Now she’d have to go outside and find a quiet spot to connect the phone and make a call, then she would make her way back to the lower deck to shut down the engines and wreck anything and everything she could to stop this operation.
But who did she think she was? She was just one lone person on a vessel with a traitorous crew. She blew out a big breath.
You have to do this, girl. No other choice.
Cressida jammed the satellite phone into a pocket of the oversized black rain jacket she’d snagged from the captain’s quarters to go over what she’d already taken from Trent. In the other pocket of the rain jacket, she found a stun gun. Perfect.
She walked the hall, descended the stairwell, her palms slicking around the taser in her left pocket and the satellite phone in her right. Steps pounded from above. Someone was running down the stairwell. She kept her head down, tugged the cap lower, and he passed her without a word.
Then...
He suddenly turned around and his eyes narrowed. “Hey, you!”
She didn’t run from him.
Instead, she continued walking toward him with purpose, then when she was close enough, she hit him with the stun gun. It would only immobilize him for a few moments. Her time was shorter than she thought.
Cressida bounded through an exit, out into the rainy night—perfect—and found a corner at the far end of the massive ship where no one stood. Everyone focused on something in the sky.
Huh. A drone?
Too many shots were being fired at the drone, so clearly it wasn’t part of their operation.
Then whose?
She didn’t have time to think through those possibilities. Adrenaline coursed through her as she waited for the satellite phone to connect her to Braden. Then she made the call.
Come on, come on,come on...
The call disconnected before she could even leave a message. On the radio, she overheard their conversation. They knew she was here. The search was on. She didn’t have time to keep calling people. But if she had only one more chance to do something, she had one call to make. To her mother.
God, please let my call go through. Please let me saythis to her before it’s too late.
Voicemail picked up.
“Mom, I forgive you,” she said.
A noise drew her around, but no one had found her yet. She ended the call and tucked the phone in the jacket. She couldn’t stand here on the deck waiting to be discovered, and jumping into the ocean would be suicide. She wouldn’t hide and wait for no one to come.
But she could do something useful, even if this was the last thing she’d ever do. Making her way down to the engine room was problematic, given the several levels and security and other crew she’d likely run into before getting there. Dad had told her too many wartime stories for her to ignore, and she had a real chance to sabotage this endeavor. She’d studied a few schematics of research and salvage vessels. Granted, this was a new one, but she had to try.
She ducked into a stairwell, rushing with purpose to fit in with the search for the missing woman. The engine room would probably be in the lowest deck, near the stern, or rear, of the ship. She made her way down two stairwells and a set of ladders. Finally, at the lowest deck beneath the waterline, she felt sweat bead on her back and at her temples with the increase in temperature. The earlier rumble she’d heard in the upper decks was now a constant, heavy vibration through the floor. The rhythm of machinery—the engines and generators—was louder here too.
Her palms were sweating but not because of the heat.
She walked the narrow hallway until she approached a heavy bulkhead marked “Engine Room” and “Authorized Personnel Only.”
Her breathing hitched up.Can I really do this?
The door was heavy, thick, and watertight, but she entered the engine room unheeded, finding the expected maze of turbines and generators. She breathed in hot and humid air that smelled of oil, grease, and diesel, yet the room was kept pristine.
What she needed were the control panels. The clang of tools sounded from the back—crew members working—and with the bright overhead lights, her presence would not go unnoticed. She would probably need earmuffs if she remained here because the high-pitched whirring, loud compressors, and pumps overwhelmed her ears.
Yeah, this is going to get youkilled.
But she was probably already dead once they found her.For you, Dad,I’m going to make a lot of noise going down.Once, Dad had shared a story about shutting down fuel lines, but more than one component had to be disabled.
Whatever she did, it had to be fast. They’d search the entire rig and eventually find her here.
