formula or maybe navigational code. I saw something like it in one of Captain Vladzar's books.'
Silence. 'You did? You're sure?'
'I didn't say I was sure. I said it was similar. I can't be certain until I get clear photos and can compare them. And the book was in Russian, so I couldn't really make heads or tails of that either. Are you going to call the museum tonight?' Bradworth didn't answer, and she said impatiently, 'Look, I have to get these lights back to the sub. Conner is waiting for them. You do what you want about-'
'No,' Bradworth said sharply. 'Don't go back to the sub. Get the hell out of there.'
She stiffened. 'What are you saying?'
'I'm saying you should forget about the damn plates and get-Hold on, my other phone's ringing. Don't hang up. I have to take this call.' She heard his muffled voice on the other line. 'Yes, she's on the phone now. I'll take care of it. Screw you. I'm doing the best I can.' He came back on the line. 'Hannah, I'm going to call my agent stationed on the dock and get him down to the submarine on the double.'
'Why? What's happening?'
But he was gone, and he was cursing when he came back on the line. 'I can't make contact. No response.' His words came fast and urgently. 'Listen to me. Don't ask questions. I can't waste any more time. I have to call someone else. Get out of there.
'The hell I won't ask questions.' Her hand clenched on the phone. 'Tell me why I should do what-'
'Because if you don't, you'll be dead.' He hung up.
Dead?
Crazy, she thought numbly. Bradworth was nuts, and so was the panic that was starting to soar within her. Yet Bradworth had frightened her because he'd been frightened. His tone had been deadly serious.
Deadly. That word again.
What if he wasn't crazy? What if there was a reason to-
But Conner was still in the sub.
Conner!
Kirov didn't answer when Bradworth called him back. Was the bastard making his move?
Bradworth hung up the phone and jumped to his feet.
He had to get down there. No time. He'd have to call the rest of his team while he was on the way.
Damn, he wished Kirov had answered.
Hannah whirled and started to run down the dock toward the pier. Christ, her heart was beating so hard it hurt. Stupid to be so frightened. It had to be a false alarm. It made no sense. There had been no reason to-
She reached the pier.
'
She tore down the pier. 'Conner!'
Why was she screaming? He couldn't hear her.
Get into the sub. Call the police. Call 911. Do something that made sense.
Her hand was shaking as she dialed 911. She made contact with the 911 operator as she reached the sub. 'Something's happening. Send someone. Conner-'
Her head exploded as pain tore through it.
Her knees buckled as the world spun around her.
'No…' She couldn't fall. Fight the dizziness. She had to get to Conn-
Nothingness.
Water.
In her mouth, in her lungs.
She couldn't breathe.
Fight for air.
No air.
Only water. Choking. Smothering.
'Stop struggling, dammit.' A man's voice. A man's arm lifting her head above the surface of the water. 'Let me do it.'
Do what?
Water. Lungs filling. Drowning.
Conner.
'Stop fighting.'
Couldn't stop fighting. Have to get to Conner.
'Very well, have it your way.'
Her head jerked back as his fist connected with her chin.
Darkness again.
Get that stretcher down from the dock, dammit. We've got a big enough mess to cover up without her dying on us.'
Bradworth's angry voice, she realized vaguely. Close. Above her. But she'd just talked to him on the phone…
But she'd had to go back.
Conner was there, and she had to-
Conner!
Her lids flew open. 'Conner.' She sat upright. Dizzy. Hold on. Fight it. 'Someone was… The hatch was closing.'
Bradworth's hands gripped her shoulders. 'Lie back down. You've got a nasty head wound. You're soaking wet and suffering from exposure and God knows what else. We've got an ambulance coming to take you to the hospital.'
'I'm not going to any hospital. Conner…' She struggled to her knees. 'I have to get to my brother.'
'No, you don't.' He looked away from her. 'Maybe later.'
Something was wrong. Something…
'Go to hell.' She got to her feet. Don't fall. Get to the hatch. Get to Conner.
'Stay out of the sub.' Bradworth was beside her, his hand on her arm. 'You don't want to go down there.'
Panic surged through her. 'Let me go.'
His hand tightened. 'Do what I tell you. This isn't-'
'Let me go.' Her fist lashed out into his stomach with all her strength.
He staggered back, his grip loosening. 'Okay, go. What the hell do I care?'
She staggered toward the sub. The hatch was open. Just make it down the ladder.
One step.
Another.
'Conner?'
A man was standing by the control panel with his back to her. Dark blond crew cut, a big man.
Not Conner.
'You shouldn't be here, ma'am,' he said over his shoulder.
'My brother…'
'You're Ms. Bryson? I'm Agent Ted Freiland.' He repeated, 'You shouldn't be here. Why don't you turn around and go back to the pier?' He was turning to face her, and as he shifted she saw what he had been looking at.
Blood. Blood everywhere.
And still pouring in a stream from the shattered skull of the small, wiry man lying crumpled on the floor.
No face.
It couldn't be Conner.
No face. His head almost blown off his shoulders.
It couldn't be-
