The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection Part 67

She sighed, realizing her own arguments forced her to sign on the dotted line.

"I suppose."

"Great!" Lopez said as he clapped his hands once. "And just one more tiny, tiny detail."

Brandt braced himself. There was nothing ever tiny about any detail Lopez held back. "Yes?"

Lopez turned to the XO. "To really sell this and have us escape unnoticed..."

The second in command seemed as concerned as Brandt felt. "Go on."

"We're gonna have to kind of 'b.u.mp' the other sub," Lopez hurried on. "You know, just to throw off their radar and have them all worried about their hull rather than us."

Brandt watched as a series of emotions crossed the XO's face. Disbelief, disgust, and denial pa.s.sed over his features.

However it was Rebecca who spoke their collective feeling.

"Oy."

CHAPTER 5.

North Sea, International Waters 8:38 a.m. GMT Rebecca tried to grab the zipper on the back of her "membrane" dry suit, but had no luck.

"I'll get it," Davidson said as he snagged his own zipper and pulled it up before repeating the procedure on Rebecca. Seriously, even after being nearly burned alive resulting in severe tendon contracture, the kid was still more flexible than her.

And boy was that a benefit in this situation. Rebecca squirmed as she tried to get her undersuit to stop lumping in all the wrong places. Clearly the polyester, microfiber, thermal insulating jumpsuit was not cut for a woman. And now with the skintight vulcanized rubber dry suit on top of the undersuit? It was like trying to breathe with a tire wrapped around her chest. And her hips? The polyester was stretched thin over her curves.

"Just a few more," Davidson reported as he zipped up another of her four zippers. To keep the water out yet let your body in, the suit had more zippers than an Alexander w.a.n.g outfit.

Not that she was necessarily in any hurry to get ready. Being shot out of a torpedo tube strangely was not on her bucket list. The men though, while initially reluctant, now were in what could only be described as the "pumping themselves up" mood. There was some whooping and serious chest-b.u.mping going on between Lopez and Harvish.

Rebecca's instinct was to go all-quiet knowing there was a nuclear submarine lurking, however the XO had advised exactly the opposite. They wanted the Chinese to be lulled into the sense that the sub had no idea it was being followed. Hence the whooping.

"Alright," Brandt grumbled. "Equipment check."

The sergeant went down each of the men, double-checking various pieces of equipment.

"Talli," Brandt frowned. "What is the drill?"

"Breathing. Water. Really. Ain't. Fun," the dark-skinned man reported.

Brandt's frown deepened. "Actually, the B is for buoyancy compensator, which did you even bother to check yours?" Tugging on the point man's harness, Brandt realigned a small regulator. "That angle of that thing was going to cause it to stick."

He then moved on to Lopez, who pointed to his buoyancy compensator. "I learned it as 'Blonde Women Really Are Fun.'" The corporal winked at Rebecca.

It really wasn't funny, but somehow Lopez made her smile back.

The sergeant though was having none of it. "Then soldier, how about you tell me why you have twice the number of 'women' around your waist?"

Lopez pointed to the weight belt. "I wanted to bring up the rear, so I didn't want to pop up too quickly." Off of Brandt's glare the corporal kicked at the steel mesh deck with his flipper. "Fine. I really wanted to hang back to see the Chinese sub."

For a moment Rebecca thought that Brandt would let loose on the corporal. Instead Brandt nodded. "Recon only, Lopez. Once you get a look, you surface. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Lopez replied, beaming.

Brandt moved on to Davidson. You could tell he wanted to find something wrong with the younger man's equipment, but Davidson rattled off the predive checklist.

"Buoyancy compensator checked for leaks. Weights secured. Releases totally six fastened and tugged. Air, full and all the way opened, then taken back half a turn. Flashlights with fully charged batteries. Ready for final check, sir."

Rebecca noticed that Brandt didn't fuss this time at the sir. But after that performance, hopefully the sergeant could remember why he'd trusted Davidson in the first place.

With a grunt of approval, Brandt moved on to Harvish.

"Well I learned it as," the point man said, "Bangkok. Women. Really. Are. Fellas."

If Harvish thought that was going to score points with Brandt, he was so sorely mistaken.

"That's enough," Brandt barked. "Tighten those buckles and turn your oxygen down. We don't want you hyperbaric."

