He was floating in the water, and he could see the light ahead. He moved toward it, wondering where it would lead him.
Then the light went out, and he was thrust into darkness. His body was lifted then lowered to a hard surface. With closed eyes, he inhaled deeply, wondering why heaven smelled like a freshly plowed field.
“Agent Bradley?”
Griff forced his eyes open. Staring down at him was a man dressed in full diving gear. He mustered every ounce of strength he could and attempted to push the man away. In his present state, Griff was helpless against Petrović or a highly paid assassin, a killer he was sure towered over him.
“Agent Bradley, I’m Captain Robert Livingston of the United States Navy. To my right is Commander Josh Fuentes.”
Griff stole a look in the other direction. There, a man, also in full diving gear, was leaning over Martin Warner and administering CPR. It took a moment for Griff’s brain to take this all in. Even then, he was still confused. The United States Navy? “How did you find us?”
“It wasn’t easy. Let’s just say you have friends in very high places.”
Warner coughed, and the commander quickly rolled him on his side. A gush of water spurted from the pilot’s mouth, followed by a gurgling sound and a noisy intake of air before his eyes finally opened. His reaction to the man looming over him in a slick black wetsuit was identical to Griff’s initial one, and he struggled to get up.
“Whoa,” Fuentes said, pushing Warner back down. “We’re friendlies. No need to fight us.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Captain Livingston said when he noticed the concerned look on Griff’s face. “We’ve got a basic medical station set up downstairs, and I can assure you that Commander Fuentes is a highly trained trauma MD.” He reached behind Griff’s neck. “Do you think you can sit up and get some of the water out of your stomach?”
Griff nodded, and the captain helped him lift into a sitting position. Within seconds he threw up an enormous amount of seawater. A violent fit of coughing and uncontrollable shivering followed.
The captain handed him a towel. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, you should feel a lot better. Let’s take these wet clothes off and get you into something warmer.”
Griff pulled off his shirt, waving off assistance from the captain. When the officer turned to lay it on the floor, Griff used those few seconds to size up the man who had saved his life. Captain Livingston was of average height, but it was obvious he believed in staying fit. Even in the wetsuit, he had the physique of an NFL defensive end, exactly the type you’d want on your side in a critical situation. Silently, Griff said a thank you to the powers that be for looking out for him and Warner.
But many unanswered questions crossed his mind. He’d need answers before he could let down his guard and get comfortable with his rescuers. For starters, how were they able to get to them so quickly? If memory served right, they hadn’t seen a single military vessel anywhere near the helicopter crash site, nor had they passed any since they’d left the harbor. The only ship they’d seen was a cruise ship and a cargo barge flying a Canadian flag and stacked high with containers. “So how did you find us?” Griff asked.
Livingston slid a blue and gold Navy football jersey over Griff’s head, giving credence to his earlier thought that the Navy officer might have been a football player in his earlier days. “The President of the United States personally called and gave me an explicit warning that I’d have to answer to him if anything happened to you. Seems he’s extremely grateful to you and your team for thwarting a massive terrorist attack.” The captain raised his eyebrows. “You don’t say no to the head honcho himself.”
Griff wrinkled his brow. “But how did you get here so quickly? I was told there could be no intervention without Castro’s authorization, and even if he did grant temporary clearance, there’s no way you could have gotten here so fast.” He paused and shook his head. “So where in the hell did you come from?”
“There’s no time for that now.” Livingston reached for Griff’s hand and helped him into a standing position. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the chair beside them and handed them over. “Put these on. We need to get down to the command center. There’s a very worried team standing by to hear your voice and confirm that you’re alive and well.”
Griff did as instructed. Although the new outfit was much warmer, he still shivered.
Traversing the open deck of the ship only led to more questions.
The flag waving proudly in the wind was a Canadian one, causing him to speculate that this could be the cargo ship they’d passed earlier. But why would there be American soldiers on a shipping vessel flying a flag of another country? And if that wasn’t confusing enough, why would there be a command center on board a ship hauling containers of who knew what?
He filed away his unanswered questions for now. There’d be time for them later. Right now, he had to talk to his guys to find out about Mac. Hopefully, a fully armed SWAT team had already been dispatched and would soon rain down the wrath of God on Petrović and his band of mercenaries. By Griff’s calculations, El Letal Cubano was now in Cuban waters and might already be docked at Santiago de Cuba, making that rescue attempt more difficult. But even with a full-out attack by military elites, the reality was not comforting. Nothing short of a miracle would save Mac at this point, assuming she was still on the boat.
He followed Livingston past the shipping containers, down to the lower deck, and got his first look at what the captain called the command center. He’d been expecting a dashboard with coordinates and a VHF radio. Instead, computers lined the walls, each offering a variety of views of the ocean, above and below the water.
“Guess this only makes you all the more curious as to what we’re doing in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, Agent Bradley.”
