Page 38 of The Engineer

“God, I’m sorry—” She hugged her waist.

“Don’t be. He was violent toward my mom and I stopped him. Didn’t mean I wanted to hang around there longer than I needed to.” His fingers flew across the keyboard before the locks disengaged with a heavy thud.

“Enough talking.” He grinned and quickly removed the wires. He stowed the laptop in his backpack as the door pivoted heavily on its hinges. As soon as it was wide enough, he moved swiftly, ducking through, pulling her in with him.

Inside, Griff hit a red push button on the wall and the door swung closed behind them.

Cold air rushed her, heavy with the stink of oil and seawater.

There was no turning back now.

25

Griff waited till his pulse slowed, and his eyesight adjusted fully to the gloom. It only took seconds for him to lock back into the place that had served him well when he was in the SEALs, the drive to complete the mission where nothing else mattered.

Jo bumped up against him, her hand still in his, but her free hand gripped his forearm vibrating with nervous energy. He blew out a silent breath. Hidden from the sun, cold air chilled his skin.

This was risky, but they needed information and Raptor wasn’t going to just give it to them. He gripped her hand tighter. At least with Jo at his side he could ensure her safety. Muscles bunched in his jaw. This protective streak was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, either in or out of the field.

He scanned the roof close to their heads. It was dimly lit, but there was no giveaway blink of a power source for cameras or other security. Either Raptor was extremely confident in their own inviolability or they hadn’t updated the security from when they purchased the base from the Norwegian government.

The grating beneath his feet creaked as he edged along the narrow metal walkway. Vertiginous rock walls plunged into distant darkness—the base had been carved out extensively below, far deeper than he’d expected. Carelessness would send them hurtling to an instant death.

Far at the bottom, bathed in harsh floodlights, a streamlined black submarine lay docked in inky water. Its curved hydrodynamic hull reminded him of the menacing killer whales Alina loved. Clustered on the sub’s deck, tiny figures in bright orange coveralls scrambled about busily. Their distant chatter drifted up as they loaded supplies for the sub’s next mission.

“There are steps over there.” Jo pointed, her voice a muted whisper, although the ambient grind of machinery working below masked her voice.

He urged her along the walkway to the circular stairs leading to the ground floor. On the landing, spare coveralls hung on metal hooks. Griff grabbed one set and handed another to Jo. “Put these on.”

Their ordinary clothes concealed, they made their way down the stairs.

Three floors.

Two Floors.

One.

Gritty concrete crunched under his boots. At ground level, the bulk of the submarine was impressive, dominating the craggy space even from a hundred feet away. Stacked wooden crates provided cover between them and the hive of activity centered on the sub. Serial numbers were stamped over the wood in smudgy, red paint. Griff recognized one pair of letters. AL. Alaska. They were shipping shit here from Alaska?

Jo tugged his hand, her fingers drawing a line under one word.

She mouthed the name. Pharmasyn. Bingo.

Retrieving her phone from inside her coveralls, she took hurried snapshots with her phone.

That’s my girl.

They crept closer to the sub, moving past the crates and taking cover behind a speedboat propped on dry dock, a patched repair unfinished on its side.

A forklift truck part blocked their view of the activity.

“There’s paperwork in the cab.” Jo craned to see more.

“Yeah, I see it.” Light shone brightly on the yellow vehicle, illuminating a sheaf of crumpled paper on the truck’s dash. Shipping paperwork perhaps—

Jo pushed up and darted forward. Crouched low, she sprinted to the forklift.

Holy shit. Jo. Blood thundered in his ears. Retrieving her would only risk exposing both of them. Griff exhaled, squashing the urge to bolt across the open space, throw Jo over his shoulder and carry her away from all of this.

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