by Nina Bruhns
Damn! She needed to ask him. But she couldn’t. Her phone was ruined.
By this man, perhaps?
Was Clint Walker not an ally at all, but the saboteur?
She swallowed. “If by that you mean have I found a handsome, sexy man to pass the time with on this less-than-luxurious cruise, then yes. I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
Walker’s dark eyes held hers for a moment longer. “I hope to hell you haven’t told him anything,” he said. “Romanov’ll turn you over to the FSB in a hot minute if he even suspects what’s going on. He’s on their payroll, you know.”
Her heart zoomed painfully to her throat. That couldn’t be true! “He isn’t,” she refuted hoarsely. He would have told her. Hell. Thurman would have told her. Wouldn’t he?
She realized too late she’d given herself away.
“He’s in disgrace, Miz Severin. Done. Unless he hauls in a big catch to impress his government. Be careful. Don’t let that catch be you.”
With that, Clint Walker stood and walked away, heading forward, toward the torpedo room. Leaving Julie’s mind in a chaos of confusion.
If his dire warning hadn’t matched Thurman’s—and Nikolai’s own—so closely, it would have been a lot easier to dismiss. As it was, she was left with a sick feeling of doubt. One side of her conscience was telling her even if it was true, Nikolai had changed his mind about turning her in. He’d said so. He’d promised to turn over the saboteur instead of her. He was working with her now. Not against her. They had an agreement, a deal. More, they had a real connection.
Didn’t they?
She forced herself to finish her breakfast, even though it now tasted like sand on her tongue, hoping she’d be able to think better if she got some food in her stomach.
It didn’t help.
One thing was crystal clear, however. As much as she wanted to trust Nikolai, and didn’t want to believe Clint Walker, she’d be a fool not to heed his advice. She needed to find that SD card before Nikolai did, and hide it somewhere herself—somewhere he’d never find it.
So after sitting there staring at her empty plate for several long minutes trying to decide what to do next, she finally gave up. She needed to take at least one bull by the horns.
So she’d go to find Nikolai. And confront him.
But first, she’d take advantage of the absence of the scientists from their usual posts.
Time to get back to her search in earnest.
16
Up on deck, Nikolai pushed the brim of his cap up with a finger, tipping his face to the sun. The morning was absolutely stunning. A practically tropical ten degrees centigrade and wind still, the Pacific as calm as he’d ever seen it. A perfect Midsummer’s Eve for a steel picnic—and whatever pre-Bluenose mischief his officers had planned. He really hoped the weather held through this afternoon. They still had a few hours of transiting until they hit the date line and the festivities could begin.
Meanwhile they’d reached the first research area and there were samples to be taken. Many samples. Ostrov had come to a stop, and the crew had helped the scientists get their equipment up to the deck where they’d commenced dipping and scooping, filming, netting, and filtering. Nikolai insisted everyone up top be wearing life vests, and the passengers all be clipped to the low toe-rails that rimmed the flat portion of the deck. The last thing he needed was someone to be swept overboard by a rogue wave. Calm as the sea was, just five minutes in the frigid water could kill a person. Hypothermia was a real danger.
He glanced aft as another head emerged from the hatch, hoping it was Julie. Disappointment streaked through him when he saw it wasn’t her. He hadn’t seen her since she fell asleep after the last time they made love, and he was missing her like mad.
The memory of having her lush body there beneath him, cradling his hips with her thighs and joined with him as one, caused his body to quicken. Damn, where was she? He needed to have her in his arms. Needed to put his nose to her hair and breathe deeply of the scent he was craving like a drug.
As though she could feel his longing for her, she appeared, and climbed up through the hatch. Her expression when she spotted him, however, was more guarded than glad.
What was wrong?
Maybe she was still nervous about the ocean.
He threaded his way past the busy clutch of researchers to get to her. He took her tether from the rating helping her up and clipped the end of it to his own belt so they could find a place where it was less crowded to talk. Maybe steal a kiss.
“Hi,” he said and reached out to brush his thumb gently across her cheek. He wanted badly to touch her more, but this was probably a bit too public for overt displays of affection. Everyone undoubtedly knew about them. But for some reason, the scientists were far more critical of their relationship than his own men, who seemed to view it as a coup for their side. The only passenger who appeared to wholeheartedly approve of the liaison was young Dr. Stedman.
“Where have you been?” Nikolai asked Julie.
“Hi,” she returned, peering apprehensively out at the ocean rather than at him. “I was taking advantage of the science team being up here on deck to do some searching below,” she answered.
Ah. Okay, that made sense. But before he could pursue it, he heard a call from the rear lookout high up on the sail.
“Kapitan!” The man shouted something Nikolai couldn’t make out and pointed at a dot on the port horizon.
“What is it?” Julie asked, squinting in that direction.
Nikolai watched as the dot materialized into a sleek cutter, slicing through the water toward them. “U.S. Coast Guard would be my guess,” he said at length, fairly certain he was right. He’d been expecting to see them somewhere along here.
“What do they want?” she asked. She grabbed his arm, but it was just to keep her balance on the rolling deck.
