by Rachel Grant
The lobby was orderly mayhem as patrol officers escorted out terrified-looking families clutching scant few belongings in small groups.
The police had taken over the manager’s office, where Luke met with the hostage negotiator and the captain in charge of the evacuation. It was decision time. Yuri didn’t know they’d pinpointed his location, but he had to know they would be closing in soon.
Luke paced while the powers that be discussed options. He’d done what he could. Much as he wanted to, going in alone Rambo-style wouldn’t help Undine. He was just another soldier here, and a lowly one at that, given that he didn’t know how this team operated.
The negotiator was solid and had handled dozens of situations, but even he admitted this was beyond his experience. He’d handled home invasions, domestic disputes, one bank robbery gone wrong, but ninety-five percent of his calls were due to mental illness, where hostage-taker and hostage were one and the same.
This was a zealot who wanted to start a world war. Yuri and his nephews wanted to live, wanted to walk away from here, but the bottom line was all three men had known going in that they might die, and had accepted that. The best negotiator in the world wouldn’t be able to convince them to surrender. With surrender off the table before they’d even started, what was the strategy?
Skip negotiation and raid the apartment? Or go through the motions to lull Yuri into complacency?
The lights were off in 206, but snipers on the opposite rooftop could discern movement inside thanks to night-vision scopes and the wide picture windows that lacked curtains. Luke blessed the condo owners who’d had the old drapes removed when they moved out.
They’d spotted Undine huddled in the back corner of the bedroom, and relayed the information that she was alive and appeared bound but uninjured.
Thank God.
Three men crossed back and forth in front of the bedroom window. All three were armed. One pointed his pistol at Undine several times as he argued with the man they’d identified as Yuri. The one who was described as volatile and an active threat to Undine.
The moment Yuri learned they knew which apartment they were in, they’d avoid the windows as much as possible. Or they’d plant Undine in front of one of them at all times.
The need for immediate action settled the plan. There would be no negotiation.
The wide front windows rattled under the assault of wind that whipped off the strait. Undine shivered in her corner. It was so cold, if there were light in the room, she was certain she’d see her breath. She didn’t like being in the bedroom with Ivan and Yuri. Alexei, who was in the living room—presumably guarding the door—might have dead eyes, but he didn’t point his gun at her as often as Ivan did.
The cold apartment gave her an idea. The men had to be as uncomfortable as she was. “Can we turn on the heat?” she asked. Her teeth chattered, underscoring her point.
Ivan said something in Ukrainian to Yuri. Much more than a simple yes or no. Those words she would have understood—Yuri had taught her them when they’d worked together a lifetime ago.
Yuri argued back.
They volleyed for a bit, then with what was almost certainly a curse, Ivan stood and left the room. This apartment was the exact floor plan of Luke’s. The thermostat would be in the living room. She’d hoped they’d send her to adjust it, and she could flick the light switch mounted next to it. Maybe she’d get out an SOS before they could stop her.
Curses streamed from the living room. She gathered that Ivan didn’t understand the computerized system. “I know how to work it,” she said to Yuri.
“Fine. Go help him.”
“I can’t walk with my feet bound.”
“Then crawl.”
She sighed. With her hands bound, her movement was more scooting than crawling, but she wasn’t going to press her luck. When she entered the living room, trepidation set in. Ivan would be right next to her at the thermostat. Unlikely she’d have time for an SOS. But he’d be temporarily blinded by the light, which was a plus.
She reached the wall and climbed to her feet.
Ivan stood close to her. Too close.
Why hadn’t she ever taken a self-defense class? Lee’s stepbrother, JT, had a private gym in DC where all the guys worked out, and Lee and Curt, who both held ridiculously high belts in karate, had offered to give her lessons numerous times at Erica’s urging. But Undine wasn’t a fan of that kind of exercise, and so she’d stuck with running and the occasional yoga class.
When she got back to DC, she would learn to kick ass.
Until then, she’d have to improvise.
She finally got to her feet and flipped open the cover on the thermostat box. She frowned and reached for the light switch, flicking it up before Ivan could react.
He said something sharply in Ukrainian and slammed the light off.
“I need to see the buttons!” She flipped the light on again and elbowed him back with the same movement, knowing the action could be suicide.
Yuri came running into the room. “Turn it off!”
The front window shattered, and Ivan and Yuri both dropped to the floor.
Behind her, the front door slammed against the wall, and men in SWAT gear poured through the opening.
Dead-eyed Alexei raised his gun but dropped to his knees before he squeezed off a shot.
Before she could take in the chaos, warm arms surrounded her, and she melted into Luke’s firm chest.
His mouth covered hers, and she kissed him back, then tucked her face into the heat of his body. Her shivering eased.
“Next time I want you to go with your parents to keep you safe, promise me you’ll listen.”
She gave him a sharp nod and said, “I will,” then faced the chaos of SWAT team and terrorists. All three men were down and being searched. An all clear was given, and paramedics entered the apartment.
