Chapter 9 #2
“At least you have pants.”
She got a smile from Doyle as they walked, soaked through and barefoot, down the boardwalk, having dragged themselves out of the ocean.
Tia might, just a smidgen, regret shucking off her canvas pants in the dark depths of the sea, but maybe that had kept her from drowning, so...
Now she walked down the street in a sopping-wet black T-shirt and matching underwear, and set against the chaos around her, it might not be a big deal.
Still.
With dawn spilling over the city, the smoke had lifted, revealing the still-smoldering fires of a couple buildings along the boardwalk.
The bank. And a local restaurant, which had probably been the source of the blaze.
No, the source of the blaze was the landslide from Cumbre de Luz, a tumble of black lava rock, trees, and dirt that skidded down the mountain, impossibly avoiding the monastery and cascading in a lethal strip right into Esperanza and all the way to the ocean.
It had somehow missed an apartment building, taken out a couple homes, obliterated the buildings at the boardwalk, and plunged into the ocean.
Locals fought the fires with water and foam, a motley volunteer fire department spraying ocean water onto the blaze. Soot and smoke tinged Tia’s skin, adding to her sense of griminess.
Or could be that was a byproduct of the tragedy that maybe, just maybe, she’d been a part of creating. “What happened here?”
She shouldn’t have bought into Ethan’s crazy treasure-hunting story.
“Stop trying so hard.”
Yes, but if she didn’t try, who would?
“Earthquake,” said Doyle, and took off his shirt, a long-sleeve, wringing out the lightweight nylon. Of course, that left him bare-chested, and who knew Mr. Humanitarian Aid had washboard abs? She should have guessed that, however, given the time she’d spent leaning against him as they climbed out of the mountain, into the water.
She could still feel his breath on her neck, hear the tiny grunts as he lowered them down. Quiet, strong, reliable.
And she’d nearly lost him to the waves.
“Just wrap it around your waist,” Doyle said, pulling her away from the terrible moment when he’d gone under and let go of the tether between them.
She took the shirt and tied the arms around her waist, and at least now she had a back bumper.
No one would notice her anyway with the sirens sounding, the crowds watching the fires burn, and a makeshift field hospital setting up on the beach. It seemed the entire town had emptied out and gathered in the harbor, emerging from the rubble to assess their trauma.
An ambulance sat at the curb, lights flashing, and she spotted Dr. Greg Scott, along with a few of Declan’s American guests, helping people sitting with gauze held to various body parts—foreheads, arms, legs.
She shot another glance up the mountain to the orphanage. “I can’t believe the mountain came down.” Smoke filtered through the air, and she coughed, her lungs burning. “We should get up to the clinic.”
“I’ll try to find us a ride,” said Doyle, lifting his hand to someone.
She followed his gaze and spotted Declan jogging over to them through the sand. He wore a white button-down, grimy now and rolled up at the sleeves, a pair of shorts, and dock shoes. Smoke and grime layered his face, his jaw hard, his eyes reddened.
Behind him, Austen looked up from where she crouched next to a mother with a young child, holding his arm as if it might be broken.
Doyle veered off the boardwalk, onto the beach. “Declan.” He held out his hand, and Declan grasped it, added a slap on his arm.
“We’ve all been crazy worried.” He glanced back, and Austen had gotten up to join them.
“Long story. We were in the mountain when it exploded. Spent the night at sea, so that was fun. Austen.” He hugged his sister, and Declan turned to Tia, put a hand on her shoulder.
“You probably need to get checked out, make sure you don’t have any effects from being down so long with reduced air.”
“I’m fine,” she said, and of course punctuated that with a cough. Still. “Have the kids shown up?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of. I was able to get ahold of the security team—they say all the kids on campus are safe. And Anita just got here to help and confirmed.”
“What happened?” This from Doyle.
“Dunno. We were headed back to the house when we heard the thunder. The slide barely missed us.” He turned to the mountain. “Seismic activity? We’re lucky it didn’t collapse more of the mountain. As it is, there are still people missing from the higher neighborhoods. I reached out to a Red Cross SAR team from the States that does some international work—they’re on their way. Let’s get you two checked out.”