“The Coast Guard patrols the MLB, the Maritime Boundary Line between Russia and the United States. Making sure no unauthorized vessels try to sneak into American waters.” He put his hand over hers, hoping his touch would breach the sudden emotional distance she seemed to be keeping from him.
“You mean like terrorists and pirates?” she asked, glancing up at him briefly.
He made a wry face. “More like Russian fishing trawlers poaching over the line. You Yanks are very touchy about your fishing rights being violated.”
“You think they’ll board us? Ask for letters of transit or something?”
Nikolai chuckled. “Nyet. All the customs formalities were taken care of by the Arctic Institute and our governments. I’d guess the patrol is just making a courtesy drive-by—probably out of curiosity. Not often they get to see a Russian submarine up close.”
“No, I imagine not.”
Okay, something was definitely bothering her, and it wasn’t the Coast Guard. Had she found something in her search below?
As everyone on deck watched the big cutter approach, he snaked an arm around her. To hell with what anyone thought. But she didn’t lean into him as he’d hoped she would. Across the water on the other vessel a handful of white-uniformed Coasties were lined up against its rail, watching them back. When they got within range, everyone smiled and waved to each other—everyone but Julie. The cutter’s horn tooted a hail, then it came about, leaving a graceful arc of spray in its wake, and sailed off the way it had come.
After a moment of excited chatter the scientists all went back to their experiments, and Nikolai returned his attention to Julie.
“So,” he said, taking up their previous conversation, “any luck finding the SD card?” Though by her expression he figured she hadn’t.
She didn’t answer his question. Instead she said, “Listen, can we talk?”
“Sure,” he said. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
She finally dragged her gaze from the sea, glanced around to see if anyone was observing them, then drilled him with a dagger look. In a low but intense voice she asked, “Are you on the F
SB’s payroll?”
He was so shocked, he completely forgot about masking his reaction. “Why do you think that?” he asked, taken aback.
“Someone told me you are.”
That got his attention. “Who?”
“Nikolai, just answer the damn question.”
“Why would it matter?” he deflected.
He felt her stiffen. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She pulled away from him. “God damn it, Nikolai. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He gazed at her in disbelief. “Really? You’re really asking me that?”
She ignored the barb. “And here I thought we were being honest with each other!”
“We are,” he ground out, lowering his voice. People were starting to turn around and stare.
He grabbed her arm and tugged her along the narrow ledge that led past the sail to the forward deck, but he halted at the halfway point and turned to face her. He grasped her shoulders when he realized she was nervously focusing on the sharp drop-off to the sea and not on him.
“Julie, what’s this all about?” he asked, trying to keep his temper in check.
Again she pulled her gaze from the slate gray water below and pinioned him with accusing eyes. “It’s about you misleading me. I spilled my guts, risking my job, and told you everything yesterday. I thought I could trust you!”
“And now suddenly you think you can’t?”
“No! Not if you work for—”
“I don’t work for them,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m a naval officer, not an intelligence officer.”
“Then why are you on the FSB payroll?” she demanded.
He ground his teeth. “I did work for them, for a while, but it was a long time ago. I was young, and they made it seem like a good choice. I know better now. But once you’re in, they never quite let you go.”
She searched his face for a long moment. “That’s how you knew I was CIA,” she said at length. “They told you.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“You knew that night, at the hotel when we met.”
“Yes.”
“You were sent there to pick me up and seduce me. Weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question but an accusation.
He took a deep breath. “Yes. But—”
“My God,” she said, half in disgust, half in lament.
He wrapped his fingers tighter around her arms and pulled her closer. “Milaya. Believe me, it’s not like that. I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”
She put the heels of her palms to her eyes. “God. I am such a fool. I can’t believe I—”
“Stop this!” He shook her lightly. “Do you really think the man who made love to you last night did it because he’d been ordered to?”
“I don’t know!” Her eyes grew shiny. She looked away. “I don’t know what to think.”
За ебис.
“Liesha. Listen to me.”
“No.” She pulled away from him. “I need to think about this. On my own.” She tugged at her safety harness, pulling at his belt. “Unclip me, Nikolai.”
“No fucking way. I’ll walk you to the hatch if you want to go back inside.”
She glanced tautly toward the group of scientists scattered over the afterdeck working on their projects. “No. I should be watching and taking notes for my next article. Just clip me to the toe-rail like everyone else.”
“But you’re still afraid.”
“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Nikolai. I’ll get over it.”
He thinned his lips. He wanted to argue, but he could see it was useless. She had that stubborn look again that he usually so admired . . . when it wasn’t directed at him.
“This discussion isn’t over, milaya. But I suppose it can wait until we’re alone.” They needed privacy to hash this out. Now wasn’t the time. “Come and get me when you wish to talk.”
She didn’t respond other than to worry her lip and turn her head away.
He wanted to hit something.
He swallowed down the impulse to put his fist into the sail, which would hurt him a whole lot more than it would the solid steel wall. Instead he ushered her back to the scientists and clipped her to the rail. As he was doing so, he heard a shout from up on the bridge.
“Kapitan!” He turned and glanced up at the lookout again. “Periskop!”
