Steven James - The Rook

“I’m coming. Just a minute!”

Soap. Plunger. Towel.

Yes, yes. It was the only thing Tessa could think of. She grabbed the plunger and turned on the faucet.

I made it halfway up the tower; saw Melice four meters below me. I gauged how far out I’d need to jump and, relying on my good leg, turned on the tiny lip of a ledge so that I was facing him.

And leapt.

Creighton Melice felt the impact, the pressure of a sudden weight crush him to the ground.

As he connected with the deck, he knew it was Bowers. Somehow it was Bowers. The force knocked Creighton’s gun away, and it went sliding across the deck and landed out of reach in one of the recessed view ports to the Seven Deadly Seas exhibit.

Creighton rolled free.

He rolled free. He was quick. He ran for the food prep area, and I rose awkwardly, painfully to my feet. My left leg throbbed with nearly unbearable pain, and the floor was slick, making it even harder to stand. With the gunshot wound, I wouldn’t be able to chase him down. I glanced toward the shark acclimation pool. The water was up to Lien-hua’s chin.

Air. I needed to get her air.

The scuba tanks were by the wall.

I started toward them as Melice stepped out of the food prep area wielding one of the long, slender skinning knives.

I would need to get past him to save Lien-hua’s life.

Lien-hua took a long sip of air. It would only be a matter of seconds now.

Seconds before she joined her sister.

She stretched for the surface one more time.

But found it out of reach.

Tessa finished getting ready, jammed the soaking wet towel into her satchel, and swung it at the lightbulb. Shattered it. Then she backed into the corner. Riker threw the door open and blocked the doorway. “This stalling is gonna cost you,” he said. She didn’t reply. She saw him step forward and reach for his belt buckle. “It’s time to come back to the nest, my little Raven.”

Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”

“I’m ready,” she said. “Come and get me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this,” said Melice, raising the knife, both of his hands dripping blood from their gruesome wounds.

The water was rising fast. Fast. “Where’s the release valve for the pool, Creighton?” My leg was growing numb. It was tough just to stand. “Help me get her out of there.”

A man has a knife, a woman is dying.

Basque. Melice.

Melice. Basque.

“I’m afraid I already smashed the valve.” Melice motioned toward the food prep area. “Turned it up all the way first, though.” He leered at the shark acclimation pool. “Oh, this is the best part, right here, when the water rises above her head. I always rewind it and watch it over and over.” Then he grinned at me. “So Bowers, what’s it gonna be? Stop the bad guy or save the damsel in distress?”

You have to get past him to get to the air tanks.

“Both,” I said, and I rushed toward him as fast as my shrieking leg would take me.

Riker stepped into the darkened bathroom and for a moment Tessa wondered if he’d be able to see what she’d done. But then he took one more step and she heard a startled cry as his face collided with the plunger she’d suctioned to the wall, and then she heard the welcome crash as he lost his balance on the water and liquid soap she’d spread across the floor.

As Riker tried to stand, she swung the satchel, weighted with the saturated towel, down hard against his head, smacking his face onto the tiling. Then she planted one foot on his back, leapt over his legs, and ran for the door.

I dodged a swipe of the knife and crashed into Melice, driving him toward the wall, but he grabbed my arm and threw me to the ground. He was amazingly strong and, with the wet, slick floor, he was able to sling me into the middle of the husbandry area. I hobbled to my feet and gasped, “The tank was already constructed when you got to San Diego, wasn’t it?”

A brief hesitation. “How did you know?”

Hold your breath, Lien-hua. Hold your breath. I’m coming.

“And Shade was there, right? At police headquarters? He had your lawyers tell you about the device.”

“None of that matters now.” He came at me with the knife.

Came at me fast.

I tried to fight him off, but with my injured leg, I lost my balance. He kicked his steel-toed boot hard against the gunshot wound.

The pain was crippling. I tried to stand, he kicked me again, this time in the stomach. As I struggled to get to my hands and knees, he pressed his foot against my side, rolled me to my back. Kicked my wounded thigh again.

As I started to fade, dizzy from the pain, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the acclimation pool. “Well, looky here. I guess you were too late to save her.”

I rolled my head to the side and saw Lien-hua’s beautiful, dying eyes staring up at me from below the water’s surface.

Without oxygen she has maybe four minutes, max, before brain damage. That’s all. You have to get her some air.

I tried to pull free from Melice so I could go for the gun in the pool, but his grip was solid. He took a slow look at his knife and then at the door that led to the path around the Seven Deadly Seas exhibit. Then he yanked me away from the pool and dragged me toward the Seven Deadly Seas. “I think, Agent Bowers, that it’s feeding time.”

To Lien-hua, air was a memory. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reach the surface.

She knew she’d just taken her last breath. Her last one ever.

Stay calm. Stay calm. You’ll use less air.

But it was hard to stay calm, so hard. A burst of air escaped her mouth and bubbled toward the continually rising surface of the water.

Tessa decided not to waste any time trying the other doors in the hallway. She didn’t need to hide. She needed to get out of this club.

Down the stairs, then to the bar.

But when she yelled for help, her words were met only with disinterested looks and the grinding rhythm of the music. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Riker crashing down the stairs behind her. She squeezed forward into the melee of people and moved as quickly as she could toward an exit door.

I tried to roll free, but once again, Melice paused, kicked my wounded leg, and then he hauled me through the doorway that led to the path around the Seven Deadly Seas. I felt the sheathed Maglite that hung on my belt digging into my back.

He held my left wrist, but I had my right hand free. Twice I tried to grab him but failed.

I had to get away. Now. A few more seconds and it would be too late.

Wait. My Maglite. My belt. Get him to the ground. You have to get him to the ground.

As he dragged me, his back was turned so I was able to unclasp my belt buckle and pull my belt free from my jeans without him noticing. I curled it into a loop, and as he stopped near the edge of the water, I rotated to my side, threw the loop up to my other hand, and grabbed hold of it.

Yanked.

Hard.

Since he was holding that wrist, the force pulled him off balance and he toppled onto the path beside me. I rolled, pulled myself toward him, and punched him hard in the face.

But he still had the knife in his right hand.

I snagged his wrist and was pinning it to the ground when he wrestled his other arm free, threw it across his body, and drove his palm down the knife’s blade all the way to the hilt. Then he squeezed his hand tight to lock the blade in place, released his right hand’s grip on the handle, and with the knife sticking through his spurting hand, swung the blade toward my face. I pushed back and he barely missed severing my neck.

“You can’t hurt me, Agent Bowers,” he hissed. “You can only kill me or die trying.”