by Anne Renwick
Rowan sighed, but helped him struggle to his feet. “Dr. Morgan is going to tie your arms and legs to a bed. Good luck convincing him to fix your knee again. Last time he was muttering about amputation.”
He leaned against the railing, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. This was it. His last mission. “I’m thinking I’d better accept that offer of promotion.”
He’d miss working as part of the BURR team, but the promotion would ensure he didn’t leave this world entirely behind. Passing on all he’d learned, strategizing with his team and its future members. With Isa at his side, they’d carve out a new and exciting life. Together. He had to convince her that they belonged together.
Light from the castle windows poured out across the rough sea. Inside nobility danced, unaware—or uncaring—of the potential threat beneath their feet. But his thoughts lay deeper, with Isa and the megalodon. Any number of things could have gone wrong. He tried not to list them in his head. And failed.
Muffled thuds—felt as a pressure wave rather than heard—reverberated beneath his feet. He closed his eyes briefly, praying that the explosion originated beneath the castle, not within the megalodon.
Feet pounded as Rip and Shaw jogged across the deck to stand beside him. Rip raised a spyglass to his eye, scanning the base of the castle complex. They’d stopped six OctoFinn, confiscating all but one twelfth of the explosives. Would it be enough?
“The structure appears intact,” Rip reported. “Wait. It’s beginning to tilt. At least one pontoon has sustained significant damage. Possibly two.”
Lights flickered in the castle window. A few blinked out. Not hard to imagine the screams and chaos within. Crowns and tiaras toppling. Silk skirts and coattails doused with punch. Steambots scattering nuts and bolts as they crashed into walls. The BURR men held their collective breath as they watched, then exhaled with relief as the structure rebounded and settled—so much as was possible on the North Sea—but with a tilt of approximately ten degrees. A definitive end to the festivities.
Still, there was no sign of the megalodon.
“Time to move in,” Shaw announced. “We need access to their infirmary. These OctoFinn need care.” He frowned at Alec. “You need a cot as well.”
Alec shook his head. “Not until—”
The megalodon breached the surface, water streaming down its nose in great rivulets as it leapt from the ocean. Its chest slammed back down onto rough waves with a great crash that reverberated across the waves.
That was not the plan. That was an emergency blow. Something had gone wrong. That Moray and Isa had managed to take control of the boat was now in serious doubt. They needed to board the vessel—weapons drawn—and assess the situation.
Rip and Rowan ran for the helm, ordering the captain to turn about. The patrol boat’s engine roared to life. As it bounced across the crests of the waves, shooting toward the submersible, Alec wrapped his hand around the nearby railing and hauled himself along the gunwale, ignoring the ominous crunching of his knee, gritting his teeth against a fresh pain uncontrolled by the numbing agent.
The great metal jaws of the megalodon opened, baring jagged iron teeth illuminated by the Lucifer lamp that hung from the roof of the submersible’s mouth.
Silence. The submersible’s engine had stopped. Moray—and he prayed—Isa had boarded the vessel and stopped the submersible’s engine, forcing it to surface. But the eerie silence wasn’t promising. Icy fear gripped his heart.
His teammates seized weapons and prepared to board. Alec grabbed hold of a nearby weapon, one likely provided to the castle’s guards—basic, but effective. A single shot was loaded. Shaw frowned at him, but said nothing. He understood.
Their boat bumped against the megalodon, and Alec’s world narrowed to a single focus: Isa.
They swarmed over the jagged teeth as one, but soon left Alec in their wake, much as he tried to scramble behind them. By the time he descended the stairs that led directly into the helm, his teammates were already rushing down a long corridor without him.
Leaving a weeping Isa behind. He growled as he limped to her side. She was tied to the captain’s chair—naked—her arms bound to her sides with rough rope. Drummond, formerly of the Royal Navy, knew his knots.
Cries and shouts echoed back to him as the BURR team took possession of the submersible. He pressed a quick kiss to her damp hair, then set his weapon down and applied his fingers to the knots. “It’s over. We saved the castle. Mostly.”