The point man gulped, suddenly fascinated more by his equipment than impressing his teammates. Brandt shook his head before moving on to Rebecca. Without speaking he readjusted her buoyancy compensator.

"Sorry," Rebecca said, trying to cover for both her embarra.s.sment and how her body still reacted as Brandt moved in close, releasing and reattaching several buckles. "I didn't learn the predive routine at all." She hurried on as he tucked a strap into her waist belt. The action brought back way too many memories. "I've never even scuba dived before."

Finis.h.i.+ng his inspection, he looked into her eyes. "I know."

Of course he knew. He'd wanted to take her the time they were hiding out in Sri Lanka, but a monsoon hit. They'd spent the entire five days huddled inside their beach hut. Alas, that had always been their luck. Until even that incredibly bad luck ran out.

He looked like he might say more, then turned back to the men. "Let's gas up."

Wait. What the h.e.l.l was ga.s.sing up?

Davidson fumbled a bit as he hooked a small air compressor to Rebecca's suit.

"What's that going to do?" she asked wide-eyed.

"The membrane suit has no real insulating capacity, so we need to put some air in there," he answered.

"Air in where exactly?"

"Between your undersuit and dry suit."

Rebecca put her gloved hand on his, stopping him from completing the seal. "Davidson, I guarantee you that I have no room between my undersuit and dry suit for anything. Not even air."

"It's just a few millimeters," Davidson rea.s.sured her, finis.h.i.+ng the seal.

Her fingers dug into his despite the neoprene between them. "Not even a few millimeters."

"You'll be fine." However Rebecca looked anything but fine as he started piping in the air. "Breathe," he reminded her.

"Easy for you to say," Rebecca snapped, then gave an apologetic grin. "Good thing I wasn't wearing a Wonderbra today."

Davidson wished he could grin back, however his one good lip was turned away from her. Could she see the amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes? Then she flicked him with her gloved finger. He guessed she did. How with the maze of scars and melted tissue he didn't know. After the third reconstructive surgery, he had given up looking in the mirror.

Not because he'd become so ugly, but because each angry red line across his face reminded him of the deaths he had caused. He had been so certain the Knot's path was the true and certain one. He had never stopped to see that betraying those around you might not be G.o.d's way.

G.o.d though had seen fit to save Davidson. Not just from the fire but from the Knot's grasp. Despite his fear, Davidson now saw the path before him illuminated. G.o.d had given him a chance to redeem himself. He could never bring back the people who had died because of him. Could though the scales somehow be righted if he saved even another life? Then another after that?

He was truly thankful for Rebecca to take him in. Shelter him in her laboratory. Coaxing him back into the world. However, his blood had never sung in the lab like it had when he fired that rifle. His place was here. Fighting alongside Brandt.

Now if he could just convince the sergeant of that.

Brandt moved out of the way, his inflated suit creaking as the XO approached.

"Alright," the commander said. "The captain has given his seal of approval. We are good to launch."

Why wouldn't the captain agree? It got Brandt and his team off the captain's sub. Something the captain clearly wanted from the get-go. As a matter of fact, shooting them out a torpedo tube probably had been high on the captain's list. Brandt was glad to oblige.

"You all looked suited up, so let me just give you a little food for thought," the XO said, then walked along in front of them. "Once out the torpedo doors, you are on your own. We cannot and will not come about no matter what happens."

No great surprise there. Brandt nodded for the man to continue.

"The breech door will close and lock you inside the tube. Then the tube will be flooded with water from our tanks. This water is relatively warm at sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit. With your suits it'll seem balmy."

Probably the last time they would feel that way on this mission, Brandt guessed.

"Then the muzzle doors will open. Once we effectively 'make contact' with the Chinese sub..." The XO paused long enough to send a scathing glare at Lopez. "We will activate the water ram, pretty much hurling you out of the tube at twelve G's."

Brandt's eyes wandered to Rebecca, who was looking paler by the second. He wanted to comfort her that given Lopez's driving they'd probably experienced at least eight G's, however the XO did not seem too keen on holding up the show for one woman.

"The G's aren't the problem though," the XO continued. "It is the temperature shock. The water out there is a hair below forty-three degrees Fahrenheit. That cold water is going to hit you like a fat girl's slap."

"The dive reflex," Davidson added, clearly trying to score some freaking brownie points. Only by raising Svengurd from the grave could Davidson ever hope to redeem himself in Brandt's eyes.

