Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

 

 

AT ALEC’S CRY, chaos erupted. Shaw appeared with Aron flung over his shoulder, still unconscious and bleeding, followed closely by Rip who shepherded the terrified captive women and their children up the metal staircase and outward to where the boat waited with their loved ones. In his arms was a limp Miss Russel, the TTX dart still protruding from her lower leg. He raised his eyebrows, a silent inquiry as to whether she was friend or foe.

“Tie her up,” Isa said. “She works for my uncle.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he nodded. There would be no escape for Miss Russel.

“Here.” Avra broke away from the group, stepping sideways to hold out a simple chemise, which she gratefully accepted.

“Thank you.” Naked in front of Finn was one thing but standing nude among the BURR team felt wrong. Isa pulled the garment over her head while Avra rushed up the metal stairs as Shaw urged them all to hurry.

Anger, worry and relief washed over her. Once everyone was safely evacuated, she’d like nothing better than to see this submersible sink to the bottom of the sea. The Royal Navy, however, would want to keep this extraordinary technology within its grip.

Alec bent over the four small dials, frantically working through different sequences of numbers. “Do you know of any combination that might mean something special to your uncle?”

None came to mind, though she rattled off the year of his birth‌—‌he was rather self-important‌—‌along with those of a few family members. But not a single combination worked. Her mind raced. Four digits, possibly random, though she doubted it. Her uncle always planned and schemed.

“Go,” he said. “Follow the others. Please.”

“Not without you.” She didn’t like the way he was favoring his knee, and there was not the slightest chance she would leave the man she loved behind on a ship rigged with a bomb.

“Caught the bastard trying to use the escape hatch.” Gripping her uncle by the collar, Rowan shoved the traitor into the room. Arms tied behind his back, his lip was split and an eye was rapidly swelling. His trousers were wet from the knees down, and a steady trickle of blood flowed from beneath their hem over his bare feet. A grim satisfaction pulled at her lips.

Alec’s jaw dropped, then snapped shut. He glared at their prisoner. “The code.” Expectant, he lifted his hand again to the dial. The Lucifer lamp flickered and dimmed.

“Not a chance.” Her uncle lifted his chin. “I’d rather go down with my ship.”

“Tempting,” Alec said. “But I rather think the Crown would prefer an extended interrogation followed by lifetime imprisonment, though I won’t rule out execution.”

Defiant, he lifted his chin. “They will learn nothing.”

“Martyr to a lost cause?” she parroted.

“Another will rise.” Pragmatism drained away as a fervent look burned in her uncle’s eyes. There would be no reasoning with such a zealot.

Beside them, the Lucifer lamp dimmed. The crystalline structure within the glass sphere began to release tiny bubbles of gas.

“We’re down to mere minutes,” Alec warned, continuing to work at the dials.

Her uncle took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Isa narrowed hers. “A number. You’re a navy man, through and through. Committed to the ocean. What do you value? Your work. Latitude and longitude?”

Her uncle started, the slightest jerk of his shoulder. That was it. A location on a map.

“Stornoway?” She strode to the chart cabinet and slid open one of the three drawers and began to leaf through the maps. Nothing was marked. Her stomach churned. Could she guess it in time? She looked back at her uncle. “The location of your cave?” Nothing. What did he value more than anything? Becoming a king. “The Faroe Islands?” The skin about his eyes twitched.

“That’s it!” She dug through the maps, dragging out one that included her uncle’s would-be kingdom, and called their geographic coordinates. “Sixty-two degrees north latitude and seven degrees west longitude. Six-Two-Zero-Seven.”

Alec spun the dials into position. A loud thunk sounded in the wall behind them. He looked up at her, his eyes bright with pride. “It worked!”

With a roar, her uncle twisted. Breaking free from Rowan’s grasp, he ran up the stairs with the kind of speed only achieved by those with nothing to lose.

Rowan chased after him, and Isa followed. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her, arriving at the megalodon’s mouth the moment her uncle leapt over its jagged iron teeth, flinging himself into the sea‌—‌arms tied behind his back.