Declan motioned to a tent set up on the beach, and Tia noticed Dr. Julia moving between a couple cots along with Anita, her dark hair held back in a scarf. She kneeled in front of a child, examining a scrape across his chin.
“Where did all this medical equipment come from?”
“I had it brought over from St. Kitts,” Declan said.
“We’ll see what we can do,” said Doyle. “In the meantime, the US team can bring in a couple handheld units. When are they due to arrive?”
“Later today,” Declan said and gestured to a cot.
“Tia first,” said Doyle.
Um, she’d seen his hands now that they’d emerged from the ocean. Deep wounds, the skin scraped clean, raw. “No?—”
“Yes,” Doyle said. “I need to find Stein and see what we can do to form a search for the kids.” He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the cot.
“Fine. But you have to also find me some pants.”
He offered a slim smile, nodded.
She sat, and perhaps she did need help because another cough wracked her lungs.
Dr. Julia came over, stethoscope in hand. “What’s going on?”
“She spent the night in the ocean after escaping the mountain. Check for sulfur poisoning.” This from Doyle.
Dr. Julia’s eyes widened, and she crouched next to Tia. “Let’s take a listen.”
As she pressed the stethoscope to Tia’s chest, Austen stepped up to Doyle.
Despite her low tone, Tia heard her words.
“Stein is missing.”
Tia glanced over at Doyle, who took the news with a frown.
“He went back to Declan’s house last night, but when the landslide happened, he wasn’t in his room. Or even, as far as we can tell, on the premises. Zeus said Stein went to check a possible security breach but he just... vanished.”
Doyle stared at her, as if trying to assimilate the information. “Did you try calling him?”
“Cell towers are down, and he’s not answering any calls out on the walkies.”
He hung a hand around his neck, glanced at Tia.
“Cough for me,” Dr. Julia said.
Tia coughed, her gaze still on Doyle.
“I’m sure he’s okay, sis,” he finally said. Sighed. “But we need to regroup and find the kids.”
Austen nodded. “I might have an idea for that?—”
“Lie down, Tia. I’d like to see if you have any internal bleeding.”
Tia obliged, watching Doyle follow Austen across the medical tent, then out into the crowd.
Shoot— “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” said Dr. Julia. “Any nausea?”
“I spent the night in the ocean. Plenty of nausea.”
Dr. Julia pulled up Tia’s shirt, prodded her stomach. “Pain?”
“Hunger.”
She smiled and pulled out a penlight. “Dizziness?” The light flickered in Tia’s eyes.
Just when she remembered the way Doyle had pulled her up against him after she dragged him from the current. Yeah, she’d been plenty dizzy seeing the look in his eyes.
“Not... No.”
“Okay, you definitely have something going on in your lungs.” Dr. Julia motioned to someone— oh, Anita. The RA came over.
“Miss Tia—we were so worried!” She took Tia’s hand, crouched next to the bed.
“Let’s get some oxygen on her,” said Dr. Julia.
“I’m fine!” And then to prove it, she doubled over, coughing. Nice. Anita urged her back onto the cot.
“And a couple pillows to prop her up,” Dr. Julia added and looped the stethoscope around her neck.
Anita got up and disappeared, and Dr. Julia stood above Tia. “Getting some clean O2 into your lungs might clear them out, ease the irritation. Give it an hour, and I’ll come back to check on you.”
“I don’t have an hour. Kids are missing.” Tia made to sit up, but Dr. Julia put a hand on her shoulder.
“You have an hour if it means saving your life.”
Her eyes widened, and Anita showed up with the pillow and a portable oxygen tank. Tia took the pillow, then lay back down, and Anita fitted the mask over her mouth and nose as Dr. Julia moved on to the next patient.
Then the RA took Tia’s hand and knelt by the cot.
Wait—was she ? —
“Dear Lord, thank you for bringing Miss Tia back to us. Please heal her from her trauma.”
Yes, yes she was.
Tia closed her eyes.
“And please be with Jaden, Gabriella, and Rohan, wherever they are. Help us all not to be afraid. You tell us not to fear, Lord, for You are with us. Give us that grace to believe today. And help us find them. You are a God of hope, and we need that now. In Jesus’ name.”
