A few people cheered. The invitation had made it clear that everyone was welcome until sunrise.

"We're here to enjoy ourselves," he went on. "But at the same time, we can't forget the many terrible things that are happening around the world and the many millions of people who need our help. I want you to know that tickets sold for tonight's party, along with raffle tickets, our silent auction, and private donations, have raised a fantastic $875,000 for First Aid."

There was another burst of applause. Hearing it, Alex felt ashamed of himself. Whatever mistakes he had made in the past, McCain had more than redeemed himself. The whole evening was about helping other people, and in his own small way Alex had inadvertently spoiled it.

McCain held up a hand. "I have no idea how that money will be spent, but thank G.o.d it's there." He stressed the word G.o.d G.o.d as if the two of them were personal friends. "This year, we had those terrible floods in Malaysia, the volcano eruption in Guatemala, and most recently, the incident at the Jowada power station in India, which could have been much, much worse. We were there first. Your money went straight to the people who needed it. Charity is the bond of perfectness, as it says in the book of Colos sians. And the next time disaster strikes, wherever in the world it happens, we will be ready." as if the two of them were personal friends. "This year, we had those terrible floods in Malaysia, the volcano eruption in Guatemala, and most recently, the incident at the Jowada power station in India, which could have been much, much worse. We were there first. Your money went straight to the people who needed it. Charity is the bond of perfectness, as it says in the book of Colos sians. And the next time disaster strikes, wherever in the world it happens, we will be ready."

Edward Pleasure had retrieved his coat and slipped it on. One of the waiters had opened the door to reveal a maelstrom of snow against an unforgiving night. It was time to go. Alex took one last look back, and it seemed to him that at that moment, standing on his own in the middle of the gallery, Desmond McCain stared straight at him, locking him into a final eye contact that ignored the six hundred people between them.

"Alex?" Sabina called out to him.

And then they were gone, out of the warmth of the castle, hurrying toward the car that Edward Pleasure was already unlocking, using the remote control on his key ring. The back lights blinked a welcome orange in the darkness. It had been snowing all evening. There was a carpet a couple of inches thick on the ground and on top of all the cars. If it continued much longer, Sabina might get her skiing break after all.

They threw themselves into the Nissan X-Trail, slamming the doors behind them and shaking loose some of the snow that had piled onto the car's roof. Once again, Alex was glad that they had an off-road vehicle. They would need it tonight.

"What a night!" Edward Pleasure muttered, echoing Alex's thoughts. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine began to throb rea.s.suringly. He found the heating and turned it up as far as it would go. Alex was next to him. Sabina was once again in the back. "I'm afraid we're actually going to have New Year on the road," he said. "It'll take us at least an hour to get home."

"I don't mind." Sabina was already untangling the wires of her iPod. "That place gave me the creeps."

"I thought you liked parties."

"Yes, Dad. But not when I'm the youngest person there by about two hundred years."

They set off, the tires crunching on the newly laid snow. The weather had briefly cleared-which was just as well. Edward Pleasure would need all the visibility he could get to negotiate his way down the series of hairpin bends that led to the main road beside the loch. Alex took one last look at the great bulk of Kilmore Castle. He could see the firelight glowing behind the windows of the banqueting hall and could imagine McCain's speech ending, the balloons cascading, the kissing and the singing and then more drinking and dancing into the morning. He was glad they'd left early. He'd had a great time in Scotland, but, like Sabina, he'd felt slightly uncomfortable at the party. He loosened his bow tie, then pulled it off. He'd have preferred to have spent the evening at home.

The accident was so sudden, so unexpected, that none of them even realized it had happened until it was almost over. For Alex, it was as if the journey down the hillside had been broken into a series of still pictures. There was Edward Pleasure changing gear as the car picked up speed. How fast were they going? No more than twenty-five miles per hour. Sabina said something and he half turned around to answer her. The headlights were shooting out, two separate columns, distinct from each other.

