The Lady Ghost

By Kate

Welcome to my ‘wrap’ story! I’ve left a lot of dangling plot threads in previous stories and I’ve made an attempt to resolve most of them with this tale. I’ve always known how I saw each of the characters ending up (shortly after writing Free Fall) and have used foreshadowing in most of my successive stories to lead here. This didn’t just pop into my head overnight, but has been there for a long time. I thought it was time to finish it.

 So, this is it - - questions and dangling story arcs resolved! I realize my vision of Lee’s future (yeah, it’s mostly about him) won’t match everyone else’s, but I’m happy with the result. Special thanks to Theresa for doing the beta on this story. As always, you’re amazing, and a truly exceptional friend!

Special note:  This story is for Sally, whose enthusiasm for Voyage and my stories never failed to make me smile. Thanks for the idea you put in my head all those months ago. It was the cornerstone from which The Lady Ghost grew. This story is for you, Sal!

It had been a wonderful two weeks, but Lee knew he had a problem on his hands when Alyssa grew unnaturally quiet. He couldn’t blame her after the phone call he received. Part of him was irritated he couldn’t go on vacation without his down time being interrupted by a mission, the other half worried over the logistics of what he was walking into. Nelson had been brief, intentionally vague. Although he’d apologized for interrupting Lee’s vacation, he’d insisted it was necessary the captain cut his trip short. Fortunately, Lee and Alyssa were due to fly out soon anyway. They’d had the afternoon to adjust to the idea of Nelson picking Lee up two days early in the Flying Sub. 

Or maybe not.

“You’re upset,” Lee said at last, dumping several folded pairs of slacks in his suitcase.

“No.” Alyssa had her back turned, fiddling with the items on top of her bureau. 

Make-up, jewelry and hair brushes were foreign territory to Lee, but the barely perceptible shake of her head was not. He knew when she wasn’t being entirely truthful . . . could recognize the signs in the set of her slim shoulders and the way she kept her head bent, the cascade of her long red hair falling forward to hide her face. 

They’d planned the vacation for eight months, his first totally indulgent departure from Seaview since they’d met. They’d taken short vacations before, but this one was to be utterly decadent, utterly romantic and longer than usual - - two whole weeks surrounded by crystal waters, glittering white sand beaches and tropical sunsets.

For the most part it had been exactly as they’d planned - - strolling hand in hand along their own private stretch of beach, making love on the sand as the setting sun painted the shoreline in brushstrokes of apricot and gold . . . long nights wrapped in each other’s arms, delirious mornings entwined in satin sheets as the flush of dawn claimed the eastern sky.

There’d been casinos and dancing, intimate candlelight dinners, hot tubs and champagne. Lee had never felt closer to the woman he loved, invigorated by their time together. The trip was winding down when he’d received Nelson’s phone call at their villa informing him of a critical mission. No time for delay, Nelson would be arriving to retrieve him in the Flying Sub the following day. The admiral kept his apologies brief and his explanation briefer, saying he would explain everything in detail when he arrived.

“Lyss.” Lee left his suitcase open on the bed and crossed to the dresser where Alyssa was sorting through her jewelry. Morning sunlight spilled through a soaring wall of floor-to-ceiling windows and double sets of French doors overlooking a sheltered cove. They’d paid a fortune for the rented villa but it had been worth every penny - - two floors of unparalleled luxury, a hot tub, kidney-shaped pool and multiple balconies. A soft breeze slipped through the open doors, carrying the scent of seawater, palm fronds and tropical flowers. If he were honest, as breathtaking as it was, he’d had his fill.

Nelson’s phone call had upped his adrenalin and refueled his desire to be back at sea. He wanted to be on his boat, in command, facing another assignment or voyage. He had no clue what awaited him - - only that ONI and the State Department were involved and, according to Nelson, time was critical. 

“Lyss,” Lee said again when she didn’t turn. Stepping behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and brushed a kiss against her hair. She continued to fuss with the items on the dresser, tugging off a ring and plopping it into a velvet-lined jewelry box. “It’s only two days early,” he said softly.

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

She turned to face him, pressing back against the dresser. He couldn’t help noticing she didn’t touch him, her hands braced on the wood behind her, her hair a waterfall of cinnamon tinged with gold, reflected in the mirror. “I have a bad feeling about this. Something’s wrong, Lee. I can sense it.”

“Is that all?” He tried not to sound chiding but couldn’t halt a soft snort. “You’ve been friends with Nicole Rook for too long. Her premonitions are rubbing off on you.”

“It’s not a premonition,” she protested. “I don’t believe in those. I just have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach . . . like something is going to change between us because of this mission. I...” She lowered her eyes and looked away. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Alyssa, that’s never going to happen.” He bumped a finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up for a kiss. This time she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was surprised to realize she was trembling.

Disturbed, he drew back with a frown. “This really has you worked up.”

“If something is dire enough for Harry to pull you from your vacation, it can’t be good, Lee. I’d feel better if I knew where you were headed.”

“I can arrange that.”

When she gave him a quizzical look he took her hand and led her to the bed. “Here, sit down. I haven’t told you everything Nelson said to me.”

She raised a brow. “You’re forgetting I know Harriman. I was married to him for three years. He would have said nothing more or less than needed to make his point.”

Lee sat beside her. “He asked me to bring you along.”

“What?”

He grinned, satisfied to know some things about her ex could still surprise her. “He didn’t elaborate, just said he preferred you to board Seaview rather than flying back to Santa Barbara as planned. I asked him if you were in any kind of danger and he assured me you weren’t. You know I’d never let you step onboard the sub otherwise.” He rubbed his thumb over her fingers, lightly tracing the outline of her engagement ring. “I told him I wasn’t sure what your schedule looked like for the next week but I’d ask.”

“He wants me on Seaview?” Dumbfounded, Alyssa stood, staring down at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. He said we have some other guests aboard but didn’t go into detail.” Lee shrugged, unwilling to admit Nelson’s request bothered him. He would be delighted to have Alyssa at his side, especially on the heels of such an intimate getaway, but didn’t want her placed in a situation of potential danger. He trusted Nelson wouldn’t do that and, therefore, deemed the situation safe if not unusual. “It could have something to do with the mission, or . . .” Another thought surface that bothered him. “Mae.”

Alyssa looked startled. It was true she’d developed an uncanny sense of the boat since Mae had shaved ten years from her age.* She was connected to Seaview’s spirit in a way she didn’t truly understand and, thus through Mae, linked to the submarine. Stepping aboard always awakened a strange sense of déjà vu in her that was equal parts exhilaration and fear. She’d become a conduit - - a voice who could communicate with Mae.

“I don’t care what the reason is,” she decided aloud. “It means I get to stay with you, and that’s all that matters.”

Lee stood, grinning as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “So you’re willing to give up two more nights of tropical beaches and sun-kissed bays for who knows how long on a submarine where the sun is nothing more than a memory?”

“Memories are special. Besides...” She leaned closer and tipped her lips up to his. “As long as I’m with you, Captain, I don’t care where we are.” 

**********

“Do you mind telling me why I’m here?” Alyssa asked as she strapped herself into the rear seat of the Flying Sub. Lee had taken the pilot’s chair while her ex-husband, Admiral Harriman Nelson settled in the co-pilot’s seat, more than content to let his captain fly the craft. Intuition told her that after two weeks away from Seaview and FS1, Lee was more than eager to take control of the joysticks.

“I don’t want anyone who might be watching Lee’s whereabouts to know you’re not together,” Harry explained with a glance over his shoulder  “This way when you don’t return to Santa Barbara as planned, it will look like the two of you decided to extend your vacation elsewhere.”

Lee frowned. “Is somebody watching my whereabouts?”

“Possibly.”

Alyssa felt a flutter of apprehension in her stomach. It was the same sensation she’d experienced yesterday when Harry’s impromptu phone call had interrupted a lazy afternoon of sunbathing. She strained forward in the seat as Lee launched the craft into the air, intent on the conversation.

“Harry, is Lee in danger?”

“No, Ali. It’s just I need everything to appear as normal, and you going back to Santa Barbara without him would signal something out of the ordinary. According to ONI there’s a lot of chatter right now in the intelligence network. With reason. Seaview left port several days ago on what appeared to be a routine mission. We’ve been keeping a low profile ever since.”

“As a smokescreen,” Lee said knowingly. “You have guests aboard.”

Harry nodded. “We’ll discuss them in my cabin on Seaview.”

“Meaning you prefer I don’t overhear?” Alyssa inserted and sat back in her chair. She tucked her legs to the side, settling in for what Harry assured would be no more than an hour flight.

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, Lyss,” Lee said.

“I know. State secrets.” She glanced around the inside of the craft noting the various gauges, switches and lights. Their luggage had been stowed in the rear storage compartment. She hadn’t exactly packed the appropriate attire for a week on a submarine, but she’d make do. She had a pair of flats tucked among her various heels, and the sandals she wore now were certainly serviceable. No jeans. Mostly shorts and sundresses, a few gauzy skirts and one pair of dress slacks. Hopefully the crew would forgive her for looking like she’d just come from a tropical vacation - - which she had.

Her eyes slid aside to Lee, watching as he conversed with Nelson. Two weeks in the Mediterranean had deepened his naturally olive complexion, making the green-gold glint of his eyes brighter than usual. He hadn’t taken the time to tame his hair this morning which had left him with a windblown look, his curls plainly evident. She knew he would change into a uniform aboard the sub to resume his duties as captain, but for now he looked relaxed and casual in navy Dockers and a white cotton shirt. He’d cuffed the sleeves back on his forearms, the soft ivory a startling contrast against his sun-bronzed tan. It didn’t take much for her mind to wander, thinking how he’d looked last night wearing nothing at all.

Flushing with the memory, she lowered her eyes. She’d had nearly two weeks of not sharing him with anyone, including his beloved Gray Lady. Despite what the days ahead might hold and where the unexpected mission might take him, it was time to give him back to Seaview.

She’d sensed an edginess in him the moment Harry had called. Although he hadn’t said it then, she’d known his heart was already on the boat with his crew. She’d learned long ago that loving him meant sharing him with his mistress, the sea.

She still worried about the details of the mission . . . knew that eventually he’d tell her what he could, relaying only the sparse tidbits he was permitted to share.

Worried, she bit her lip.

The strange impression that something monumental was going to change between them returned. She tried to tell herself she was being foolish, that maybe her friend Nicole really was rubbing off on her. Or maybe it was just boarding Seaview and knowing she’d feel the return of her strong otherworldly connection to Mae, a woman who loved Lee as much as she did.

Shoving the thoughts aside, she straightened her skirt and tried to concentrate on the present. Whatever the hush-hush mission and what awaited them on the submarine, at least she would be with Lee. 

**********

“It’s good to have you back onboard, Lee.” Chip Morton shook his hand and said hello to Alyssa but there was something guarded in his gaze. 

Lee knew the first order of business would be a brief on the mission (the admiral had already provided him with Seaview’s current position and status during their flight on the Flying Sub) but couldn’t help wondering why Chip appeared so cagey.

His executive officer gave orders for their luggage to be brought aboard then asked Patterson to escort Alyssa to the guest cabin closest to Lee’s. Lee gave her hand a brief squeeze promising to see her later, then watched her walk off with the crewman. Nelson had stepped to the side, conferring with Bob O’Brien, leaving Lee focused on Chip. 

“Everything running smoothly?”

A short nod. “You look relaxed,” Chip observed taking in his appearance - - deep tan, tousled curls, casual clothes. “The Mediterranean agrees with you.”

Ignoring the comment, Lee went straight to the heart of the matter, sensing something distinctly evasive about his friend. “Do you know what this mission’s about?”

Another nod, this time coupled with a frown. “You’re not going to believe this one - - at least not who our guests are - - but that’s for Nelson to share.”

“Lee.” The admiral’s voice drew his attention. “Report to my cabin in fifteen minutes. That should give you time to change into uniform.”

“Aye, Sir.” Lee watched as he walked away. The admiral had been at ease with him on FS1, but he was suddenly all business. “He seems agitated,” he noted to Chip.

“He isn’t the only one,” his friend muttered under his breath.

Lee shot him a sharp glance. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later, after you’ve met with Nelson.” Chip shook his head, frowning. “A lot has happened since you’ve been away.”

**********

Lee headed for his cabin, changed into a clean uniform, then reported to Nelson as ordered. The admiral wasted no time in sharing the details of the mission he’d been reluctant to discuss in front of Alyssa. When he was through, Lee found himself too edgy to sit, and paced a short distance from the older man’s desk.

“So let me get this straight. Our guest - - the man we’re working with on this assignment - - is an international jewel thief?”

“Not just jewels,” Nelson corrected, crushing out a cigarette in an already overflowing ashtray on his desk. “Art . . . antiquities. He doesn’t discriminate.” He shoved a black-and-white photograph in Lee’s direction. “Cedric Laurent St. Germaine. European birth, fluent in five languages, a master swordsman - - despite an injury that has left him with a permanent limp.”

“Swordsman?” Lee glanced up from the photo in time to catch Nelson’s nod.

“Rapier and epee. A ‘cultured’ gentleman, Lee.”

“Not too cultured to steal.” Lee returned his attention to the photograph. The man he regarded was tall and thin with a distinctively aristocratic bearing. Dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, replete with gold tie pin and cuff-links, he looked the part of old money and continental flair. Long straight hair, more silver than white, was brushed back from a high forehead and angular face. “How is it ONI and the State Department have an international thief in their pocket?”

“Apparently he’s been on their payroll for some time.” Nelson pushed back from his desk and crossed to a small table that held a thermal carafe and an assortment of cups. The aroma of darkly roasted beans permeated the air as he poured hot coffee into a ceramic mug. “I understand his skills have come in handy more than once. Were he to be apprehended at any time, ONI would, of course, deny all knowledge of the association.” He waved at the pot. “Help yourself to coffee.”

“No thank you, Sir. So St. Germaine sinks or swims on his own?”

“Precisely. In exchange, the deal has kept him out of prison. With the understanding he only uses his more resourceful skills as directed by our government. As someone high up in command told me, there are times when it’s necessary to break the rules and employ a person of questionable ethics for the greater good. When he’s not engaged in an operation, Mr. St. Germaine has been living below the radar in Piedmont, Oregon.”

“Oregon?” Lee balked, shocked by the idea. “Isn’t that rather provincial for an international thief?”

“Obscurity has its benefits,” a new voice interrupted. 

Lee turned toward the door in time to see St. Germaine step into the cabin.

“Forgive me, gentlemen. Perhaps I should have knocked. Your Mr. Kowalski informed me the admiral requested my presence.”

“I did.” Nelson waved him into the room. He indicated the thermal carafe. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“No thank you.” St. Germaine closed the door, shifting his attention to Lee. “I see you’ve managed to retrieve your captain, Admiral.” 

“Commander Lee Crane,” Nelson clarified, introducing the two. “We were just discussing you.”

“So it would seem.” Dispensing a handshake and nod, St. Germaine settled in a chair near Nelson’s desk. Lee noted he walked with a noticeable limp, relying on a silver-topped cane for support. He wore an expensively tailored suit and consulted an ornate pocket watch as he sat down. His face was thin, almost gaunt, his eyes the deep brown of toasted oak.

“Have you told Commander Crane about her Ladyship, Admiral?”

Nelson watched as St. Germaine slipped the pocket watch back into his vest. “I thought I’d leave that up to you.”

“Her Ladyship?” Lee looked between the two. He still had qualms about working with a known thief, but it appeared the dye had been cast. If ONI had christened the crook as one of their own, who was he to say differently?

“The Lady Ghost. A rare blue diamond belonging to the House of Rhydderich. You are familiar with the Duchy of Graetoria?” the silver-haired man asked.

“A small province strategically located on the border of our enemy,” Lee replied.

St. Germaine nodded. “Graetoria’s leadership has been hotly contested for the last century, disputed between the House of Rhydderich and the House of Laren. It’s made any alliance with the U.S. virtually impossible, a situation that continues to benefit the People’s Republic. Finally, there is an opportunity for a peaceful resolution - - a marriage between Solana Olexa Erys Rhydderich and Kaden Rainart Laren, IV.”

Lee looked to Nelson. “I don’t understand our part, Sir.”

The admiral returned to his desk. Pushing his coffee aside, he fished a crumbled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “The Lady Ghost is part of the dowry Rhydderich has pledged to Laren.”

The pieces were beginning to fall into place. “It’s been stolen?” 

Nelson nodded.

“Solana Rhydderich is to become Duchess of Graetoria if her marriage to Kaden Laren proceeds,” St. Germaine clarified. “A marriage would unify both houses, something the People’s Republic desires to stop at all cost. Without the Lady Ghost as part of the dowry, a marriage can’t take place. Failure to produce the heirloom would be construed an insult by the House of Laren, jeopardizing the marriage and any possible alliance between the two houses.” St. Germaine steepled his fingers and continued. “There is to be an engagement party on the 14^th to announce the nuptials. Propriety demands Solana attend wearing the Lady Ghost.”

“So you see, Lee,” Nelson exhaled a cloud of smoke as he talked. “It’s imperative we find and return the jewel prior to the 14^th. That gives us roughly a week.” He leaned forward, snuffing yet another Marlboro into his ashtray. A pattering of gray flakes spilled over the edge onto the photograph of St. Germaine. “Although we can’t be certain of the identity of the thief, intel has pinpointed a likely location for the gem. We’re fairly certain the People’s Republic is behind the theft.”

“Which is where I come in.” St. Germaine used his walking stick to regain his feet. “I’m familiar with our destination - - a fortress in the Crouic Mountains. It was once a citadel for an elite military squadron for hire.”

“You mean mercenaries?” Lee challenged bluntly.

“If you will, Captain.” St. Germaine gave a mild inclination of his head coupled with a sharp grin. “A lifetime ago I was a lieutenant there. It wasn’t long after that when I received this wound - -” He indicated his bad leg. “- - and your government caught up with me. We’ve been unwilling partners ever since, though I admit, the alliance works.”

“Because it keeps you out of jail?”

“Lee...” Nelson warned.

“It’s all right, Admiral.” St. Germaine waved the objection aside. “Your Captain appears to be a man of black-and-white values. An interesting concept given the role he often plays with your own Naval Intelligence. Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I should like to check on my ward.”

Lee gave a start, caught off guard by the odd pronouncement. “Your ward?”

“I’ll explain later,” Nelson said. “Thank you, Mr. St. Germaine. I appreciate the information you’ve shared. Once I have a chance to speak to Captain Crane at length, I’d like you to review the citadel details with him.”

“Of course, Admiral.” Dark eyes shifted to Lee. “Until then, Captain.” With another aristocratic inclination of his head, St. Germaine took his leave.

Puzzled, Lee glanced to his superior officer. “There’s more?”

Nelson nodded. “The real reason I wanted Alyssa on Seaview.”

Lee felt a reactive clench in his gut. He thought they’d already addressed the motive - - so anyone watching his beach house in Santa Barbara wouldn’t think it odd when she returned without him. If there was something sinister involved, surely Nelson wouldn’t have jeopardized her safety by bringing her aboard. “You said there was no danger for her,” he reminded quickly.

“Not on Seaview. Possibly not in Santa Barbara, but I didn’t want to take that chance.” Nelson motioned to the chair positioned by his desk. “Sit down, Lee.”

Another cramp through his gut. “I’d rather stand, Sir.” Agitated, he took a restless step forward, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand what St. Germaine, the Lady Ghost, or the Province of Graetoria has to do with Alyssa.”

“Probably nothing.” The older man paused, gauging Lee’s reaction from beneath his brows. “I mentioned a lot of chatter on the intel network when I picked you up in the Flying Sub. What has me concerned is mention of an old enemy - - Wynter.” He took a second to let that sink in. “Word has he’s returned to the People’s Republic. I think he could have something to do with the theft of the Lady Ghost.”

Lee blanched. He thought he’d seen the last of the traitor who was his former captain and, eventually, fellow officer. And torturer. Wynter had caged and tortured him more than once, his hatred for Lee morphing from an enemy operative with an assignment to complete to a sadist with a personal vendetta.

“There was a time he went after all three of us,” Nelson reminded him. “Alyssa too.”

He hadn’t forgotten . . . could never forget the extreme helplessness he’d felt when Alyssa had been trapped in Wynter’s web. After that sadistic encounter, when Wynter had failed to deliver Lee a second time, the People’s Republic had pulled the plug on their top operative. **

Unnerved, Lee scrubbed a hand over his chin, his mind reeling. “He was a free agent. The People’s Republic wanted nothing to do with him after that. They put out a contract on him.”

Nelson nodded. “Until he eliminated their assassins. Knock off enough killers and you earn a second look. Word is the People’s Republic is offering him a final chance for redemption - - stop the union between the Houses of Rhydderich and Laren, and his past failures will be forgotten - - including his inability to deliver you. Wynter’s no fool. He has to know ONI would call you in on the mission. I didn’t think you’d want that discussed in front of Ali, and I didn’t think you’d want her home in Santa Barbara knowing he might abduct her for bait.”

It was an ugly thought, but one he wouldn’t put past his nemesis. Wynter had used Alyssa before. “So you think he’s the thief?”

“If not him, someone in his employ. The fortress that St. Germaine referred to has been deserted for years, in ruins, but it’s undercut by a warren of interconnecting passages and tunnels making it ideal for seclusion. ONI believes Wynter is there, along with others, and that he has the Lady Ghost. The plan is for a small team to retrieve the gem. Because of U.S. neutrality with both Houses of Graetoria, storming the fortress is out of the question. The mission has to be conducted below the international radar. At all costs the House of Laren must never know the gem has been stolen. Otherwise, it will appear Solana Rhyderrich is an unfit match for their heir.”

“St. Germaine knows the layout of passages?” Lee guessed.

“Yes. But he doesn’t know about your history with Wynter.”

Lee was beginning to understand Chip’s agitation when he’d come aboard. Not only were they working hand-in-hand with a known jewel thief, but they were going up against an old adversary on a mission the U.S. couldn’t appear to condone. “I’m to lead the team?”

Nelson nodded. “Kowalski, Patterson, Hyde and Adam Rohe will be going with you. They’ve already been briefed. St. Germaine will explain the remaining details. He’s in Guest Cabin D.”

Lee nodded, deciding the team was sound. Kowalski and Patterson had worked numerous off-boat details with him, Hyde was solidly competent and Rohe had spent several years as a weapons specialist with COMSUBPAC before joining Seaview. It was a small team but an experienced one.

