Chapter 14
Fourteen
It was time.
The house buzzed with Gabe’s thralls, and a fleet of SUVs waited on the street outside.
Ryan barked orders in a no-nonsense ex-military style, and it set the tone. Everyone was grim, taking it as seriously as Cally could wish.
They’d gone over the details for a final run-through that afternoon, huddled around the maps and documents on the kitchen table while Marcel kept the coffee flowing and interjected with the occasional insightful question, diffidently offered.
But it was Ryan’s plan with a heavy dose of Eve, and Gabe and Cally leaned against the wall, watching and listening.
It looked simple enough on paper. Two teams, one led by Ryan and Gabe, the other by Noah and Zoey.
Cally was on Noah’s team, mostly so he could keep an eye on her.
Eve had been relegated to coordination, set up with a bank of screens in Antoine’s living room, and she wasn’t happy about it.
But Cally took comfort in knowing she’d stay safe, and would have all the information at her fingertips as things progressed.
Getting in wasn’t the problem. The McLean Labs at WHOI—where Alvin was housed—were, in Noah’s words, a ‘soft target’: standard perimeter fencing, minimal foot patrols at night.
It wasn’t a military base, despite Alvin being a multimillion-dollar asset.
The challenge would be getting Alvin out, onto a boat, and off to sea without being seen.
“Ready?” Noah asked quietly.
Cally nodded, tugging at the borrowed long-sleeved thermals beneath her tactical vest. Black jeans, black shirt, both her own.
Not really my own. Gabe had arrived with the bags of clothes he’d bought when she stayed with him, so she had a wardrobe, of sorts.
She longed to pay a visit to her apartment and load up, but she couldn’t justify the risk.
Not with the Order looking for her. At least she looked the part, dressed the same as the rest of them.
“Can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”
Noah gave her a reassuring grin, his enthusiasm infectious. “Yeah. If all goes well, we’ll have Antoine back by morning.”
“Morning’s the bit that makes me uncomfortable,” Cally said, keeping her voice low.
“We hit WHOI at midnight. An hour to get in and get Alvin loaded. Drive to Menauhant Yacht Club, half an hour. Another half hour to get Alvin onto Ryan’s converted fishing trawler.
That’s 3 a.m. From there, our best estimate is five hours to reach Antoine, and another to complete the retrieval.
” She hissed a breath through her teeth.
“Nine in the morning with a seventeen-ton, fifty-million-dollar stolen sub, the Navy potentially on alert, and the Coast Guard swarming around us like bees to a honeypot.”
“Hence Gabe’s yacht.”
“Yeah, I know. But really, they won’t notice?”
“They won’t look for us at sea. Not at first, anyway. Besides, they’ll be more interested in reclaiming the drifting trawler with the missing sub.” Noah winked at her. “We’ll be back before they notice, and if they stop Gabe’s yacht? They won’t find anything.”
“Just a feral vampire none of us can control.”
“Well, there is that.”
“Let’s move out,” Ryan said, cutting through the chatter, and Cally’s stomach clenched.
Plenty could still go wrong, but at least they were on their way.
At eleven, the SUVs peeled out, Cally sitting in the back behind Noah. The long drive wore on her nerves. Her nails dug into her palm, and she forced her hands to unclench, resting them on her lap.
“The trawler’s in position,” Zoey announced, reading a message off her phone. They were the first words anyone had spoken for an hour.
“Good,” Noah grunted.
The fourth passenger was Tom, one of Antoine’s thralls, and he gave Cally a reassuring smile.
Another half hour passed before Zoey spoke again. “We’re almost there. Radio check.”
Cally flicked on the radio on her belt, then pressed a finger to the earpiece she wore, confirming it was secure. Zoey’s voice came through in a whisper: “…two, three. Check, check.”
Cally touched the throat mic she wore. “I hear you.”
Tom leaned across the seat. “Hit the push-to-talk clipped on your vest here,” he said softly. “Hold it down while you speak.”
Cally blushed hard, finding the button and giving it a squeeze. “I hear you.”
“Great job, Princess,” Zoey said sarcastically.
“Don’t start,” Cally shot back. “I’m not in the mood.”
“None of us are,” Noah added. “And you shouldn’t need me to tell you that.”
Zoey paused briefly, then continued like he hadn’t said anything. “Don’t forget your gloves and masks. No prints, no hair.”
Cally didn’t need that reminder. Her balaclava was already half on, and she tugged it down over her face, tucking her plait inside. It quickly grew hot and humid, and she forced herself to slow her breathing. Her tactical gloves were next. Tight, synthetic material that was strangely reassuring.
At least I’m dressed the part.
“Tom, you have the bolt cutters?” Zoey asked.
Tom patted a thigh pouch. “Check.”