And then there was a cracking sound. It seemed to come from a long way away, but that wasn't possible. It had to be something in the engine. The car shuddered and lurched crazily to one side. Sabina cried out. There was nothing anyone could do. It was as if a giant hand had seized the back of the car and swung it around like a toy. Alex felt the tires slide helplessly across the road. Edward wrenched the steering wheel the other way, but it was useless. They were spinning out of control with the night sky rushing toward them. And then came the moment when the tires left the icy surface altogether, and with a surge of terror Alex knew that they had come off the edge of the rock face, that they were in the air with the black, frozen waters of Loch Arkaig far below.

For half a second the car hung in the air.

Then it pitched forward and plunged down.

5.

DEATH AND CHAMPAGNE.

IT WAS LIKE DRIVING deliberately into a black wall. They couldn't stop. There was nothing they could do. The last thing Alex saw was Edward Pleasure clutching the steering wheel as if he had been electrified, his arms rigid, his eyes staring. Outside, the world had turned upside down. The headlights were bouncing off the surface of the loch, which hurtled toward them, filling the front window.

They hit the water. The actual impact was brutal, whipping them forward and backward at the same time. Alex realized that there must have been a thin coating of ice stretching across the lake-he heard it and felt it splinter. It was like smashing through a mirror into another dimension. The car didn't float, even for a second. Carried on by its own velocity, it plunged into the darkness, huge tentacles of water reaching out and drawing it in. The real world of Scotland and castles and New Year was wiped out as if it had never existed, to be replaced by . . . nothing. All the lights in the car had gone out. It was as if steel shutters had fallen on the other side of the windows. Alex would never have believed that darkness could be so total.

Something was pressing against him, smothering him. For a moment he panicked, punching out with his fists, trying to get whatever it was off him. He couldn't breathe. What was this huge thing pushing him back into his seat? Where had it come from? He forced himself to think straight, to fight against the sense of blind terror.

The air bag. That was all. It must have been activated at the moment of impact.

Air. He was going to need it. They were still sinking beneath the surface, getting deeper and deeper. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel the pressure in his ears. There was no letup. It was getting worse and worse. How deep was the loch? Some of these Scottish lakes continued down for hundreds of feet. They would keep going until they reached the bottom, and that was where they would die. What had seconds before been a $35,000 luxury car had become a steel coffin.

There was a soft thud and a shudder as the tires came into contact with mud. Alex was aware of a ton of blackness weighing down on him. They weren't moving anymore. That was something to be grateful for. But how far down had they gone? More to the point, how long did they have? The car wouldn't be able to keep the water out for more than a few minutes. It was even now splashing down onto his feet, presumably coming through the air vents on either side of the satellite navigation system. The water was freezing cold, numbing the flesh at first touch. Already it was over his ankles. It was as if his legs were being taken away from him, one inch at a time.

"Dad?" It was Sabina's voice, coming from the backseat. She sounded a mile away.

"Are you okay, Sabina?" Alex asked.

"Yes. I think so. What about Dad?"

Edward Pleasure hadn't spoken since they had left the road. Alex reached out over the air bag and felt the worst. The journalist was resting against the steering wheel . . . unconscious, injured, perhaps even dead. It was impossible to say. Alex couldn't see anything. He drew his hand back and held it in front of his own face, so close that it was brushing against his nose. He couldn't see it. It was impossible to breathe normally. His heart was racing, trapped inside him, just as he was trapped in this car. He couldn't deny it. He was terrified.

He swallowed hard and somehow managed to speak. "Your dad's unconscious," he said.

"What happened?" He could hear the tears in Sabina's voice. Like him, she was struggling for control.

"I don't know."

"What do we do?"

It should have been silent here at the bottom of Loch Arkaig, yet Alex was aware of noise all around him. The engine was ticking and clanking as the engine cooled. There were strange, ghostlike echoes coming from the lake itself. The Nissan was groaning as it fought against the pressure outside. And-most terrible of all-a steady stream of water continued to splash into the cabin.