“Aye, Sir.” Lee was halfway to the door when Nelson’s voice stopped him.

“And Lee?”

“Yes, Admiral?” He paused with his hand on the knob.

The older man frowned, appearing uncertain if he wanted to continue. Finally, he shook his head. “Nothing. Report to the control room after you’ve met with St. Germaine. I think you’ll find this mission - - and our guest - - is unorthodox in more ways than one.”

**********

St. Germaine had made himself at home in the roomiest of Seaview’s guest cabins. The space had a small sitting area, desk and double rack, the bunks larger and more comfortable than those in the crew’s quarters or Sick Bay. Lee remembered mention of a ‘ward’ and guessed it was the reason the man hadn’t opted for a cabin with a single bunk. It also told him St. Germaine’s ward was male, not female, since they were sharing a cabin.  

“I understand you’ll be able to lead us through the tunnels beneath the fortress,” Lee said to St. Germaine after the two had exchanged polite but guarded small-talk about Seaview’s unusually high comfort level.

“Yes. I remember them well.” St. Germaine folded into a seat on a small couch. The table beside him was littered with a few hardback books he’d apparently packed as diversion during the trip. Lee noted several of the titles:  Don Quixote, The Once and Future King and The Woman in White.

“You don’t have a map of the tunnels?”

“Maps can fall into the wrong hands. I prefer to keep the knowledge as limited as possible. It’s here.” He tapped a long finger against his temple. When Lee frowned, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t trust me, do you, Commander?” 

Lee chose not to answer. “Just so we’re clear - - you’re a guide. The strike team is under my command. Your role is to get us through the fortress and retrieve the Lady Ghost but, when we’re on the ground, you follow my orders.”

“Agreed.”

Lee frowned at the quick response. The assurance did nothing to gain his trust. A man who kept a map in his head and, therefore, mission details to himself was not someone who inspired confidence. “I want a rundown of the tunnel formation - - what we can expect, obstacles we might encounter, pitfalls and a time in/time out scenario.”

“Understood.” St. Germaine was being too compliant. “First, however, I’d like to spend some time with my ward and make sure he’s acclimated to your submarine.”

There was that mention of a ward again, implying someone under age. Lee didn’t understand how or why a juvenile had been permitted on the mission but, given the necessity of St. Germaine’s role, he imagined the thief had simply insisted for reasons of his own.

“Perhaps after I check on McKellan,” St. Germaine continued, “we could - -”

“McKellan?” Lee interrupted instinctively. It was an unusual name, one he’d heard before and wasn’t likely to forget. Before he could probe further, the door to the cabin opened and the boy he remembered from Portmore Bay, Oregon slipped inside. He couldn’t have cued it better if he’d tried.

Lee balked. It had been a good year since their mostly antagonistic meeting and parting. Kel still had the same longish black hair and intense blue-green eyes he remembered, but the boy had gained several inches in height. The top of his head was now level with Lee’s nose, a fact not easily overlooked when Seaview’s captain rounded on him in shock.

“Great,” McKellan muttered before he could speak. “My timing sucks.” Brushing past Lee, he crossed to the table containing the books, flipped through the titles and retrieved Call of the Wild. He was halfway back to the door, head ducked to avoid Lee’s eyes, when St. Germaine’s voice stopped him.

“McKellan, I believe you know Captain Crane.”

A rigid halt mid-stride. “Yeah, we’ve met.”

Lee’s eyes shifted from the boy to St. Germaine. “This is your ward?” 

The idea was staggering. He remembered McKellan as a smart-mouthed street thief whom he’d assumed was part of “the system.” He knew the boy’s mother had died (a fact Kellan had grudgingly admitted to him) but had never been able to get a straight answer from him about his father. He’d been convinced the man was either dead or in prison. What he did know was that McKellan had been responsible for nearly getting Chip killed and that he was inordinately proud of his ability to steal. He’d once told Lee “The guy who taught me was the best.” ***

No-freaking-wonder with an international thief as his tutor!

Incensed, Lee took a step toward St. Germaine, his eyes flashing dangerously. “This is how you treat someone entrusted to your care? You teach him how to steal - -” He speared a finger in McKellan’s direction. “Make him proud of that skill then bring him on my sub as your ward? You’re out of your mind, St. Germaine! How did you even get custody of a child with your background?”

“Hey! He took care of me when my mom died,” McKellan snapped, his eyes flashing with the same heat as Lee’s. “That’s a hell of a lot more than my father did!”

“McKellan, enough,” St. Germaine said sharply. Using his walking stick for leverage, he pushed to his feet. “I was led to believe the two of you worked together in the past.”

“Because the stunt he pulled nearly got a friend of mine killed,” Lee said with a dark glance for Kel. He remembered the strange connection he’d felt toward the boy stir sluggishly awake. He’d tried to do the right thing then, had probably acted foolishly in letting him go rather than turning him over to the authorities for his part in Chip’s abduction. In the end McKellan had returned the compass he’d stolen from the lightship Long Hook along with the coordinates to “Grogan’s Gold,” the treasure that had been at the center of Chip’s disappearance.

Lee had second-guessed himself more than once for letting McKellan go free, often wondering what had become of him. In all his imaginings, he’d never expected to find him aboard Seaview as the ward of a continental thief.

“What is he doing here?” he asked St. Germaine.

“He’s my ward, Commander. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“You don’t have to tell him anything, Cedric,” McKellan spoke up.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Lee’s attention shifted to Kel. “I’m captain of this boat, and you and your guardian are my guests. I might have to put up with your presence onboard, but that doesn’t mean I can’t confine you to quarters if I deem your presence problematic. I’m not used to having children on my sub.”

“Shit, it wasn’t my idea.”

Lee frowned. “I see your language skills haven’t improved.”

“What did I tell you about swearing, McKellan?” St. Germaine asked.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll watch it. Can I just get out of here?”

Lee’s eyes fell to the book in his hands. “You read classics?”

Kel stiffened, the combativeness back in his eyes. “What of it? You tell anyone I like this shit, er - - garbage - -” he quickly corrected with a glance for St. Germaine, “- - and I’ll deny it.”

“Jack London is hardly garbage,” the silver-haired thief reprimanded. “And I’ve taught you better manners, McKellan. I - -” His words died abruptly, cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. Fumbling a silk handkerchief from his pocket, St. Germaine pressed it to his lips and sagged back into his chair.

“Cedric!” McKellan took a step toward him but the older man waved him off.

“Just a touch of lingering bronchitis,” he assured. His glance shifted to Lee. “You needn’t worry, Captain. I’m quite fit for the mission, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Lee guessed his reaction had shown in his eyes. Bronchitis and a limp. Could St. Germaine really pull off the theft without jeopardizing the strike team? The man’s face had grayed with the onslaught of the coughing spasm, the walnut of his eyes seeming darker still. He blotted his face with the folded handkerchief, smiling encouragement when McKellan watched him worriedly. 

“Perhaps a few minutes of down time?” the older man suggested.

“We’ll talk later,” Lee decided. He needed information, and it didn’t appear he was going to get it from either St. Germaine or McKellan. At least not now. Maybe Chip knew something about why the thief had insisted on bringing the boy along. His doubts about St. Germaine were also on the rise. Could the man really pull off the mission as expected? He wasn’t about to let Kowalski, Patterson, Rohe and Hyde walk into a situation that could well end in disaster.

With a curt nod he left the cabin, brushing past McKellan. He felt the boy’s eyes on his back and heard him mutter something under his breath. Lee couldn’t be sure but it sounded suspiciously like ‘this sucks.’

His mouth settled into a grim line. No question about it - - they were in for one hell of an aggravating cruise.

**********

Lee headed for the control room, intent on locating Chip. He was halfway there when he encountered Kowalski in the corridor.

“Welcome back, Skipper.” Ski’s grin was breezy, a little on the dopey side. Easy-going most days, he looked like he was sailing on top of the world. If Lee had to guess he’d say his favorite senior rating had something tucked up his sleeve.

“Did you have a good vacation?” Ski asked.

“It was nice.” Lee didn’t add that the two weeks with Alyssa had already been shuffled to the back of his mind, overshadowed by St. Germaine, McKellan and Seaview’s mission to retrieve the Lady Ghost. Tasked with an assignment, he’d thought of little else since Nelson had contacted him. “I’m looking for Mister Morton. Is he in the control room?”

“Yes, Sir. I just finished watch, and he was there when I left.” Ski hesitated a moment then lowered his voice as if uncertain of himself. “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” Lee thought he had the low-down on everything after learning the details of the upcoming mission, not to mention meeting St. Germaine and his ‘ward.’ He wasn’t sure he could handle any more surprises but had to admit his curiosity was piqued by Ski’s strange behavior.

“I’m getting married,” the rating told him.

“Huh?” That definitely caught him off guard.

“I bought Ron a ring last week and proposed.” Ski looked like a kid on Christmas morning who’d just discovered a large present under the tree. “Can you believe it, Sir? She said yes.”

Now that was news he didn’t mind getting! “That’s fantastic!” Lee clapped him on the back and shook his hand. “Congratulations!” As far as he was concerned Rick Kowalski and Veronica Morton, Chip’s youngest sister, were an ideal match. Ski, for all his outspokenness on the sub, tended to be laid back in his personal life, the perfect counterbalance for Veronica’s high-velocity personality. Lee loved her like a sister but knew from personal experience she thrived on drama.  

After moving to Santa Barbara, Veronica had become part owner of The Web Spinner, a gallery for local artists. The shop had been started and was co-owned by Chip’s girlfriend of over a year, Deyanne Montgomery.****  Since becoming business partners, the two women (who were close in age), had also become good friends. Chip hadn’t initially been thrilled by the idea of Ski and Ronnie dating, but he’d eventually come around.

“So how did Chip react?” Lee asked.

“Well, um . . . I think he’s okay with everything. It’s just taking him a while to get used to the idea, especially since we’ve already set a date for next spring. Ron will be the first of his sisters to marry and she’s the youngest.” Ski rolled his shoulders, looking deliriously happy. “He congratulated me so I guess that’s a good sign.”

“Any ribbing from the crew?” Prior to getting involved with Veronica, Ski had been notorious for playing the field. Lee remembered Chip once telling him that Kowalski “went through women like toilet paper.”

“Yeah, especially from Riley and Pat. They’ve been hitting me with a lot of ball-and-chain jokes.” Ski gave a sheepish shake of his head. “I wanted to make sure you knew about Ron and me since you ran interference with Mister Morton for us when we started dating. Kind of weird thinking the XO is going to be my brother-in-law. He’s probably gonna ride my six harder than he does now.”

Lee knew it was a good possibility but also knew any guff Chip gave Ski wasn’t done through spite. His friend was extremely protective of his sister and just wanted to be sure Ski toed the line. ‘Ricky’, as Veronica called the senior rating, didn’t seem to mind, having fallen hard and fast for the vivacious honey-blonde who, on her worst day, could easily gab a talk-show host under the table. 

“So what about you, Sir?” Ski asked, drawing him from his thoughts. “When are you and Ms. Halston going to tie the knot?”

Lee blinked, unprepared for the question. He and Alyssa had been engaged for over a year but still hadn’t picked a date. He’d backed off pressing once she’d agreed to be his wife. There was never any doubt they would walk down the aisle but, by mutual agreement, had left that future intentionally vague. If he were honest he’d like nothing better than to make their union official, but had agreed to give her time now that they were past the age hurdle - - thanks to Mae. To the rest of the world Alyssa was still sixteen years older than him, when in reality, that gap had been reduced to six.

“One of these days,” Lee said in answer to Ski’s question. “Odds are you’ll beat me to the altar.” He gave the rating another clap on the back, congratulated him again then headed for the control room in search of Chip. No wonder his friend had told him a lot had happened in the two weeks he’d been away. He could just imagine Chip’s reaction to the announcement of Ski and Ronnie’s engagement and was sorry he’d missed it. It was one matter for Chip to adjust to the idea of Kowalski dating Ron, another to think of the rating as her husband. Grinning, he continued toward the control room.

At least some of the news since returning to Seaview had been entertaining.

**********

Chip Morton scowled at Lee’s much-too-wide-grin as his friend lithely descended the spiral stairs and joined him in the observation nose. Chip had been examining a readout before going off watch, delaying to make sure his reports were precise before officially turning the conn over to Bob O’Brien. Satisfied the latest coordinates had them on schedule, he straightened, idly tapping the eraser end of a pencil against the clipboard in his hand.

“Let me guess,” he said as Lee joined him below the observation windows. “You talked to Kowalski?”

Lee’s grin grew wider. “You mean your soon-to-be brother-in-law?”

Chip rolled his eyes. “Can you believe it? He buys her a ring and the next thing I know the two of them are pounding on my door with a bottle of champagne. What the hell was I supposed to do, with them standing there grinning like idiots?”

“Share a toast, I hope.”

“I did. And I congratulated them.” Chip shook his head. “You’ve got admit the whole idea takes some getting used to. You realize my sister is going to be Veronica Eileen Kowalski?”

“It gets better.”

Chip arched a brow, sensing Lee was enjoying the situation too much. “How?”

“In a few years you could be an uncle.”

“Uncle?” Chip immediately sobered. The thought kindled a strange flutter in his stomach, one that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Ron and Kowalski with children was not something he’d considered. “Uncle Chip,” he whispered, oddly thunderstruck, oddly pleased. His contentment lasted all of five seconds before another, scarier thought struck. “Hey, you don’t think she’s - -”

“No, I don’t,” Lee cut him off firmly, knowing where his mind was headed. Leave it to an older brother to grow suspicious. “Ski knows you’d string him up and have him keelhauled if he got her pregnant out of wedlock. Face it, Chip. Ski’s going to be a permanent part of your family - - for all the right reasons.”

“Yeah.” The exec exhaled, clutching the clipboard in both hands. He’d had awhile to adjust to the idea and had to admit it wasn’t so bad. His parents were happy, Ron was positively giddy, and he’d even caught Ski walking around with a goofy grin on his face. He just wished Lee had been around when Ron and Kowalski had broken the news to him. He could have used someone to split a six-pack with as he contemplated the future. Veronica aside, her engagement had made him think about his own romantic expectations. 

He wasn’t ready to take the plunge but knew Dey Montgomery was the one. What worried him was whether or not she felt the same. They’d never discussed the future or where they hoped to be x-number of years from now. What if her vision didn’t match his? She’d told him more than once she loved him, but she’d never been demanding of their relationship, too much of a free-spirit herself to set restrictions. Although Chip considered their relationship exclusive they’d never defined it as such. Maybe it was time for him to test the waters with a ring or, at the very least, fish about regarding how she felt. Engagement didn’t mean a rush to the altar. Lee had been engaged for over a year without a date remotely entering the picture. Realizing that oversight, Chip eyed his friend.

“You know, I thought you’d be the first one to get married. You’ve been engaged for over a year.”

Lee shrugged. “She’s not ready and I’m not pushing.”

Chip couldn’t quell his natural curiosity. The answer didn’t make sense given how head-over-heels in love his friend and Alyssa were. He knew Alyssa still maintained a separate condo but she spent seven out of seven days living at Lee’s beach house whenever Seaview was in port. “Have you asked her lately?” he prodded. 

“No. She’ll let me know when she’s ready.” Lee looked away, his message clear:  End of discussion. A second later, he refocused on their mission. “The admiral briefed me about the Lady Ghost, and I met St. Germaine.” He frowned. “Interesting character.”

“Uh-huh.” Chip had a feeling he knew what was coming. “You meet his ward too?”

“Probably with a lot less antagonism than you did.”

“I doubt that. The kid has a knack for pushing your buttons, Lee.”

“What’s he doing onboard?”

Chip wished he knew. Shock didn’t begin to describe what he’d felt when St. Germaine boarded Seaview with McKellan in tow. He’d known the man was bringing his ward in advance (a situation no one on the sub had been happy about, imagining a child or teenager underfoot) but he hadn’t expected to encounter the same petty thief who was responsible for nearly getting him killed in Oregon. 

Chip had been surprised Nelson hadn’t put his foot down over the whole affair but, when he’d questioned the admiral about it later, Nelson had merely shook his head and said McKellan’s presence was necessary. No explanation, no elaboration. Mentally, Chip sighed. He supposed it could be worse. At least the kid had kept a low profile since boarding, steering clear of him. 

“As near as I can tell,” Chip told his friend, “McKellan’s sole purpose for being here is because St. Germaine wants him close by.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Given our mission, maybe he’s worried something could happen to him, and he didn’t want to leave the kid in Oregon unprotected. If word leaks he nabbed the Lady Ghost, I guess there could be repercussions for Kel.”

Lee frowned. “All the more reason to leave him with someone else.”

“Could be there is no one else. Didn’t you tell me his mother was dead?”

“Yeah. A drug overdose was the impression I got.”

“What about the father?”

Lee shrugged. “He wouldn’t say. My guess is he’s either dead or sitting in prison somewhere. I get the feeling the kid comes from a troubled background.”

“Well, having St. Germaine as a guardian isn’t exactly boy-scout material. It’s no wonder he’s so mouthy.” Chip blew out a breath and shook his head. “The crew seems to like him, but he doesn’t have an attitude with them.”

“What about Nelson?”

“Kel’s a smart kid. He’s stayed out of the admiral’s way.”

“Hopefully, he’ll stay out of mine too. If St. Germaine wants him here, he’s going to have to be responsible for him. I’m not going to have him underfoot with a crappy attitude, and especially not with the mission we’re undertaking.”

“Yes, Sir.” Chip barely managed to suppress a grin, quickly ducking his head to study his clipboard. If he’d been annoyed and taken aback by McKellan’s presence, Lee appeared to be doubly so. It made him recall the interplay between his friend and McKellan in Oregon. As much as the captain and thief had rattled each other, there’d been an underlying connection between them Chip couldn’t put his finger on. 

Lee had let the kid go when he should have notified the authorities. That had been nothing short of mind-boggling to Chip who had always known his friend to be unbending when it came to his principles and judging right from wrong. There was also the weird semi-resemblance between McKellan and Lee. The eye color was all wrong; Kel’s eyes a tropical blue-green compared to Lee’s mixture of emerald, bark and toasted honey. But there were subtle similarities shared between them - - thick black eyelashes, classically-drawn cheek bones and a similar shape to the nose. Toss in raven-black hair (though Kel’s tended to carry more wave than curl), and Chip could easily become sidetracked connecting the dots.

Nah. Can’t be.

Except McKellan would be the right age if Chip traced a timeline back to Ginny Rook who, according to her sister Nicole, had “died an addict.” The thought suddenly sobered him when he remembered Lee confronting Nic with a photo of Gerard Salazar that showed Ginny in the background. Salazar was someone who’d managed to skirt under the radar, evading the law while lining his pockets with money from drugs and prostitution. It was only after he’d kidnapped Lee and tried to torture information from him that he’d finally been apprehended, convicted for a murder he’d arranged, and sent to prison. *****

And the bastard lived in Oregon. Things were beginning to add up to be too much of a mere coincidence. Then there was the strange circumstance in Georgia when he and Lee had spent a weekend at an old mansion inhabited by ghosts. The spirit of Chip’s brother, Conner, had told him he’d met a woman “on the other side” who was upset because she’d died without telling Lee something important. Conner had said the woman had been in love with Lee but didn’t know her name.******

Holy shit!

He gulped down his shock and shot a quick glance at Lee. The captain had moved away, flipping through several reports Chip had abandoned on a nearby table. He’s completely oblivious, Chip realized, his heart beating frantically as the pieces clicked into place. It wasn’t possible, yet it made sense.

Trying to compose himself, he dragged a hand over the back of his neck. If he didn’t talk about it . . . share his suspicions with someone, he’d go nuts, but whom? No way was he going to dump his suspicions on Lee. The guy had enough on his plate already; especially given bastard-supreme Wynter was likely involved in the theft of her Ladyship.

Nelson?

Definitely a possibility. Chip was going off watch and the admiral seemed to know something about McKellan’s reason for being there the rest of them didn’t. If Chip’s imaginings were ludicrous and off-base, Nelson would set him straight. Which was exactly what he needed - - a cold dose of reality to make him realize what an idiot he was being.

McKellan was just a good-looking kid who sort of/kind of resembled Lee. So what if he was from Oregon? So what if Ginny Rook had had those same tropical blue-green eyes now that he thought about it.

Shit and double shit!

Lee glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you were going off watch?”

“I am.” Chip hoped his nervousness didn’t show. “Mister O’Brien you have the conn,” he called.

“Aye, Sir. I have the conn,” O’Brien replied.

Chip gave a quick nod to Lee and headed for the spiral stairs. The sooner he got out of the observation nose and away from his friend the better. It was one thing to imagine the impossible. It was another to envision the repercussions certain to follow should his imaginings be proven correct.

Hell, buddy. I have a feeling you’re in for the shock of a lifetime.

**********

Chip fidgeted, standing outside the door to Nelson’s cabin, debating whether he had the courage to knock. He was shocked to realize he was sweating and that his mouth felt like he had swallowed a pound of sawdust. Nelson would likely think he’d gone off his rocker, and maybe he had. Only an idiot would tie such a string of coincidences together. He should be focused on the mission like everyone else, not dreaming up impossible scenarios that saddled Lee with a kid.

Even if he was right, what purpose would the knowledge serve? He couldn’t tell Lee. Until the Lady Ghost had been retrieved and the strike team was safely back onboard, Lee couldn’t afford personal distractions. In the long run, maybe it did make more sense to keep his suspicions to himself. 

Having just reached that conclusion, he started to turn away but froze when Nelson’s door was wrenched abruptly inward. The admiral staggered to an abrupt halt at the sight of his XO on the threshold.

“Chip.” Nelson recovered quickly, shuffling several folders under his arm. “I was headed for my lab. Did you need me?”

“Yes, Sir. Uh, no, Sir...” Chip winced, knowing he sounded flustered. He also knew Nelson had been examining satellite photos of the seas around the Crouic Mountains and likely wanted to get back to the task at hand. “That is . . . I was looking for Captain Crane.”

“Lee?” Nelson’s brow climbed into his hair as if the answer should be obvious. “I thought he’d be in the control room by now.”

“Uh, possibly, Sir. I just left there and probably missed him. It wasn’t anything important anyway.”

“Oh?”