She glimpsed Ivan between officers. He’d taken a head shot. The paramedics passed him on the way to Yuri, who’d been shot in the chest and still had a chance. They also attended Alexei, who appeared to have been shot in the gut.
Another medic approached her. She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just cold.” She gave Luke a wry smile and held up her hands. “And bound.”
He cut the rope at her wrist with a knife, then freed her ankles. She ran her hands over her wrists, rubbing the sore spots. Watching as medics loaded Yuri onto a stretcher.
“It’s over,” she said, feeling the wonder of the moment. “It’s really over.”
“Not quite. We still need to find the bomb.”
She smiled. “No. You don’t. It’s in the bedroom closet.” She led him into the bedroom. Two officers followed. In the room, she approached the double sliding doors next to the bathroom doorway, then slid one panel to the side. “Yuri was so proud, he showed it to me right after Alexei brought me here. Yuri told me all about it.”
She crossed her arms and studied the corroded four-foot-tall bomb that was still strapped to a heavy-duty hand truck. A cylinder just shy of two feet in diameter, it was a warhead without the missile. It had been designed to fit within the Quebec-class sub’s torpedo tube, but it hadn’t been fitted with a rocket or other propellant. Shaped like a giant bullet, it was pointed at the top, while the base resting on the lip of the hand truck was flat. She waved toward a panel Yuri had opened when he showed off his new toy. “Under there is a timer. The bomb is initiated with keys—by hand—and the timer gives the person who activates it ninety-nine minutes to escape. It was designed to last years underwater, which probably stretched to decades thanks to being in the torpedo tube this whole time.”
“Did Yuri say how he knew about the sub, the bomb, and the timer?”
She nodded. “The bomb came from the Soviet underground submarine base at Balaklava in Sevastopol. According to Yuri, Balaklava had its own arms factory. They made this bomb there and fitted it into one of Magnum’s torpedo tubes.” She paused, then added, “Yuri named the sub Magnum because it was the
M-357.”
She faced the doorway, looking toward the room where Yuri lay in his own blood. “He said that near Sevastopol, the Soviet Navy had top-secret underground headquarters and a massive bunker—Yuri called the bunker Object 221. In 1992, a Russian mobster bought the entire complex and gutted it. Yuri’s compatriots purchased much of the paperwork relating to Balaklava from the mobster, and they’ve spent over two decades going through those records.
“Six years ago, they found documents detailing the final mission of M-357. Yuri was given the job of recovering the bomb. He said the sub was supposed to go to Seattle and plant this device near West Point. The fourth torpedo tube held a boring machine, which would have been used to drill a hole for the bomb. The launch keys were to be planted with the device, in a metal case built to withstand years underwater. When the Kremlin ordered it, an agent would don dive gear and start the ninety-nine-minute countdown.” She stared at the heavily corroded device and shivered. “It was essentially a first-strike weapon they’d intended to bury along our own shoreline.”
“But the seven men inside USS Wrasse spotted them and sank the sub before they could get to Seattle,” Luke said.
She nodded. “Who knows if other, similar missions were successful? I can’t help but wonder if there are old nukes buried all along the Pacific coastline.”
“Russia will have to come clean on that. At least they can blame Khrushchev.”
“Yuri said he didn’t have the keys.”
“I heard that part,” Luke said, nodding toward the wall. “Thin walls.”
She dropped her jaw. “Wait. The phone rang—”
He nodded. “We heard everything after that point. Even that you were going to adjust the thermostat. You took a perfect amount of time getting from one room to the other. It gave everyone time to get into position.”
“That wasn’t by design. It was because Yuri was an ass and wouldn’t untie me. Yuri said you’d be watching the windows. I was going to attempt Morse code.”
He slipped an arm around her. “We got lucky tonight.”
She stayed within the circle of his arm and turned to face the SWAT officers, who’d followed them into the room to secure the nuclear weapon. They’d been listening to her story with rapt attention. “Why don’t we call the attorney general and everyone else in the chain of command and figure out who can take this nightmare out of here?”
More police, Coast Guard, and other military officers began streaming into the apartment bedroom.
Luke pulled her tightly to his side. “There’s been a team equipped to take control of it in Port Angeles since Tuesday. They’re probably on the stairs heading up now.”
Another medic stepped forward. “Ms. Gray, we’d like to examine you.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “They didn’t hurt me.”
She had no idea who would be in charge here, so she tugged at Luke’s hand and made a beeline for Brian Martinez, the Neah Bay Coast Guard Commander. He, at least, was the authority she knew. “Let’s get the debriefing over with. I want to crawl into bed and have you hold me for at least the next sixteen hours.”
“Sounds good to me,” Luke said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Luke flipped between morning news programs. Both local and national covered the story of Ukrainian rebels who’d taken a hostage in a Port Angeles apartment building in an attempt to highlight their cause, necessitating an apartment-to-apartment search, but all mention of a Cold War-era nuclear device had somehow been kept from the media.
Thank God.
Even Undine’s name as the hostage had been kept out of the reports. The powers that be at the FBI and Homeland Security were working on their cover story, as officials within the State Department prepared to open talks with Russian officials to find out if other bombs had been planted along US coastlines.
