Sebastian dragged Sienna up another step.
“You can’t know that for certain,” Kurt said.
“I’m fairly confident at this point,” Sebastian said. “And should your government eventually catch on, they will find that hundreds of billions of dollars have been created and disbursed to thousands of companies and straw men of my creation. They’ll discover half the trail evaporates and the other half leads to political election funds in America and other spots around the world. They’ll find billions have been routed through China, Iran, North Korea. And they’ll be faced with a terrible dilemma: admit the truth and shake the world’s confidence in the mighty dollar, in all likelihood crashing the international financial system, or let it go, fix the hole in the wall quietly, and chalk it up to experience.”
Kurt had to admit that Sebastian was probably right. “They might not announce it to the world, but they will hunt you down.”
“They will think I’m dead,” Sebastian said, dragging Sienna up the final step and pulling her toward an alcove in the far reaches of the room.
Kurt could see another steel security door hinged to the alcove wall. He could not allow Sebastian to drag Sienna through it. His posture stiffened. “Take another step and I’ll kill you,”
he said, “regardless of what else happens.”
Sebastian studied Kurt from behind Sienna. By now he’d tucked in so close that only his right eye could see past her to Kurt and his menacing glare. And yet even with that limited view, he had no doubt that Austin would fire. He’d lost this woman too many times already. He seemed unwilling to lose her again.
It left Sebastian only one choice. With Sienna held tight against him, he reached across her body and pulled a tiny remote unit from his pocket.
To Kurt it looked a lot like the one Calista had used in the tunnel beneath the DMZ. “If you’re planning on zapping me, you’re a little late, I’ve been deloused.”
“It’s not for you,” Sebastian said. “It’s for her.”
With that, Sebastian whispered to Sienna, “I’ll make you a deal. The same deal I’ve been making you all along. Your life or the lives of your children. Which will it be?”
He pressed a key on the glasslike screen of the remote and a fireball erupted in the center of the courtyard. It was so immense it shattered the windows behind Kurt and blasted splinters of glass across the room.
Kurt stood his ground as the shards pelted him.
“That was the armory,” Sebastian gloated to Sienna. “If you resist any further, or if he tries to stop me, I will obliterate the prisoners in their quarters and your children will burn.” A blind play if ever there was one, Kurt thought. Neither one of them knew if the prisoners were in the hut. It was entirely possible that they were staying put and taking cover there, as the battle raged outside. It was also possible that Joe had led them away.
“Let me go,” Sienna cried to Kurt, her eyes filled with tears.
“He’ll kill you,” Kurt replied. “He’ll kill them either way.”
“Please!” she begged.
At that moment a figure crawled through the main door, a pitiful figure, slithering on the ground. “Brother,” it cried out. “Dear brother.”
Calista’s appearance was just enough of a surprise to distract Sebastian. He began to glance her way before catching himself. The pistol in his hand came away from Sienna’s head for an instant and, in that blink of an eye, Kurt squeezed the trigger and fired.
The iron projectile from the railgun hit the nickel-plated handgun at a speed of two thousand feet per second, impacting it just ahead of the breach.
The blow shattered the pistol as its hammer fell and struck the bullet in the chamber. The gunpowder in the 9mm cartridge ignited and the lead shell began its journey forward. But the frame of the pistol had been mangled by Kurt’s shot and instead of being exhausted out through the mouth of the barrel, the bullet blew the weapon apart.
At the moment of the explosion it was already out of Sebastian’s hand, having been torn free and hurled halfway to the rear of the alcove. The impact broke Sebastian’s wrist, and shrapnel from the exploding gun flew in all directions, cutting his face and neck like claws of some enraged animal.
In a blind fury, Sebastian flung Sienna toward Kurt, grabbed the door, and tried to swing it shut.
Kurt was already tossing the railgun aside and reaching into the open pocket of his armored vest for the Colt. He pushed Sienna out of the way and drew the revolver like a gunfighter in the Old West, extending it toward Sebastian, cocking the hammer, and pulling the trigger in one swift motion.