He might make it. He might not. Either way they would lose any information he possessed.

“Keep an eye out,” Isa yelled. “Be ready to catch him if he surfaces!” She darted back down the stairs. “He jumped!” she yelled to Alec. Running to the control panel, she scanned the many levers and buttons. It had to be here somewhere.

“Drummond?” Alec limped to her side. “The man is insane.”

“Agreed. But he might manage to survive. Might. But if we activate the hyena fish, there’s a chance we could drive him back to the surface. Help me figure out how to release them!”

Alec blinked at her. “You’re a most vengeful enemy.” But he too began to search the instruments. “My brother will want him alive.” He paused, then‌—‌as if there was some doubt‌—‌added, “For questioning.”

Isa didn’t much care what happened to him, provided that from this point forward his life was wretchedly unpleasant and preferably spent behind bars. “Mr. Black will have a few hours at the very least. Longer, if my uncle consents to reveal the cure for a caeruleus amoeba infection in order to save his own skin. This one?” She pointed at an unusual button.

“Possibly. It’s not anything critical to the submarine, so push it and see what happens.”

Without hesitation‌—‌but with quite a bit malice aforethought‌—‌she jammed her finger down on the blue button.

Nothing happened.

“Try whatever button lies beneath that odd, orange flip cover.”

Desperate and willing to push any button that would not send them on a nose dive to the sea floor, she lifted the guard cover and pushed.

Beneath their feet, something mechanical ground to life. The metal floor vibrated. There was a shout from above. They looked at each other with wide eyes. Without asking, she ducked beneath his arm. “Lean on me,” she said, offering what support she could as they made their way‌—‌together‌—‌up the metal stairs and out onto the strange balcony formed by the shark’s mandible.

Rowan‌—‌using a large metal hook on a pole‌—‌was busy fishing her bloody, bitten and screaming uncle from the water. They hauled him onto the patrol boat’s deck where he flopped about, cursing while Rowan flipped hyena fish back into the water.

Evil of her, perhaps, but his pain and suffering were gratifying. She hoped he suffered at least one bite for every single Finn he’d ever injured or killed.

Rip held out a hand, assisting her onto the patrol boat. Alec followed, his landing accompanied with a long slow hiss escaping from between his clenched teeth.

“How bad is it?” she asked, about to bend over to examine his knee, despite the thick rubber dive suit he still wore.

“Don’t.” He caught her by the waist, tugging her close. “It’s been better. Dr. Morgan will need to fix it. Again. But our mission was accomplished. You’re safe. For the moment, nothing else matters.”

She stared at the floating castle and raised an eyebrow. It tipped at a rather precarious angle. Impossible to imagine those within would agree.

“Mostly accomplished,” he amended. “We averted an international catastrophe. Well, mitigated it at the very least. The Queen will be able to lift her eyebrows and remind the other monarchs that they were warned.” His voice grew soft. “You have no idea how much I love you. I have never been so much in awe of a woman. Words fail me.” He lowered his mouth to hers for a soul-wrenching kiss that left her in no doubt of how he felt.

Of how she felt. She shook as emotion overwhelmed her. For the first time, a man had well and truly swept her off her feet. “I love you,” she whispered as he pulled away.

“You have no idea how much I’ve hoped to hear those words.” This time, his kiss held enough heat to make her skin steam.

The boat’s engine roared to life. It leapt across the waves toward the floating castle, yanking them. Alec brushed his knuckles over her cheek and leaned forward, intent on claiming another kiss.

A loud whistle pierced the air. They looked up to find Shaw staring and shaking his head, exasperated.

“Enough of that, lovebirds,” Shaw barked. “Moray and the Finn men need medical care, and they need it now.” Assessing eyes swept over them. “As do the both of you.” He pointed at a bench with a pistol. “Sit. Try to take another step on that knee, Mac, and we’ll find out exactly how many TTX darts it takes to drop a BURR man.”