burning. He let go of the pullover and swam on towards the little girl. Every stroke was an effort and his chest felt as if a clamp was squeezing the life from him.
    He trod water again, trying to see where she was, then glanced over his shoulder at the trawler. Mosley was pointing at him, a woman at his side – the child’s mother, maybe. Corke saw Pepper pull Mosley back, then lost sight of the boat in the swell.
    He carried on swimming. The child was thrashing around in the water and as he drew closer he heard her scream. It was cut short as she disappeared beneath a wave. Corke took a deep breath as a wave carried him up, then dropped him. His right hand slapped into something – the child. He grabbed her collar and pulled her to him. ‘It’s all right!’ he shouted. ‘I’ve got you!’
    She was in shock. Her mouth was moving soundlessly, eyes blank and lifeless. Corke turned her so that her back was to him, then pushed his arm round her waist and kicked to keep himself upright in the heaving water. He could feel the strength draining from his legs and took a quick look over his shoulder. Through the swell he saw the trawler. Fifty metres away, maybe more. In a swimming-pool, he’d make it with ease, but in the freezing water, weighed down with wet clothing, he knew it might as well have been fifty miles. The current was carrying him away from the boat. And even if it hadn’t been, it was all he could do to keep the child above water. There was no way he could swim for them both.
    Water crashed over them and Corke pushed the child up, trying to keep her in the air.
    It was hopeless. With every kick he felt weaker and he knew he was dying of hypothermia. The freezing water was sucking the life out of him, second by second. He held the child with his left arm and thrashed around with the right. His head went under and he coughed, spluttering. He didn’t want to die, but he was so tired that he couldn’t fight the water any longer. He held the child tighter. She was crying now, great sobs that racked her body. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Corke. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    He couldn’t feel his legs now, couldn’t tell if they were moving or not. He was impossibly cold, and more tired than he’d ever been before. He was breathing fast and shallow, and he knew that was bad because the stale air would stay deep in his lungs. His head went under and he closed his eyes. He knew that all he had to do was take in a lungful of water and it would be over. Drowning wasn’t so bad. There was no panic, just tiredness and a gradual acceptance that he would die. It was the little girl he felt sorry for, with her whole life ahead of her. He’d been married, had a child, travelled the world. He’d lived a full life, and death was a natural part of it. But she hadn’t even begun to live. It was so damned unfair. Corke roared and kicked with all the strength he had left. He didn’t want the child to die but there was nothing he could do to save her. In his heart of hearts he’d known that from the moment he’d followed her into the water, but he’d had to try. And now he would die with her.
    He leaned back in the water, holding her to his chest. Water washed over his face, stinging his eyes and filling his ears.
    Suddenly a light shone on his face, so