The booming report of the old .45 caliber shell echoed across the room as fire erupted from the barrel and a cloud of smoke burst from either side of the cylinder.
The heavy shell grazed the slamming steel door and caught Sebastian just to the right of his center of mass. He was thrown backward as if he’d been kicked by a horse. He slammed against the back of the alcove and fell on his side as the door banged shut, cutting him off from Kurt’s view.
Kurt rushed forward and tried the handle. The door had latched but wasn’t locked. He swung it open, ready to fire again, but realized instantly that he didn’t need to. Sebastian lay dead against the wall.
The remote dropped from Sebastian’s grasp and Kurt relaxed for an instant only to see on the small screen what looked like a second hand sweeping in a red arc toward the twelve o’clock position.
“Run,” Kurt shouted, dashing to Sienna’s side and pulling her up to her feet.
The explosions began in the distance. First, the prisoners’ quarters, then the barracks, and then the two helicopters in the hangar.
Kurt had helped Sienna up and now did the same for Calista.
He turned for the door, but it was too late. A series of explosions shook the main house, blasting one section after another and heading toward them like a rumbling freight train.
Realizing there was no other way out, Kurt shoved Sienna toward the shattered windows and the veranda beyond.
“Jump!” he shouted.
Sienna leapt without question and Kurt propelled himself and Calista over the ledge half a second later. As he fell through the air, he felt the explosions closing in. Sections of the mansion to their right and left were blown apart simultaneously. The control room followed an instant later, erupting in a fiery detonation just as Kurt, Sienna, and Calista crashed into the deep end of Sebastian’s Olympic-sized swimming pool.
Kurt felt his legs crunch into the bottom of the twelve-footdeep pool and looked up. Seen through the kaleidoscopic lens of the swirling water, the distorted tongues of flame were almost beautiful.
A hailstorm of debris followed, including splatterings of napalm that burned on the surface of the water, and chunks of the stone from the house that crashed down around them like meteors.
Kurt grabbed Sienna to prevent her from surfacing as a second wave of fire streaked above them and retreated.
He could have remained down there for another minute or so, but Calista was struggling to pull free. He doubted she’d been ready for the dive. He gripped her tight and pushed off the bottom, angling away from the house and breaking the surface as the last smattering of fragments dropped from the heavens.
Treading water and helping Calista keep her head above the surface, Kurt turned in a slow circle and saw that half the world was on fire. The top floors of the mansion had been blown off, while the lower floors were consumed in flames. Waves of heat assaulted him, tempered only by the coolness of the water.
“That way,” Kurt said, pointing toward the far end of the pool.
Sienna began to swim, and Kurt rolled over onto his back, dragging Calista in a rescue swimmer’s stroke. When it became shallow enough to put his feet down, he did, and from there they waded to the wall.
As they climbed out, Kurt heard the sound of people approaching. He cocked the old pistol and readied himself for one more fight, but a friendly shout stopped him from firing.
>
“Easy there, cowboy,” Joe Zavala said as he emerged from the dark.
As Kurt lowered the pistol, several Marines came into view, moving in behind Joe.
“Kurt, this is Lieutenant Brooks,” Joe said. “Lieutenant Brooks, I present Kurt Austin.”
Brooks flashed a grin at Kurt and then seemed to recognize Calista. He raised his weapon.
“It’s okay,” Kurt said, holding out a hand.
“But she’s one of them,” Brooks insisted.
“No,” Kurt said. “As it turns out, she’s not one of them after all.”
Brooks made a quick decision. He lowered his weapon and clicked his radio. “Get the SARC up here,” he said, referring to the Navy medic, two of whom had landed in Dragon Five. “We’ve got another wounded player.”
Even before the medic arrived, Brooks dropped down beside Calista and began working on her wounds.
“What about my children?” Sienna asked. “And the others?”
“Safe and sound,” Joe said. “I sent them for ice cream as soon as the battle got under way.”