A God of hope.
And somehow, Doyle’s words came back to her, sifted into her heart even as the oxygen filled her lungs.
“I believe in hope and truth and love. Even when it feels impossible.”
Anita let go of her hand, but Tia kept her eyes closed, just breathing. Just hoping.
She didn’t mean to sleep. It simply caught her up, the exhaustion folding over her, the oxygen slowing her heartbeat, loosening her muscles, drawing her into shadow...
Maybe it was the breeze or a car horn or even the sound of rain on the tent, but she woke with a start, opened her eyes, tried to?—
Oh. The medical clinic. She still lay on the cot, but night had swept in around her, a light rain turning the sky pewter gray and shivering the palm trees.
She too shivered, and realized then that someone had put a blanket over her.
Aw, she’d slept through the tragedy that she should be solving. She pulled the oxygen mask off her nose, sat up.
The makeshift clinic had calmed, only a few of the dozen or more cots still holding patients, and a handful of people in green hiking pants and white jackets held coffee, huddling in the middle of the area next to a bank of equipment. A couple portable X-ray machines, EEG machines, a defibrillator, infusion pumps, and oxygen canisters. Just like he’d promised, Declan had brought in supplies and people, and as she sat up, Tia noticed a pair of drawstring pants and a shirt folded at the end of her bed.
She got up, pulled on the pants, kept on her now-dry shirt, and headed over to two woman standing together.
“Hey,” she said. “Where’s Dr. Julia?”
Tia addressed her question to a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a T-shirt with a Red Cross emblem under her jacket. “She went up to the clinic on the hill.” She pointed to the monastery. “But you should lie down.”
“I’m done lying down,” Tia said. “And I’m the director of that clinic on the hill.”
“Oh. Jess Brooks.” The woman held out her hand. “Red Cross. My husband Pete is up there too, working with a team that’s going in to look for some kids.”
“Yeah. My kids.” She didn’t mean to be so sharp-edged. “Sorry.” She looked around. “How bad is this?”
“Two fatalities so far, the rest are broken bones. We off-lifted a number of the injured to St. Kitts because we don’t have a trauma center on the island.” This from the other woman, petite, dark hair. “Dr. Aria Silver,” she said, holding out her hand. “I came in with the Jones, Inc. Aid team.”
“The security team?”
“They do international SAR also. We came in to help the Red Cross group. It’s a joint operation, thanks to Declan.”
Of course.
“Have you seen a guy named Doyle Kingston?”
“Yeah,” said Aria. “I met him earlier. He’s Ranger’s cousin, right?”
“Yes. But he’s also my codirector?—”
“Right,” said Jess. “Yes. I think he’s heading into the mountain with the team.”
She stilled. What? “Not without me, he’s not.”
Jess’s eyes widened.
“Where’s Declan? No, wait—up on the hill.”
Jess shrugged.
“Fine.” Tia turned and headed out of the tent onto the boardwalk, the drizzle turning her skin to gooseflesh. She didn’t care. Shadows hovered over the shattered town, outlining the burnt husk of the bank, the neighboring restaurant, and it looked like the slide had taken out the bike shop as well. Steam still rose from the charred timbers. The rest of the rubble littered the beach—wood, mud, rock—the debris from the homes it had destroyed.
On the hill, both at Declan’s home—which seemed untouched—and the monastery, lights flickered like eyes overlooking the town.
She needed to get up there.
“Ma’am?”
She turned and spotted a man standing on the sidewalk, tall, blond, wide-shouldered, soaked to the skin in his long-sleeve T-shirt, boots, and lightweight field pants.
“Are you Tia Pepper?”
She frowned, nodded.
“Hamilton Jones.” He held out his hand. “I run Jones, Inc. Jess said that you might need a ride?”
Another man stood with him, dark hair, a grim set to his jaw. He held the same military bearing as Jones.
“This is Ranger Kingston. He’s been coordinating efforts to secure your compound. And now he’s working on a rescue plan. We’re headed back up to the monastery.”
“Perfect. I’ll take that ride.”
Hamilton gestured to a nearby four-wheeler, and she followed the men, climbing into the passenger seat in front.
