Page 104 of Ripple Effect
“You’ve done a hell of a job.” Coming from this man who I’ve known for more than a decade, that’s the kind of compliment I’d normally revel in. Right now, I couldn’t care less. I turn my attention back toward the TV news anchor, who’s giving a play-by-play of the press conference.
“They made sure it was broadcast on every major news network worldwide,” he advises me quietly.
I just nod; I can’t speak. Fortunately, Thorn doesn’t require me to. His hand just clamps down on my shoulder, whether in support or in acknowledgment I’m holding up to my end of our bargain, I don’t care.
Out of the corner of my eye, Sam’s still trying to hack into theSea Force’s bridge while Iris has her ears on the bar where the captives we know are alive are being kept. We’re all waiting for the reaction to the broadcast on the ship so close we can see it out the glass window.
The red clock above the TV turns over to 28:00:00. Twenty-eight hours. My mind starts to wonder if they’ve given her water? Food? Beyond the hell we’ve been able to hear, what else is she being forced to endure?
And will she recover from it?
“Until Libby changed the game, there’s no way I would have said this was a K and R mission,” Thorn murmurs.
My body tightens. “What do you mean?”
“Look at the profiles of everyone on that boat, Cal. By no means is Libby the wealthiest. What does that tell you?”
My mind works rapidly. “It’s a subterfuge for something else.”
“Exactly. Now that they opened up the table for negotiation, Cap’s going to try to make contact. See if we can get a count on survivors.”
I understand Thorn’s reasoning. “When?”
“Thirty minutes. Be ready,” he warns me before turning away.
I remain where I am mainly because I’m frozen in place by what the news outlet just flashed up on the screen. A picture of me holding Libby on our wedding day. My face is buried in her neck, but hers is incandescent with joy.
When did that look start to fade? I’m in a place between enchantment and despair, tuning out everything around me for the long moments, until my name is called. “Cal! Check this out! We just got eyes into their bridge.”
Shoving away my emotions, I stalk over to where Sam’s standing with a Navy ensign. “Let me see,” I order. Sam has been working nonstop to hack in, only to be met with this firewall or another back door. “Took you long enough.”
“Would have been easier if we could have just forced the issue.” At my sharp look, the Navy officer quirks a small smile. “Don’t get me started on international law. Bane of my existence.”
“I just bet.” Watching over Sam’s shoulder, I can see two of theSea Forcecrew members being held at gunpoint by a single man. “Is there any way to get them any kind of word without getting them killed?” I demand. The captain comes up quietly behind me.
“I can try, but I can’t leave it up long,” Sam warns. Dropping back into his own chair, he clicks a few keys on the small device he plugged into the more powerful Navy mainframe. Within seconds, the screens around the room are replaced with computer language. “Come on, you little bastard, let me…no. That’s not the one I want. Not that console. I don’t want it near the reflection. What’s the other fucking console number?” He types quickly for a few moments before keystrokes fly so quickly on the screen, I can barely make out words on every third line. “US NAVY” “FRIENDLY” “TURN SHIPS CAMERAS ON.” Sam presses a button and suddenly, we watch as the screen he was working on disappears and the bridge camera comes back up. “Come on, come on, do your checks,” Sam mutters.
“Why did you ask him to do that, Sam?” the captain asks.
“Because while I can hack into most of the locations, it’s going to take too much time. If he gets the balls to help me out, then we’ll have eyes everywhere,” Sam says grimly. “It’s our best chance to be able to plan the attack.”
“You don’t think they’ll notice?” I ask, disturbed that anything could risk the survivors’ lives.
“I think if they would, they’d have their own guys in the chair, not the crew,” Sam replies.
“Look!” Thorn calls out.
All of our heads snap forward as the defeated first officer sits up a little straighter. His eyes narrow at the man holding the gun in front of his console before he announces, “We need to cycle some water before we overheat and we become a target.” It’s a trumped-up excuse.
We all hold our collective breath.
“Then do it!” the man screams. “Just do it!”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Without a glance at the monitor in front of him, his fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Sam yells, “We’re getting eyes!” Then, “Oh, God. No.” Sam’s shocked face flies to mine.
My stomach falls. What is it?