The XO nodded, not knowing or not caring about the tension between Brandt and Davidson. "That's right. In this cold of water our mammalian instincts kick in and all of our blood gets shunted from our skin, limbs, and gut, forcing it to our core-our heart and brains. Remember to trust your suits. They will warm you...eventually."

Rebecca's face drained of color as she stood awkwardly, looking like it took everything she had not to tip over backward from the weight of her oxygen tanks. Seldom had he seen her appear so utterly vulnerable. She was being thrown into the deep water, literally, and she knew it.

"So don't be surprised if you briefly lose feeling in your extremities and your heartbeat flutters or even temporarily stops. It is just water shock."

"Just," Harvish snorted, however he quickly looked contrite as the XO's glare s.h.i.+fted from Lopez to the point man.

"Outside the port, you've got to strike upward as soon as you can. We're moving at twenty-five knots, and if you aren't out of our wake by the time we pa.s.s, you could get sucked into our propeller's cavitation."

The XO stared Harvish down, almost seeming to challenge the point man to joke about that. Not even Harvish attempted humor in being sliced to death by your own sub.

"After you've cleared the sub, you've got a fifteen-minute window to get to the surface and warm up, otherwise...well, deaths have occurred in untrained, out of shape divers..." The XO looked to Davidson and then Rebecca. "Within five minutes."

Great. That's all Brandt needed. Rebecca all the more freaked out.

"Got it," Brandt replied. The XO moved off to prep the s.h.i.+p for their little "b.u.mp" maneuver.

"Besides," Harvish mumbled, apparently trying to get himself out of the hole he dug by using a spade, "it's less than a hundred feet up. Less than even a recreational deep dive."

The XO turned on his heel. Aiming his full disdain on the point man. "Out here? In the blue? We don't take anything for granted. I'd advise you do the same."

"We will," Brandt a.s.sured the man while for the eighteenth hundredth time wondering why in the h.e.l.l the Den had a.s.signed him Harvish. "We're ready to s.h.i.+p out on your mark."

"It's my mark then," the XO said. "Load up."

Rebecca stood amongst the men as the XO closed the breech door. The clang of the metal lock sent a s.h.i.+ver down each and every vertebra. They were really doing this. She was really doing this.

Trying to s.h.i.+ft her feet nearly tipped her over as she caught the edge of her fin. Davidson steadied her. Just call her a walrus at a waltz.

"We're going to be radio silent," Davidson reminded her as water rushed in from ports on the side of the tube. "Let's get your face mask cinched down."

He turned a k.n.o.b at the base of her face mask until he was satisfied. Water swirled around their knees as Davidson pulled his mask over his own face.

Even though every square inch of her body was covered either in dry suit or mask, Rebecca couldn't shake the feeling that she was stark naked. Exposed. And if that was how she felt in this tight torpedo tube, how was she going to feel outside? Out in the ocean?

Forget needing water to go into shock. Rebecca feared her body was way ahead of the curve.

Then the water rose to her hips, giving her a bit of buoyancy. Soon the water lifted her as it rose to their chests. She fought panic as the water level climbed to her neck. Against all good reason, Rebecca tilted her chin up trying to keep her face above the water line for as long as possible.

Davidson tapped her faceplate and mouthed, "Breathe."

Not so much because she felt calmer, but more because the water sloshed over her head, Rebecca trusted her face mask and took in a breath. Air, sweet air rushed to her lungs. Now that she was completely submerged, Rebecca felt the panic abate. And the XO had been right. The water was a bit balmy. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Then the outer door to the torpedo tube opened. And since they were going a good twenty knots, the ocean water pushed in against them, shoving them all back toward the breech door. Her arm lashed out, trying to right herself.

A strong hand caught her under the elbow and brought her level with him.

Brandt. Not even the plastic between them could dull the blue in his eyes. Their bodies were crushed together as the ocean demanded entry into their little tube. The rest of the men were plastered against the breech door.

The submarine turned abruptly to port, decelerating rapidly. The Chinese sub must have been close because it was only a few more moments before a loud, high metal-on-metal screeching set her teeth on edge. Before she could even process the notion that they had in fact just "b.u.mped" the Chinese submarine, a whirring grew until the sound filled not just her head but her marrow.