Brooks chimed in. “They made it over the wall and met up with a couple of the guys from Dragon Three.”
“Where are they now?”
“Dragon Four swooped in and picked them up,” Brooks said. “They’re already on their way back to the Bataan.”
Hearing that, Sienna’s whole posture softened in a wave of relief. Her chest heaved, and she began to cry again. But this time they were tears of joy.
Kurt smiled. “So I’m guessing we won?”
“We did,” Joe said. “While you were taking a midnight dip with two beautiful women, the rest of us were working hard to turn the tide of battle.”
“Glad to hear it,” Kurt said. “And how are the ‘rest of us’ going to get out of here? We seem to be a little short on helicopters.”
“Dragon Three will max out and take the wounded,” Brooks said. “The rest of us will head for the coast. Madagascar has a pretty limited military—and we seem to be miles from anywhere important—but I don’t want to run into any well- meaning members of the neighborhood watch.”
Kurt nodded. “Are we walking?”
“No,” Brooks said. “My men have rescued a bunch of horses from the stables on the lower terrace. We’ll be riding.”
At that, Calista looked up. “I’ll ride,” she said.
Brooks shook his head. “You’re in no shape to ride, ma’am. You’ll go on the helicopter.”
She stiffened her back and pulled free from his grasp. “I said I’ll ride. Besides, you’ll need someone to show you the way.” “I think we can find the ocean on our own,” Brooks insisted.
“Trust me,” Kurt said, “there’s no point arguing with her.”
Brooks shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
A few minutes later, the group arrived at the stables. The last of the Black Hawks sat in the pasture close by.
Sienna hugged Kurt tightly. “I owe you everything,” she whispered in his ear. “My life, my family. How can I ever repay you?”
“Just go live,” Kurt said. “And tell your husband I’m sorry for slugging him in the jaw.”
She gazed at him with a look of confusion.
“Long story,” he said. “Knowing what he’s been through, I’m hoping he won’t even remember it.”
She nodded, began to cry again, and smiled through the tears. She hugged him tightly once more and then went aboard the helicopter.
As the helicopter powered up and lifted off, Kurt found his way into the stables. Calista was already on her horse, and the others were mounting up.
Kurt climbed on a sturdy-looking animal and took the reins.
“Look at me,” Joe said, “I really am the cavalry. Now I’m even riding a horse.”
Only Kurt laughed. No one else got the joke.
They rode from the stables single file, traveled down the main path and out onto the open plain with the Brèvard palace and Sebastian’s mad dreams burning to ashes on the hill behind them.
Kurt noticed that Calista never looked back. Instead, she led them to a path she’d worn into the soil over the years.
Only now did she realize why she’d always returned to that strange hill where the ship had been buried. Only now did she remember her real brothers talking about a lifeboat. And then Sebastian as a young man with Egan and Laurent, working down there to cover what her mother and brothers had excavated.
Two hours later, they came out onto the shore, where a wide beach met slow-rolling surf. There, Lt. Brooks ordered the group to a halt, made a radio call, and lit a low-light beacon.
After a short wait, a pair of high-speed collapsible boats came racing in from the dark, manned by crews of two in camouflage and face paint. They entered the shallows and coasted to a stop just the other side of the low breakers.
“Someone call for a water taxi?” one of the camouflaged men asked.
With the Marines watching the shore in both directions, Kurt helped Calista down from her horse. She was pale and cold. She rubbed the blaze on the horse’s nose and whispered something about running free. The horse took off, galloping down the shore, and Calista all but collapsed. Kurt picked her up, cradling her in his arms and carrying her into the surf as she wrapped her hands around his neck and held on.
“I should have left from here twenty-seven years ago,” she whispered.
“Better late than never,” Kurt said.
He carried her to the nearest boat and lowered her gently into it. He climbed in after her, and Joe followed suit, as the Marines took spots in the second boat. Moments later, they were cutting through the surf and racing out to sea.
Only Calista was surprised when a great black shape rose up through the water and allowed the boats to slide up onto its back.