“That would be an understatement.” Griff cocked his head. “And call me Bradley. You saved my life. I think we can drop the agent tag.”
A smile crossed the officer’s face as he handed Griff a satellite phone. “It’s on speaker.”
“Bradley here,” Griff said into the phone.
“Griff! Oh my God, you’re alive.” Ryan’s voice was loud and clear. “We thought you were a goner, especially when satellite images showed your helicopter crashing into the sea.”
“Ryan, Mac’s in big trouble, and there’s very little time left. Did Dino send in the SEALs?”
There was a long pause, and Griff felt like a python had just circled his body and was constricting his chest, making breathing difficult.
“Ryan?” he squeaked out.
“Dino tried everything—even called in every favor he had in Washington. In the end, they couldn’t justify creating a possible international incident, not when you don’t know for sure that Mac is on the yacht.”
“Bullshit! Listen to me. Petrović has her. I saw him on deck. He’s the one who shot us down.” Griff was shouting at this point. The snake was tightening its grip. Hysteria was setting in. He struggled to breathe, but he had to keep going, had to convince them. “She’s running out of time. They’ve probably already docked in Cuba. While we sit around with our thumbs up our asses, she’ll soon be on another ship or airborne, and we’ll never see her again.”
“Griff?”
His head shot up at the sound of the new voice. “Dino, please tell me help is on the way.”
The dead silence on the other end was unnerving until Dino finally spoke. “I can’t. I pleaded with everyone in Washington who has the power to issue the order. No one was willing to go out on a limb. It was all I could do to finagle your rescue. I’m out of options at this point.”
Griff couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What in God’s name are you thinking? We’re talking about Mac here, not some unknown American in the hands of that crazy asshole. When you convinced her to rejoin the team to help capture Petrović, you knew she was still deeply scarred from her last encounter with him. You promised we would protect her. Do you remember that?”
“I wish I didn’t,” Dino said. “It’s tearing me apart, but Mac knew the risks. As for you, Captain Livingston has orders to take you to Miami, where a C130 will fly you to headquarters for debriefing.”
Anger escalated into a rage strong enough to rip apart the python compressing Griff’s chest. “No way. Neither Captain Livingston nor the whole fucking Navy can make me go to Miami. I’m not leaving until I’ve done everything in my power to save Mac. That’s more than you can say.” He paused in an attempt to control his anger. It didn’t work. “And another thing, Dinorelli, I’ve given the agency my best years, and I expected more in return. As far as I’m concerned, you can take this job and shove it.” With that, he slammed the phone to the counter and turned to walk away.
Livingston picked up the phone and handed it to one of the sailors manning the wall of computers. “Deal with it.” Then he caught up to Griff and grabbed his shoulder.
With a forceful jerk, Griff shook off his hand. “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t try to persuade me. I refuse to abandon any of my team members, despite my orders. Unless you plan on physically restraining me, I’m going to lower a lifeboat and be on my way.” He glared at the captain. “And before you consider stopping me, remember who warned you to make sure I came home in one piece. What do you think he’ll say when I tell him you and your Navy hacks went out of your way to get me killed?” He snickered. “Who do you think he’ll believe? Like you said, my team and I just thwarted a terrorist attack, for God’s sake.”
Livingston opened his mouth to speak, but Griff cut him off. “And be advised, I’m prepared to jump off this boat and swim all the way to Santiago de Cuba if I have to.”
Livingston studied Griff’s face before a hint of amusement creased the corners of his mouth. “I’m way ahead of you. I anticipated help coming, and I had the helmsman change directions. With or without your friends, we’re on our way to Cuba as we speak.”
Griff felt a flicker of hope for the first time since this ordeal began. “I can’t thank you enough. I…” Then reality jumped in and doused the flame. “A man who is willing to kill an arena full of teenage girls is sick in the mind, but it would be foolish to underestimate him. We’ll never make it to the port, and even if we do, I guarantee he has another escape route ready and waiting.” He headed toward the side of the vessel, where a medium-sized lifeboat was secured.
Livingston laughed. “You CIA guys always did underestimate—What was it you called us? Oh yeah, Navy hacks. I can assure you no boat is getting into that harbor for hours.”
Griff stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “What do you mean?”
Livingston’s expression turned serious, but his eyes gave him away. “The passageway into the harbor is unusually narrow and lined with many international cargo ships waiting to unload and then reload before sailing back out to sea. Unfortunately, one of our ships miscalculated the turn into that waterway and plowed into a Chinese cargo ship carrying electrical appliances. What a mess that made.”
Griff took a step closer to him. “Continue.”
“There are washers, dryers—you name it—jamming the harbor, and by my estimation, it should take a good eight or nine hours at the very earliest to clear them. Not only did we get to poke the Chinese, but thanks to them, the stack-up of boats waiting to dock is now almost a mile long. There’s not a chance in hell any of them will get in until the wee hours of the morning.”