“No. I, uh . . . I wanted to see if he’d heard the news about Kowalski and my sister.” It was a lame excuse but all he could come up with on the spur of the moment. He cleared his throat as Nelson continued to eye him skeptically. “Sorry to disturb you, Admiral.”

Chip backed away, relieved when Nelson didn’t challenge him further. Deciding he’d almost opened a very ugly can of worms, Chip mentally berated himself for nearly making an unforgivable blunder. There would be time enough to entertain absurd thoughts later. For the moment, even he needed to remain focused on the mission.

**********

Lee didn’t cross paths with Alyssa again until later that evening. As operations were running smoothly and the sub was on schedule, Nelson arranged a late dinner for his senior officers and guests in the observation nose. McKellan, who probably would have been bored, had an earlier meal with the crew in the ward room. Lee had put Kowalski in charge of the boy and, later discovered, Ski seemed to like the kid. 

Probably because Kel’s so cocky, he thought, knowing Ski often acted the same way himself. Along with Patterson, Riley and a few of the others, Ski had made it a point to take Kel under his wing, keeping him occupied when off duty. Lee knew the rating would ensure he went nowhere near the main operation areas of the boat.

“Have you met McKellan?” Alyssa asked Lee when he arrived to escort her to dinner. She was dressed in a gauzy skirt and coral-colored top that looked more suited to a beach resort than a submarine but, given their vacation had been brazenly interrupted, she was adjusting well. 

“We’ve met,” he said, bestowing a soft kiss in greeting. Hooking an arm around her waist, he inhaled the exotic cala lily scent trapped in her hair and pulled her closer. “Miss me?” He deepened the kiss, pleased when he felt her quiver. Focused on the mission all day, it was good to know he still had what it took to elicit a purely sexual response from the woman he loved. Grinning, he contoured the fleshly part of his thumb along the curve of her cheek. “If we were still on that island I’d skip dinner and take you straight to bed.” 

“Hmm. I think you were a rogue in another life, Lee.” With a coy smile, Alyssa flattened a hand against his chest and pushed backward. “Besides, I have another man now.”

He arched a brow, amused by her teasing.

“McKellan,” she said to the silent inquiry. “He kept me occupied most of the day.”

Lee rolled his eyes. “Replaced by a twelve-year-old.”

“Thirteen. We talked movies and books. Did you know he’s a voracious reader?”

Lee frowned. “You’d never know from his vocabulary.”

“That’s because you’ve never held a discussion with him. He told me about the misunderstanding you had in Oregon.”

“Misunderstanding? Alyssa, the kid stole an antique compass with coordinates to some legendary buried treasure then planted the thing on Chip to throw off the idiots who’d paid him to take it. Theft is criminal, not to mention what nearly happened to Chip.”

“So why did you let him go?”

Lee hedged, uncomfortable. It was the same question Chip had asked when he’d told McKellan to take off before the cops arrived. A year later he still didn’t have an answer. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, trying to wave off his indiscretion. “At thirteen he should have known better.”

“He was twelve then,” Alyssa pointed out a little too smugly. The curl of her lips told him she was enjoying his discomfiture. “It’s amazing, Captain, how effortlessly you handle your crew but have difficulty with a thirteen-year-old boy.”

Lee frowned. She was teasing, but she’d also struck a chord. “He doesn’t belong on a submarine,” he said tersely. 

Instead of being annoyed, Alyssa giggled. “Obviously.” She pushed on tiptoes to kiss him. “Are you going to take me to dinner now? I think you need some adult conversation.”

“With St. Germaine?” Lee’s tone relayed what he thought of the man.

“He bowed over my hand when we were introduced and told me it was an honor.”

“And you let that go to your head?”

Her eyes twinkled. “It was very romantic and courtly.” 

She was still egging him on, but he couldn’t complain. He’d rather have her playful than fretful. Earlier, he’d told her what he could about St. Germaine and the mission, downplaying the older man’s notorious background. He’d also skirted Wynter’s suspected involvement, remembering Alyssa’s unnatural fear when they were still on the island. One mention of his nemesis and her uneasy feeling that ‘something between them would change’ would quickly morph into full-blown panic.

She knew the assignment was dangerous and, although she didn’t dwell on the risk, Lee knew it continually hovered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t very well complain about the chances he took with his life when it went hand-in-hand with his career, but knew she secretly wanted him to end his association with ONI - - at the very least to back off from the risky assignments.

One of these days. 

He knew he’d beaten the odds several times and that kind of luck wouldn’t hold forever. He was thirty-five and sooner or later, if he wanted any kind of domestic future, he needed to hang up his cloak-and-dagger.

“So does this mean you’re going to swoon over St. Germaine during dinner? I can do courtly and romantic too, you know.”

Her smile was flirty and playful. “I’d rather have you smoldering and sensual.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re lucky we’re on Seaview.” Looping his arm around her waist, he steered her toward the door. “...or I’d show you what kind of rogue I really am.”

**********

Lee had to admit dinner wasn’t all that bad. Despite what he thought of the man, St. Germaine turned out to be an engaging conversationalist who dispensed intellect and flattery equally well. Grudgingly, Lee silently admitted Alyssa was right - - there was something courtly, even “old world” about the man. He remembered when he’d first encountered McKellan in Oregon and how the boy had occasionally used words that seemed too old for him, even archaic. That had to be St. Germaine’s influence.

Discussion of the mission was kept to a bare minimum while their guest wielded his natural charm, talking science and politics with Nelson, technological advancements with Chip and international cuisine with Alyssa. He included Lee on all levels as if specifically trying to gauge his reaction on everything from the most insignificant observation to the more detailed. Lee had a strange sense he was being dissected yet, even then, couldn’t find fault with St. Germaine. The man had an effortless charisma he triggered with the flip of a switch. One glance at Alyssa told Lee she was completely taken with him. Rather than being annoyed he found himself amused. It wasn’t just anyone who could turn his fiancée’s head.

“So, I’m curious,” he addressed St. Germaine. “How did Kellan become your ward?” It was something that had been at the back of his mind since discovering the connection between the two. It seemed an unlikely bond but, Lee realized, he didn’t know much about McKellan. Only what he’d been able to glean from bits of conversation he’d had with the boy in Oregon.  

“Circumstance.” St. Germaine paused to prod a piece of neatly cut meat on his plate. 

Cookie’s menu of stuffed chicken breast, julienned squash and red potatoes wasn’t continental cuisine but it more than passed muster on a submarine. With the observation windows as backdrop, and Seaview’s nose light illuminating schools of brightly colored fish and other marine life that passed in front of the boat, the setting was unique. Even someone as widely travelled as St. Germaine had admitted to finding the experience singularly uncommon and mesmerizing. 

“Circumstance?” Lee prompted, refocusing on Kel. St. Germaine wasn’t the only one capable of fishing for information.

“His mother was romantically involved with my nephew for several years,” the older man explained. “During that time McKellan and I became close.” St. Germaine paused to methodically dab his mouth with his napkin before returning it to his lap. “When the relationship soured, I stayed in touch with Kellan and his mother. I admit to being taken with the boy. From the start I saw he was highly intelligent with a quick aptitude for learning.”

It took everything Lee had not to point out he didn’t consider thievery an ideal subject for a child.

“Because of the bond I had with McKellan, his mother asked me to become his guardian in the event anything should happen to her,” St. Germaine continued. 

“What about his father?” Lee persisted.

“I’m afraid he’s out of the picture.”

“Incarcerated?”

“Lee!” Alyssa said, appalled.

“No need for indignation, my dear.” St. Germaine patted her hand where it rested on the table. “You’re forgetting Commander Crane has gone out on a limb for my ward in the past. It’s understandable he’d be curious about McKellan’s parents.”

“Uh, more chicken, Mr. St. Germaine?” Chip asked abruptly, reaching for the platter on the center of the table.

Lee frowned. His friend had been oddly subdued most of the night but he was suddenly tightly-strung. The exec offered the platter to St. Germaine but the older man shook his head, coughing lightly as he raised his napkin to his mouth.  

“No thank you, Mister Morton. Your cook is quite the chef, but I believe I’ve had my fill. I...” He stopped abruptly, ducking his head and coughing into the napkin. The sound was the same harsh rattle Lee had noted earlier, deeper now, as if it had taken root in his chest. 

“Pardon me, gentlemen.” St. Germaine offered a rueful smile when the cough had quieted. “One of the hazards of age, I’m afraid.”

“That cough doesn’t sound good,” Nelson observed. “Perhaps you should pay a visit to our ship’s doctor.”

“Thank you, Admiral, but that won’t do any good.” St. Germaine pulled a vial of pills from the pocket of his jacket, tumbled two into his palm, and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. “I’ve seen several specialists already.”

“You told me it was bronchitis,” Lee inserted with a frown.

“Ah, so I did. A small white lie in front of McKellan. The boy’s already lost his mother. I don’t want him worrying about my health. The less he knows about matters the better.” 

At the head of the table, Nelson frowned. “Are you saying your condition is serious?”

“I’m saying it’s manageable. As long as I take these...” St. Germaine rattled the bottle of pills before returning it to his pocket. “...I keep it under control. Don’t worry, Admiral. As I told your captain earlier, I’m quite capable of undertaking this mission. I do, however, find myself a bit fatigued. I hope you won’t think it rude if I excuse myself and call it a night?”

“Of course not,” Nelson said quickly.

“Then I’ll bid you all a good evening.” Standing, St. Germaine parted with a regal inclination of his head. Turning to Alyssa, he swept her hand to his lips, pausing to linger over her knuckles. “It’s been a delight, Ms. Halston. I look forward to your continued company on this voyage.”

Alyssa parted with a smitten sigh as the older man left via the spiral stairs.

“He’s got you wrapped, Lyss,” Lee said with an amused shake of his head.

She slanted her eyes in his direction. “I’m enjoying being manipulated, Captain. And just for the record, why would you make such a horrible judgment call about McKellan’s father?”

“Do you know where he is?” Lee challenged, remembering she’d spent a good deal of time with the boy.

“No, but...”

“He’s obviously out of the picture,” Chip interrupted brusquely, wired once again. “What’s it matter anyway? St. Germaine is the kid’s guardian. That’s all we need to know.”

Lee blinked, surprised by a hint of anger in his friend’s voice.

The exec looked away, his mouth pressed in a tight line as he pushed food around his plate. “I thought Jamie would be joining us, Admiral,” he commented, redirecting the conversation.

The second time he’s done that, Lee realized with a frown. Both the exec and St. Germaine were plainly adept at maneuvering the conversation to suit their needs. But why grow agitated over a question related to McKellan’s father?

Nelson nodded, eyes narrowed. He too seemed to have picked up on Chip’s odd reaction. “Will intended to join us but Adam Rohe showed up at the last minute in Sick Bay complaining of stomach cramps.”

Lee’s brows shot into his hair. The rating, along with Kowalski, Patterson and Hyde was part of his strike team. “Why wasn’t I informed?”

Nelson gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s probably nothing, Lee - - too much chocolate cake for dessert. Seaview won’t be in position for another two days. I’m sure Rohe will be fine by then. Jamieson will see to him.”

“Aye, Sir.” Despite the affirmative, Lee felt a prickling of unease. He had no way of knowing it was only a glimmer of greater tragedy to come.

**********

Lee was in the control room early the following day when St. Germaine asked permission for McKellan to join him in the observation nose. Lee saw no reason for declining the request, especially given it would keep Kel occupied. He was surprised to realize the kid could be well mannered when he chose, conversing quietly with St. Germaine while stealing occasional glances toward the control room. It was hard to imagine any thirteen-year-old who didn’t find the flashing dials, gauges, lights and equipment at least mildly intriguing. 

When St. Germaine had one of his coughing spells and bowed out to rummage up his pills, Lee felt compelled to pick up the slack. Chip was with Sharkey in the missile room running equipment checks and Nelson had retreated to his cabin in order to review the latest round of messages from the State Department regarding the situation in Graetoria. 

Lee had been aware of McKellan watching him for the last half hour as he’d gone about his command duties. The boy tried to be inconspicuous about it, but Lee was too conscious of his surroundings not be mindful of the glances. He recalled there’d been a brief time when he and Kellan had marginally connected in Oregon and decided it could be worth a second try - - though for the life of him couldn’t pinpoint why he felt the need.

Tossing his pencil on the plotting table, he crossed to the observation windows where McKellan sat in a chair, moodily reading. He hadn’t turned a page in the last five minutes and, Lee guessed, was only feigning interest in the book, more intrigued by what was happening in the control room. 

Kel glanced up at his approach, his expression the usual hostile mask he wore whenever Lee was around.

Knowing it was up to him to break the ice, Lee nodded to the book. “I used to read a lot as a kid. Mainly detective stuff. My dad was a cop.”

That earned him a mildly curious glance before McKellan returned his attention to the novel. He flipped a page without saying anything but, Lee noticed, his fingers tightened on the cover. With his eyes lowered, the extravagant length of his lashes was noticeable. 

Stubborn. Prickly too.

“How do you like Seaview?” Lee tried again.

An indifferent shrug. “S’okay.”

“Then I guess you wouldn’t be interested in a tour of the control room to see what all those gauges do?”

McKellan looked up, clearly interested. The enthusiasm lasted only a second before being buried beneath a put-upon scowl. “With you?”

Lee mimicked the same nonchalant shrug Kel had used earlier. “I am the captain.”

“Yeah . . .” A heavier frown as he weighed the pros and cons. Finally:  “Can I look through the periscope?”

Lee would have grinned if the question weren’t so predictable. “We’re running submerged now but later, when we surface, I can arrange that.”

“Arrange what?” St. Germaine asked, returning by means of the spiral stairs. His face looked drawn and there were dark circles under his eyes, but the few minutes away had revived him, the pills having worked their magic. His voice was smooth and cultured once more, his posture straight. The tip of his walking stick made a soft tapping sound against the deck as he moved closer to the observation windows.

“I was about to take Kellan on a tour of the control room,” Lee explained.

“A delightful idea!” St. Germaine offered the first genuine smile Lee had seen from him since he’d stepped aboard.

“Skipper,” Kowalski hailed from the sonar station before the discussion could proceed further. “Sir, I’m picking up the signature of another sub, closing fast.”

The casual conversation with Kel and St. Germaine was immediately forgotten. “Type and distance,” Lee ordered, striding quickly for the rating’s console.

“Attack class, Sir. Not one of ours. Bearing 0-5-0, 6,000 yards.”

“Helmsman,” Lee called. “Hard left rudder, ten degrees port.”

“Sir, she’s locked on us,” Kowalski relayed. “Flooding her tubes.”

Lee wrenched the hand mic from the periscope island. “Engineering, port ahead two-thirds. Missile room, flood torpedo tubes one and four.” He was vaguely aware that St. Germaine and McKellan had moved to the far end of the plotting table, the man standing behind the boy, his hands resting on Kel’s shoulder. McKellan looked flushed and wide-eyed, caught between a rush of confused adrenalin and fear.

“It seems the enemy has found us,” St. Germaine observed grimly. 

Lee ignored the obvious. “Kowalski,” he said evenly. “Range.”

“4,500 yards, Sir. Still closing.” A pause as he adjusted a dial. “Enemy torpedo in the water, locked on.”

“Helmsman, down plane, hard to starboard” Lee ordered sharply. He clicked the mic again. “Missile room, prepare to fire.”

A second later, the reply bounced back. “Ready to fire, Sir.”

Lee leaned across Kowalski and activated the aft camera.

“Tracking, Sir,” Kowalski said, intent on the sound in his headset. “2,500 yards to enemy torpedo.”

“Stand by,” Lee said into the mic. 

As he spoke, Nelson clattered down the stairs. Joining his captain, he frowned at the grainy image on the camera. “It didn’t take them long to discover what we’re up to. I’d hoped to make the coast before encountering enemy resistance.”

Lee shot him a glance. “I don’t think they share your optimism, Admiral.”

Nelson grinned tightly.

“1200 yards,” Kowalski announced.

Lee clicked the mic. “Missile room, fire one.”

“Fire one,” was the instant reply. 

Lee felt the soft, nearly insubstantial concussion of the release. 

“Homing,” Kowalski announced, then three seconds later:  “Locked, Sir.”

Lee raised the mic to his lips. “All hands brace for impact.” As soon as he gave the order, he remembered St. Germaine and McKellan. “Grab the table,” he commanded, bolting toward the two. Without waiting to see if he’d be obeyed, he snared McKellan’s wrist and forced him to clutch the table, enfolding Kel between his chest and the edge, shielding him with his body. 

There wasn’t time to help St. Germaine. When the backlash hit it sent the older man sprawling. The sub rocked hard to the side, tossed by the violent repercussion.

“Torpedo destroyed,” Kowalski called amid a shower of sparks and warning claxons. “Enemy sub altering course to 0-9-5. She’s turning tail, Skipper.”

Lee called the adjustment to the planesman. “Stay with her,” he ordered. Leaning across Kel, he tried to hold him steady as the sub pitched and shuddered. He felt a spatter of sparks from overhead and caught a flash-fire eruption of flame from the corner of his eye. Quickly, he wrenched the table mic from its cradle. “Missile room, stand by number four torpedo.” 

“Standing by.”

“Engine room, back flank.”

“Aye, Sir. Back flank.”

Lee felt a shift that told him the boat was settling, evening out on a smoother plane. The emergency lighting kicked in, followed within a few seconds by the main systems. He caught the reek of ozone as O’Malley turned a fire extinguisher on the small outbreak of flame. “Damage control, report.”

“Minimal circuitry damage, Sir. She’s watertight.”

“Range to target is 1400 yards, Skipper” Kowalski called. “She doesn’t have our speed.”

The hunter had become the hunted. One hand still resting on McKellan’s shoulder, Lee spoke into the microphone. “Missile room, fire number four.”

“Firing number four.”

“All hands brace for shockwave,” Lee ordered, knowing the enemy sub would explode within seconds. The backlash was stronger when it struck, sending him sprawling despite his best efforts to hold on. He immediately pulled himself upright, only to be sent tumbling again by the brutal rocking of the boat. The control room was plunged into darkness.

McKellan rolled, crawling toward the periscope island in an attempt to grab a handhold. Lee gave him a push so he could clutch the edge, ordering him to hang on and stay down. A sub under attack was no place for a thirteen-year-old kid. Nelson must have been out of his head to allow him on the boat in the first place. 

And what of Alyssa? Lee’s gut clenched tightly as he thought of his fiancée alone in her cabin, the sub heaving and shuddering, lights plunging into darkness. 

Mae will keep her safe. 

He had to believe that. There was no time to dwell on fear. In another few moments it was over, Seaview reestablishing trim. The lighting flickered sluggishly then surged to full power. Lee pulled himself to his feet, too pumped on adrenalin to be aware of any aches or pains he’d absorbed from the spill. He called for another damage control report and was thankful to learn they’d escaped without issue.

“You okay?” he asked turning to McKellan, helping him upright.

The kid gulped and nodded, tougher than Lee thought. There was no question he was rattled, realizing they could have been killed, but he kept his wits about him. “Where’s Cedric?” he asked.

In the confusion of the attack, Lee had forgotten the older man.

“Lee,” he heard Nelson call.

The admiral had moved into the observation nose, bent over a crumpled form on the deck. Lee caught a flash of silver hair and immaculate black clothing before he saw the puddle of blood spooling from St. Germaine’s ruined leg. Nelson helped the man sit up, supporting him against his chest. One glance at the damaged appendage and Lee knew it had snapped in half, the bone pushing through skin. 

“O’Malley, get Jamieson up here,” he ordered.

“Cedric!” Panicked, McKellan surged forward.

Lee snagged his shoulder, holding him in place. He knew from personal experience that much blood equaled pain. Already he could see St. Germaine struggling to retain his composure, unwilling to show how badly he was hurt in front of his ward. “You can’t help him, Kellan. Stay here.”

“Let me go!”

“Ski,” Lee called to the rating, his patience spent. “Get this kid out of here.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kowalski caught him under the arm. “Come on, Kel. You can help me check on Ms. Halston for the captain. Someone needs to make sure she’s okay.”

Lee shot him a grateful glance. It gave Kel something useful to do while ensuring Alyssa would be looked after. He knew Kowalski would see to her safety and, for some reason, Kel seemed to have connected with her. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out why. Kel surely missed his own mother, and Alyssa was the only female onboard. Toss in the fact she was compassionate and attentive and the two had formed an immediate, if tentative, bond.

As Kowalski steered his charge through the rear hatch, Lee turned back to Nelson and St. Germaine. The admiral’s grim expression mirrored his own. The enemy sub might have failed in destroying Seaview, but it had accomplished its mission. 

Without St. Germaine, they had no way of retrieving the Lady Ghost.

**********

The news on St. Germaine wasn’t good, but the news on Adam Rohe was worse. Harry looked from his on-edge captain to his XO. 

“Dead?” Lee repeated, appalled. Unnerved, he ripped a hand through his hair. “Sir . . . how?”

Harry had summoned both men to his cabin after receiving the information from Will Jamieson. The doctor had been looking for Lee but, between making sure the sub was running smoothly after the attack and taking a few moments to check on his fiancée, he’d been difficult to pin down. As Will had his hands full with the unexplained death and St. Germaine’s surgery, Harry agreed to take care of it. As tragic as it was, Rohe’s passing wasn’t simply the loss of a crew member and friend but also a critical player on the strike team. 

“Without an autopsy, Will can’t be sure, but he suspects poison.” Given the man had gone from stomach cramps to full cardiac arrest in less than twenty-four hours, there was little doubt in Harry’s mind.

“Deliberate?” Chip ventured.

He nodded, watching as his two senior officers exchanged a glance. He knew they were remembering a competent but quiet man who excelled as a weapons specialist. Adam would be sorely missed by all of them, the injustice of his death hard to swallow. There would be time for anger and grief later, along with a fitting military burial at sea. They all knew Adam’s wishes in that regard. A man who had no relatives, Rohe had often said he wanted his final resting place to be where he’d spent the latter part of his career - - exploring the ocean. 

Lee exhaled, frustrated and saddened by the news. “That means a mole on board,” he said at last.

“Which explains how quickly that enemy sub found us,” Harry agreed. 