Hamilton raised an eyebrow, but Ranger got in behind her.
She buckled in. “What’s the status on the search?”
Hamilton motored away from the beach, toward the side streets, clearly already aware of a route up the mountain. She couldn’t bear the sight of the destroyed homes, but couldn’t tear her gaze away either.
How could Ethan have caused all of this?
“We were able to obtain a TRIS unit, and it’s mapping the mountain?—”
“A TRIS unit?”
He glanced at her, then back to where his lights carved out the road that led up to Hope House. “It’s a thermal and acoustic imaging scanner that uses AI to map hot spots and match them with the acoustic signature of humans. Ethan Pine was able to integrate data from satellite observations to enhance the scanning abilities. We’ve been able to adjust it to detect recent environmental changes?—”
“Like a landslide.”
“And cave-ins.”
Right.
Wait— “Ethan is helping?”
“He was the first to contact Declan, who called us and asked us to retrieve the device. We arrived a couple hours ago.”
“We?”
“The Jones, Inc. Aid team, along with the Red Cross team we partner with sometimes.”
The monastery came into view, and she saw more four-wheelers and the flatbed Ford sitting outside the entrance.
A man—she recognized him as North from the security team—stood watching.
He nodded as they drove up.
She unbuckled and slid out of the vehicle, followed Hamilton and Ranger into the compound.
They headed straight for the dining hall. The room had been converted to a staging area of sorts, with a handful of men along with Austen Kingston studying a topographical map spread out over two tables pushed together. A tablet lay on the table, and Tia caught sight of Ethan Pine bending over it, moving an image around the display with two fingers. The smells of coffee and baking bread drifted from the nearby kitchen, the patter of rain on the roof, a chill embedding the stone wall and floor.
And, perhaps, her heart. Because as her gaze ran over the group... Doyle wasn’t to be found.
The conversation stopped as the door closed behind her, and Declan looked up. “Tia. What are you doing here?”
Her eyebrow rose. “Seriously?”
He came over to her, glanced at the team. “Right. Sorry. Are you okay?”
She shrugged away his hands reaching for her and headed to the table, moving in beside Ethan. “I thought you were in the mountain.”
He drew in a breath. “I already told Doyle that no, I had nothing to do with this.”
Doyle?
Ethan’s mouth tightened. Clearly something had gone down between them.
“There’s not a chance my machine would cause this to happen,” he added. “This was... much bigger... could be even seismic, although satellite data has ruled out any shifts in the tectonic plates.”
“Then what happened?”
“We’re not sure. But there was an explosion deep in the mountain, to the north.” He’d leaned over his tablet now, zooming out to a satellite view of the volcano. “It’s possible this mining camp had something to do with it.” He pointed to a worksite—the same one she’d seen with Doyle. “We’re still trying to contact them.”
“In the meantime, what about the kids?” Tia asked, looking up at the group. She recognized the two other Jones, Inc. security guys.
Silence.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re not sure,” Declan said and bent over the map. “The TRIS unit, along with Ethan’s report, shows a viable heat source here.” He pointed to a tunnel leading off one they’d accessed yesterday. “Only problem is, there’s a cave-in at the entrance.”
“The drone found another access point, however,” Hamilton said. He pointed to an area west of the tunnel, past the cliffside exit. “They left a couple hours ago to find their way in.”
They. She looked at Declan. “Doyle.”
“Yes, he’s with them.”
Her mouth tightened, but she nodded.
Of course he was, and she fought the terrible fist in her heart. Breathe.
But it was Edward all over again, someone she loved getting into a mess that might cost his life?—
Wait—what? She didn’t love Doyle.
Oh. She drew in a long breath. Maybe she did. Or was starting to. And he’d left without...
Now her eyes burned.
Only then did she feel the silence. A few men shifted around the table. “You’re not telling me something.”
Declan moved his hand behind his neck, squeezed. “There was another tremor. This time near the north, near their position.”
She stepped back from the table, her hands around her waist, holding on.
“And we’ve lost contact with the team.”
Of course they had.
“It could simply be interference,” said Hamilton. “But we’re assembling another team to find them.”
Perfect. She nodded. “I’m going.”