Nikolai stilled. Pulling his cap down to shade his eyes, he watched the waves closely where the man had pointed. There! A flash. The reflection of the morning sun off of something small and shiny. He clamped his jaw. The utter gall! The Chinese captain was getting bolder, bringing the 093 within a half mile of them.
Nikolai’s irritation streaked into the stratosphere. Where was the damn U.S. Coast Guard when you needed them? He didn’t think Ostrov was in any real danger. Not with civilians on board, the world watching, and the authorities nearby. The Chinese wouldn’t dare try anything. Not even to get back their stolen technology. Not when retrieving it would involve effectively hijacking and ransacking another country’s military vessel. Wars had been declared over far less provocation.
But this close, there was always danger of collision. He of all people knew that.
The Chinese commander’s impudence was really starting to bug him. This was deliberate harassment. Too bad he had no way of answering it—not with the scientists on board. And the fucker knew that.
He narrowed his eyes as the sun flashed off the periscope again.
Or . . . maybe he did.
Julie was sitting on a thick rubber fender one of the ratings had taken pity and brought up for her from the storage room in the conning tower. The bare metal submarine deck was like a wet block of ice. Even in June the water temps must be not much above freezing. By comparison the air was a temperate fifty or so. Warm enough even in the shelter of the sail to unbutton her coat, spread it open, and enjoy the rays of the midsummer sun. If she’d had a light sweatshirt like the others, she’d be able to dispense with the coat altogether. She wondered if Nikolai had one in his clothes locker she could borrow. Though, he didn’t really seem like a sweatshirt kind of guy.
She looked up from her laptop as a string of angry exclamations rose from one of the women scientists. Julie didn’t understand the words, but it didn’t sound like Russian. Sure enough, Dr. Lautenen was standing at the side of the deck holding something and swearing in her native language. It was a satellite phone.
“Something wrong?” Professor Sundesvall called over from where he was pulling a contraption on a long rope up from the ocean, which he no doubt hoped was filled to the brim with singled-celled slimy ooze. His project had to do with plankton, Julie recalled. Species change or migration or some such thing. She hadn’t gotten to interview him yet.
“My sat phone is kaput,” Dr. Lautenen called back angrily. “This is most inconvenient. I wish to send my readings back to the university today.”
Nikolai had disappeared below shortly after the periscope sighting, so his XO, Starpom Varnas, who’d been left in charge of things topside, went over to lend assistance. He took the phone, examined it, then immediately popped the battery cover off. He grimaced. Uh-oh. Someone else’s phone had been sabotaged, too?
Dr. Lautenen let out a cry of dismay, followed by a few other words in Finnish that Julie was glad she didn’t understand.
Okay. This was just bizarre. Julie wasn’t the only one being targeted? But why? It made no sense. Unless the Finnish woman was also a spy. . . . Good grief. How many people on board weren’t what they seemed to be?
Or maybe this particular phone sabotage had nothing to do with spies or the SD card hidden on Ostrov. Maybe this was instead about the theft of scientific research, or competition for a first announcement of an important breakthrough. She’d heard academics could be cutthroat.
Still, this was ridiculous.
Starpom Varnas surprised her by announcing in his silky accent, “Miss Severin’s phone was also tampered. Who else has satellite phone?”
Two other hands went up, Profess
or Sundesvall’s and Josh’s. That was when she realized two of the team were missing. Rufus Edwards and Clint Walker were not on the deck. She hadn’t thought about it before because they weren’t actually scientists.
“Please to check phones,” Varnas ordered briskly.
The professor and Josh obediently pulled them out and punched buttons. Immediately Sundesvall shook his set and tried again. “Mine doesn’t work either,” he said, visibly upset. “Dr. Stedman?”
Josh, standing close to Varnas, put his phone to his ear and listened, then gave a quick shoulder lift and held it to the starpom’s ear. “Nothing wrong with mine.”
Varnas met his eyes and nodded. “Is good.” Then he held out his hands to Dr. Lautenen and the professor. “Give phones to me. Chief engineer very good. Maybe he can fix.”
“Can you take mine, too?” Julie asked hopefully.
“Yes, of course,” Varnas said. “Come. We get.”
“Great.”
She let him unclip her safety harness and walk behind her to the hatch, which was situated on the deck just before it dropped off into the blue oblivion. One slip of the foot and she’d plunge into the frigid water. She was glad the starpom was there to make sure she didn’t. And that she was no longer wearing those wobbly high heels.
When they got to the bottom of the ladder inside, she had to stop and blink her eyes, letting them adjust to the relative darkness of the interior after the bright sunlight above. She wrinkled her nose against the diesel smell.
They landed in the same compartment where she’d hidden herself away just the previous night to recover from her discussion with Nikolai. Since she wasn’t crying now, the men didn’t avoid her. They greeted her politely.
At a beckon from Starpom Varnas, an older man came up to them, apparently the chief engineer. A quick exchange in Russian followed, and Varnas held up the two ruined phones, said a few more words, then gestured to her.
The older man chuckled. Not the reaction she’d expected. He led them through a watertight door to the next compartment and pointed. There, lined up on a console, were three more sat phones, wires gutted and exposed.
