O’Shea hit the floor, and Andrea followed suit. Atticus learned long ago that when someone shouted, “duck!” certain death greeted those that didn’t heed the warning. As a result he reacted first and hit the floor before O’Shea. Had any of them hesitated, the spread of darts sprayed from the mouths of the Gorgon women would have cut them down. Darts coated the walls, staircase, and doors to the collection.
Atticus stood, holding the UMP ready, wary of a follow-up assault. Their freedom might have gone unnoticed, but the killer crew of the Titan would eventually stumble upon them. “Collect the darts,” he said, “but don’t prick yourself. They’re probably laced with poison.”
Atticus moved to the open doors of the collection room. “Is there another way out of here?”
O’Shea’s eyes widened. “Uh, no.”
Not good, Atticus thought. A dead end in a firefight was usually just that, a dead end.
“But,” O’Shea said hopefully, “the men wouldn’t dare fire a shot in the collection room. Trevor would have them beheaded.”
Good enough.
“C’mon,” Atticus said as he followed Andrea into the expansive chamber. “Lock the door behind you.” Atticus entered the large room and deposited the darts on the floor.
Darkness fell around them as O’Shea closed the door to the unlit collection room.
“What is this place?” Andrea asked, her echoing voice betraying the room’s size. With a blazing fury, the lights snapped on. Atticus, expecting an ambush, took aim and panned the room with the UMP, looking for targets.
“At ease, soldier,” O’Shea joked as he moved away from the light switch.
Atticus shot O’Shea an annoyed glance.
“Sorry,” O’Shea said. “I joke when I’m nervous.”
Andrea missed the exchange entirely as she scoured the room with wide eyes, her mouth slowly falling open. “Okay, that’s it. I don’t care what piece of paper I signed, this guy is going down.”
“Those waivers of his will stand up in any court,” O’Shea said. “I signed the same one a long time ago.”
“Be quiet. Both of you. And kill the lights,” Atticus said. It was an order not to be discussed.
As O’Shea immediately went for the lights, Andrea spun on Atticus. “You can’t just let this go. We have to find some way to…to protect all this!” Andrea waved her arms wildly in the air, gesticulating to the collection of treasures from around the world.
“First,” Atticus said seriously, but keeping his voice down, “I never signed a waiver. And second, your nose flares when you’re angry. It’s kind of cute.”
“Oh, dear Lord.” With that, O’Shea shut off the lights.
“You didn’t sign a waiver?” Andrea whispered.
“No,” Atticus said. “He never asked. Probably too distracted by the hunt.”
“I feel like such a fool.”
Atticus found her hand in the dark and gave it a squeeze. “You had no choice. I would have signed it too if he’d asked.” A clunk on the other side of the room perked his ears. “O’Shea,” he whispered. “Where are you?”
The lack of reply made Atticus nervous, but O’Shea obviously knew his way around. A gentle glow from the far side of the exhibition space revealed as much. “Over here,” O’Shea said in a carrying whisper.
Using the small amount of light provided by O’Shea, they made their way past an Egyptian obelisk, the T. rex skeleton, and an array of glass cases housing several smaller artifacts hidden in shadow. When they reached O’Shea, they found him sitting on the floor by a small bar, an open minifridge providing the light. Inside were four bottled waters and a six-pack of Sam Adams. O’Shea had already started in on one of the beers.
“The man really does want to be American,” Andrea said, with a shake of her head.
“I wouldn’t say he wants to be American,” O’Shea countered. “Not many people outside America want to be Americans anymore. He just appreciates American cuisine.”
Atticus took two waters from the fridge and handed one to Andrea. The water O’Shea had given them earlier had helped, but in no way replenished the amount of fluids they’d lost in the brig. They both drank greedily, then moved on to the two remaining bottles.
“You two better watch it, or you’re going to have to pee while you’re running for your lives later,” O’Shea said with a smile.
“Just drink a few more beers,” Atticus said, “and I’ll refill them for Trevor before we leave.”
O’Shea had to work hard to stifle his laughter.
Andrea slapped Atticus on the shoulder. “Oh, that’s nasty.”
After a moment, the laughter settled, and as though sharing a single mind, the three grew serious. “The way I see it,” Atticus started, “we have three goals.”
“Get off the Titan, ” O’Shea said anxiously.
Atticus nodded and held up a finger, counting them down.
“Save Giona,” Andrea said.
Atticus held up a second finger. “And stop Trevor from killing Kronos.” He raised his third finger. “We’re going to need help. I assume the only mode of contacting the outside world is on the bridge.”
“We’d never make it,” O’Shea said. “But, I’ve got satellite Internet access in my room. I can send e-mails and instant messages.”
“Can I access my Coast Guard account?”
“Sure.”
“If I send an e-mail, it should get a response.”
O’Shea shook his head. “We’d never make it together. I should go alone. They don’t know I’m helping you yet.”
“Not a chance,” Andrea said. “You may have saved our lives, but I don’t trust you yet. My account would give you access to sensitive materials.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me,” O’Shea said, exasperated.
“Andrea’s right. You two head for the room. Get a message out to the Coast Guard and anyone else who might pay attention and find a way to get us off the Titan. ”Atticus didn’t want either of them with him, because no matter what course of action they decided on, he would head for the bridge and a direct confrontation. O’Shea would most likely just get in the way, and he wanted Andrea nowhere near when things got hot.
“But, what if we run into trouble?” O’Shea asked.
“I think the crew will be…preoccupied,” Atticus replied.
Andrea gave him a nervous glance. She didn’t have to say anything for him to know what she was thinking.
“I know,” he said. “But Giona is still alive. I have to stop them. I have to try.”
Andrea nodded. There was nothing else she could do.
Muffled voices at the door caught Atticus’s attention. He spun to the closed double doors, which could be seen between the legs of the T. rex. Shadows shifted across the line of light tracing the outside edge of the doors. He couldn’t tell how many men were there, but it didn’t matter. They’d been found out and the rest of the crew wouldn’t be far behind.
Atticus readied his UMP and took aim between the T. rex ’s legs. Andrea caught his shoulder. “You can’t fire in here. The artifacts…”
Atticus gritted his teeth. His mind spun for solutions, then his eyes went wide. “Where are your darts?”
“Mine are by the door, with yours” Andrea said.
Atticus’s hope dwindled. He’d left his by the door as well.
“Mine are on the bar,” O’Shea said.
Yes! Atticus stood and searched the dimly lit bar. Atticus stifled a groan. “Two darts? You only picked up two darts?”
“Hey, I’m just a phony priest, not G.I. Joe.”
Atticus sighed. They would have to do. But if the darts weren’t poisoned, he’d only manage to make the men angry before they shot him full of holes. “Shut the fridge,” he said, before handing Andrea his UMP and heading off into the darkness. “Stay down and be ready to run when I signal.”
Atticus moved like a wraith through the gloom that fell over the room as the fridge door closed. His feet, still bare since being interrupted in bed the night before, aided his silent advance across the cool, solid-wood floor.
As the doors opened, a wide beam of light cut through the middle of the vast space, illuminating the battling T. rex and triceratops as though they were actors on a grand stage. Atticus flattened himself against the smooth, obsidian obelisk and peeked quickly around the corner.