Alex felt the water rise over his knees, a blanket of ice. He was sure that it had only been at ankle level a few seconds ago, but time didn't exist down here. Seconds were hours and a whole life could be over in a minute.

There was the sound of fumbling in the back, then Sabina spoke again. "Alex . . . the door's locked."

"Don't even try to open it!"

Different thoughts were spinning uselessly through his mind. The Nissan might have a self-locking system. If the doors had locked themselves electronically, it would be impossible to get out. But there was no point in getting out anyway. Inside or outside they would die.

"What are we going to do?"

Alex was still blind. He reached up, hitting his hand on the ceiling. Where was the light switch over the mirror? He found it and turned it on. Nothing. Of course, the car's electrical circuits would have flooded. But then he remembered. Edward Pleasure had consulted a map just after they'd left Hawk's Lodge . . . and he'd used a flashlight. Where had he put it?

He pushed the air bag out of the way and reached for the glove compartment. Somehow he managed to get it open, and more water poured out. G.o.d! They couldn't have more than a few minutes left. The water had already risen over the edge of his seat, rushing between his legs. It was unbelievably cold. The whole lower part of his body no longer belonged to him.

But he had found what he was looking for. A heavy rubber cylinder. He flicked it on and to his utter relief it worked. The beam leapt out of his hand.

Alex had experienced more than enough in the past year, but he would never forget what he saw right then. It was the perfect nightmare.

The car was already half filled with water, which looked as black and as thick as oil. More of it was pouring out of the ventilation ducts, coming in two steady streams. Outside the windows there was nothing. The gla.s.s didn't even look like gla.s.s. They could have been buried alive rather than deep under the surface of Loch Arkaig . . . it would have made no difference. The two air bags took up most of the s.p.a.ce in the front of the car. Edward Pleasure was slumped against his, a great gash on the side of his head. Alex undid his seat belt and twisted around. Sabina was looking more frightened than he had ever seen her. She had drawn up her legs as if she were cowering away from the water, but it had reached her anyway. It completely covered the backseat. The bottom of her silver dress was soaked. She was shivering with cold and fear.

They were in a tomb. And they were alone. n.o.body would have seen them leave the road. n.o.body would ever find them. It would simply seem that they had vanished into thin air.

"Alex . . ." Sabina was staring at the flashlight as if it could somehow save her life. "What happened?"

"I don't know. The car lost control."

"Is Dad . . . ?"

"He's okay. He's still breathing." The light flickered and for a brief second the darkness rushed in. It couldn't go out now! Alex tightened his grip as if he could somehow will the batteries to keep working. "We're going to have to open the window, Sabina."

"Why?"

"It's the reason the doors won't open. We have to make the pressure inside the car the same as the pressure outside."

"But then we'll drown."

"No." Alex shook his head. "We didn't sink that far. I don't think we can be more than sixty feet down."

"Sixty feet is a long way, Alex."

Alex drew a breath. He knew that there couldn't be too many more breaths in this cramped compartment available to him. The water was rising all the time, the air s.p.a.ce beneath the ceiling becoming narrower and narrower. But once the water reached the level of the air vents, it would stop. They would be sitting in a bubble of air that would quickly diminish as they breathed out carbon dioxide. Sabina had been wrong. They wouldn't drown. They would suffocate.

"We have to get out of the car and swim for the surface," he said. "It's the only way."

"What about Dad?"

"Don't worry. I'll look after him."

"But how do we open the window?"

All the windows in the Nissan were electrically operated, and even if the battery still had power, it wouldn't have been enough to move them. The pressure outside was too great. A manual handle would have been equally useless. They had to break the gla.s.s. Alex thought about leaning back and kicking out, using the heel of his shoe. But he knew it wouldn't work. He couldn't get the right angle, and anyway, the gla.s.s was reinforced. He'd never have the strength.

He needed a hammer or an ax. Something metallic. A fire extinguisher? There wasn't one. Golf clubs? Edward Pleasure had brought golf clubs with him, but they weren't in the car. He'd left them back at Hawk's Lodge.