It was going to be a tense few months between the US and Russia, but as long as the truth was kept from the media, it could be handled with diplomacy and wasn’t likely to be catastrophic.
Undine’s tea finished steeping, and he poured her a cup, placing a slice of lemon on the side in hopes of swaying her to give an affirmative to his all-important question. But then, with Undine, if he wanted to butter her up, he probably should use actual butter.
He should have called room service and ordered her a cinnamon roll. With frosting.
He crossed the living room of the expensive hotel suite he’d booked late last night after they were finally done with questioning. It was the only room he could get at the last minute, because his entire building was officially a crime scene, with dozens of displaced residents. But after the day Undine had, she deserved a little luxury, so he hadn’t balked at the price of the suite.
Luke set the teacup on the nightstand and slipped into bed with her. He pulled her against him and kissed her slowly along the neck, then her ear. Her cheeks. And her perfect nose. She smiled and kept her eyes closed as he moved to the other side of her neck.
“I made you tea, sweetheart.”
“Don’t tell me. You want to go running.”
“How did you guess?”
“Because you’re the only man on the planet who kisses a woman to get her out of bed.”
“Please will you run with me? I don’t want you out of my sight all day. Possibly never again…but I need to go for a run.”
She smiled, and her eyes finally opened. God, her eyes were beautiful, especially in the morning when she was sleep-saturated. But also in the evening, when she was sex-saturated. Basically, her eyes were beautiful always, particularly when she looked at him just like she was doing right then. “I’ll run with you.”
“That easy? No bargaining or complaining?”
Her smile widened. “That easy. Because I secretly love running with you.”
“It wasn’t exactly a secret.” He kissed her again. “You never answered my question yesterday—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “I’m still reeling from yesterday and need time to think. I’m afraid of being rash because we were both frightened. Afraid we’ll make promises we can’t keep. Today, I just want to be. To enjoy. To know we made it through. Tomorrow we can talk about the future, but today, I just want to live in the moment.”
He nodded. Her request was reasonable, even though he couldn’t help but wonder what she meant about promises they might not keep.
After their run, they took a shower together, and he made love to her up against the cold tile wall. Living in the moment wasn’t such a bad thing.
She was taking a post-run, post-sex nap when her father called. “I’d rather not wake her,” Luke said, still feeling a jolt of surprise that Dr. Stefan Gray was so utterly okay with the fact that he and Undine were together.
It had been nine weeks since Luke had plucked her from the water, and three since she’d showed up at his door. In that time, his world’s polarity had flipped. He couldn’t get her out of his life fast enough three weeks ago, and now he was desperate to keep her here.
Insane.
“Is there a message I can pass on to her?”
“Her mother wants to know what time we’re heading to the dock tonight. Charlene has no idea Undine was the hostage in question yesterday. She still thinks we’re going to the party.”
Luke frowned. They’d had no intention of going to the party when there was a chance it could be Yuri’s target, but now Yuri and Alexei were in custody and Ivan was dead. The bomb was contained. They actually could go.
The powers that be would probably even encourage their attendance. Proof of business as usual if rumors were to start up. So many people had learned about the bomb last night. The story could well be impossible to contain. But all acts that smacked of normalcy would undermine rumors. “I’ll ask her if she wants to go when she wakes up. If we have to, we can tell Charlene my apartment building was the one evacuated last night, and we’re tired from the ordeal.”
“I’ll wait for your call before I say anything.
”
Undine came padding into the kitchen area as Luke hung up the phone. She walked up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. “What did my dad want?” she asked with a yawn in her voice.
“Your mother still thinks we’re going to the party tonight.”
She groaned. “I suppose it’s not a terrible idea.”
“I was thinking the same thing. We can check in with Curt, see what he’d like you to do. Security will still be tight on the boat given the VIPs who will be there. You being front and center, bruise-free and smiling as you chat up Seattle reporters, would go a long way to quashing rumors should they start.”
She sighed. “Yeah. We probably should go. At least I’ll get to see you in your dress uniform.”
“And I’ll see you in something that’s not made of neoprene or Gore-Tex.”
“Ha! That’s what you think.”
He laughed and turned so he could kiss her nose. Good Lord. He was going to a black-tie event with Dr. Stefan Gray, Gray’s ex-wife, and his daughter.
When his SEAL buddies got wind of this, they were going to be utterly shocked. They were among the few who knew the full story, who knew exactly what the cause of his rage was all those years ago. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Joel’s face when he asked him to be his best man.
Luke and Undine went to his apartment to retrieve her gown and his dress uniform. When they returned to their hotel suite, she locked him out of the huge bathroom so she could get ready. Charlene had offered to style her hair and do her makeup, but she declined, wanting to look more natural than her mother would allow.
Now she second-guessed that decision. She wanted to look pretty for Luke, and one thing her mother knew how to do was sparkle.
Her gown, at least, was gorgeous. Made by a designer she’d never be able to afford new, the gown had been a bargain when she bought it at a DC consignment store to wear to a fund-raising event at the National Geographic Society.
