The commander inclined his head. “Your government wished you and your crew to take control of the vessel with little hands-on training.”
“Indeed.” Technically, that had been her wish. She and her crewmates might fool the Chinese sailors for the length of the handoff, but a longer training period would reveal them as women, and also reveal none had ever set foot in a real submarine.
He led her on a tour of their new home — radio room, a space for electronics, living quarters, a fully stocked mess and galley, and the captain’s cabin. More cramped than she was used to, but all the more free. The lower level contained torpedoes and sea mines, sleek and deadly, reminding her that this vessel could do more than hide them from a world that treated them no better than beasts. It could fight back.
She followed her counterpart aft, struggling to understand the words as he discussed the propulsion system, generators, and batteries in rapid-fire Mandarin.
“We have built you a shadow,” he said. “This is the most sophisticated diesel electric submarine in the world. No other vessel can hide under the waves so well as this. It is truly a marvel of Chinese engineering.”
“It is as silent as a steel shark.”
“And just as deadly,” he responded.
Thus she remains free to roam the seas, Laila thought.
Her crew had boarded during her tour and stood at attention at their posts. They seemed no more nervous than any crew about to take a new and unfamiliar ship out of the harbor. The women had been through much in their lives, and they knew how to present a calm face to the world no matter the situation.
Commander Wang saluted one final time and spoke with his first officer.
Her heart pounded so hard she feared everyone in the control room could hear. Nahal had ordered the transfer of funds to complete payment on the submarine. Laila stood, back ramrod straight, and waited for the money to go through. Nahal had hacked into dozens of naval accounts to acquire the funds for this transaction, careful to create a trail back to Laila’s brother. Now they waited to see if her hard work would bear fruit. Months of planning came down to the next few seconds.
A crisp nod from the Chinese soldier to his commander, and a bolt of joy shot through Laila’s breast for the first time since she’d learned of her sister’s death. Months of despair fell away.
“All leave,” the Chinese commander ordered.
His remaining men filed out and up the sail, rubber shoes whispering across steel rungs, feet thumping on the dock.
She exhaled. The sub was almost theirs.
The commander gestured for her to precede him up the ladder, and she did. Still holding the clipboard, Nahal followed.
The three stood together atop the sail in the cold wind. She looked at the dock, the pine trees, and the rocks lining the beach. Fast-falling snow shrouded it all. By morning, they would be far away, leaving no trace of themselves behind.
“You do not wish to take a trial run with us?” The commander sounded incredulous, in spite of the orders he’d received in Nahal’s email.
A foolhardy act to go out without a trial run, she conceded privately. Aloud, she said, “My men are ready. Do you not trust their skills?”
His impassive face gave nothing away. “The vessel is yours now, to use as you see fit.”
“My government is most grateful to you.” The money had been transferred, which was all he need be concerned about.
“As is mine,” he answered.
The sound of an engine cut across the wind. Approaching headlights lanced the darkness. Perhaps their jet had been intercepted before it could crash. Perhaps the car came to arrest them. Or perhaps a North Korean delegation came to see them off, but there had been no mention of a delegation coming to see them off in the emails Nahal had intercepted.
The Chinese commander looked at her sharply as if he, too, was unprepared for the forces barreling toward them.
“We leave now,” she said.
The commander wavered.
“The vessel is ours,” she said. “You have received payment.”
Flinging gravel, the vehicle braked to stop. A bus identical to the one parked at the end of the dock. The dark outline of twenty figures visible inside. A man with a too-familiar rolling walk burst out the front door.
Her brother had arrived.
He froze at the sight of someone standing atop the submarine in his uniform. Men in dark clothing flowed around him like oil and headed toward her. Someone had pierced Nahal’s layers of protection and discovered the new meeting point. But she knew Nahal had been careful to make sure no messages could be traced back to them. Hopefully, she’d been clever enough.
The Chinese commander reached for his shoulder, but she drew her gun and clubbed him on the side of his head. Blood flowed from a wound near his temple, and he crumpled. She hoped she hadn’t killed him. He wasn’t part of her war.
Chinese sailors scrambled across the dock. She ducked next to the fallen commander and tried to think. She hadn’t come so far to lose the women’s freedom now. A bullet pinged off a mast behind her head, and Nahal pointed toward the entrance to the sub.
Laila whispered a prayer and peeked over the side. She doubted any of the men would have recognized her in her disguise, on the top of the submarine and at night. But her brother might have. He was close now, and his gun was pointed at her. He fired, but missed her. As she’d practiced, she sighted her pistol on her brother’s thin chest. With a slow tug, she pulled the trigger.
His bowlegged stride faltered, and he staggered to the side. Again, she sighted, and again, she fired. He fell to the dock and lay still. Wild glee flashed through her, and she stifled a laugh.
No matter what else happened tonight, she’d won.
With a moan, Nahal collapsed against her. Red blossomed on Nahal’s shoulder. She’d taken the shot meant for Laila. Laila dragged her friend to the hatch in the top of the sail. A snail trail of red gleamed on the hull behind them. Meters away, the commander lay still, white uniform bright against the dark deck.
“Hold on to me, Nahal.”
Nahal’s arms tightened around her neck. She half climbed and half fell down the rungs and into the control room. She eased Nahal to the floor.
“Back full!” Laila shouted.
Ambra must have been getting everyone ready, because the sub jerked as soon as she spoke. Bullets slammed the hull, but they wouldn’t hurt them in here.
“Get Meri!” she called and heard her order relayed through the ship.
She left Nahal and scrambled up the rungs to secure the hatch. By the time she came down, Meri crouched next to Nahal’s motionless form, a medical kit by her knee.
Laila raced into the control room. Delicate hands flew over controls. For months, her crew had practiced for this moment in their simulators, but no one had been shooting at them then. Still, they moved as well as a more seasoned crew. They were brave, every one.
They had to get away from the dock to deeper water so they could dive. In deep water, they were invisible, but right now their steel shark was a fish stranded on rocks. She must thrash back into deeper water before she suffocated.
Laila focused on the sonar screen. No other ships around.
“Dive!” she shouted.
“We’re not far enough out,” Ambra said.
“Drop as low as we can go,” she commanded. “And keep us moving. Dive deeper the second you can.”
Women scrambled to obey.
Whatever happened, they weren’t going to be taken alive. She’d promised them.
Chapter 1
One wall of Joe Tesla’s office displayed a giant transparent brain. Red, green, and blue lines flashed as synapses fired wildly. The amygdala was overloaded. The owner of that brain had been in distress.