“Sir, security for this mission was tighter than usual,” Chip protested. “I reviewed the roster personally. The only two people aboard who weren’t regular crew are St. Germaine and Rohe. Given Adam is dead and St. Germaine is undergoing surgery for a busted leg, I’d say both are in the clear. Without St. Germaine, there’s no shot of retrieving the Lady Ghost.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Thoughtful, Harry tugged a thumb and forefinger over his bottom lip. He knew his captain had skills far surpassing that of a commanding officer. His service to ONI hadn’t turned him into a cat burglar per se, but he knew a thing or two about stealth and retrieval. “No one is aware of the exact mission plan with the exception of the strike team and the three of us. Wynter and the People’s Republic may be expecting an attempt to retrieve the diamond, but they don’t know how or when it will happen - - only that it has to take place before the fourteenth of the month.”

“That’s not entirely true, Admiral.” Lee twisted the onyx ring on his left hand as he considered the ramifications. “If we have a mole onboard, he’s probably rigged a hidden communications device. I’ll order a sweep and have Kowalski head the search team.”

“And tip off the infiltrator? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lee. Chip’s right - - we were extra stringent with security measures when leaving Santa Barbara, fully aware of the consequences should this mission fail. Our mole is someone who was paid off in advance.”

“You’re suggesting one of our crew has been bought by the People’s Republic?”

It was an ugly thought, but the only one that made sense. Harry nodded. “The mission has to be sabotage, not relaying information. It would be too difficult with the security measures we’ve implemented. I think our mole is cut off from his base but is doing what he can to ensure the strike team never makes it to the Crouic Mountains.”

“Like poisoning Rohe,” Chip inserted. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘bastard.’ 

Had it been spoken aloud, Harry would have agreed. He rummaged in his desk drawer for a fresh pack of cigarettes and tore off the cellophane wrapping. “Lee, when St. Germaine is well enough have him draw a diagram of the tunnels for you. He’s going to have to share that map he keeps inside his head.”

“Aye, Sir. That might lead us to the diamond, but what about when we get there? I’m minus a weapons specialist and a jewel thief.”

“The rest of the team will have to pick up the slack left by Rohe’s death. There’s no time to bring anyone else up to speed.”

“And the Lady Ghost?” Lee persisted.

Harry frowned, fearing they would have to take their chances. St. Germaine had been vague as to the perceived whereabouts of the gem but guessed it was kept in a secure vault on the upper level of the fortress. Convinced there wasn’t a safe he couldn’t crack, a lock he couldn’t open or a security system he couldn’t bypass, he’d assured Harry the deed was as good as done. He’d take care of the vault as long as the strike team managed to get him in and out. Now, minus his covert skills, the only alternative was using force and explosives.  

“We’ll talk to St. Germaine when he’s out of surgery,” Harry said. “Maybe he can . . . I don’t know, Lee . . .” Aggravated, he waved a hand in the air. “Give you pointers of some sort. You’ve done retrieval work before.”

“Not like this. I’m not a safecracker, Admiral.”

“That might be but, with St. Germaine out of the picture, you’re the best shot we have, even if it means resorting to plastic explosives.” There were other things to consider as well - - unpleasant matters Harry could no longer ignore. “In the meantime, Captain, you’re going to have to tell the crew about Rohe’s death. The burial will have to wait until after we complete our mission.” Another ugly reality. They couldn’t risk surfacing and revealing their position to the enemy.

Lee nodded grimly. “I know, Sir. I’ll have the crew observe a moment of silence. Are you going to have Jamie conduct an autopsy?”

Harry nodded. It was the only way to be sure and, as required by the military, Rohe had signed off on how his remains were to be handled in the event of his death. To the best of his knowledge, Harry couldn’t recall an objection to an autopsy but they would need to consult the appropriate files. “At least we’ll know for certain. Rohe deserves that much.”

It was a sad fate for a man who had given his life to halt a power-hungry enemy.

***********

There were some tasks as captain Lee hated. Officiating at a burial was one of them. Though they couldn’t honor Adam Rohe the way he would have liked, Lee said a few words about the character and dedication of the rating over the boat’s intercom, read a short passage of scripture, then had everyone observe a moment of silence. Afterward, he checked in with Jamie and learned that St. Germaine had pulled through surgery, but that the break was a bad one and would require extensive rehabilitation.

A peek into the recovery section of Sick Bay revealed the gentleman-thief asleep in a lower bunk, a morphine pump positioned near his rack. Lee was surprised to see Alyssa sitting quietly by his side with McKellan, her arm looped around the boy’s shoulders. McKellan looked up when he entered the room then deliberately away, his attention fixed on his guardian.

St. Germaine’s skin was withered and drawn, the subdued lighting gouging shadows beneath his cheeks. His damaged leg sported a thick cast, the outline visible through the cot’s thin covering of blankets. Jamie had suspended it in traction to prevent movement, a position that would become increasingly uncomfortable when St. Germaine awoke.

“Lee.” Alyssa glanced up hopefully, meeting his eyes. “Jamie says Cedric has done well, and he’ll recover.” She tightened her arm around McKellan in visible support. “Kel wanted to be with him when he wakes up so I said I’d stay with him.”

Lee nodded, thankful for her presence. There was no question she was good for the kid, especially now.

“Can I talk to you for a few minutes?” she asked, still addressing Lee. “If you’re in the middle of something...”

“No, that’s all right.” The truth was he wanted to see her. Since the attack by the enemy sub he’d had very little opportunity to be with her. He knew she was fine but still worried about her emotional state after the incident. She’d shown no signs of distress other than the expected worry over his safety, that of Nelson, Chip and the crew, but Lee knew she’d buried deeper anxiety. She’d experienced the attack on Seaview in a way he’d never understand due to her intrinsic connection to Mae.

Mae was Seaview and part of Alyssa was Mae.

Sensing she wanted to talk to him privately, Lee escorted her into the corridor leaving Jamie in his office and McKellan at St. Germaine’s side. As there was no one in the hallway, he took a moment to hold her close and scuff his hands up her arms, brushing a light kiss against her temple.

“Thanks for staying with Kel.”

She nodded, returning his embrace before drawing back. “He’s scared, but he won’t show it. He’s a tough kid, Lee.”

“He isn’t the only one.” Smiling slightly, he bumped a knuckle beneath her chin. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. A little shaken, that’s all.”

He wasn’t certain he believed her but decided to let the statement go unchallenged. The open conduit she shared with Mae might heighten her anxiety over the boat and crew, but it would also give her strength. Thankfully, Seaview hadn’t been damaged, or that empathic bond might have become a curse, Alyssa suffering along with the vessel.

“I’m sorry you ended up involved,” he apologized. “A mission like this shouldn’t include civilians.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad I’m with you. But Kel . . .” Her finely-shaped brows drew together as she puzzled over his statement. “I don’t understand why Harry would have allowed him on board. He didn’t really have a choice with me, but he knew about Kel in advance.”

“Chip said St. Germaine was adamant.”

“And since when does Harriman Nelson let someone else call the shots?”

Lee had entertained the same thought. A child underfoot - - even a thirteen-year-old one - - should have been taboo on a vessel like Seaview. “Since St. Germaine was the only one capable of retrieving her Ladyship.”

“And now?” Alyssa bit her bottom lip. “Lee, you’re not going ahead with the mission, are you?”

“We have no other choice.”

He saw a flash of fear in her eyes. Fear that had nothing to do with Seaview or Mae. “But how can you? Your weapon specialist is dead, and your master thief is incapacitated.”

He wasn’t in the habit of discussing covert ops with anyone not directly involved, especially not his fiancée. He knew she was only concerned for his welfare and that of his team, frightened that something would happen to him. “Lyss . . .” He lowered his voice and took her hand, hoping to reassure her. “This is what I do.”

“No.” She shook her head, a spark of anger replacing her fear. “You captain a submarine. You hold a key position in a marine research facility. You’re a commander in the Naval Reserves. I accept all of that. I even accept that you’re required to take risks for our country. But how much longer are you going to continue placing yourself in jeopardy when the odds are stacked against you?”

“Alyssa, I have to do this.”

She pulled her hand free. “I know that.” She drew a breath and tried to compose herself, forcibly setting her anger aside. “It’s just hard thinking of you going into that fortress. Especially now that I know the danger involved. Without Cedric and without Adam, so many things could go wrong.” She looked up at him, her eyes soft and bright with concern. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

He heard the worry in her voice and tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her. She trembled - - not so much with fear as need. The need for him and an assurance of their future together. “I promise,” he whispered against her ear. And maybe when I do, you’ll marry me. 

The thought was silent, resurrected by the unspoken intimacy they shared. Chip and Kowalski were right - - they should have made it official by now. It wasn’t that he was unhappy or worried she would change her mind. He wanted to be able to call her his wife - - to be her husband and know whatever they faced in the future, their union was permanent. 

There was a part of him that wanted to protect and provide for her, a silly masculine need that was as antiquated as it was impossible to dismiss. She was far wealthier than he was and had been looking out for herself, succeeding in a high-profile career, when he was still in grade school. He admired her success and independence, but that didn’t change how he felt about her or diminish his desire to play knight-errant when she was distressed. 

She smiled up at him, whispered how much she loved him, then kissed him on the lips. “I should probably get back to Kel.”

He nodded, grateful she was being so attentive to the boy. “I’m going to have to talk to St. Germaine about the mission when he wakes up.”

“Not immediately,” she protested.

“No. But by tomorrow at the latest. In the meantime, I’ve got to see to the boat.” Gently, he disentangled himself, already planning to head for the control room.

“Will you do something for me?” Alyssa asked. “When you have time.”

It was odd for her to make a formal request, almost as though she were addressing him as captain. “What?”

“Talk to McKellan.”

Lee blinked.

“He’s confused,” Alyssa rushed to explain. “He’s on a submarine where he knows he’s not wanted, he just lived through an enemy attack that could have killed him, and now his guardian - - the one person he looks to for protection and support - - is completely incapacitated and existing on morphine. On top of that he heard your eulogy for Adam Rohe and realizes someone has died. That’s a lot for a thirteen-year-old to handle. He needs assurance beyond what I can give.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic bur found the request odd. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the captain and he knows you.”

“Alyssa, the kid resents me. I have no idea why, but we’re like oil and water.”

“That’s not true.” She laid a hand over his, squeezing, as she tried to convince him. “It’s an act. You know that. You were thirteen once too.”

“Not like that.”

“But you had defense mechanisms that kept people at bay. You told me you were great at erecting walls and didn’t allow anyone to get close to you. Kel’s doing the same thing. He’s just doing it through aggression instead of distance.”

Lee frowned. “Lyss, he likes Ski. Have Ski talk to him.”

“Ski isn’t the captain.” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “And he isn’t you, Lee. For whatever reason, McKellan looks up to you.”

“He’s got a strange way of showing it.”

“Because he doesn’t want you to know. He’s a street smart kid who doesn’t like to show his vulnerability. Life has given him a tough exterior but that doesn’t change what he feels underneath . . . what he’s feeling now.”

Lee exhaled, scraping a hand through his hair. She was right, of course. McKellan had suffered through a turbulent childhood just as he had. Maybe Kel hadn’t been raised by a cold and vindictive step-father and Lee’s mother hadn’t died of a drug overdose, but they had a lonely and difficult upbringing in common. What he couldn’t understand was why Kel resented him so.

Because I represent authority? Because of our clash in Oregon? 

He would have expected the kid to be grateful after he’d let him off the hook, but Kel’s animosity had increased rather than diminished. Lee frowned, thinking back to something McKellan had said in Oregon. It had puzzled him then, and still made no sense: . . . she said I shouldn’t blame you . . .

Who?

“Lee?”

He blinked, realizing Alyssa was watching him expectantly.

“Will you talk to Kel when you have time?” she persisted. “Reassure him everything’s going to be okay?”

“Sure.” What would it hurt? The kid was probably scared and doing his damndest not to show it, just as she’d said. With Cedric laid up and most of the crew thinking he was in the way, he probably felt isolated. If not for Alyssa and Ski . . .

“Okay, Lyss.” He nodded, smiling softly. “I’ll talk to him later on.” Maybe by then he’d even figure out what he was going to say.

***********

Chip Morton slid into the chair behind his desk and expelled a deep breath. His cabin was quiet, abnormally so after the intense activity of the boat. Although they hadn’t sustained any damage in the attack there’d been systems tests to run and reports to assess in order to ensure nothing would fail later. Adam Rohe’s death remained in the back of everyone’s mind, the strike team noticeably edgy as they contemplated the possibility of a saboteur on board.

In another thirty-six hours Seaview would be in position for the team to depart. In the meantime, activity continued as usual, only slightly subdued. Chip had encountered Lee in the control room and received the latest update on St. Germaine from his friend. He knew their guest had pulled through surgery and was now awake but groggy. Once he was coherent enough, Lee would have to bring the older man up to speed on Rohe’s suspicious death and secure a map of the tunnels. Chip had his doubts Lee could pull off a theft the magnitude of the Lady Ghost but knew they were out of options.  

In the meantime, he couldn’t shake his suspicions about McKellan and Lee. As crazy as the idea was, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became. 

Surely if Lee had fathered a child with Ginny Rook her sister, Nicole, would have known. Even if Ginny chose to keep the knowledge secret from Lee - - a man she’d left after a traumatic break-up close to fourteen years ago - - Nicole would have told him. Chip knew Ginny had suffered a personality change after an automobile accident left her with a head injury. She’d undergone electroshock therapy but had continued to suffer erratic mood swings. Eventually, she’d simply taken off - - running out on everyone and everything she’d ever known.

Agitated, Chip pulled a pen from the holder on his desk and focused on the reports he’d been neglecting. Dragging the top sheet from a stack of papers in his inbox, he scanned it briefly, trying to concentrate. Socket rings, cylinder barrels, tilting box . . .

It was no good.

He rubbed the fingers of one hand against his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. How could Nic not have known?

She’d been working for NIMR for the past year and a half and was involved in a romantic relationship with Nelson. From the beginning she’d hit it off with Chip, treating him like a younger brother. They’d developed a teasing, protective relationship he’d grown to treasure - - which made it all the harder for him to imagine she could have kept something so critical from his friend. If Lee had a kid he deserved to know, however bitter Ginny might have felt about their breakup. Hell, she was the one who’d left, not Lee.

“Sparks.” Chip spoke into the mic on his desk. “Get me Dr. Rook on the Leviathan II. Secure channel.”

“Aye, Sir." The radio operator’s acknowledgement was immediate, and Chip sat back waiting for the connection to be completed. Nic had been working from the sea lab for the last week, continuing ongoing research related to fossilized coral in the Razorback Fracture Zone. What had initially been perceived as a six-to-twelve-month assignment had grown into an investigative study that would amount to several years worth of exploration. *******

The perfect candidate for the assignment, Nicole was brilliant in her field, a consummate marine biologist who had the added benefit of being the woman Nelson loved. Chip wasn’t sure there was a marriage in the admiral’s future but, like Lee, was pleased he’d found stability and happiness with someone who shared his love of science.

“Mister Morton, Dr. Rook,” Sparks announced through the mic. A second later, Chip heard the smile in Nicole’s greeting.

“Well . . . the executive officer of Seaview. To what do I owe the pleasure, Commander?”

Any other time he would have chuckled at her levity, but his gut was clenched in a tight fist. The thought of Lee being a father made him swallow hard. I’m wrong. I freaking have to be wrong!

“Everything okay?” he asked.

A pause, as she considered the inflection of his voice. “On my end. Given your tone, I’d say something’s gone wrong on Seaview.”

Chip gnawed his bottom lip. From the start she’d been pretty good at reading him. She knew they’d taken St. Germaine aboard but was clueless about the man’s true identity and purpose. Nelson had let her think the mission was routine rather than place her in possible jeopardy by sharing knowledge of the actual assignment. Much of what Seaview did was on a need-to-know basis, and this was one instance where the less people who knew, the better.

“No. Everything’s all right.” He had no intention of telling her about the attack, Rohe’s death or St. Germaine’s injury. “I was just thinking about the past.” He wet his lips, trying to decide the right angle to fish for information. “I don’t know . . . maybe it’s because of Kowalski and Ron getting engaged. Then there’s Lee and Alyssa who still haven’t tied the knot.”

She gave a surprised squeak. “Chip, are you going to propose to Dey?”

“No!” He cringed at the excitement in her voice. The very thought was absurd.

He swallowed hard. 

Or was it?

There’d be time to dwell on his love life later. Right now he had to get to the bottom of his suspicions about Lee. “Nic, I need to know about Ginny.”

Her enthusiasm dimmed. “What about her?” she asked warily.

He knew talking about her sister was difficult. For years, she hadn’t known what became of Ginny after she’d taken off and left Lee behind. It was only last year when a photo of Gerard Salazar (with Ginny in the background) had fallen into Lee’s hands that Nic had reluctantly parted with the truth. 

Ginny had contacted her after Salazar had ended their affair and kicked her out of his lavish Oregon mansion, commonly called The Vault. It was the first Nic had heard from her since receiving a brief letter ten years earlier. At that time Ginny had been existing on odd jobs, living in a small Nebraskan town. She’d disappeared before Nic could reach her and hadn’t been heard from again until surfacing after Salazar ended their relationship.

Nicole had learned her sister had become dependent on drugs while living with the crime boss. Ginny had tried to clean herself up after he’d kicked her out but hadn’t been able to break the habit. When Nic found her she was filthy and shivering, living in a roach-infested hotel, sobbing over what she’d become. Chip knew Nicole had never completely recovered from that ugly vision - - the once vibrant sister who dreamed of becoming a lawyer, reduced to a junkie willing to turn tricks for her next high.

Nic had gotten her cleaned up, then tucked her into bed. She left with the intent of purchasing clean clothes for Ginny and enough food to make her a decent meal. When she returned over an hour later, Ginny was dead, having OD’d on crack-cocaine.

“Look, I know this is hard,” Chip said. “Bringing back the memories . . . it was hard for Lee when he found out what happened to her.”

“I don’t blame him for anything, Chip.” Lee had been driving the car the night of the accident, though another driver was clearly at fault.

“I know that and Lee knows that. I also know that Alyssa is your closest friend but, feelings and friendships aside, I need you to be honest with me.” He drew a breath, fiddling with his pencil. Just get it said, Morton. “Did Ginny have a son? Lee’s son?”

She inhaled sharply. “God, how could you know that?”

Chip held his breath, waiting for the world to make sense again. Effing shit! He pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to concentrate. It felt like a bomb had exploded in his lap. “You knew all this time?” He had to be dreaming, stitching together a nightmare.

“She told me when I found her in the hotel,” Nicole rushed to explain. “I think she knew she wasn’t going to be around that much longer and was looking for forgiveness. She didn’t want Lee to know. She made me promise.”

“And you kept that secret?” Outraged, Chip shoved to his feet, looming over the microphone. “You didn’t think it was important for Lee to know that he’d fathered a son?”

“You don’t understand.” He could picture her shaking her head. “The baby died a few hours after it was born. Telling Lee that would have only caused him grief, and I couldn’t see doing that to him. He’s had enough tragedy in his life without compounding it.”

“Died?” Chip straightened as if slapped in the face. That changed everything. Of course Nic had been right in keeping the knowledge from his friend. Had Lee discovered the truth he would have buried himself in guilt and melancholy.

But he’d been so sure, even now certain something didn’t add up. Was it possible Ginny - - for whatever reason in her drug-addled state of mind - - had lied? Pacing, he clawed a hand through his hair then wheeled back to the desk. “Nic. What was the baby’s name?”

She breathed a soft sigh, the memory clearly painful. Had the baby lived, the child would have been her nephew. “Ginny named him after Lee. She even listed him as the baby’s father on the birth certificate.”

Chip blinked. “She named him Lee?”

“Yes. Lee McKellan Crane.”

**********

When evening rolled around, Lee went in search of McKellan. He knew St. Germaine had awakened for brief periods, speaking to both Kel and Jamie. Not wanting to place undue stress on his patient (who was awake but groggy), Jamie suggested Lee give the thief until tomorrow before asking him about anything mission-related. When Lee inquired after McKellan, Jamie told him he’d sent the boy to dinner with Ski several hours earlier then suggested he get some rest in his cabin. St. Germaine wasn’t the only one who needed to recuperate.

Lee glanced at his watch as he headed for the guest cabin:  21:20. His latest round of the boat had taken longer than expected, but he was fairly certain McKellan would still be up. The day had probably been exhausting for the kid but he was thirteen and, at the moment, had no direct adult supervision. Odds were he was still awake. 

When a rap on the door brought no answer, Lee pushed the barrier inward. “McKellan?” He stepped into the room and caught sight of the boy half-sprawled on the upper bunk. 

The lights were on, and both bunks were still made, despite the rumpled mess Kel had made of the blankets on the top one. He sat with his back propped against the bulkhead, a pillow behind his shoulders, one leg dangling over the edge of the rack. A book lay open on his lap, but he didn’t seem interested in it, staring moodily off into space. He hadn’t bothered changing into nightclothes, still wearing jeans and a Seattle Mariners tee-shirt, but had kicked off his sneakers. 

Lee stepped around them as he walked closer to the bunk. Nearby, a can of soda, an open bag of chips and something that might have been a slice of chocolate cake littered the surface of a small table. Lee was certain had the fastidious St. Germaine still been sharing the cabin, the mess would have been cleaned up ages ago. As it was, the cake had melted then congealed, solidifying into an unappetizing brown mass that had to be at least twelve hours old.

“I thought I’d see how you’re doing,” Lee said, sidestepping a notebook that had been tossed near the discarded sneakers.

“Why?” A suspicious narrowing of blue-green eyes. “You worried I might do something stupid and cause trouble without Cedric looking after me? It’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”

Lee caught challenge and prickly defiance in the statement but decided to ignore it. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. Maybe you don’t have a problem being on a nuclear submarine that was under attack, but it’s a captain’s job to check on his guests.”

The kid was as thorny as a cactus, deliberately pushing buttons. Alyssa had been worried he’d be frightened and vulnerable after the attack and Cedric’s injury, but he sounded far from either.

McKellan gave a soft snort. “Did you check on Alyssa Halston too?”

“She’s my fiancée. What do you think?”

“Yeah . . . okay. That’s good.” Kellan lowered his eyes, fingering the edge of his book. His longish hair fell forward across his brow in a manner that was oddly familiar, reminiscent of someone Lee couldn’t place.

“You gonna marry her?” the boy asked at last.

“Eventually.” Lee resisted the urge to grin, resting his shoulder against the edge of the bunk. It was one thing to have Chip and Kowalski query him about his love life, but he hadn’t expected similar tactics from McKellan. “I take it you like her.” Which is more than you can say for me?