Then Alex remembered.

"Sabina, where's your dad's walking stick?"

"It's here."

"Pa.s.s it to me." He couldn't keep the panic out of his voice. He could feel the seconds ticking away.

Sabina pa.s.sed it across and Alex quickly examined it in the tentative light. The handle was metal and shaped like a duck's head. He could use it like a hammer . . . except it was too long. He didn't have enough room to swing it. It had to be shorter. How?

"Take this." He handed the flashlight to Sabina. "Shine it on me."

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her. He took the walking stick and fed it through the steering wheel, slanting diagonally across the dashboard so that the tip was in the far corner. The bulk of the walking stick was now in front of him. Using all his strength and his own body weight, he wrenched forward, pushing the stick in front of him. There was a creak of straining wood, but the stick held.

The water was rising over his chest. He could feel its grip, as cold as death. He tried again and this time he was successful. The walking stick snapped in half.

There was no time to lose. He let the bottom half drop and took the splintered end in his hand. He now had something like a hammer, about a foot long.

"I'm going to break the window," he shouted. "Take a deep breath. As soon as the water's over your head, you'll be able to open the door."

Sabina nodded. She was either too cold or too frightened to speak.

Alex clutched the walking stick. Then, at the last minute, he remembered something he had learned from his days scuba diving with his uncle. "Don't hold your breath!" he exclaimed. It was one of the most common reasons for diving accidents. If he and Sabina held their breath as they rose through the different pressure levels, they would end up puncturing their lungs. "Swim as fast as you can," he said. "But remember to hum as you go."

"What do you want me to hum, Alex? 'Auld Lang Syne'?"

Alex almost smiled. Only Sabina could still make jokes at a time like this. Perhaps that was why the two of them were so close. "Hum anything, Sabina," he said. "As long as you're humming, your lungs will be open."

He unfastened Edward's seat belt and checked that the driver's door was unlocked. The car was filling more slowly now, but there couldn't be much more oxygen left. He tightened his grip on the broken walking stick, then swung it with all his strength, aiming for his own pa.s.senger window, as high up as possible. The duck's-beak handle slammed into the gla.s.s.

Sabina had aimed the flashlight toward him, and he saw a series of spidery cracks in the gla.s.s. Water oozed in, but the window held. Was it his imagination or was it already getting more difficult to breathe? He had seconds left. He swung the makeshift hammer again, then once more.

On the third strike, the window shattered, and Alex was almost torn out of his seat by the torrent of water that came rushing in, filling up the available s.p.a.ce. The flashlight went out and the blackness returned so suddenly that he wondered if the force of the water might have knocked him out. But he was still conscious. Still thinking. Had Sabina managed to open her door? He couldn't worry about her. There was nothing more he could do. He had to get himself out. And Edward Pleasure too.

Fumbling, blind, he searched for the door handle. He had underestimated just how cold the rush of water would be. There were iron bands around his chest, crushing him, trying to empty his lungs. He squeezed the handle and felt the door open. At once he lurched sideways, fighting his way out of the car.

But he didn't dare go too far. Everything was black. If he lost contact with the car, he would never find it again, and Edward Pleasure would drown. With the icy water swirling around his face, he hooked a hand underneath the door frame and felt his way over the roof and down the other side. Where was the door handle? He was already beginning to strain for air. He should have opened it from the inside. That might have saved a few precious seconds.

His hand smashed into the side mirror, but it didn't matter because he couldn't feel anything. Somehow he managed to curl his fingers around the handle and pull. The door opened. Alex's own natural buoyancy was dragging him up, but he kicked out, forcing himself to stay down. He reached inside and put his arms around Edward Pleasure, yet he couldn't get him out. He seemed to be stuck, jammed against the steering wheel.

With his own air running out and the surface at least sixty feet away, Alex thought the unthinkable. It was like some devil voice whispering in his ear. Leave him. Look after yourself. If you stay down here any longer, both of you will die. Leave him. Look after yourself. If you stay down here any longer, both of you will die.