Declan gave her a hard look.
“I’m going!”
“No,” Hamilton said, blue eyes hard on hers. “You’re not.”
She stared at him. His gaze seemed not angry but deathly calm, and unmoving and...
“Find them,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then she turned and headed outside, into the courtyard, into the crying night, and stared up at the dark hulk of mountain. And all she had was Anita’s prayer stirring inside her. “You are a God of hope, and we need that now.”
* * *
“I don’t know who is crazier—you with your conspiracy theory about Declan, or me for listening to it.” Stein smacked the residue from his hands, a byproduct of another go at moving the steel door.
It wouldn’t budge, and his best guess was that debris had fallen into the chamber beyond.
“I’m just telling you what my boss told me. And I’ve seen the proof.” She sat on a boulder near the channel, now illuminated by his headlamp.
Phoenix. He still couldn’t believe she was here, in the flesh. And how he hadn’t recognized her before?—
His brain simply hadn’t wanted to believe what his gut was screaming.
She looked good too—her red hair cut short—still a little Mighty Mouse, fierce and currently smug as she folded her arms. Or perhaps angry that he didn’t believe her tall tale about Declan. She wore dive pants with pockets, and a neoprene shirt, an underwater thief.
Stein climbed his way down the rocks. He probably shouldn’t have left her sitting at the edge of the tunnel, but if she decided to slip into the water and disappear, where exactly would she go? He’d already searched the rubble for a way through, but it choked the exit, and who knew how far the debris went?
The other route, the one that snaked deeper into the mountain, however, did seem open.
Nope.
He landed next to her on the edge of the water. Everything beyond his puddle of luminance sucked away any light. It felt like being in the belly of a fish.
He shivered and sank down on a boulder. “Listen. I did my own homework on Declan before I hopped on his train. Funny, the wiki about my boss being a terrorist threat didn’t show up on my search. Declan the philanthropist, Declan the billionaire inventor, Declan the keen businessman and head of his own tech company, all yes. And he likes to sail, is interested in the space program, and enjoys quiet walks in the park.”
“All while playing real-life Risk with the world stage.”
“Declan is not a terrorist .”
“Okay, listen. I’ll spell it out for you.”
He pulled off the headlamp. Set it between them. “I’m all ears.”
“It all started when a guy named Edward Hudson created an AI program called Axiom. He owned a company by the same name.”
“The AI program that Declan owns. This is not a secret. It’s the hallmark of his company Quantex.”
“Yes. Since acquiring Axiom, Declan has developed the program for other applications. You heard him speak in Barcelona. He can add human personalities to the program, make it adapt like a human might. This is at least how he’s selling it to the Department of Defense to make it seem more like a soldier on the field, able to figure out right from wrong. Although, by whose standards is the question.”
Stein frowned. “I talked with Declan. He hasn’t sold it to the US military. Just a tech group that’s using it for automation.”
“Yet. But that’s only because he’s playing the bidding game.”
“The what?”
“The US military isn’t the only organization that is trying to get their hands on his program. China, Russia, even Korea wants to see how they can use it for their defense. But it could also be used for its offensive capabilities. Drones, missiles... And that’s what makes it so dangerous. And that’s why we can’t allow Declan to sell it.”
She leaned back, and by the look on her face, she believed her own words.
He didn’t want to see her fatigue. Or to dwell on how, even in the dim light of the cave, and even a little waterlogged, she still possessed an exotic element, her red hair against creamy white skin, those green eyes that appeared almost haunted.
Do not be played, Stein. He sighed. “What proof do you have of this?”
“Back in Barcelona, did you happen to run into your cousin Colt?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
“Colt works for the Caleb Group, a US organization that partners with the Black Swans. They were there to keep tabs on a man named Tomas Petrov.”
Silence. “I have no idea who that is.”
“For a long time we thought Tomas Petrov might be just a guy who’d been coerced into helping his branch of the Bratva with their money laundering. Just recently we found out that he was the head of a rogue arm of the Bratva operating out of Europe. It’s a long story, but he was able to access money that the Swans had captured. We think he liberated it... to buy land.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“In Mariposa.”
What?
“From Declan.”