“Yeah. She hung out with me today. Ski wasn’t around, and I was worried about Cedric.”

“He’s going to be okay. You know that don’t you?”

A shrug. “Maybe.”

Lee frowned, disturbed by the reaction. “McKellan...”

“Look, I know he isn’t gonna die from a busted leg, but he’s got it rough.” Agitated, Kel pushed away from the bulkhead, sitting up straight. “His leg was screwed up to begin with and he’s weak from that shitty cough. He wants me to believe it’s bronchitis, but I know it’s gonna get worse. He never should’ve taken this chump assignment.”

Lee hadn’t stopped to consider McKellan might know what the mission was about. It was ironic to think the staff at NIMR hadn’t been clued in, yet a thirteen-year-old was privy to covert secrets. “You know what our mission is about?”

“Sure.” A little too smug, Kellan jumped from the bunk. “Get the Lady Ghost from a vault in some fortress Cedric knows about. Blue diamonds aren’t common, but a natural one like her Ladyship is even rarer - - worth a shitload of money.”

Lee scowled, resisting the urge to tell him to clean up his language. “Is that what you think this is about - - money?”

“No.” A scowl. “Cedric doesn’t steal for money. Not anymore. All he does is government stuff now.” He paused, shooting Lee a sideways glance as if speculating how candid he wanted to be. “Is that why the other sub attacked us? To stop you and Cedric from getting the diamond?”

“Probably.” Lee scuffed a hand over the back of his neck and paced a short distance away. He was conscious of McKellan’s eyes following him and knew he was being scrutinized. He’d been upfront with the kid in Oregon and saw no reason not to continue. “There’s no way of being 100% certain...”

“... because you blew up the other sub.”

Lee paused, turning back to face him. He hadn’t stopped to consider what that meant to a thirteen-year-old, knowing everyone aboard the vessel had died. He’d stood in the control room and witnessed those deaths first-hand. “McKellan...” Lee wet his lips. “You do realize if I hadn’t destroyed that sub, everyone onboard Seaview - - including you, Cedric and Alyssa - - would have been killed.”

“Yeah.” A neutral sigh as McKellan folded into the bottom bunk. He sat on the edge, glum and dispirited. “I know it’s not your fault what happened to Cedric.” His eyes tracked to his sneakers, and he absently prodded one aside. “Up there . . . in the control room . . .” Uncertainly, he glanced back to Lee, curiosity in his voice. “How’d you know all that stuff?”

“What stuff?” 

“You know . . . those commands you gave. How to maneuver and when to fire. How to knock out the other torpedo, the other sub.”

Lee grinned, surprised by the query. He eased into a chair across from McKellan and leaned forward in casual conversation. “Kel, I’ve been in the Navy, more or less, since I was seventeen, in submarine training since I was 22. That knowledge didn’t happen overnight.”

“But if you’d screwed up . . .” McKellan swallowed hard, betraying the first signs of nervousness. Unconsciously, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “I never really thought about you being the captain . . . responsible for a whole crew. Ski says you’re the best and the youngest, that he wouldn’t want to work under any other commander.”

“Ski’s a vital crewmember and a good friend.”

Kel looked away, lapsing into silence. “I just want Cedric to get better,” he mumbled after a time.

Sensing the conversation had run its course, Lee stood. “We all do,” he said, surprised to realize his reaction wasn’t just about the mission. He might not be sold on St. Germaine’s ethics, but the man was a valuable operative for the U.S. government and, despite his questionable morals, a caring and competent guardian for Kel.

Lee headed for the door, pausing to drop a hand onto McKellan’s shoulder. He half expected his touch to be shrugged away and was surprised when the contact passed unchallenged. “If you need anything during the night my cabin is down the hall. Don’t go wandering anywhere by yourself, okay?”

McKellan responded with a mute nod rather than the surly retort Lee had anticipated. He supposed it was progress of a sort, a semi-truce between them.

Unfortunately, all of that changed in the morning when he went to see Cedric St. Germaine.

**********

 
It took time.

Cedric requested the morning to put together an accurate rendering of the tunnel formations below the fortress. He did it sitting up in bed, sketching out a diagram that he later reviewed with Lee and the strike team, verbally walking them through each foot of the twisting labyrinths. It was clear he was tired by the time he was through, but he asked Lee to remain behind after the rest of the team had left.

Jamie stayed in his office, satisfied his patient was holding his own for the moment, which left Lee alone with St. Germaine in the recuperation area. He could tell the man was uncomfortable, his broken leg supported in traction, pain medication holding the worst of his discomfort at bay but unable to mute the sting completely. Twice during his discussion of the tunnels, he’d broken into a fit of coughing, growing noticeably pale afterward. The bright spot of his day appeared to be an earlier visit from McKellan which he spoke of with noticeable warmth.

“He told me you went to see him last night,” St. Germaine commented. “I appreciate that, Captain. I know the attack, coupled with Crewman Rohe’s death and my injury, has left him unsettled.”

Unsettled?

Lee frowned, agitated by the older man’s choice of words. “He shouldn’t be on the sub to begin with.” It was time St. Germaine faced up to the blunder he’d made by allowing the kid to tag along. “Look what happened to you.”

“I’m an old man. McKellan is young, agile and gifted. It was never my intent to involve him but, as matters stand now, you need him. He’s the only one capable of retrieving the Lady Ghost.”

“Excuse me?” Lee had started to turn away but now wheeled around to face him like he’d taken leave of his senses. Only an idiot would propose something so absurd. “You’re not seriously suggesting...”

“If you try to use explosives on the safe it will be equivalent to shining a spotlight on your activities. You’ll be signing your death warrant and that of your men, dooming the mission to fail. I can’t teach you safecracking, Captain. It takes patience, skill, years of practice, and a broad-spectrum knowledge of metals and locks. Do you think I’d suggest McKellan go with you if I didn’t think he was capable?”

“Crack a safe?” Lee felt like he was talking to a lunatic. “St. Germaine, the kid is thirteen years old!”

“And almost every bit as skilled as I am. I’ve seen to that. Despite the act he puts on, he’s also highly intelligent with a keenly analytical mind.”

“I don’t care. The risk is too high.”

“And remaining on the sub isn’t? He could have been killed during the attack.”

“Which is your fault for bringing him here,” Lee snarled, irritated by the man’s unflustered calm. He knew part of what St. Germaine said was true - - using explosives on the safe would never give them enough time to retreat before Wynter’s men surrounded them. But what alternative did he have? No one on the team had the skill to manually crack a safe, and St. Germaine was incapable of taking even a single step unassisted. In a perfect world, the mission would be scratched, but ONI had made it clear at the beginning that wasn’t an option. 

“I’m not going to argue faults, Captain,” St. Germaine told him pointedly. “I’ve done the best I can for McKellan with the years I’ve had.”

“Teaching him to be a thief?” Lee challenged.

“I prefer to think of myself as a retrieval specialist. I’ve taught McKellan a code of honor that eschews the crude and violent robbery tactics of today. What I do is an art. It may interest you to know I’ve never taken from anyone who couldn’t afford it, and I’ve never harmed another person in the process.”

“So that makes it right? I don’t care what you call it, St. Germaine. It’s still a crime.”

“A crime your government finds exceptionally useful.” 

Lee couldn’t argue that. He pressed his lips together, glaring at the older man. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I’m afraid it’s you who doesn’t ‘get it’, Captain.” Coughing lightly, St. Germaine blotted his mouth with a folded handkerchief. “I’d like to refresh your memory about a certain photograph your late friend Richard Marsh sent you. As I recall, he was a journalist known for exposing corruption among politicians and prominent members of society.”

Lee balked, caught completely off guard. The photo St. Germaine referred to had been used to tie Gerard Salazar to murder.

“How do you know about that?” he demanded.

“Someone stole it from Salazar’s home - - the Vault - - and mailed it to Marsh, hoping he would use it against Salazar. Someone with a score to settle.”

“You?”

St. Germaine shook his head. “McKellan.”

“You’re crazy.” Lee paced to the opposite side of the room, unable to believe what he heard. There was simply no way a-then-twelve-year-old had broken into an estate as tightly guarded and secure as the Vault. And yet he remembered the handwriting on the back of the photo, a single line written in an almost childish scrawl “Make him pay for his crimes.” Was it possible McKellan was really as good as St. Germaine proclaimed, an expert thief who’d been capable of by-passing the security of the Vault?

 

“Why Salazar?” he asked, caught up in the impossible despite his better judgment.

“Gerard is my nephew, the man I told you about who was involved with McKellan’s mother. It might surprise you to learn I never approved of his business dealings or criminal activity and even tried to shelter McKellan during the years he lived at the Vault. The boy saw what became of his mother, how she changed the longer she remained. Gerard corrupted her and led her into a downward spiral of drug addiction. In the end, when he grew tired of her, that dependency killed her.”

Lee felt a fresh stab of anger. “You let that happen?”

“I did what I could. Virginia had already asked me to be McKellan’s guardian. When Gerard kicked them out, I had them move in with me. I tried to get her help. For a short time she even managed to clean herself up. In the end it wasn’t enough, and she eventually fell into the same destructive habits, ODing in a filthy roadside motel. McKellan was determined to make Salazar pay. In his mind, my nephew is responsible for his mother’s death.”

“Virginia?” Lee swallowed hard, his heartbeat ratcheting higher. The room suddenly felt close and constraining, making it difficult to breathe. He felt blood throb in his temple as he recalled the woman in the background of the photograph - - a woman he had almost married.

“I believe you know her as Ginny Rook.” St. Germaine observed.

Shaken, Lee reached behind him, blindly sinking into the nearest chair. He didn’t think he could speak, somehow making his tongue move despite the abnormal dryness of his mouth. The crazy thought in his head had to be just that - - an insane possibility. “You . . . you never answered my questions about McKellan’s father.”

“Do I really have to, Commander? Isn’t it obvious by now that McKellan is your son?”

Lee closed his eyes, abruptly light-headed, confused by the snarl of emotions in his gut. Impossible! His initial reaction was to protest . . . to vehemently insist St. Germaine had taken leave of his senses. But emotion and instinct made him believe what his mind would have him deny. Somehow, someway, he knew the truth as instinctively as breathing. In one quick-silver second of time everything made sense.

Why didn’t she tell me?

He remembered the last night he’d spent with Ginny. She’d already broken off their relationship, her feelings altered by the accident and the ECT treatments that followed. Despite her erratic mood swings and the change to her personality, he’d wanted to make it work, at least to try.

They’d ended up in bed that night, but the next day she’d told him she didn’t want to see him. He was part of her past, a life she believed she could no longer have. A few weeks later she’d taken off without a word to anyone. A more cynical man might have questioned whether McKellan was really his, but one look at the kid and Lee couldn’t deny their resemblance. Even more telling than McKellan’s features was the intrinsic connection Lee had felt toward the boy from practically the moment they’d met.

“Why?” He shook his head, pinching a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking St. Germaine or venting his frustration aloud. If there was a single impossible scenario in the world, it had just fallen into his lap.

“I can’t answer that, but I’m sure she had her reasons. To the best of my knowledge there are only two people she ever told the truth about McKellan.”

Lee’s eyes flashed to his face. “You and who else?”

“I thought that would also be obvious. She told her son when he was old enough to understand, when he started asking questions about his father. He knew who you were when he met you in Oregon. His full name is L. McKellan Crane - - ‘L’ for Lee. You’re listed on his birth certificate as his father.”

Lee exhaled raggedly, parting with a soft curse. His head was spinning, and his gut had fisted into a sour knot. He thought he’d had his act together - - a career he prized, people he cared about, a woman he intended to marry. What will Alyssa say? The thought sent a sickening spasm through his already acid stomach. Suddenly his perfect, idealized world had been turned upside down. Why the hell didn’t Ginny tell me? According to St. Germaine, not even Nicole Rook, Ginny’s sister, knew she had a nephew.

Agitated, he shoved from the chair and paced restlessly. “No wonder Kel’s so irritable with me. He’s probably convinced I want nothing to do with him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” St. Germaine said evenly. “Virginia was quite clear, telling him she’d kept his birth a secret from you - - that he shouldn’t blame you. Sadly, the boy’s experienced a good deal of rejection in his life. It’s understandable he would expect the same from you. He’s torn between wanting to learn more about you and fear you’ll turn your back on him.”

Lee stared at him levelly. “Why did you bring him on my sub, St. Germaine?”

“I thought it was time he got to know his father. I’m not going to be around forever, Commander. The sooner you adjust to one another, the better.”

“Why?” Lee had a sense of what was coming. He was fairly certain McKellan knew too.

“My cough . . .” The older man smiled fatalistically. “Should I spell it out for you?”

“Lung cancer?” 

“Not quite as drastic, but just as fatal. Some of the chemicals I employed in the past to pursue my line of work, were not without risk. My lifestyle has finally caught up with me.”

A cold heaviness settled in Lee’s gut. “How much time do you have?”

St. Germaine shrugged. “Weeks . . . months . . . maybe a year. Who knows? Regardless, you have a son who needs his father - - not a frail old man who’s fast becoming a relic of a bygone age.”

“The kid worships you, St. Germaine.”

“We’re attached, yes, but you’re his father. I realize he’s abrasive right now - - he was no happier about coming aboard than you were in having him here - - but underneath his defensiveness and aggression lies someone who’s always wondered about you. From the time he realized who you were, he’s saved every news clipping he could find - - on you, your career, Seaview and the Institute. Is that the behavior of a child who has no interest in his father?”

“Damn.” Lee dragged a hand over his face. It appalled him to think McKellan had known precisely who he was from the moment they’d met and had kept that knowledge to himself. Had basically been forced to keep the knowledge to himself. The kid was far more complex than he’d originally thought. 

“Look . . .” He paced toward the rack where the older man sat propped up on pillows. He had no intention of shirking his responsibility but couldn’t just snap his fingers and make everything turn out the way it should. Life was far from a perfect world. “I need time to adjust to the idea. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course. It wasn’t my intent to suggest you tell McKellan what I’ve shared.”

“So he’s still under the impression I don’t know he’s my son?”

St. Germaine nodded. “I thought it best you broach the subject with him when you’re ready. Your plate is full at the moment, Captain. I understand you need to concentrate on the mission first but, with that in mind, it was imperative you know the truth about McKellan. As I said before, you need him.”

“I’m not taking him on a risky assignment,” Lee snapped, feeling the return of his earlier heat. “And especially not since learning he’s my son. You think I want something to happen to him?”

“I know you’ll protect him. And he’s not without resources of his own. In addition to my tutelage, he was exposed to several years under Gerard’s roof. The boy is as street smart as he is intelligent, Captain.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if - - for one insane moment - - I agreed to it, Nelson would never permit it.”

“I disagree. I’ve found it necessary to confide in your admiral. It was the only way I could convince him to allow McKellan aboard. Given he already knows the boy is your son, I expect he’d believe you’d move heaven and earth to protect him.”

Lee balked. “You told the Admiral?”

“As I said, it was the only way...”

“Who else have you told?” Lee snapped brusquely.

“No one. Your relationship with McKellan is your business. Whom you choose to share it with is entirely up to you. I do, however, remain adamant in my conviction you need him to retrieve the Lady Ghost. I intend to share that much with Admiral Nelson.”

“Damn it, St. Germaine, my personal objections aside, has it even occurred to you that Kel might not want to take that kind of risk?”

The older man smiled thinly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Commander. And that’s where I know your son better than you do.”

**********

Lee felt like he was moving in a fog. Somehow he managed to complete his duties for the remainder of the day. He fully expected Chip to realize something was wrong but his friend was as withdrawn as he was, concentrating solely on work when he wasn’t distracted. It crossed Lee’s mind the exec might even be trying to avoid him, but the thought no sooner surfaced, than he dismissed it. Whatever lay at the bottom of Chip’s odd behavior, Lee would have to save any dissection until later. Seaview would be in position for the strike team to depart within twenty-four hours, and there was still much to coordinate with St. Germaine out of the picture.

He wasn’t sure if it was the mission or the knowledge he had a son that eventually led him to stand outside Nelson’s cabin late that evening and debate about entering. Finding himself cast in the role of father, it only made sense to talk to the man he considered his own father. Swallowing his indecision, he rapped on the cabin door.

“Come,” Nelson said from the other side.

“Admiral.” Lee forced a smile when he entered, too edgy to be comfortable. “Can you spare a few minutes, Sir?”

“Of course.” Seated behind his desk with the usual assortment of papers, notes and reference books scattered over the surface, Nelson motioned to the chair across from him. “Have a seat, Lee.”

“No, thank you, Sir.” Closing the door behind him, Lee took a few steps into the room, nervously twisting the onyx ring on his left hand. “I wanted to talk to you about the mission.” And my son. Even in his head the thought had an alien sound, a concept that hadn’t yet sunk in.

“I thought you might. I spoke with St. Germaine earlier.”

“So you know about McKellan?”

Nelson hesitated. “I understand the necessity of his presence on the mission, if that’s what you’re referring to. Cedric’s already spoken to him about it. I realize it’s unorthodox, but I know you’ll insure his safety.”

Lee gave a grunt, brewing anxiety simmering beneath the surface. “Admiral, he’s thirteen years old.”

“I know that.”

“And he’s my son.”

“I know that too.”

The two men regarded each other across the distance, silence settling like a cloak. Lee could have heard a pin drop, acutely conscious of the thudding of his heart. He hadn’t meant to blurt the truth but hadn’t been able to contain himself. Too wired to maintain his composure, he slumped into the chair by Nelson’s desk.

“God, I feel like I’m trapped in a dream,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. He heard the roll of casters as Nelson pushed his chair backward. Seconds later he felt the familiar pressure of the admiral’s hand on his shoulder.

“This will work itself out, lad,” the older man promised giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Lee slumped lower in his seat, his body limp with the release of tension. He no longer felt like a commanding officer but a desperate man in need of advice. “Admiral...” He tilted his head to gaze up at Nelson. “The kid bristles any time I go near him.”

“Now you understand why.” Nelson patted his shoulder and hitched a hip onto the edge of his desk, indicating his willingness to converse informally and confidentially. “You have to consider he’s lived with the knowledge of who you are for years. My guess is he’s got a lot of questions and doubts bottled inside and doesn’t know where to begin. It’s going to up to you to smooth the way - - when you’re ready. St. Germaine has left the boy under the impression you still don’t know who he is.”

“I know.” Lee dragged a hand over his face, his thoughts spinning in fast forward. “It’s difficult, Sir. I’ve had twelve hours to get used to the idea, and I still can’t wrap my head around it. Everything is impacted - - my future with Alyssa, my career . . .”

“I know it’s a shock. I was stunned when St. Germaine told me. All this time, it’s been difficult hearing you ask questions about the boy and not being able to share what I knew. I can only imagine what McKellan has felt the last several years. You have to trust it will work out given time. I’m assuming you want to take responsibility for the boy?”

“He’s my son, Admiral. Of course I do.”

Nelson nodded. “I thought as much, and would expect no less of you. If it helps, your positions on Seaview and at the Institute aren’t in jeopardy. I’ll work with your schedule any way I can. There are plenty of men on this boat who have children and still manage a career with NIMR. Nothing about our arrangement is going to change, including the future I have planned for the Institute.”

Lee thought briefly of the papers he and Nelson had signed making him the admiral’s beneficiary for the Institute - - with, as Nelson had put it at the time - - ‘enough inheritance to keep her funded and running long after I’m gone.’ ********

He flushed. “Thank you, Sir.” He cared more about his relationship with Nelson, both personal and professional, far more than any future benefit. He hadn’t even been thinking along those lines, but leave it to the Admiral to spell it out plainly. He could only hope Alyssa would be as accommodating when it came to the future they had planned together.  

“Right now I need you focused on the mission,” Nelson told him. He stood and paced a short distance away, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “It’s far too critical with the added complication of having Wynter’s fingerprints all over it.”

Lee winced. Firsthand experience had taught him how dangerous and vindictive his ex-commander could be. The sadistic S.O.B. had subjected him to physical and mental torture more than once. All the more reason not to have McKellan tagging along. He watched as Nelson shook out a cigarette and lit the tip.

“We don’t know Wynter’s involved for certain,” Lee observed. One could only hope.

“I wouldn’t be willing to bet on that.”

“Then you realize what you’re saying?” Agitated, Lee shoved to his feet and leaned forward, bracing his hands on top of the desk. “You want me to drag a thirteen-year-old into a hostile and potentially fatal situation, then rely on him to open a safe that would be a challenge for most career burglars?” His voice rose in volume as his nerves made his temper kick in. “The whole idea is ludicrous. I’m going to get him killed, Admiral. I’m going to get my son killed!”

His voice shuddered to silence. Shaken, he closed his eyes, frustrated by his anger. Why the hell hadn’t Ginny told him the truth?

She’d deliberately deprived him of thirteen years of McKellan’s life. He’d lost the opportunity to watch his son grow up, to teach him how to play ball, maneuver a skiff in shallow water and tie a fishing line. He hadn’t been there for skinned knees, bicycle riding, or helping with homework. Instead McKellan had been exposed to Gerard Salazar, a man who’d built an empire on drugs and prostitution. Kel had seen his mother succumb to drug addiction and had been raised, in part, by a world-class thief. And now, before Lee even had the chance grow close to him, one or both of them could very well end up dead.

“I’m sorry, Admiral.” He straightened stiffly, realizing his behavior was out of line. He was captain of the Seaview, a commander in the U.S. Naval Reserves. It was time to refocus and behave like an officer. He cleared his throat, shuttering all emotion from his face. “St. Germaine has been more than thorough with me and my team. I have a strong grasp of the tunnel layout. With luck on our side, we’ll pull this off.”

Sensing his withdrawal, Nelson scowled. “You’re going to need more than luck, Commander. I wouldn’t send McKellan or you in without a contingency plan. That may have worked when St. Germaine was still a factor but the risk has multiplied.”

Lee was intrigued enough to set aside his reserve. “A diversion?” he guessed.

Nelson nodded. “We’ll send an advance team by a different route. Here, let me show you...” He shuffled the papers on his desk, locating a topography map of the Crouic Mountains. “The route to the west is longer but less obstructed.” He traced a red line he’d drawn on the map with his index finger. “A team could move quickly through here, then use ropes and grappling hooks to scale the outside of the fortress.”