Griff closed his eyes for a moment, processing that information. If what Livingston had just told him was true, they had plenty of time to reach the yacht before it docked. But even with this new twist, there were other challenges. Since there was no way to surprise the crew on the yacht, he’d have to wait a few hours until darkness fell. With no option except to wait it out, he concentrated on how he could get on board the yacht unannounced.
“Seems I underestimated you, Captain. I’ll need to borrow one of your diving suits and the lifeboat after all. If you can get me close enough to El Letal Cubano, I’ll do the rest.”
“Slow down, Griff. I have something you’ll find a lot better than a lifeboat.” Livingston waved toward the other side of the deck. “Since we have a little over an hour before we close in on the harbor, why don’t we take a walk to where Commander Fuentes is looking after your helicopter pilot?” When Griff hesitated, Livingston added, “I promise we’ll sit down afterwards with a nice cup of coffee, and I’ll answer all your questions, or as many as I’m able to.”
Griff followed him down to the lower deck. As they walked past the command center, he couldn’t help staring at the high level of technology lining the walls. He wasn’t sure he could wait much longer for answers to his many questions. Like why a Canadian cargo ship would require this kind of sophisticated equipment.
Those questions were set aside when they entered a back room, and he got his first look at Martin Warner since the divers had plucked them from a certain death. Sitting up in a hospital bed and drinking what looked like a steaming cup of coffee, the pilot smiled as soon as he saw Griff.
“Well, you’re a pretty sight to behold,” Warner said. “I thought we were goners.”
Griff walked over and saluted him. This was the man who had bravely accompanied him, knowing how dangerous it would be. Without him, they’d probably still be back at the Miami harbor waiting for the Coast Guard to get clearance. “Thanks to the U.S. military, you and I can live to see another day.”
“I’m not an American,” Fuentes said, standing at attention and saluting Griff. “Commander Joshua Fuentes, Royal Canadian Navy.”
Before Griff could respond, Livingston spoke up. “Another one of the things I’ll try to explain in a few minutes. I just wanted you to see that your partner in crime was doing well.”
Warner lowered his head. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save your biochemical expert, Bradley. My gut tells me she’s more to you than just a team member.”
“My own stupidity kept me from realizing that myself. But I don’t intend to let it end here. With Captain Livingston’s help, I’m going to rescue her and bring her to safety. Or die trying.”
Warner bolted into a sitting position. “I’m going with you.”
Commander Fuentes reached out and forcibly pushed him back onto the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, Martin. Are you forgetting it’s been less than an hour since I pounded on your chest to revive you?”
Before Warner could protest, Griff shook his head. “While I appreciate the offer, I need to do this alone. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you after everything I’ve already put you through.” He patted the pilot’s shoulder. “No, my friend, you’re going to stay right here and get your strength back so you can take care of your family when you get home. They’ve been through a lot as well.”
The mention of his family brought a smile to Warner’s face. “Wait till I tell them about being shot down and then rescued by frigging Navy SEALs.”
Livingston stepped forward to join Griff beside the bed. “Unfortunately, you can’t do that, Mr. Warner. You and Agent Bradley have been unwittingly dropped right into the middle of a highly classified mission. As far as the world will know, you flew with him to find his team member, but an engine failure caused your helicopter to crash in the Caribbean Sea. Both of you were rescued by a Brazilian ship carrying a load of coffee to the Caymans.” He paused briefly. “Sorry, but only the people in this room will ever know what a hero you are.”
“I guess I’ll just have to be satisfied knowing I helped in some small—”
“Hold on a minute,” Griff interrupted. “Not everything about today is classified. By now the whole world is talking about the attempted terrorist attack at the convention center. When the media finds out you flew out to sea with me to save a kidnapped American hero with no regards for your own safety, you’re going to find out how appreciative the country will be.”
“I’ll take it, although I wish you’d reconsider and let me go with you,” Warner said, giving Griff a thumbs-up. “Do me a solid and go kill that bastard…slowly.”
“I think we all want a part of that, Martin, but unfortunately, ROXI is a two-seater,” Livingston said. “Since I’m the only one qualified to sit in the driver’s seat, and Agent Bradley has a rescue awaiting him, you and Josh get to stay here and hold down the ship. Maybe if you’re nice, he’ll introduce you to his stash of good scotch.”
“ROXI?”
Livingston nudged Griff toward the door. When they were in the hallway, he turned to him. “ROXI is the most advanced underwater vehicle the world has ever seen. Follow me to see for yourself.” Halfway down the hall, Livingston asked, “Can I assume you’re familiar with diving gear?”
“Certified as part of my basic training many years ago. Although it’s been a while, I think I can still handle a tank.”
“Good. Now if you’ll come with me to the underbelly of this rig, we’ll get you suited up and ready to go while I answer at least some of your questions.”