“Declan would not sell land to the Russian mob. Why?”
“Maybe he didn’t know it was the mob. But you need to ask yourself, why did he buy this island, anyway? Out of all the islands... Four years ago, with the island still recovering after a terrible hurricane, Declan Stone buys the entire island, including a destroyed village on the northwest side. Why?”
“Because it was for sale? He likes to scuba dive? It’s a nesting ground for turtles?”
She rolled her eyes. “Or how about this—and you’ll need to put your STEM hat on.”
“My what?”
“Mariposa is lousy with a mineral called obsidite. It’s a rare crystalline mineral that is sometimes found in ancient volcanic soil. It looks like dark obsidian, with a sort of blue hue, and contains a blend of lithium, scandium, and etherium, which is known for its high conductivity and energy-amplification properties. Obsidite conducts electricity ten times more efficiently than copper, and the atoms naturally amplify any electrical signal passing through, meaning that it dramatically enhances the performance and efficiency of electronic components. It’s also heat resistant and extremely durable.”
“What are you getting at?”
She took a breath. “Obsidite is used in the production of AI chips, the kind that are used in AI soldiers.”
“Like the Terminator?” He grinned.
She didn’t. “Like the Terminator.”
“That’s... No. That’s?—”
“Welcome to the future. The chips can process vast amounts of data in milliseconds. And with the enhanced applications of the program Declan developed, the soldiers can make real-time strategic decisions in combat scenarios.”
He had nothing. More, he’d heard Declan’s presentation about Axiom months ago in Spain, and even then Stein had come up with nefarious ways someone might use AI. It had sent eerie chills through him, his brain imagining the exact scenario Phoenix had just drawn.
“And here’s the rub,” Phoenix continued. “Like I said, obsidite is really rare. Which makes this mine a strategic asset. Declan is fielding offers to sell it—to the Germans, to the Chinese, and even to the Russian mob. That, in my book, makes him a terrorist.”
“That’s a big leap.” But even as he said it, in his memory he stood on a hotel rooftop in Barcelona, watching his boss talk with a German researcher—in German. And that in itself wasn’t proof, because plenty of other international scientists had glad-handed him during the conference.
Meanwhile, Stein had been catching up with Colt.
Oh no. Colt’s words slammed into his memory. “The DOD has used it with some of their cybersoldiers ? —”
In fact, Colt had been the first to use the word Terminator. Aw...
Declan had either lied to him or didn’t know about the dangers...
“That kind of leap keeps the world safe,” Phoenix said.
He stared at her. “No. He’s not that guy.” But to his own ears, he sounded like he was trying to make himself believe it.
“Even Hitler had friends.”
“Really?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Found some footing. “I’ve spent time with this guy. He’s generous and yes, smart, but genuine and... I’m sorry. He’s just not the monster you say.”
She held up her hands. “I hope not. But he won’t get a chance to be without his program.”
Another beat.
She smiled, closemouthed as if in victory.
“You got into the vault.”
She shrugged but held his gaze. “Swans don’t fail.”
He stilled, and then memory clicked into her eyes. She looked away.
Yep, they were right back at the café before the bomb, weren’t they?
“Wow.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if in pain. Then she turned back to him, her jaw hard. Her expression, however, suggested something else. “I never meant for you to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to be there?—”
“I saw the backpack, and I thought you were inside. I went back to save you.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that—I didn’t even know what the plan was, Stein. They just told me to be there and then when to evacuate.”
“You had to know they’d set off a?—”
“Diversion! I had no idea that included a bomb! And—if you’d stuck to the plan?—”
“ Your plan still would have killed people!”
“No, it wouldn’t have. I’d already pulled the fire alarm, already gotten people out?—”
“Not me.” He didn’t mean to snap, but— fine. “Okay, I know you said to leave but...” He held up his hands. “It doesn’t matter.”
She drew in a breath, her mouth tight. “For the record, I didn’t want to leave you. I called the police—got you help as soon as I could.”
“For the record, I thought you were dead .”
She flinched. Nodded.
Okay, perhaps that had come out a little stronger than he’d wanted. He schooled his voice. “What happened to Luis?”