“While my team moves into the tunnels underneath?”

“Exactly.” Nelson grinned, pleased to have them back on the same wavelength. “I’m not sure how long we can keep Wynter focused elsewhere, but it should give you cover enough to get in undetected. After that...”

“After that I have St. Germaine’s intel to help me navigate,” Lee finished with a tight smile. The odds still weren’t great, but they’d climbed a notch or two. He nodded. “It might work, Sir.”

“If not, I’ll have Seaview standing by. I don’t care what the blasted orders say about maintaining a low profile. We’re not going to abandon you, Lee. Not McKellan, you, or anyone else on your team. The international fallout from something happening to that boy would be a thousand times worse than any damage repair we’d have to do over pandering to Graetoria.”

Lee looked at him steadily. He didn’t like to think of his son in the role of political pawn, but if that’s what it took to keep him safe, he’d swallow his objections. Nelson was right - - if McKellan were injured (or worse) and word leaked, the U.S. would never live down having used a child in a clandestine mission. The powers-that-be might not have signed off on the dotted line but they’d indicated the operation was to proceed no matter the cost. With St. Germaine out of the picture, McKellan was the only alternative they had left.

“Thank you, Sir. I’d like to coordinate the details with you.”

“Of course.” Nelson motioned him to sit then slid into the chair behind his desk, his attention on the map. “I’ve been working on this for the last two hours. This is what I’ve come up with...”

**********

They spent the remainder of the day coordinating between the advance team and the strike team. The following morning Jamie turned up with the results of Crewman Rohe’s autopsy, reporting having found traces of a toxin in the partially digested food in the rating’s stomach. It confirmed their earlier suspicions that Adam Rohe had been murdered and that there was a traitor onboard. The sub was put on heightened alert but the autopsy reports weren’t shared beyond the boat’s senior officers.

Afterward, Lee searched out McKellan. St. Germaine’s assurance aside, he wanted to make sure Kel understood the danger involved in the mission and what was riding on him. He found the boy in his cabin and spent the next few minutes explaining why the operation was vital to the security of Graetoria and the U.S., making no effort to downplay the danger. If the kid was going to tag along, he needed to know the risks.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” McKellan challenged when he was through. He’d been sorting through several items strewn over the top of a small table but paused to give Lee his attention. 

Several of the instruments were familiar to Lee - - lock picks, listening devices, an ultra sleek headset, hand drill, cellophane and what appeared to be an auto dialer. A thief was only as good as his tools.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Even now, Lee had a hard time wrapping his head around the knowledge he was talking to his son. He must have been blind not to notice the resemblance before. Kel had Ginny’s blue-green eyes with Lee’s own dense black lashes. Add the refined line of his cheekbones, the shape of his nose and raven-black hair, and the similarities between them were obvious. He should have seen it immediately. 

Except he’d had no idea he’d fathered a son.

“I want you to understand the danger involved and what’s riding on this. Taking you on the mission is against my better judgment.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Captain. I’ll do my part.” McKellan’s reply dripped with contempt. “I might not know jack shit about submarines, but I can get in and out of a place without anyone knowing I was there. And I guarantee I can run rings around you when it comes to cracking a safe.”

Lee frowned, picking up on the heat in his voice. “That’s important to you? Running rings around me?” Of course it is. You’ve got it in your head I ditched you or, at the very least, ditched your mother, and you want to stick it to me.

McKellan looked away, muttering something under his breath. Lee felt like doing some muttering of his own, irked by the kid’s attitude.

“Kellan, if we’re going to pull off this mission I need you to work with me, not against me. I don’t know why you agreed to be part of the strike team, but the decision’s been made. That means you’re answerable to me and will do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Is that clear?”

A round-eyed snort of disbelief. “Bullshit. I’m not one of your men.”

The continued profanity was grating on Lee’s nerves.

“Think again. You’re part of the team, and that puts you under my command. I’m responsible for your safety and that of the others. You screw up or go against my orders, you could get yourself killed or all of us killed. I won’t compromise my men. As far as I’m concerned you’re a wildcard.”

“And you don’t want me along?”

“No.” I want you here where I know you’ll be safe.

McKellan narrowed his eyes, a flash of heat turning them electric blue. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me. And just to set the record straight, I’m not doing this for you or those douchebags in Washington. I don’t give a shit what happens to Graetoria. I’m doing it for Cedric.”

Lee heaved a mental sigh. There was no sense calling the kid on his language when it would only serve to make him more defiant. He had a feeling McKellan didn’t always speak so coarsely but used his antagonism as a defense mechanism to keep others - - specifically Lee - - at bay. 

“I don’t care about your reasons, just your compliance,” Lee said sharply. “You want to be a big man, pull off a job reserved for an adult? Then act like one. Any flack from you on the mission and I’ll put you in your place. You’re on notice, McKellan. We leave at 2200 hundred hours. Make sure you get enough sleep before then.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, but left with the kid staring daggers at his back. Later, he rounded up the strike team and told them McKellan would be joining the operation and why. The announcement was met with four incredulous stares and a sputtering protest from Kowalski. 

“Sir, you can’t seriously mean that kid’s got what it takes to crack a safe?”

“He’s an expert thief. Like St. Germaine.”

“But, Skipper...” Ski quickly clamped his mouth shut when he realized Lee was no happier about the scenario than they were.

“2200 hours,” Lee said and headed for the room’s exit hatch. 

He heard Hyde mutter behind him. “So now we’re dragging a kid along? What the hell are we - - freaking babysitters?”

“Stow it,” Kowalski snapped.

Lee couldn’t fault Hyde. However abrasive the observation, the man was right. McKellan had no business going with them.

Unfortunately, fate and a traitor had ensured that decision wasn’t up to him.

**********

Alyssa was upset.

Lee couldn’t fault her, secretly agreeing with her protest that McKellan had no place on the mission. Unfortunately, it had become his responsibility to defend the decision without going into detail why it was necessary. She’d already been worried over his own safety (and that of the other team members) but, toss in McKellan, and she was convinced he, Nelson and St. Germaine had lost their grip on sanity.

“Classified!” she snapped when he found her in her cabin shortly after lunch. She was seated behind the desk, jotting notes for an upcoming meeting with one of her clients. It didn’t take long for her to shove to her feet and circle around the desk to confront him.

“Do you know how sick I am of that word, Lee? Whenever I hear it, I know it means you’re going off somewhere to risk your life again - - one more chance you might not come back. I made myself accept that, but now you’re dragging McKellan along - - a child! How can you justify something so outrageous?”

“You don’t have much faith in me, do you?”

“It isn’t that!” She flung the words at him and turned her back, raising a hand to her mouth when her voice cracked. “You know I believe in you. You know I love you.”

Lee sighed. If she hadn’t grown close to McKellan he never would have told her about the mission, but he knew she’d never forgive him the lapse. Maybe he couldn’t provide a detailed explanation but, at the very least, she deserved to know. In some ways, her life was wrapped up in what happened too, although she didn’t realize it.

How am I ever going to tell her Kel’s my son? 

“Lyss, I’m not happy about this either. I wish there were an easier way.” Stepping behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dipped his chin to her shoulder. She was resistant at first but gradually relaxed against him as he spoke softly into her ear. “I won’t let anything happen to Kel. I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

“How can you promise something you have no control over?” Turning to face him, she lifted her arms, linking her hands behind his neck. “I can’t explain it, but there’s something special about that child.”

“He’s special to me too.”

She studied him a moment, her eyes bright with tears. “Yes. I believe he is. There’s a connection between you - - like me and Mae.”

Lee smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He traced a finger down her cheek, thinking how lovely she looked . . . how despite job, country and responsibility he hated leaving her. “In a few days this will be over.”

“And then what? We spend a few blissful weeks or months until the next time you’re called upon to risk your life?”

It was a sobering thought. The demands of ONI had been wearing thin for a long time, far less appealing since he’d become involved with Alyssa. In the future there would be McKellan to think of too. The kid had already lost one parent. Kel might have issues with him, but Lee was the only father he had.

“I’m done with ONI.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“No, Lyss, I mean it this time.” He was surprised to realize he did. “I want to concentrate on the Institute and Seaview. Nelson and Chip have been after me for years to end my association with Naval Intelligence. I think it’s time to hang up my cloak and dagger.”

She blinked, her eyes round with surprise. “What are you saying?”

“That I think it’s time we pick a date and make our union official.”

“Marriage?”

“That’s generally where engagement leads.” He raised a brow. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?”

“You’re impossible, Captain!” She gave a muffled cry and buried her face against his chest. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he chuckled.

**********

Even if the midst of all that could go wrong, there were reasons to be upbeat. 

I’m getting married. 

Lee would have liked to dwell on the thought but knew he had to concentrate on the mission. He’d left Alyssa with a kiss and a promise to return safely. He’d asked her keep St. Germaine company while he was gone, knowing both would be worried about McKellan’s safe return. Before they picked an actual date for the wedding, he’d have to tell her Kel was his son and hope that wouldn’t change her feelings for him. He recalled her earlier worry that something might come between them on the cruise. Now he knew what - - actually who - - that something was. They both had demanding careers, but he was beginning to believe they had room for a family. It has been a rough hurdle, but he was slowly adjusting to the idea he was a father. Now all he had to do was find a way to break through McKellan’s hostility.

He wanted to tell Chip, to ask his friend for advice, but knew the discussion would have to wait until after the Lady Ghost was safely aboard. It was just as well given the exec had been antsy lately, a demeanor that didn’t change as the strike team loaded into FS1 in preparation of a stealthy underwater approach. The advance team - - composed of frogmen - - was already in place, moving by foot into the Crouic Mountains. Chip had relayed some mission details to Lee, then stood frowning as he watched Kowalski and McKellan descend through the hatch into the belly of the Flying Sub.

“Lee, are you sure about taking that kid?”

Of course he wasn’t. “It’s out of my hands, Chip. Just keep Wynter focused elsewhere.”

“Aye, Sir,” Chip muttered but didn’t sound happy about it.

Now, with FS1 concealed in a cove and the strike team on foot moving swiftly down the shoreline, Lee found his thoughts alternating between Alyssa, McKellan and the mission. He led the way with Ski and Kel close behind, Patterson and Hyde bringing up the rear. 

The moonless night made a dense cloak for concealment, additional camouflage over their ink-black clothing. Lee had an M16 hooked over his shoulder with a broad strap, a hand-held radio and a flashlight clipped onto his belt. Seaview would observe radio silence unless contacted first, leaving Lee blind to the advance team’s progress.

A glance over his shoulder told him McKellan was holding up, easily sprinting over rocks and roots with the agility of youth. For someone so young, he moved swiftly and soundlessly, exhibiting the stealth of a professional thief. Lee had to admit he was impressed and realized the kid was every bit as intently focused as the rest of them. The tools of his trade were tucked in a small pack he carried on his back. He’d rummaged up suitably dark clothing - - jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that hung free of his waistband. Smart kid. 

Obviously not his first time breaking and entering.

“Skipper.” 

Kowalski’s hissed warning brought him to an immediate halt, his senses primed for an ambush. They had followed a path up a rocky hillside, deeper into the Crouic Mountains. Lee could see the bulk of Wynter’s fortress in the distance, a black silhouette jutting from the treetops. A little further and they would reach the entrance to the tunnels St. Germaine had mapped for them.

“Behind us,” Kowalski whispered, giving a jerk of his head. “I saw movement. Two, maybe three perimeter guards. I don’t think they’ve made us yet.

“Pat and I can take them out,” Hyde volunteered, moving up to join them. “We’ll catch up with you after we make sure they haven’t contacted their homebase, Sir.”

Lee nodded. “Make it quick. And silent.” He flecked a glance to McKellan, aware the boy was watching him with wide eyes, misinterpreting the command. “Down but not dead,” he clarified. “I want us in and out before they can raise an alarm.”

“We’ll secure them, Sir,” Patterson assured. Within seconds he and Hyde had slunk off into the darkness, swallowed by the trees. 

Lee motioned to Ski and the rating dropped to the rear, keeping McKellan protectively sandwiched between them. It wasn’t until they reached the entrance to the tunnel - - a razor thin crevice sliced into a cliff behind a screening of brush - - that they heard the first gunshot.

“Damn it.” Lee rolled his back against the rock, jerking his M16 into firing position.

“That’s gotta be Pat and Hyde,” Ski whispered as the cracks continued to rebound from the distance. “Do you think there were more than three perimeter guards, Sir?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to keep moving.”

“I could circle around and go back. If they figure out where we’re headed, and that the advance team is a front - -”

“Do it,” Lee said quickly, “but if the odds are against you, hightail it back here and radio Seaview that Pat and Hyde have fallen into a trap. Kel and I will keep going.”

“Aye, Sir.”  

He didn’t like leaving Ski with clean-up detail, but the Lady Ghost was his priority. He gave McKellan a nudge on the shoulder and urged him through the crevice, frowning as Kowalski darted away, swallowed by shadow. 

“Do you think Patterson and Hyde are all right?” McKellan whispered when Lee squeezed through the opening. 

He took a moment to switch on his flashlight and noted that Kel did the same. In the darkness, the kid’s eyes were mostly pupil, banded by a thin ring of blue-green.

“I don’t know, Kellan. We’ve got to keep moving and hope they catch up with us. My job is to get you to the safe.”

“But those were gunshots.”

Lee nodded grimly. “Yeah.” He gave the kid another nudge and started walking. “Stay close to me. We’re about to find out just how good Cedric’s memory of these tunnels is.”

***********

Patterson saw the first of the perimeter guards through the trees and crouched low with Hyde behind him. “There’s only two,” he said to the other rating. “We should be able to take them without raising an alarm.”

“I don’t think so.” 

Pat felt the presence of a muzzle beside his right ear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Easy, Pat. Stand up easy.” Hyde took one step backward, his rifle leveled between them. “I don’t want kill you, but I will if I don’t have a choice.”

Patterson swallowed, coming slowly to his feet. He raised his hands in the air, letting his rifle - - still looped over his shoulder - - droop to his side. He’d always known Hyde was a loudmouth and a bully, but hadn’t thought him capable of treason. Stone-faced, he stared the other down. “How much did they pay you?”

“The People’s Republic? Enough.” Hyde jerked his rifle, indicating the ground beside him. “Toss your gun over here. No fast moves.”

Pat did as he was told, his options limited. The perimeter guards, unaware they were concealed among the trees, had moved away. With luck and time on his side, he might turn the situation around if he could keep Hyde talking long enough to disarm him. “You killed Rohe, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. We didn’t know about St. Germaine but figured without an explosives expert, there’d be a hole in the strike team.”

“And the sub that attacked us?”

“Hoping to take out Seaview.”

“Interesting. Did you know they were going to attack?”

“What the hell does it matter?”

“Because if you didn’t, it means you’re expendable.” 

What an idiot. The guy was stupid enough to believe his allegiance to the People’s Republic went both ways, but he was nothing more than a pawn - - bought and paid for, to be slaughtered with those he’d betrayed, when his worth ran out.

Hyde frowned, troubled by the logic. “I would have found a way out,” he protested. “The mini sub or scuba gear.”

Pat doubted it. The guy was shark food and couldn’t see it. “How many times were you in touch with them?”

“Not that it matters, but I didn’t have a radio. Not on Seaview. I had a single job - - eliminate Rohe - - and for that I get bankrolled.”

“Or dead.” Pat felt a glimmer of hope. “If they don’t know about St. Germaine, and you didn’t have a radio, then they don’t know about the tunnels or that the Skipper is in there with McKellan.”

Hyde gave a disdainful snort. “That kid? Like he’s going to make a difference. Besides, I picked up a radio back there in the trees when you weren’t looking. Prearranged in the event we came this way.” Grinning smugly, he pulled a small handheld communications device from his pocket and raised it for Patterson to see. “There are several others stashed in different locations. Whatever else you might think of my boss, he’s not stupid.”

“Wynter?” Patterson’s mouth twisted. “No, he’s a traitor to his country, same as you. Where I come from, we call that dog shit.”

The only warning he had was Hyde’s vulgar growl of rage. In the next second he was flat on his back, sucking air, the recipient of a rifle stock in the gut. Patterson folded, trying to breathe and swallow bile at the same time. Stepping away from him, Hyde raised the radio to his lips.

“Base, this is Tiger Shark.”

“Go ahead, Tiger Shark.”

Pat listened to the transmission in a daze, knowing he had to find a way to stop it. Even with the advance team keeping Wynter’s thugs occupied, Crane and McKellan didn’t stand a chance if news of their whereabouts reached the traitor.

“Seaview’s here,” Hyde said into the radio. “That mess to the east is a cover for Crane. He’s here and he’s got some whiz kid with him. They’re in...”

Pat launched himself, barreling into Hyde before he could say another word. He caught the stockier rating around the waist, and the two went down in a bed of ferns and rock. Somewhere in the distance he heard the radio spitting with static as the operator tried to make sense of the disruption. “Say again, Tiger Shark. Repeat transmission.”

The element of surprise gave him one second advantage, enabling him to jam his fist into Hyde’s face. The other man was bigger, stocky of build, and shoved him off with a snarl of rage. Pat reeled backward, felt his hands dig into rock, his head strike the ground. The blow left him stunned, trying to shake off the daze. Through the fog in his mind, he realized his rifle was only a foot away. Desperate, he flung himself to the side, grasping for the stock. His fingers had barely grazed the edge when a loud crack split the air. He felt a sharp pain in his thigh, followed by the glut of something warm and wet over his jumpsuit.

Blood.

He choked, realizing he’d been shot, and frantically fought to get his knees under him. If nothing else he’d take Hyde out before the bastard put another bullet in him. At all cost, he had to buy his captain time. He had the rifle half raised, saw Hyde sighting down the barrel of his own gun and knew he’d never pull off the shot. He had seconds to live, seconds to breathe.

He heard a pop from somewhere in the distance. Hyde jerked, grunting as though something had struck him from behind. Patterson watched, stupefied, as blood bubbled up from his mouth and his eyes rolled into his head. His body hadn’t even struck the ground when he saw Kowalski emerge from the covering of trees.

“You okay?” Ski asked, hurrying to his side.

Patterson wasn’t sure what he was other than grateful to be alive. “That’s what I call timing,” he said with a grimace. He glanced down, noting the hand he clutched to his thigh was soaked in blood. Not good but the alternative - - belly up - - was far worse.

“Where’s the Skipper and Kel?” he asked his friend.

“In the tunnels by now. I came back when we heard the shot.”

“There are two scouts,” Patterson explained. “They’ll be coming back to investigate.” He nodded toward Hyde’s lifeless body. “He betrayed us . . . was working for the People’s Republic and got off a message before I could stop him.” Another grimace. His head was swimming, the loss of blood catching up with him fast. “By now Wynter knows the Skipper is here. Kel too.”

“Bastard,” Ski said with a curt glance for Hyde’s lifeless body. “Never could stand the guy.” He hooked Pat under the arm. “Think you can walk?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve got to go back and warn the Skipper.”

“Do they know he’s in the tunnels?”

“No, but...”

“Then we’ve got to get out of here. It won’t be long before this place is swarming with Wynter’s men and they find the Flying Sub. That’s our escape route.”

“But the Lady Ghost . . . the Skipper. . . ” Pat protested. He ground his teeth as Ski hauled him to his feet.

“... is going to need FS1,” Ski insisted, supporting him with an arm around his waist. “All bets are off, Pat. We’ve got to radio Seaview and let them know what’s going on. If there’s any hope of the Skipper and Kel getting out now, it’s going to come from Seaview.”

Even dazed and bleeding, wishing there was more they could do, Patterson knew his friend was right. He only prayed that by cutting Hyde’s transmission short, he’d bought his captain some time.

**********

The tunnel narrowed, forking to the right before broadening slightly, allowing Lee and McKellan to walk two abreast. The air was dank and moist, smelling of the hard-packed earth beneath their feet and the taint of stagnant water. Lee guessed there had to be a pool somewhere up ahead. Run-off trickled down the walls and left occasional rivulets on the ground, ink black in the darkness. He kept his flashlight trained ahead, a bobbing cone of yellow as he consulted between St. Germaine’s map and the passage. 

Several feet ahead they disturbed a colony of bats and had to duck for cover as the creatures swarmed over their heads. Lee pushed McKellan against the wall, shielding him with his body, only to be shrugged roughly aside once the danger had passed. Choking on the reek of bat dung, they threaded deeper into the passage, Kel uncommunicative and brooding. 

Lee couldn’t decide if that was because he was focused on the task at hand or because he was erecting higher walls. Either way it seemed obvious he wanted little to do with the man at his side, tolerating Lee’s presence for the sake of the mission and because St. Germaine had asked.

Lee frowned, thinking of the gentleman thief. He’d disliked Cedric from the start, but realized he owed the man a debt he’d never be able to repay. St. Germaine had cared for his son when McKellan might have become lost in Gerard Salazar’s world of blackmail, corruption and drugs. Cedric had taken care of Kel in his absence and, although he might have turned the kid into a world-class thief, he’d kept him from the darker dregs of society. Without his influence, what chance might Kel have had - - a mother who’d succumbed to drugs and addiction, a childhood in Salazar’s Vault where debauchery and bloodshed were commonplace?

Thirteen years of a life Lee had taken no part in. What right did he have to interfere now?

“Wait.” Lee dropped his hand to McKellan’s shoulder, holding him in place. Kel tensed, ready to tell him off, but quickly changed his mind when he caught the look on Lee’s face. A second later he knew Kel had picked up on the sound too - - voices and footsteps in the distance, approaching at a quick clip.

Lee swept his flashlight over the walls, looking for an exit. The tunnel behind them was a straight retreat, offering nowhere to hide. He spied a thin crevice high in the wall and swiftly calculated their odds of reaching it. 

“Up there,” he said to Kel, nodding toward the opening. “Switch off your light.”

Whether the kid had decided to take orders or simply knew danger when he heard it, he did as told. Lee tucked his torch into his belt and made a cradle of his hands. Kel didn’t need instructions, stepping into the readymade launch pad as if he was well acquainted with quick maneuvering. Lee gave him a boost, and he slithered into the opening, dragging his pack after him.

The voices and footsteps were drawing closer. 

Lee switched off his flashlight and steadied a foot against the bottom of the wall to propel upward. He barely made the jump, the height higher than he’d anticipated, his fingers slipping on the water-slicked rock. McKellan caught his sleeve, holding fast until he was able to brace himself and scrabble the remaining distance. He squeezed through the crevice just as a group of Wynter’s men rounded a turn in the passage and moved into the tunnel below.

