“PLEASE LET THIS WORK.”

Flynn inhaled the engine room’s sweltering air and pressed a button for the tenth time. The lights across the electrical panel he’d been working on the last six hours still glared an angry red.

“Yeah, I don’t like you either.”

Which meant the problem had to be between the switch and alternate power supply. The dreaded UPS. Which was behind the wall somewhere. He turned to find the right panel to remove, but then the room spun. He braced himself against a pipe to stay upright.

Crap. Forgot to drink water. Dehydration was so inconvenient. He had to repair this boat and get Alanna to Singapore.

Panting, he propped his hand on the wall and let the surge of discomfort pass. It wasn’t the first time he’d been so absorbed in a task and the clock got away from him. He grabbed the bottle of water Alanna had brought him earlier and downed the last few gulps. It was hot, barely refreshing, but it would keep him going.

Alanna had periodically come down with water bottles, and eventually another fan, though it had only succeeded in circulating stagnant, filthy air. But seeing her every few hours brought him back to reality. Reminded him of the goal. How time squeezed in on them.

When the nausea settled, he searched for the switch. It could only be in one section of the room.

He grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox and unscrewed a wall panel. He tugged on a part, but the bottom corner was caught on something. A luggage strap?

A black strap of fabric hooked on the panel’s bottom screw, the fabric similar to a duffle bag.

Below the floor?

Flynn pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. He knelt and tried to peek under the flooring, but there wasn’t enough space. He unscrewed the panel the rest of the way.

Not one black duffel bag. Four. Stuck between the pipes and metal railings like insulation batting. A makeshift smuggler’s rig.

What the hell?

He unzipped one of them. Beneath a layer of burlap and more fabric were at least a dozen automatic rifles and assault weapons.

“Shit.”

He unzipped the others, the contents the same as the first. All weapons were illegal in most countries. At least in the ones on their itinerary. There was no way any government official would believe these were for personal protection.

“What are you doing?”

Flynn spun on his heel. Liang Wen’s expression was unreadable, but he carried a radio in one hand and what looked like a Swiss army knife in the other.

Flynn palmed the screwdriver and stood, his gut signaling to defend himself.

He turned to the first officer, keeping his expression purposely impassive. The slight dizziness from dehydration was a little harder to ignore than he liked.

“What the hell are those?” Liang’s voice was low. Accusatory.

Oh shit. He thinks these are mine.

“I was looking for the alternate power supply to test the system. Someone stashed these down here.”

“Are you smuggling weapons on this ship?” The first officer gripped the Swiss Army knife, his knuckles white.

“If I was, this would hardly be the place to do it.”

Something flickered across Liang’s face, and then he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Flynn turned to his side, gripping the screwdriver behind him. No one on this boat was safe any more.

“I don’t know what you’re planning or who you’re working for,” Liang murmured. “Right now, our job is to fix this boat and get to port. We’ll figure all this out later.”

“These aren’t mine,” Flynn barked.

“I don’t care!” Liang spat, but then lowered his voice. “Just cover them up. Get the ship running, or I’ll call the authorities and they’ll deal with you.”

“Cover them up? You must be joking.”

“Do you want to spend the next thirty years in prison?”

What?

“That’s what they do to gun smugglers here.” The first officer slipped the knife in his pocket and wiped his brow. He opened the door, but waited at the entrance. “Shall I take you to shore now, or would you prefer to fix the boat and go to Singapore?”

 

 

 

Flynn trudged to the bridge. Drenched in sweat and apprehension, he stopped outside the doorway. His nerves double-timed, hearing the captain’s exchange with the first officer in Mandarin. No way for him to understand it.

It’s do or die.

He braced himself for the onslaught, and turned the corner. The men stopped, their expressions inscrutable. Then again, Flynn had never been good at reading other people’s emotions.

“I see you fixed the air conditioning,” the captain started. “Good work.”

Flynn glanced at Liang Wen. They stood there looking at each other longer than Flynn was comfortable. Sweat trickled down his temple. He needed to find out how much the captain knew. How much Liang may have told him already. And what had happened to Alanna.

“Check the nav system. Should be working now.”

Chen turned and pressed several buttons. A minute or two later, he nodded. “It is.”

Liang never took his eyes off Flynn.

“Then all systems are functioning, per your demands.”

“Yes, they are.”

The entire bridge held its breath, or at least that’s what it felt like to Flynn. Waiting for someone to flinch or blink. Which of these men was the smuggler? Or were they both in on it?

“Our bargain?” Flynn asked the captain.

Chen’s jaw twitched. A long moment later, he spoke. “Liang, weigh anchor. We need to make up some time.”

“Aye, sir.”

“I assume you’re exhausted,” the captain directed to Flynn. “Eat something and then retire to your cabin until next shift.”

Retire. Sounds like he’s imprisoning me. “I’ll enjoy the outside air for a while first.”

“Suit yourself.” The captain turned to the navigation board.

Liang Wen made his way out of the bridge, Flynn followed. When clear of the wheelhouse, he grabbed Liang’s arm.

The Asian spun and ripped his elbow free, eyes wild. “What?”

“Where’s Alanna?”

“Why should I let you have any contact with your accomplice?”

Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “She and I have nothing to do with that load below deck. For all I know, it’s you or the captain. Either way, you will not touch her.”

“If it is the captain smuggling those guns, then you better keep silent until we make port. For everyone’s sake.”

Flynn grabbed the first officer’s arm again, a stitch on his sleeve ripping. “Where’s Alanna?”

Liang wrenched himself free again. “Having lunch with the rest of the crew. Top deck.”