A beat. Then, “He lives in Portugal. Does some work for us occasionally.”
And right then, an odor hit Stein’s nose.
Smoke.
He stood up. A glow came from the edge of the door, a strip of light. “Something’s on fire.”
“It’s all concrete in there. How—” And then she got up, put her hand to her nose. “Oh no. Don’t breathe in.”
He looked at her.
“The lift—I’ll bet it had a lithium backup battery. It could have overheated, especially if it was damaged in the earthquake. It must have ignited.”
It made sense—especially since he started to cough?—
“Don’t breathe in!”
And then she tackled him into the water.
What—?
He surfaced, the water hitting his bones, turning them to ice.
Her eyes shone just above the surface. She swam over to the edge, grabbed her face mask, her fins, and then pulled the BCD and oxygen tank into the water. Handed him the regulator. “Breathe.”
He took a breath, handed it back to her. She took a breath.
“Are you saying the air is poisonous ?”
“Yes. And the smoke is going to seep in here and poison this entire tunnel.” She pulled out the secondary line of oxygen and handed it to him. “Smoke rises—we’re probably safe right now. But lithium smoke is lethal. It won’t be long before this entire chamber is filled with gas. We need to get out of here.”
“How?”
She stuck her reg back in her mouth. Turned and stared into the darkness. He shone his light into the mountain.
“No.”
She pulled out the reg. “Yes.”
“Sorry, but getting lost in the labyrinth of a volcano seems like a dumb way to die. I can’t think of a worse idea.”
She pulled on her face mask.
“What are you doing?”
She turned back. “I’ve been here for the better part of two weeks trying to figure out how to get into this fortress. I found this smugglers’ river on a map in the city archives. This tunnel goes all the way through the mountain.”
“No.”
“Yes. I swam this tunnel—went farther to see if I could get out.”
“And?”
She swallowed. “I... It’s a web. But I have a GPS. And an extra flashlight in my pack.” She dug into her pack, found a wrist GPS, and put it on. “And I loaded the map into it, just in case.”
“In case what?”
“Just in case you... were on to me.”
His mouth tightened. “You knew I was here.”
“I’ve been watching you for days.”
Of course she had. He shook his head.
“So, just... get past that and listen. We can do this.”
“These tunnels are miles long! We could get lost down here forever. It’s like getting lost in the catacombs under Paris.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Yeah, it is. There are catacomb monsters who steal your lights and your maps and leave you to die.”
“Now you’re just trying to scare me.”
“Good. Are you scared?”
Her mouth made a tight bud, maybe holding in fury. Or laughter.
He suddenly, terribly wanted laughter.
What—? He hadn’t missed her. He’d known her for all of two days.
Two explosive, interesting, intense days.
“Why, every time I see you, does it involve running and near death? And bat-crazy ideas.”
“I’m just that much fun.”
She glanced at the headlamp.
He reached for it, pulled it on.
“C’mon—”
“I have the light, you have the O2.”
“You still don’t trust me.”
He cocked his head. “I never should have.”
She flinched.
And shoot, that was a lie, wasn’t it?
Then her mouth tightened. “Right.”
He looked past her into the dark water. “I’m going to regret this.”
She smiled. Then, “C’mon, Frogman. The only easy day was yesterday, right?”
“Don’t do that.” He leaned down to pull off his shoes. Threw them onto the rocky ledge. He liked them—he’d purchased them in Catalonia.
“Do what?” She treaded water, snapping on her BCD.
“Give me SEAL quotes.”
“Aw. Get comfortable being uncomfortable.”
“For the love.” He settled in the water, reached out, and hooked his hand into one of her straps. Tugged her body closer to him. His secondary oxygen line only stretched so far.
“Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.”
“That is actually a good one. It’s about doing things right so you save time?—”
“I prefer ‘Come with me if you want to live.’” She’d lowered her voice, turned it mechanical.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” She met his eyes, smiled, then popped in her reg. Sank into the water.
He yanked off his jacket, left it floating.
And the one SEAL saying that settled into his brain and seeped through him as they started into the darkness, his light bright against the dark lava tunnel, was: No plan survives first contact with the enemy .
Hopefully it would survive the second.