It was the air bag pinning him in place. That was the problem. Alex still had the walking stick. At the last moment, almost instinctually, he had slipped it through his belt, taking it with him. Now he drew it out and, holding it this time by the handle, jabbed the splintered end into the nylon skin. He felt it puncture and there was a rush of bubbles against his fist. He was briefly tempted to breathe them in-but somehow he remembered that there would be nitrogen rather than oxygen inside the bag and it wouldn't do him any good. The bag crumpled. Alex pulled again. Edward Pleasure came free.

They were out of the car-but which way was up? Alex couldn't even see the bubbles escaping from his lips. Nor could he feel them. The intensity of the cold had punched right through him and his entire body was numb. He was still gripping Edward Pleasure and he kicked out with his legs, hoping that gravity, buoyancy, whatever would take him in the right direction.

The journalist was dragging him down. He was a dead weight in Alex's arms, and once again that voice was in his ear. Let him go. Forget him. Save yourself. Let him go. Forget him. Save yourself. But he just gripped all the tighter, kicked and kicked again. But he just gripped all the tighter, kicked and kicked again.

Alex was following his own advice and humming-not a tune, more a soft moan of despair. Suppose he was wrong? The Nissan could have plunged a hundred feet or even more. He looked up but saw no light, no sign of the surface.

He kicked.

It didn't feel as if he was making any progress. And what about Edward? How could Alex be sure he was still alive?

His chest was beginning to ache. His lungs were screaming for air and Alex knew that he wouldn't be able to resist them much longer. It couldn't have taken him more than a minute to clamber across the car. Another minute to get Edward out. Perhaps another minute since then. Surely he could hold his breath longer than that!

But not in this cold. The icy chill of Loch Arkaig had weakened him. It was all over. His humming faltered and stopped. There was no more air to come out. With a sob of pure despair Alex opened his mouth . . .

. . . And breathed air. He didn't even know how or when he had reached the surface. He hadn't felt his shoulders break through. Somehow he was just there. As his vision cleared, he saw the blurred outline of the moon, lost behind clouds, and a scatter of still-falling snow. He had to struggle to keep Edward Pleasure's head above water, and he wondered, with a sense of dread, if the rescue had all been in vain. He wasn't sure that Sabina's father was still breathing. He looked horribly like a corpse.

And where was Sabina? Alex tried to call her name, but he was too frozen . . . his chest, his vocal cords. He jerked around in the water. There was Kilmore Castle, high above him. The sh.o.r.e was about sixty feet away. He was alone. She hadn't made it.

"Aaah . . ."

No. He was wrong. There was a splashing sound, the black surface of the lake parted, and suddenly Sabina was next to him with light rippling around her. Her face was white. Her long hair had come loose and was hanging into the water. She had tried to call his name, but it was too much for her. The two of them stared at each other, saying more with their eyes than they could ever have managed with words. Then Sabina reached out and took hold of her father, sharing the weight. The two of them began an awkward, stumbling swim to dry land.

And even as they went, Alex knew that their ordeal wasn't over yet. They hadn't drowned, but they could still die of cold. Their body temperatures must be dangerously low. Once they were on the sh.o.r.e, they would have to find help-and quickly, before their entire systems shut down. But how could they do it? Kilmore Castle was too high up, too far away. None of the guests would be leaving yet. And Edward Pleasure needed immediate help . . . unless it was already too late.

There was a loud bang and for a horrible moment Alex thought that someone was shooting at them, but a second later the sky exploded with a blaze of white and silver, and he realized McCain had just launched his first fireworks. So this was the New Year . . . and what a way to begin it, with this hideous midnight swim. All around him, the water shimmered with a brilliant array of colors as the display continued overhead. He could imagine the guests, sipping their champagne, wrapped up in their coats and scarves, as they watched from the battlements with the usual ooohs and aaahs as each five-hundred-dollar missile was outdone by the next. What would they think if they could see what was happening below? Death and champagne. It seemed incredible that the two could be so close, existing side by side.