“Noah, Tom, tasers?”
“Yeah,” Noah said as he drove.
“Check,” Tom added.
“I don’t get a taser?” Cally asked.
“You get the duct tape and zip ties,” Zoey said, tossing a zipped pouch over the seat to her.
Cally scowled. “I want a taser.”
“You don’t need a taser,” Noah said. “You’re the strongest person here. Punch them, if you have to.”
“Try not to snap their necks,” Zoey added.
Cally blinked. Stronger than Noah? That was surprising.
Also, it sounded like a brush-off.
“Lockpicks, red-light torch,” Tom reeled off loudly, maybe as much to dispel the friction as to verbalize his checks.
But it didn’t do anything for Cally’s tension. “Is that everything?”
“No, that’s not everything, Prin—” Zoey closed her mouth with a snap.
Tom rolled his eyes behind Zoey’s chair, and winked at Cally. “First aid kits, a tranq gun, one pair of night-vision goggles, and Noah has a thermal scope.”
“Damn,” Cally muttered. “None of that was in the briefing.”
“It’s more than we need,” Noah said. “This’ll be a walk in the park. Knock out the security guards—and I’m not even sure that’ll be plural—grab their badges, open the doors, load up Alvin and get out.”
“Right,” Cally said. “Then all we have to do is move a seventeen-ton sub to a very public marina, crane it onto a boat and drive off without being seen.”
Zoey grinned at Noah. “She got that bit right.”
Cally bristled. “You got a problem with me, Zoey?”
The other woman turned in her seat to give her a frank stare. “Not one bit. I’m a prickly bitch and I like to tease. You got a problem with me?”
Noah chuckled dryly. “At least you’re self-aware.”
“No, I don’t have a problem with you.” If it was only teasing, she could ignore it.
“It’s how I deal with stress, okay?” Zoey added. “Comes of being the only girl, and working too many years with macho types like these two.” She jerked her thumb at Noah, then pointed at Tom, who shook his head ruefully.
“Okay, fine,” Cally said. At least it meant she wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure. In some respects, Zoey’s admission made her feel better.
“Honest answer?” Zoey went on. “I like you. You were cool under fire down I-93, and anyone who can keep their head while Noah’s driving is all right with me.”
“Thanks.” I guess.
“We’re here,” Noah said as he swung off the road, then killed the lights as they drove into a large, empty parking lot. “No chatter from here on out.”
A handful of dim streetlights lit the asphalt close to a path marked with WHOI signs, but Noah led them across the grass and through the trees to the exterior fence.
Beyond, the lab was a large, gray featureless warehouse with no windows Cally could see, only vents and a roll-up loading bay at one end.
A bright-yellow mobile crane sat hunched nearby, its boom stowed tight along its back.
“Heh,” Noah said with a nod toward it, “that’ll help.”
Tom didn’t wait to be told. He knelt on the grass, pulling out his bolt cutters, and snipped through the links. He wrapped a cloth around the jaws to dampen the sound, but still each snip echoed through the night, so loud Cally was sure they’d be heard.
Noah had his thermal scope out, a matte-black tool like a stunted telescope. “One guard in the office, feet up, arms folded. Looks like he might be asleep. One on patrol, far side. And shit, he has a dog.” He clicked his throat mic. “Ryan? Dog your side.”
“Thanks, we know.” His voice buzzed in Cally’s ear.
“Fine, the office is ours. You done, Tom?”
“Nearly.” He pulled the fence up, and there was enough space to crawl through.
“I’ve got the cameras.” Noah pulled a torch-like device from his belt, then slipped through the hole in the fence. He pointed it at the only camera on this side of the building, advancing toward it at an angle.
“What’s he doing?” Cally whispered. It didn’t seem to have any effect.
“Infrared flood blinder,” Tom replied. “Whites out the image, making it so overexposed it can’t see shit.”
“We’re good,” Noah murmured through his mic, keeping his device on the distant camera.
Zoey led the way, keeping low as she ran across the open ground to the side of the building where the office was annexed. Cally followed swiftly, trying to keep her footsteps light.
This is almost too easy.
Just as Noah had said it would be.
Across the lot, the dog barked twice, then yelped and fell silent. Cally peered through the window of the office, but the man hadn’t twitched. She could see the crown of his balding head; he sat slumped, chin on his chest.
Zoey crept up to the exterior door, placing her hand on the handle. She caught Cally’s eye, then gestured for her to go in first.
Cally blinked, pointed to her own chest and mouthed ‘Me?’
Zoey nodded, held up three fingers, and lowered them one at a time.
Three seconds to get ready. And she hadn’t expected Zoey to delegate.
What was she going to do, punch him? Zoey had said she could break his neck if she did, and killing anyone wasn’t the plan at all.