“Nothing,” one of them snapped in disgust.

Trying to still his rapid breathing, Lee stared through the crack at the men below. McKellan crouched at his side, watching and listening as intently as he.

“We’re wasting our time,” a tall blond-haired man griped. “The action’s on the eastside where those frogmen were spotted, not here in the tunnels. No one even knows about these rat-infested passages.”

“Wynter says we stake ‘em out, we stake ‘em out,” a second man growled. He appeared to be the leader of the group, a robust man with a thatch of unruly brown hair and a crescent-shaped scar on his cheek. “We’ll keep going, crisscross and meet up with Shrader’s group or Rillington’s. We do our part; otherwise, we could end up like Hyde.”

“You mean Wynter’s plant on Seaview? The stupid shit was dumb enough to get himself killed, it’s his own fault,” the blond growled. “At least he radioed Crane was in the mountains before getting blown away.” A pair of fleshly lips thinned over bulky teeth. “What d’ya think Wynter’s gonna do when he sees his old rival?”

Scar-face snorted. “A whole lot of entertainment, the way I see it. The man’s got a hard-on death wish for the Captain of the Seaview. I was there, in his stronghold, the first time he tortured Crane. Couldn’t really crack him and it’s ate at him ever since - - failure. Ain’t never seen a man stand up to torture the way Crane did.”

The blond made a throaty sound. “I’d like to see that myself - - assuming the boss lets us watch.”

“I wouldn’t worry much. He likes an audience.” Scar-face gave the other a nudge, and the group started walking again, a half-dozen men trailing behind them as they faded down the tunnel.

Lee sank back with a sigh, the area where he and McKellan had hidden themselves no more than a small hollow barely large enough to stretch out his legs. At least they were safe for the moment with a bird’s-eye view of the tunnel below. Lee wondered how many other bands of Wynter’s men were combing the passages. By the sounds of it, there were several. So much for arriving in secrecy.

“Were they talking about Seaman Hyde?” McKellan asked, his eyes wide. “They made it sound like he’s a traitor.”

“Was,” Lee corrected, irked he hadn’t realized it sooner. The man was probably responsible for Adam Rohe’s death. He’d never been a top-notch crewman, but Lee wouldn’t have pegged him as a defector. “It sounds like he’s dead.” There was no sense sugar-coating the truth. Hopefully, Kowalski and Patterson hadn’t been taken prisoner.

 

“But . . . Ski . . . and Pat,” McKellan said, worried.

“They must be okay or that guard would have mentioned them. Whatever happened to Hyde, it sounds like the other two got away. Wynter might not even know about them.”

“Who’s Wynter?” 

Lee swore softly, realizing he’d blundered headfirst into divulging a name he hadn’t meant to. “Someone from my past,” he said and looked away. “I think we should stay put for awhile . . . make sure there isn’t another group in the area.” He was aware McKellan was watching him - - not just a causal glance but with intense scrutiny. 

“What was that about torture?” the kid asked. He didn’t miss much, far sharper than the average thirteen-year-old. 

Street smart, Lee thought. It explained how he’d survived in a world of thieves, drug addicts and underworld crime.

“Nothing.” He tried to make himself more comfortable, deciding they’d be there for awhile. It was cramped in the small space, forcing him to keep his legs bent. McKellan sat opposite him, his eyes a glint of turquoise in the darkness. It took a few seconds for Lee’s eyes to adjust to the thicker shadows . . . long enough for him to register the kid’s face was tight with anger, his mouth sutured into a grim line.

“That’s your answer for everything you don’t want to talk about, isn’t it?” McKellan challenged. He kept his voice low, a hissed whisper so it wouldn’t carry, but his irritation was plain. “I don’t get you, Captain. You risk your life for a shitty piece of stone but don’t give a damn about what counts. She was right.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Your mother?” Lee felt his hackles rise. Scrunched into a hole in the wall was hardly the place to acknowledge who he was, but McKellan was forcing his hand. He was starting to get sick of the kid’s attitude - - his continued anger and hostility.

“What do you know about her?” McKellan spat.

“I know she should have told me I had a son.”

There. It was said - - out in the open. Maybe he was an asshole for bringing it up now when the Lady Ghost was hanging over their heads, but he’d had enough. Across from him, McKellan went very still. 

“Cedric told you?”

Lee’s throat was dry. “Yeah. He told me you knew in Oregon. That you’ve known for a long time.”

McKellan looked away. “What of it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe for the same reason she didn’t.” His eyes flashed back to Lee’s face, cutting and angry. “She knew there was no room in your life for her. For me.”

“That wasn’t her decision to make.”

Kel snorted, hugging his pack close to his chest. His face had shut down, bleak and unrepentant. With the darkness sculpting shadows beneath his cheeks there was a part of him that reminded Lee of Ginny.

“What a load of bullshit. Like you’d want to be saddled with a wife and kid, Mister-Globetrotting-Captain-of-the-Seaview.” McKellan’s voice was deeply bitter, making him sound far older than his thirteen years. “I wasn’t born yesterday. All those years she didn’t tell you - - there was a reason. She knew where we ranked in your world, what your priorities were.”

“She never gave me the chance to choose.” Lee wet his lips, conscious of the delicate ground he tread. His frustration was waning, weakened by Kel’s resentment. The kid had a right to feel cheated. “Kel.” He gripped the boy by the shoulder. “Ginny . . . your mother . . . she wasn’t right in the head.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Kel struck his arm aside. “I know all about the accident and what happened. You were driving. It’s your fault she ended up the way she did.”

“No.” Lee had no intention of backing down. He’d buried his guilt years ago and didn’t plan on resurrecting it for the sake of his son. “We were struck head on by a driver who crossed lanes. There was nothing I could have done.”

“You’re lying!”

“If you want to blame me, fine, but it won’t change the past. And it won’t change the fact I didn’t know about you.” He could see anger and frustration, thirteen years of bottled rage mirrored in McKellan’s eyes. Lee wasn’t the only one Ginny had failed, but McKellan didn’t have it in him to blame his mother - - the same woman who had dragged him to Salazar’s Vault then abandoned him for her next fix. Through all the years of loving her and trying to defend her, Lee guessed the boy had secretly resented her for the life she’d forced him to lead. Even then he’d kept her on a pedestal, channeling all of his rage toward the father he’d never known. 

“She let you down and I’m sorry for that,” Lee said.

“No!” Kel shook his head vehemently. “You let me down. You weren’t there.”

It wasn’t true and they both knew it. “How could I be when I didn’t know about you?”

McKellan shifted and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about this shit any more. She did what she could for me. Yeah, she was messed up in the head, but she was my mother.”

“And I’m your father.”

Kel snorted. “You’re Lee Crane, captain of the Seaview. Let’s stick with that, Commander, and get the effing jewel so I can blow out of your life the same way you blew into mine.” His gaze swiveled back to Lee, flint-cold and diamond-hard. “Deal?”

Lee pressed his lips together. If there had ever been a bond between them, McKellan had snapped it as cleanly and effectively as the jerk of a hangman’s noose. “Deal.”

***********

Alyssa was with Cedric when Kowalski’s call came in from FS1. She found out about it later - - after she’d digested the shocking news her husband-to-be had a thirteen-year-old son. She didn’t know if Cedric had intended to tell her or let the truth slip by mistake, but either way it left her head reeling. There was no question she adored McKellan and had grown attached to him in a short time, but the thought of him as part of their life frightened her.

She’d never had children of her own - - too focused on her career - - and, while she knew she’d never replace Ginny, she’d be assuming the role of Kel’s mother when she and Lee married.

The thought terrified her. What if she screwed up? What if McKellan resented her? What if everything she did was inadequate, wrong or foolish? How could she take on such an overwhelming, vitally important role when she was apt to bungle it horribly?

Had Lee avoided telling her because he was afraid of her reaction or because he couldn’t see her being a mother to Kel? Did he have so little faith in her ability as a potential parent or did he fear she’d cringe at the thought of raising a child? She’d always been the jet-setting model, now a successful business entrepreneur, hardly the ideal candidate for domestic bliss. Lee already had the Lady Ghost on his plate and a dead crewmember. It was no wonder he’d tried to buy time, waiting to tell her about Kel. He’d probably been in a state of shock himself. It wasn’t every day you learned you were a father to a thirteen-year-old.

Alyssa was still pondering the notion when news trickled down through the crew that Kowalski had radioed from FS1. Hyde, now dead, had been a traitor; Patterson was wounded, and Lee and McKellan had been separated from the others and were in the tunnels on their own.

The news drove all other thoughts from her mind. She hurried to the control room, knowing she had to stay out of the way, but hoping Harry or Chip would take pity on her and keep her updated. Eventually she learned Harry had ordered FS1 with Ski and Pat back to the sub while he relayed the news to the advance team. He wasn’t abandoning Lee or Kel, he assured her, but FS1 was too visible at the moment with Wynter’s forces combing the area. They’d sit tight and wait to hear from Lee. In the meantime, the advance team would go on the offensive, engaging Wynter’s men and, if necessary, clearing an escape route for their captain.

Alyssa prayed he would be well enough to use it.

**********

Lee left McKellan secreted in the wall niche and crept ahead through the tunnel, trying to gauge whether the passage was clear. He didn’t want Kel with him until he was certain he wasn’t going to turn the corner and run into a troop of armed guards. 

Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened after a few yards. 

Outnumbered, he pivoted and raced back the way he’d come, shouted warnings for him to halt echoing in his ears. He’d just reached the area below the wall crevice when he ran head first into a second group led by Wynter. The sound of pounding footsteps drew closer and within moments the first group closed in behind, sealing him between the two.

Out maneuvered and outgunned, Lee had no option but surrender. Grimly, he raised his hands, his rifle hanging limp by the strap from his shoulder. At least McKellan was safe, concealed in the crevice. Lee prayed the kid would be smart enough not to make a sound and stay hidden, despite what might happen. He was fully aware his son would be able to see and hear everything.

“Well . . . this is what I call fortuitous.” With a smug smile, Wynter stepped closer and unlooped the rifle from Lee’s shoulder. “You won’t mind if I take your weapon, Crane. You won’t be needing it.”

“Is that what you told Hyde after you used him?” Lee knew he was trapped in a bad situation, the mission in jeopardy. They’d taken a chance on the tunnels, hoping Wynter hadn’t known about the passages, only to have that risk backfire. Had Hyde relayed the information before he died or had his nemesis known about the secret labyrinth all along? Either way he was screwed, hemmed in by six men, all armed. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of the situation but knew he had to make sure McKellan reached safety. Damn, but he should have stuck to his guns and refused to bring the kid with him! If anything happened to Kel he’d never forgive himself.

Wynter circled Lee slowly, his men giving way as he passed in front of them. “Hyde was excess baggage, but I didn’t kill him. One of your crew was responsible for that. It might interest you to know that we spied the Flying Sub leaving its berth on the shoreline. Aside from those idiots trying to distract me to the west, it looks like you’re alone, Captain.” He paused, stopping directly in front of Lee. “Except for the kid.”

Lee lowered his hands, schooling his expression to give nothing away. “What kid?”

Rather than answer, Wynter jabbed the rifle stock into his gut. Lee grunted, folding at the impact. He was caught and forcibly held upright by the men behind, his arms pinned behind his back. 

“You’re wasting your time,” he spat.

“Where is he?” Wynter demanded.

“Who?”

“The kid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

The lie earned him a hard cuff across the face. 

“Let me refresh your memory - - Hyde said you brought some whiz kid with you. I want to know where the brat is hiding.”

“Hyde was yanking your chain, Wynter. Why the hell would I bring a kid here?”

Thoughtful, the older man narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I’d like to know,” he said softly. He did another slow circuit around Lee, studying him like vulture eyeing prey. “You know what I’m capable of. You and I have gone rounds in the past. Do you really want to be subjected to that kind of torture again, Commander?”

Lee was tired of playing games. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“The Lady Ghost?” Wynter snorted. “I know that’s why you’re here, but you’ve bungled it. It looks like Seaview is going to be minus one captain - - after you and I get reacquainted. You’ve already proven you can’t be turned to the People’s Republic, but I don’t intend to kill you outright. We have too much history for that.” He motioned to the men holding Lee. “Take him to the interrogation room. Before I’m done, he’ll beg me to die.”

***********

McKellan listened to the sound of retreating footfalls as the guards marched his father away. It was only then he realized he’d been holding his breath, his body tensed like a wire.  

 . . . Before I’m done, he’ll beg me to die. 

So that was Wynter. What a nutcase!

He felt sick inside, his gut curdled with dread as he thought of Lee in the man clutches. He didn’t understand the connection between his father and Wynter but sensed the S.O.B. was as unbalanced as he was dangerous. McKellan knew all about men who thrived on power and enjoyed inflicting pain. Gerard Salazar had never raised a hand against him, but he’d had no qualms when it came to making others suffer. The bastard had damn near killed Clarence Kong, leaving the would-be rapist with a busted leg when Kong had gone after McKellan’s mother. As glad as he’d been to see Kong put in his place, McKellan knew it hadn’t been righteous anger or even a desire to protect ‘his woman’ that spurred Salazar, but a twisted desire to punish. 

And, from what he’d seen and heard, Salazar looked like an amateur stacked against Wynter.

We have too much history, Wynter had told his father. History that involved torture? He swallowed hard thinking of the conversation he’d overheard earlier between two of Wynter’s guards. 

What kind of man stood up to torture? What kind of man commanded a vessel like Seaview with confidence even when under attack? Whatever else he thought of his father, McKellan knew Lee Crane was a leader - - someone to be admired and looked up to. Part of him longed to embrace that vision, but the other part feared rejection. Crane was all about principle and loyalty, and McKellan was a thief. A damn good one. He prided himself on abilities that Crane thought dishonorable. What could a man like Lee Crane possibly want with him? 

I’d be in the way.

Except he cared. As much as he wanted to pretend he didn’t need Lee, he did. When his mother had first told him who his father was, he’d spent months envisioning what would happen when they finally met. How Lee would kick down the door of Salazar’s Vault and take McKellan and his mother away - - all of them reunited and living as a family in Santa Barbara. Lee would take him on Seaview and show him around the sub, proudly telling the crew McKellan was his son. On school days, Kel would race to NIMR after a bus dropped him off nearby, then he and Lee would leave the Institute together, father and son going home for a blissful reunion with McKellan’s mother.

What a crock of shit! A puking fairy tale.

He’d been young then. Stupid. Wanting a father so badly. But the years had ticked by and his father hadn’t shown up, busting down doors to take him and his mother away from the hole she’d dug. After awhile, the candy-coated dream soured into bitter disillusionment. When he’d finally met Lee face-to-face, he’d known everything he’d imagined had been wishful thinking, the foolish hero worship of a starry-eyed child.

He hadn’t been that desperate-to-be-loved, pathetic kid in a long time. 

He was a thief, street-tough and self-sufficient. Crane was a Naval Commander who lived by a code of honor and duty. The only common ground between them was blood, and that mattered little enough.

He frowned, waiting out the silence, wanting to be sure Wynter and his men had left the passage. He had no idea where the interrogation room was, but he had a copy of Cedric’s map - - plans that would lead him to the room with Wynter’s safe and the Lady Ghost. 

Crane, hung up on completing the mission and all that other highbrow garbage, would value the gem above all else. McKellan didn’t give a flying flip about the stone but knew a bargaining chip when he saw one. A smart thief dealt himself the high card and, in Kel’s book, they didn’t come any higher than her Ladyship. Even Wynter would back off and leave Lee alone if Kel had the jewel.

He didn’t want to think about what might happen in the interrogation room - - what they could be doing to his father even now. Lee had protected him from Kong in Oregon when he hadn’t known who he was. He remembered the giddy high that moment had given him, though he’d never let his appreciation show. Maybe there hadn’t been any doors that were busted down, but Lee had threatened the man who’d tried to hurt him . . . just as he now refused to divulge McKellan’s whereabouts to Wynter. Maybe Kel wasn’t the ideal son and Lee wasn’t the ideal father, but he was the only father Kel had.

I’m not running out on him. I’ll do what I can, even if he’s only going to ditch me later.

Determined, he slithered through the crevice and dropped to the ground. Hopefully, with Lee in custody there would be fewer guards protecting the Lady Ghost.

Praying luck was with him, McKellan consulted his map and darted ahead, swallowed by the shadows in the passageway.

***********

Lee ran his tongue over his split bottom lip, tasting blood. He tried to move and was rewarded by a sharp spike of pain through his abdomen. The worst of the agony was rooted there, leeching outward with each breath he took. Surprisingly, Wynter had stood back and watched, savoring the show as his guards used their fists and feet on Lee.   

He hadn’t cracked - - hadn’t told them squat about the mission or McKellan - - but was grimly certain they’d busted a rib or two. At one point he’d passed out, the repeated kicks to his gut making his head swim with darkness. He’d been dragged back to consciousness by a blow that split the skin above his right eye. Even now, he could feel blood on his cheek, oozing from the cut. It smeared beneath him when he shifted on the floor and tried to leverage upright on the cold tile. Wynter and his goons had left a good ten minutes ago, promising to return and subject him to another round. 

“You’ve got half an hour to think it through, Crane,” Wynter had said as he’d stood staring down at him. “After that I’m going to start cutting off fingers - - one at a time - - until you tell me what I want to know. I’ve wormed my way back into the graces of the People’s Republic by stealing the Lady Ghost and I won’t let you destroy that standing. You will die before the day is out. How quick or how agonizing your death is depends on your cooperation. Tell me the details of this mission, along with Seaview’s location, and I might be merciful. The choice is yours.”

Lee had told him where he could stick his offer, earning another brutal kick to the gut from Wynter’s nearest goon. Wincing, he splayed a hand across his battered stomach and shoved to his feet. He had twenty minutes to find a way out of the room . . . twenty minutes to locate Kel, steal the jewel, and get the hell out of the fortress. They’d lifted his radio, map and weapons. Lee didn’t doubt Wynter would use the radio to contact Seaview and goad Nelson with news of his capture. He had to know the admiral would never bargain for his release, but it wouldn’t stop Wynter from trying. The way it stood now, his rival definitely had the upper hand.

Lee took in his surroundings, noting the room was sparsely furnished - - a stark table and chair where Wynter had sat smoking, watching as Lee was beaten by the guards. The light, bleak and grainy, came from a ceiling lamp with a battered tin shield. Someone had dumped a wafer-thin mattress in the far corner. Even from a distance, Lee could smell the reek of bowel and urine rolling off it, the thread-worn cover stained with blood and body fluids.

The resting place of the last person Wynter had tortured?

Lee was sure it had been placed there to intimidate, a warning of the fate that awaited those who didn’t cooperate.

With a muttered curse, he walked closer and lifted the edge with his foot. Several roaches scrambled from the light, disturbed from their breeding place. Fighting the urge to gag, Lee knelt and hefted the mattress onto its side. The floor beneath was just as grimy as the offensive cushion, stained with body fluids that had seeped through the thin pallet. Dirt and debris blackened the cracks in the tile, dark as the bloodstains splattered over the floor. 

Finding nothing to aid him, he let the repulsive thing drop to the ground. It kicked out a puff of air, rank with the stench of slaughter. Gagging, Lee stumbled backward, butting up against the wall behind him as he raised an arm to cover his nose and mouth. That was when his eyes tracked to the ceiling light, noting the chain that held it suspended. He’d never be able to pry the damn thing loose, but the fitting at the top might work for a lock pick.

Stupid of you, Wynter.

Moving as swiftly as his battered body would allow, Lee shoved the table beneath the lamp and climbed on top. As he’d anticipated, the chain was riveted tight, but the piece that held the tin shield to the chain could be worked loose with a bit of muscle and effort. 

He had to twist his body at an angle, using his shoulder to brace the lamp so its weight wouldn’t act against him, dragging it down. This close the heat was stifling, blistering through his shirt. It turned his already roiling stomach and left sweat dripping into his eyes. Angrily, he wiped the tacky perspiration away and kept at it, maneuvering the fitting between his fingers until it popped loose. 

Lee barely had time to catch the lamp before its weight knocked him to the ground. He saved it from clanging against the tile and alerting any of Wynter’s guards who might be lingering nearby but couldn’t stop the hard jolt to his back and shoulder. He nearly blacked out, panting as the shock coursed through him. It took a second until his vision cleared and he could think past the pain. Groaning, he set the lamp aside and clambered to his feet.

His head swam as a crushing wave of dizziness washed over him. Blindly, he struck out a hand, bracing himself against the table until the vertigo passed. Kel. I’ve got find Kel.

He could barely see now, the room wrapped in shadows without the glare from the lamp. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness then lurched toward the door. If fate and luck were with him, no one would be waiting outside.

Kneeling, alternately fighting dizziness and wiping sweat from his eyes, he maneuvered the metal fitting until he could insert it into the lock. It took several tries before he heard a satisfying click. Praying no one else had heard, Lee stood and cracked the door to peer outside.

Luck was on his side. He couldn’t spot anyone stationed as a guard and guessed Wynter considered the prison secure enough without a sentry. His rival’s mistake was his gain. By his estimate he had fifteen minutes to find McKellan before Wynter returned and realized he’d escaped. 

Would Kel have stayed hidden in the crevice? 

Unlikely. So where would he go? According to Wynter, FS1 was gone. Lee couldn’t see Kel heading back anyway, which left only one direction - - ahead. As crazy as it sounded, he had a feeling Kel would continue as planned and try to steal the Lady Ghost.

Wynter had confiscated his map of the fortress, but Lee had memorized the layout. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was in relation to the room that held the jewel but guessed a few turns down several hallways and he’d be able to get his bearings. He only prayed Kel was safe and that his instinct was correct. Lee knew he couldn’t abandon the mission, but he wasn’t about to abandon his son either. 

Slipping from the room, he moved swiftly down the hallway.

***********

It was fairly easy for McKellan to get to the main level of the fortress by following Cedric’s map through the tunnels. With Lee in custody, the passages were abandoned in favor of utilizing sentries in other areas. Kel guessed most of the men would converge on the advance team and try to cut off their retreat. While he hoped the team wouldn’t have a problem, and that Kowalski and Patterson were safe, having Wynter’s men focused elsewhere made it easier for him to move about in secrecy. Toss in the fact it was easier for a kid to go undetected, especially a stealthy kid who knew how to avoid discovery, and he reached the upper level without incident. After that it was a matter of slipping through hallways, ducking into alcoves, and then waiting silently whenever anyone passed nearby.