“Stop,” she said, her voice choked and panicked. “Moray is hurt. Bleeding badly. I’ve no idea where my uncle went, but he has no intention of letting the Navy confiscate his megalodon. There’s a bomb.” She tipped her head at a strange metal box bolted to the wall.
He threw open the door in its side and swore. Four dials—each designed to accept a number between zero and nine—were mounted inside; a means to activate—or deactivate—the bomb. Copper wire wove and coiled across the surface of a glass sphere. Occasional swirls of faint light flashed through its fluid-filled interior. A single wire passed through the glass surface, threading its way to a gray, metallic cube suspended within.
“A Lucifer lamp detonator.” Clipping the wire or breaking the glass would cause it to immediately explode. “There’s no feeding portal. Judging by the occasional flicker of the bioluminescent organisms, the creatures are running low on nutrients.” When the glow faded below a predetermined luminosity, it would trigger the bomb. He scanned the device. Inputting a four-digit code was the only way to save this submersible.
But without knowing the code, stumbling upon the correct combination was unlikely in the time left to them. Still, he would try.
“Shaw!” Alec bellowed. Drawing his knife, he quickly cut through the ropes that bound Isa. “We need to evacuate!”
He turned back to the bomb.
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 li
p 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.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
PURPLE. A REASONABLE compromise between somber and celebratory. A deep shade appropriate for a widow, Isa’s dress was trimmed with ruffles and black lace that swept backward into a bustle. Slight puffs of silk capped her shoulders, quickly tapering into tight sleeves that ended at her wrists. The neckline revealed a hint of her clavicle but no cleavage. Demure, yet not dull. A gown fitting for Alec’s promotion ceremony.
She pinned a matching hat with a scattering of feathers to her upswept hair, snatched up a pair of black, lace gloves, and descended the stairs to wait at the window of her townhome. Outside, the Glasgow sky was overcast. A fine mist of water collected upon the window, gathering itself into drops before slipping down the glass in streaming rivulets.
A month had passed since that near disastrous night on the North Sea. The immediate days following the megalodon’s capture and the castle explosions had been a blur.
With the BURR team dismissed from security detail and instead working beneath the aegis of the Queen’s agents, the Royal Marines had no off
icial presence and therefore no right to make demands upon those who staffed the floating castle. Fortunately, the resulting chaos had thrown the castle guards into such a confusion that not one man had questioned the BURR team’s authority as they transported a small company of wounded Finn men and their families to the castle complex’s infirmary.
Nor had the castle physician in charge objected. The appearance of several men and one woman—herself—with a number of severed octopus tentacles sprouting from their bodies had rendered him momentarily speechless. But he was a man of science, easily intrigued, and the moment he finished treating assorted minor injuries the guests had sustained during the explosion—burns from toppling candles, cuts from shattered chandeliers, blows from tumbling potted palms—he joined Alec and Isa in the surgical suite, his interest captured.
Aron was the Finn in most need of surgical attention, having lost much blood during his struggle with the biomech octopus. She immediately set about prepping him for surgery. Alec struggled to repair the damage done to his leg, commenting that further operations would likely be needed once they returned to Glasgow. With Aron at last stable, they moved on to the next Finn patient, working steadily but quickly, removing tentacle after tentacle before infection could take hold.
Performing vascular surgery was a challenge what with the castle’s floor tilted at a ten-degree angle, making every step feel like a drunken stagger. Alec—his knee kept numb with a strong, local-acting anesthetic—propped himself on a stool beside the operating table, avoiding any unnecessary steps. Isa stood at the patient’s head, monitoring oxygen levels of each Finn, taking extreme care with their anesthesia. The castle physician listened and watched carefully—albeit with wide eyes—as she explained the finer details of Finn physiology.
Convinced of the Danish physician’s capabilities and reassured by Alec’s oversight, she’d climbed onto the operating table, the final patient.
