Joe moved the bow a fraction down and shot Glascoe through the thigh. The arrow buried itself in the wooden console behind him. Joe pressed a button to release the fishing line from the bow and stooped to load another arrow.
Glascoe howled, but he couldn’t move without pulling the arrow all the way through his leg. Marshall picked up the bloody fishing line and tied it off to a metal handrail. Glascoe couldn’t move.
“You shot me!” he bellowed. “You fucking elf.”
“Legolas,” Joe said. “His name was Legolas.”
Marshall started laughing. He laughed so hard he practically fell down.
“Cut me loose,” Glascoe roared. “Get your Marine ass over here and cut me loose.”
“Semper fi,” Marshall said.
“Then get your faithful butt over here and cut me loose.” Glascoe pressed his hands against his leg. From what Joe could tell, he’d missed the major arteries, but blood still seeped through his fingers and dripped onto the floor.
Joe moved the bow in Marshall’s direction. Marshall held up his hands and sauntered to the first aid kit on the other side of the bridge. “Just getting some supplies for that hole you made in our captain.”
He took out gauze and a pair of blunt scissors, leaned under the console and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid.
Joe tensed. “What do you have there?”
“Medical and medicinal items only.” Marshall returned to Glascoe’s side.
“What now?” Joe asked.
“Cut me free,” Glascoe said in the same breath.
“No man left behind.” Marshall handed Glascoe the whiskey. “Or woman. I agree with Tesla here. We’ll stay close, pick up Sergeant Torres when she arrives.”
“If she arrives.” Glascoe took a long pull on the whiskey, and his face relaxed a little.
“If,” said Marshall. “But she’s a tough lady. If anybody can get herself out of that sub, it’s Vivian. I know I’d feel like an asshole if her ride weren’t there to pick her up. Wouldn’t you?”
Eyes fixed on Glascoe’s, Joe held the bow steady.
Glascoe took another long sip of whiskey. “If you guys think there’s a chance she can get out, we’ll stay.”
Marshall handed the captain the gauze and scissors and went back to the controls. The boat reversed its course.
Joe let out a long breath and lowered the bow.
But he didn’t put it down.
Another explosion came from the water.
Chapter 50
Vivian wrapped an arm around Nahal’s waist and helped her forward. Nahal was too weak to move quickly, and they needed to hurry.
“Thank you,” Nahal said through lips gone pale with pain.
“I’ve exited a submarine in an emergency suit once before.” Vivian still had nightmares. “It’s a pretty violent and intense experience. Are you sure you’re up for that?”
Nahal took a memory stick out of her pocket and handed it to Vivian. “Here’s a copy of everything for you. If we get separated or… if I don’t make it to the surface, give it to Tesla. It will take some expertise to unpack it and post it where it needs to go, but he can do it.”
Vivian stuffed the stick inside her bra. She didn’t have any pockets. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Live or die, I want off this submarine.” Nahal started walking again. “I’ve seen the price for disagreeing with Laila.”
Vivian didn’t figure now was the time to get into it. She dragged Nahal forward.
“She does not need them as she needs me. She will let them go when she is done.” Nahal seemed pretty confident she knew what Laila was thinking, but Vivian wondered if she was right. But she wasn’t going to argue with anything that got her away from this giant metal coffin.
They went a few steps more, and Vivian started to think they’d get through this. At the end of the corridor, women rushed back and forth, but they took no notice of her and Nahal. She looked like someone helping a companion to sick bay. In the current climate, not that unusual.
Then the sub lurched violently. Vivian’s head slammed against a metal pipe. It hurt like hell, but she held on to Nahal. Short screams echoed down the corridor. Nobody had liked that moment.
“You OK?” Vivian asked Nahal.
“We were hit.” Nahal looked dazed. “The Roc has torpedoes.”
“Makes sense.” Vivian touched her head. A lump the size of a duck egg was already forming. But her vision seemed fine, and she hadn’t lost consciousness. Nothing to worry about.
“Torpedoes,” Nahal said again.
“You stole his submarine. You came after him with it and killed his bodyguard. Prince Timgad seems like someone who knows how to take care of himself. Why wouldn’t he have torpedoes?” Vivian started moving forward again, faster than before.
“How did he have time?” Nahal let herself be towed along, but she wasn’t helping much.
“Money makes things happen quickly.” Vivian was losing faith in Nahal’s confident grasp of the situation. This was a shame because she was going to get into the escape trunk no matter what. She wasn’t going to die in here.
A woman pushed by running full tilt. Blood streamed from her temple. Probably not a good sign.
Vivian dragged Nahal forward double time. It probably hurt, but Nahal didn’t say anything. Vivian thought she smelled burnt plastic, but it was hard to tell over the ammonia smell the sub had all the time. Hopefully, nothing important was on fire. Although, realistically, probably every damn part of this submarine was important.
“Left,” Nahal said between clenched teeth. She pointed to the left.
Vivian opened a door and stepped into a small metal room. A ladder led up to a round hatch. “Is that it?”
“The escape trunk is on the other side of that hatch.”
Vivian ran through the plans of the submarine she’d studied back in her Spartan cabin on the Voyager. This seemed right.
She looked around for emergency suits, but the signs were in Arabic and Chinese and her limited Arabic knowledge didn’t include submarine terminology. They had to be stowed in here someplace.
“Suits?” Vivian asked Nahal. “Where are the suits?”
“Never mind,” said a voice from the doorway.
The voice belonged to a small woman holding a QBS-06 assault rifle like the one Vivian had retrieved from the wreckage of Tesla’s sub. She’d researched it, and depressing statistics scrolled through her mind. The gun held twenty-five fléchettes. Those were needlelike projectiles designed to move through the water on a stable trajectory. But they fired just fine through air. One probably wouldn’t kill her right away, unless it hit her in the heart or the head. The barrel was aimed straight at Vivian’s heart. The guns were supposed to be hard to aim at a distance of over fifty yards, but since the woman was standing about ten feet away, that wasn’t really going to be a problem.
“Step away from Nahal,” the woman said.
Vivian looked at Nahal. She nodded, and Vivian stepped away. Maybe she could rush her, but the stranger looked like she meant business.
The gun barrel followed Vivian’s movements. It was very steady. The woman didn’t seem at all conflicted about using it.
“Are you trying to steal away our Nahal, Miss Torres?” she asked.
“I have to go with her, Meri,” Nahal said. “I have to publish information about the prince’s plan so he can’t try it again if he survives, or if his allies survive. Sinking the Roc isn’t enough.”
Meri didn’t seem to be impressed. “Leave after the battle is won. As planned.”
“If I wait, Laila will kill this woman, and me for helping her, and the word might never get out.”
“Win the battle, but lose the war.” Vivian wished Meri would stop pointing that gun at her. If the submarine was hit again and tilted to the side, the gun would likely go off.