A group of sailors helped them out of the boats and directed them to a deck hatch. Calista was taken to the infirmary while the ship’s commander shook hands with Kurt and Joe.
“Welcome aboard the USS Ohio,” he said. “I hear you guys work for Dirk Pitt at Jim Sandecker’s old outfit, NUMA.”
They nodded in unison.
“Both men asked me to give you their regards,” the commander said. “Plan on briefing them tomorrow morning. Which is in an hour and forty minutes, by the way.”
“Just our luck,” Kurt said.
“At least you spent three days snoozing in Korea,” Joe said. “Imagine how I feel.”
Kurt laughed. “I’ll do the briefing,” he said, “but I need to get a secure message through before we submerge. Would that be possible?”
“Sure,” the commander replied. “What do you want it to say?”
“It’s complicated,” Kurt began. “Basically, I need someone to declare a bank holiday tomorrow. And maybe for the rest of the week. Just in case.”
In the last hours of that night the SS Waratah finally returned home. Some had wanted to delay her arrival until morning, but Paul would have none of it. He thought the venerable old ship had been away long enough.
Nudged forward by the Sedgewick, she came into the harbor virtually alone. But as she approached the dock, Paul noticed a sight he would remember for the rest of his life. It seemed as if half of Durban had come out, and thousands stood quietly in the dark with candles in their hands. They lined both sides of the inlet and the dock.
He saw no camera flashes, and there were no dignitaries waiting to give speeches. All that would come later. For tonight, the people of South Africa were welcoming this ship home.
The Waratah bumped the dock and was tied up. A highranking officer of the South African Navy came aboard and Paul relinquished command of the ship. From that moment on, he thought only of finding Gamay and wrapping his arms around her.
True to her word, she was waiting for him at the bottom of the gangway. They embraced and began walking the dock. Paul had never in his life seen so many cards, flowers, and wreaths.
He stopped beside a picture that looked familiar to him. In
the black-and-white portrait he saw a burly man with a handlebar mustache. His name was written below, as was his position, fireman, on board the Waratah, assigned to the aft boiler.
Paul still didn’t believe in ghosts, but he wondered if they might exist after all.
Hand in hand, he and Gamay walked the rest of the dock without saying a single word.
The details of Kurt’s message explained what he knew about Brèvard’s scheme. And when the President and the chairman of the Fed were informed, a three-day moratorium on all Fed activity was declared.
Meanwhile, Montresor, Sienna Westgate, and the other hackers willingly explained what they’d done, and been forced to do, revealing the viruses, blinds, and trapdoors they’d planted one by one until all the various dangers were uncovered and neutralized.
After twelve hours on board the Ohio, Kurt, Joe, and Calista were transferred to a ship bound for Durban. At the same time, Lt. Brooks and the other Marines were picked up and flown back to the Bataan after promising never to make fun of oceanographers again.
Upon their approach into the Durban harbor, Kurt and Joe marveled at the sight of the Waratah, back home after all these years. Untold thousands of bouquets lined the dock in front of her, and a proper cleaning and restoration was already under way. Plans were being made to turn part of the ship into a museum and the rest into a floating memorial to the two hundred eleven passengers and crew who vanished over a century ago.
A journal discovered in the sick bay gave some closure to the mystery. Though, sadly, the descendants had to live with the knowledge that those who weren’t killed in the original hijacking were abandoned in lifeboats to perish at sea in the subsequent storm. A memorial service with full honors was being planned.
As they bumped the dock, Kurt looked around for friendly faces. “I thought Paul and Gamay were going to be here,” he mentioned to Joe.
“I got a message from them,” Joe said. “They’re on a double date with Duke and Elena. Something about going to a shooting gallery to prove, once and for all, who saved the Waratah.”
Kurt shrugged. The message made no sense to him. Though Paul and Gamay weren’t there to greet them, someone else was. An attractive woman in a white dress that contrasted nicely with her cinnamon-colored tan. She stood on the pier below, waving and shouting up to Joe.