Diggins shrugged. “Been there. I’ve trusted the wrong people too. Your deputy? He was former CIA. He was in on the original salvage that went wrong. Don’t know more than that, other than talking about it gets you killed.”
Incredulous, Braden stared at this man full of surprises that he couldn’t confirm as truth.
“Tell me why you wanted the coordinates from Evelyn,” Braden said while he texted a special request to Thatcher and hoped he got it.
“What are you talking about?”
“You wanted the truth from her, the coordinates.”
“What? No. The truth I wanted from her ... was to know if she ever really loved her husband. She left me for dead, you know.”
39
Cressida glared at Captain Malloy as though that would make any difference in her predicament. She’d been transported from his smaller trawler—theMariner’s Gambit—to a much bigger vessel. A state-of-the art salvage craft. He’d taken her to a spare room without a porthole and shoved her into a chair, then he bound her wrists and ankles.
“You betrayed my father. He trusted you.”I trusted you.“And you lied to me.”
She had to find a way out of this. Braden might not have a clue where she was. If he happened to see theMariner’s Gambitleave the bay and was following, then he was going in the wrong direction. This operation involved multiple parties, which they already suspected. Someone well-funded was backing this project—she’d suspect a rogue nation or terrorist cell.
Her ankles were bound but not to the chair. At least her wrists had been secured in front of her, but the duct tape had been put on too tight. “Can you at least untie me? My hands are getting numb and it’s cold, so that makes it worse.”
She wanted to point out that Malloy now had the coordinates, so why did he need her? But that seemed counterintuitive to her survival. “Please tell me what this is all about.”
“You already know. It’s tucked in that brain of yours.”
“Know what? I don’t know anything. It’s a shipwreck, that’s easy enough to guess.” She’d landed on nuclear submarine but hoped and prayed that she was way off.Oh, Lord,let it not be that!
“Maybe you haven’t figured it out yet, but you would have if you had kept going with your article.”
“My article. How do you know about that? I hadn’t published it. There’s no way you could know.” But her mother had known. Her boyfriend had known. And ... Commander Elias Steel. Navy Salvage Officer—the man she had planned to interview—had known.
“That boat racing toward us on your first day when I brought you here? Those men are the enemy. They’re after the same thing I’m after, only working for our enemies.”
“You don’t think you’re a bad guy?” she asked. “You abducted me. You feel like an enemy to me.”
“For all the right reasons, honey. And you’re alive.”
“And tied up.”
“This show isn’t over yet. I have work to do. Now sit still and be quiet if you want to live.”
He left her alone in a room with a chair and a bed. Nothing else. Very spare quarters indeed. She heard him lock the door. Tied up inside a locked room.
She would continue to try to get out of the tape. Cressida closed her eyes, calmed her breaths, and prayed.
Lord, please let thisnot be about a nuclear submarine that some bad people want to recover for material to create a dirty bomb.
She didn’t know much about the usability of old weapons-grade uranium or plutonium. Could it degrade underwater?Even if it did, it would remain radioactive and could be used for a dirty bomb, couldn’t it?
Weren’t there easier ways to get those kinds of materials to cause trouble? She couldn’t be part of this. Didn’t want anything to do with it. They were not going to let her live, no matter what Malloy said. She couldn’t be sure who he was really working for, and maybe he wasn’t even sure—if he believed this was an operation sanctioned by the US Government. He must be a fool, or so greedy he allowed himself to be fooled.
Cressida hopped over to the door and wanted to pound on it, but where would that get her?
The thrumming of the engines went silent. The vessel was no longer moving.
Had they made it to the location? Her breathing hitched up. She did not want to be aboard this vessel messing with radioactive material. How could this happen? She had to escape this room. But how? Cressida heard footfalls. Boots. Not Malloy’s cadence. She’d seen other men with guns—security?—and then others here to work the salvage equipment, navigate this vessel.
If she escaped, where would she go? How would she evade the others on the boat? Still, she wouldn’t just sit here and wait for someone to come and kill her. Malloy had underestimated her if he thought locking her in this room would keep her here.