Eventually McKellan found himself outside the room Cedric believed held the safe containing the Lady Ghost. When he’d agreed to take part in the mission, Kel had done it to please Cedric, but also because the idea had been impossible to resist. He’d wanted the accolades that went with the victory . . . had wanted to show his mentor how adept he’d become, surpassing men twice and three-times his age. Stealing her Ladyship would be a feather in his cap others would envy. Maybe he’d never have the brains to command a nuclear submarine, but he’d show Lee Crane exactly what he was capable of achieving.

Now, tucked around the corner, eyeing up the single guard who blocked the entrance to the room, McKellan realized none of that mattered. He didn’t give a damn about praise, the envy of his peers or even Graetoria and the union of its royal houses. All he cared about was nabbing the gem so he could use it as leverage to save his father.

It was a sobering thought to realize he’d risk his neck for Lee. Unfortunately, the chump standing guard outside the door couldn’t care less what his reasons were. He might as well have been Cerberus, the three-headed dog guarding the gates of the underworld. The clod was definitely as ugly as a hellhound, probably as mean as one too.

Frowning, Kel tucked back against the wall, using it to conceal himself from view. He squatted and hiked his pack onto his lap, unzipping the nylon bag to fish through its contents. His air gun was on top - - a weapon he’d only fired at targets during practice rounds - - the tranquilizer darts underneath. At first glance, anyone could easily mistake the pistol for a regulation 9mm, but upon examination would discover its weight considerably lighter.

Working quickly, he fitted a dart to the nozzle. He hadn’t told Lee he’d brought the gun, suspecting the captain wouldn’t approve. Cedric had held no such qualms, warning him its use might be unavoidable. 

“I know you’ve only shot at targets,” his mentor had told him. “A man is different. It takes guts to pull the trigger against a human being.”

It was only a tranquilizer, Kel reminded himself. It wasn’t like he was going to kill the guy. But if he missed and screwed up, he knew he wouldn’t get a second chance. 

Sucking down a breath to steal his nerves, he zipped the pack and hooked it onto his shoulder. A glance around the corner told him the man hadn’t moved from his station outside the double doors barring the Lady Ghost’s chamber. McKellan calculated the distance and decided he could probably make the shot from where he stood. Problem was his nerves weren’t cooperating, and there was too much riding on his accuracy. 

What would Lee Crane do?

Kel scowled. He wouldn’t be standing here debating, because he could take the creep out like a pro.

Thinking of his father made him remember Wynter’s threat about ‘begging to die.’ Kel’s stomach rolled over like a ball of dough, making him grit his teeth for his cowardice. 

I can do this.

Damn straight he could do it. He was a kid. No one was going to take him seriously, and that was his ace-in-the-hole. Before he could think through the risks, Kel tucked his hand into the small of his back, concealing the gun, and strolled forward like he was on a sight-seeing visit.

“Hey. How’s it going, dipshit?”

It took a second for the guard to realize someone was talking to him - - a second more to comprehend he’d been insulted by a punk kid who was strolling toward him bold as brass. He was still woolgathering when the kid pulled a gun and popped him in the neck with a dart. 

McKellan watched as the man’s eyes rounded in shock. The guard struggled to free his gun from the clip on his belt but never had a chance against the fast-acting drug. Stumbling against the doors, he slumped on the floor, his chin sagging to his chest. 

Kel wasted no time, darting over the man to test the doors. They were locked as he’d expected. Hopefully, they weren’t wired to an alarm. He was prepared for that on the safe but not the doors. He fished an electronic sensor from his pack and placed it against the wood, running through a quick sequence of checks. He did the same with the lock and the frame. 

All clean.

The lock picked easily for someone of his skill level and, within moments, he was inside. Grabbing the guard by the wrists, he struggled to haul the hefty man across the threshold, huffing as he dragged the dead weight through the doorway. He closed the doors behind him, then spun to study the room. An ornate study, it was furnished with a huge mahogany desk, several bookcases, and a furniture grouping with a leather sofa and chairs. Three large windows were curtained with heavy velvet drapes, the floor carpeted in plush burgundy pile.

There was no obvious safe, not that he’d expected one. His heart was still pumping from the high-octane adrenalin of taking out the guard, but this was a situation he recognized - - one that required calm. He tucked his air gun into his pack and slipped on a pair of black gloves, eyeing the room with the analytical mind of a thief.

Beginning a systematic search, he moved swiftly from tables to desk, opening drawers and feeling the undersides, looking for false bottoms. After that he tackled the bookcases, tipping leather bound tomes onto their spines to feel behind them. There was always the chance someone had hollowed out the inside of a book, using the tried-and-true, hide-in-plain-site trick, but he doubted that would be the case with her Ladyship. A stone of her quality would need to be in a safe where everything from humidity to temperature and air pressure was digitally regulated.

That left a wall safe, most likely a small one.

He found what he was looking for behind the watercolor of a Dutch village that had been framed in gold leaf. The safe was no more than 8” x 8,” a high-end vault manufactured by a smith he recognized. It would be tough to crack, but if he kept calm and applied the skills Cedric had taught him, he was positive he could pull it off. What the hell choice did he have?

Setting his pack on the floor, he removed the tools he would need. He could feel sweat drying on his face, more, cold and ice-like, clinging to his bangs. He’d stolen before. He’d even broken into Salazar’s Vault and ripped off that incriminating photo to mail to Richard Marsh. But this was different.

Salazar would have beaten the shit out of him if he’d been caught. 

Wynter would kill him.

**********

Chip Morton left the crew’s quarters, understanding their frustration but unable to condone it. Ski wanted to return in FS1 for Lee and McKellan, most of the crew ready to volunteer right along with him. Patterson was laid up in Sick Bay, still recovering after Jamie had removed the bullet from his leg and sutured the wound, but even he had groggily asked for a status on Lee, worried about his skipper’s fate.

Then there was Alyssa who did her best not to show her fear by staying with St. Germaine. Although their guest had been released from Sick Bay and was back in his cabin, he remained incredibly weak, confined to bed or a wheelchair. Jamie had the wheelchair equipped with a raised leg-rest, able to support his cast, but he wasn’t strong enough to maneuver, hampered by the increasing frequency of his cough. Alyssa had become his near-constant companion, taking him to the observation nose and the officer’s mess so he’d have a change of scenery as they waited for news on Lee and McKellan.

Chip had learned she knew McKellan was Lee’s son and that, shockingly, (according to St. Germaine) both McKellan and Lee knew too. Even Nelson did. 

So we’re all in on this mind-blowing secret, and Lee isn’t here to talk about it.

Chip felt like shit. His friend was a father. And in danger. He’d taken his kid on a do-or-die mission, fully aware McKellan was his son. How reckless was that likely to make him? It was bad enough he was going to be butting heads with Wynter but, knowing Lee, he’d move heaven and earth to make sure no harm came to his kid.

If only the damn fool would radio in.

They still had no way of knowing Lee’s status. Ski had reported that McKellan and Lee had moved into the tunnels below the fortress, but they’d had no communication from Seaview’s commander since. That could be good news or bad. If all went according to plan, Lee might wait until he had the Lady Ghost in his possession before radioing Seaview with an all-clear. In all likelihood, he was unaware FS1 had been forced to pull out, a situation that made Chip gnaw on his bottom lip as he strolled down the corridor.

They’d had contact with the advance team and knew the group was under fire, doing their job as decoys. Hopefully, Wynter had taken the bait and believed Lee was with the team. According to Patterson, Hyde had been unable to relay details of their plan to Wynter before landing on the island. Afterward, all he’d managed to transmit was that Lee was on the island with - - according to Hyde - - ‘some whiz kid’ - - before Kowalski killed him. Wynter would have assumed the men responsible had fled on FS1 which could play into their favor. It was possible Wynter would view the Flying Sub as the decoy for the advance team, seeing them as the main threat, leaving Lee and McKellan in the clear.

Chip could only pray that was the case. Until Lee chose to break radio silence they wouldn’t know for certain.

He headed for his cabin and tugged off his tie as he stepped inside. Strange . . . so many missions they’d been on, so many times they’d been in danger. Lee, especially, had come close to buying it more often than he cared to remember. Yet this assignment felt different - - utterly and bleakly final. Maybe he was getting older and worn down or, maybe it was the thought of Lee with a son and not being able to celebrate that news. 

McKellan was a hard case with attitude to spare - - he’d seen that firsthand in Oregon - - but there was no question he’d developed a bond with Lee. Chip knew his friend would make a great father if the two could work past their differences. Where all of that stood with Alyssa he wasn’t sure but, knowing her as he did, he had a feeling she’d be thrilled for Lee. Now that he’d had a chance to adjust to the idea of his friend with a kid, Chip had to admit he was too. There was no question Kel made a career of rubbing people the wrong way but, between Chip, Alyssa, Lee and a few others, maybe they could smooth some of his rough edges. The kid had been raised by a drug-addict mother and spent his formative years in Salazar’s Vault. It was no wonder he had a piss-poor attitude.

Someone’s going to have to break the news to Nicole.

Ginny had chosen to tell her Kel had died as a baby. Why? Because she didn’t want her sister stuck raising her kid, or because she’d been ashamed of the life she’d subjected him to all those years? 

What a convoluted mess!

Chip stripped off his clothes and ducked into the head, intending to take a quick shower. He left the water on the chill side as he stepped beneath the spray, hoping it would banish his mental fatigue. O’Brien had the conn, but he intended to be back on duty within the hour. He’d grab something in the officer’s wardroom, down a few cups of coffee and check in with Alyssa. By the time he returned to the control room, hopefully Lee would have checked in. Nelson, worried and uncommunicative, had camped out there, chain smoking as he paced back and forth in the observation nose. They all felt like they were sitting on a ticking time bomb, nerves raw, tempers short. It wasn’t just Lee this time. It was Lee and his son.

Chip bowed his forehead against the shower stall and let the icy water run over him. He wished he were back in Santa Barbara. He wished he were with Dey Montgomery.

I love that woman. I’m going to have to do something about that when this is over.

Lee had a kid and a woman who loved him. Chip realized he wanted the same. It was time to get off his commitment-shy butt, buy Dey a ring, and propose marriage. Like Lee, Seaview would always be his lady-love, but there was room in his life for a wife and family too. He’d never leave the sub or the Institute, but there was no reason he couldn’t share his life with Deyanne.

He soaped up, scrubbed, then shut off the water and reached for a towel.

We’ve both got a future, Lee. You’ve just got to get your six back here so we can start living it.

***********

The Lady Ghost.

The damn thing was beautiful. 

McKellan took a moment to appreciate the flawless luminosity of the gem before dropping it into a velvet sack and slipping it into his pocket. The safe had taken longer to crack than he’d hoped but, in the end, the steel box had been no match for Cedric’s years of tutelage. 

Kel dumped his tools into his pack and zipped it, already agonizing over what to do next. He had no clue where the interrogation room was, but hoped by keeping to the shadows he’d be able to move undetected through the hallways until he located it. In the meantime, if anyone returned to the safe-room and discovered her Ladyship was missing, he and Lee were as good as fried. Someone would be sure to sound the alarm. The thug he’d taken down with the dart gun was still out, probably would be for several hours, but how long until someone realized he wasn’t at his post?

Antsy, McKellan started for the door, drawing up short when the barrier swung open.

“Well. There you are.”   

Wynter adapted quickly. Kel had to give him that. He didn’t seem surprised to find his goon sprawled on the floor or his precious wall safe exposed and open. Then again, he’d stepped into the room armed with a pistol, fully conscious someone had to be inside. Closing the door behind him, he toed the thug as if he were a distasteful piece of refuse.     

“I should put a bullet into this worthless piece of shit. Taken down by a kid.”

McKellan tried to look innocent, casually tugging the zipper of his pack. If he could get to his air gun - - “I, uh . . . I got lost.”

“Sure you did.” Wynter looked like he’d swallowed something sour, his face pinched in an ugly mask. “Toss that bag over here, brat.”

Kel’s hand stilled on the zipper. He tried again. “Look, man, I don’t know who you are, but I was just...”

“Now!” Wynter snarled, his patience spent. “You’ve got three seconds before I put a bullet in you.”

“Don’t go psycho on me.” Kel tossed him the bag, trying to decide what his next move should be. He watched as Wynter sifted through the contents, He knew the man would recognize the safe cracking tools, not to mention the air gun that had taken down his guard.

“Interesting.” Wynter tossed the bag aside on a chair. He looked around the room as if he expected someone else to be hidden. It took a moment before reality set in, and his lips curled in an amused grin. “I’ll be damned,” he said with clear admiration. “You really are a whiz kid. You’re the safe-cracker, aren’t you?”

Somehow the praise he’d hoped to hear from his father and Cedric was utterly repulsive coming from Wynter. He realized it was what the future held for him - - approval from torturers and murderers, while noble men like Lee Crane thought his talents disgraceful.

Rather than answer, he let his expression speak for him, hoping the revulsion he felt for Wynter came through.

“Of course you are.” Wynter locked the door and stepped closer, answering his own question. The gleam in his eye was one of appreciation and greed. “Do you know what I could do with you . . . how rich we could be if we joined forces? As young and talented as you are, in a few years no one will be able to touch you. You’ll be a master thief without equal.” He placed his gun on an end table and held out his hands, signaling a truce. “Give me the Lady Ghost. We don’t have to be on opposite sides.”

He was too close, within arm’s reach, prompting McKellan to take a cautious step backward. “What have you done with Commander Crane?”

Wynter snorted. “Nothing drastic. Just some rough play to remind him who’s boss. I’ll deal with him after I decide whether or not to subject you to the same treatment. You either give me the Lady Ghost and join forces, or I’ll dump you in a torture cell with him.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in appraisal. “You look like Crane.”

“I should.” McKellan summoned the gall to grin. “He’s my father.”

“Crane’s brat, huh?” 

It hadn’t been the brightest announcement to make - - kind of like launching a hocker into the bastard’s face - - but Kel had gone up against Salazar and Clarence Kong. The streets had taught him not to show fear even when he was quaking on the inside. He was either going to get the shit beaten out of him or he was going to hightail it from the room with the Lady Ghost. His eyes darted to Wynter’s handgun.

The man’s eyes danced with sadistic glee. “Then this is going to be my pleasure.”  

Kel saw the blow coming but didn’t move quickly enough. Wynter’s fist caught him on the cheek, broke skin and spun his head to the side. He felt his teeth clack together and wind-milled backward, hot pain stabbing from his cheek to his jaw. He felt the fierce sting of tears in his eyes, more from anger and shock than fear. His ears were already ringing when he struck the floor, a muddied web of darkness rushing over him.

Disoriented, he rolled to the side and tried to scrabble away, but Wynter hooked him by the ankle and dragged him closer. McKellan kicked as hard as he could with his free leg, satisfied when his foot connected with flesh and bone. Take that, dickwad! 

The victory was short-lived despite the brief taste of freedom it brought. Wynter howled and cuffed him hard across the face, sending him back to the floor. Dizzy and light-headed, he gasped for breath. A hand closed on his throat and shook him hard.

“You’re going to tell me what you did with the stone, brat. Then I’m going to beat the shit out of you and dump you in your father’s lap.”

Boom!

At first McKellan thought the noise was a figment of his pain-fogged mind, his head swimming, nausea boiling up from his gut. It came again, followed by a loud splintering crack. Like wood, he thought distractedly. He was vaguely aware of Wynter turning toward the source of the sound, the brutal grip loosening on his throat. And then the door burst inward, busted from its hinges like so much flimsy balsa.  

McKellan raised his head and saw Lee Crane framed on the threshold.

“Get your effing hands off my kid,” his father spat.

He grinned deliriously. Wynter wasn’t Salazar, and they weren’t in the Vault but, damn, if the captain didn’t know how to stage one hell of a rescue.

**********

Hearing Wynter threaten McKellan, Lee wasted no time in taking down the door. Each kick sent a stab of pain through his bruised ribs, but he ignored the sting. The pain went soaring out of his head when he spied Wynter hunched over his son, one hand wrapped around the boy’s throat. The expression ‘seeing red’ didn’t remotely cover the surge of hatred and rage that boomeranged through him.

“Get your effing hands off my kid.” Without pausing to draw breath he plowed into Wynter, sending them both sprawling to the floor. He wrapped one hand around Wynter’s throat, pinning him in place, and drove his right fist into the bastard’s face - - again and again, each sickening thud of bone on flesh more satisfying than the last. The skin split apart on his knuckles, but the pain only heightened his fury.

The bastard had his filthy fingers around Kel’s neck! He was choking my kid!

Another blow, the effort leaving him dizzy, sick with pain, but unwilling to stop. Someone pulled on his arm. He ignored the tug, fat beads of sweat dripping into his eyes.

“Captain!”

The voice was inconsequential. He had to make Wynter pay. He had to end it. All those years of suffering . . . he wasn’t about to let Wynter subject Kel to the same.

“Captain!” The pull was more insistent. “Dad!” 

It was the name that finally penetrated his rage. Coming to his senses, he sagged backward against a sofa, exhausted and spent, his right hand dripping blood. Wynter’s face was no longer recognizable, a pulpy mass of blood-soaked meat. Lee looked at McKellan crouched beside him, wincing at the sight of blood on the boy’s face, bruises rising on his neck. 

“How badly did he hurt you?” He called me Dad. As battered as he was, elation streaked through him. “Are you okay to get out of here?”

Kel nodded. “Probably a lot better off than you. I’ve got the Lady Ghost.” He patted his pocket then hooked his thumb in the direction of the windows. “You made a hell of a racket kicking down that door. Think we can get out through there?”

Lee gave a weary nod and pushed painfully to his feet. He had to steady himself against the sofa when a horde of blow flies scrambled before his eyes. Don’t black out now, Crane. He was vaguely aware McKellan had left to retrieve his pack from the floor. Seconds later the kid returned and pushed a pistol into his hand.

“This is Wynter’s. Probably loaded.”

Lee nodded. The kid wasn’t without a head on his shoulders. “You really cracked the safe?” He felt a surge of pride realizing Kel had pulled off something only a handful of people in the world were capable of achieving. Who’d have thought it possible of a street-wise, thirteen-year-old? He really is that good.

“I told you I could do it.”

“You did.” Lee squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. If we pull this off, it will be because of your skills.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Kel looked away almost shyly. “If we don’t get out of here, it’s not going to matter.”

“You’re right.” Lee propelled him toward the nearest window, wrenching it open to peer outside. It was a good three-story drop, almost guaranteeing a broken limb or neck in the fall. A mature oak sprouted from the courtyard below, its leafy top at nearly the same level as the window. It was the distance between the between the two that had him worried.

“What about the tree?” McKellan asked, reading his mind.

He shook his head doubtfully. “I could make that distance, but I’m not sure about you.”

”Pff!  Piece of cake.” McKellan climbed onto the windowsill.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice came from behind them, a mush-filled sound like someone speaking through a mouthful of cotton. Or loose teeth, Lee thought glancing over his shoulder. He kept his back turned, the pistol clamped close to his gut.

Wynter had found another gun. He stood a few feet away, one hand braced against his desk, the other clutching a .38 revolver. An open drawer told Lee he’d retrieved it from the desk, probably only one of several stashed in the room. His face was puffy, streaked with blood, his left eye gummed shut and oozing pus. He’d taken a far worse pummeling than the beating Wynter’s men had given Lee.

“My lucky day. Two Cranes for the price of one.” Wynter grinned, his face morphing into a grotesque mask of pulpy flesh and blood. “Do you know what I’m going to do, Commander? I’m going to butcher your kid in front of you like a side of beef, then I’m going to do the same to you.”

“The hell you are.” Lee spun and fired. The bullet struck with deadly accuracy, nailing Wynter dead center in the forehead.

“Go!” Lee ordered Kel, already conscious of feet pounding in the hallway. 

McKellan jumped, snagging the tree and wrapping his legs around a fat branch. He was already halfway down the trunk when Lee hauled himself onto the window ledge. It was a sense of sick justification that made him glance back at Wynter’s lifeless corpse - - a moment he couldn’t spare. 

Several armed men burst into the room. In that second, when he tucked his pistol into his waistband preparing to jump, he heard the crack of a gun and felt the impact of a slug rip into his side. He half fell, half jumped from the window, barely managing to catch the branches, dropping several feet before he grasped bark and tore up his hands. He choked back bile, nausea waffling up from his gut, yet somehow managed to slide/climb down the rest of the tree. He heard shouts from above followed by the ping of bullets striking sod around him.

“Run!” he ordered McKellan, conscious the kid had stopped to wait for him. “Get the hell out of here!” He stumbled, tripped, then lurched forward, one hand clutched to the bloody hole in his side. He could already hear sounds of pursuit behind him and spun, sending off a wild shot with the pistol - - enough to let his pursuers know he was armed.

He had no clue where he and McKellan were headed, but charged into a dense tangle of trees and brush after his son. Lee was thankful for the cover even as it ripped at his clothing and nipped blood from his bruised face.

“Wait!” He bent over, hands braced on knees as he fought to catch his breath. There was an opening off to the side, recessed into a mound of stone. A small cave, perfect for hiding. No - - Wynter’s men would look there, hunt them down like quarry to be butchered and killed.

Maybe that could play into their favor. “Come on.” He grabbed McKellan’s arm and pulled him inside.

“You’re bleeding.” 

The kid had noticed the dark blotch on his shirt, a stain that was steadily growing. Lee felt himself getting weaker and knew he had to do something fast. “I’m okay. Get a branch . . . a leafy one. Hurry.”

“Why?”

“Do it, Kellan.”  

He was surprised when the kid obeyed, no longer questioning but doing as ordered. He returned with a leaf-crowned branch, perfect for what Lee intended to do.

“Are we staying here?” Kel asked.

“No. Too obvious.” Having made clear tracks into the cave, Lee hustled Kel back outside, careful to erase all signs of their retreat with the branch. He kept up the ploy until they were several feet further into the dense surroundings, then dropped the branch.

“That’s kind of an old trick, isn’t it?” Kel asked doubtfully.

“It doesn’t matter as long as it works.”

Several yards further they came to a bay carving a deep crescent into the side of the mountain. Lee knew that further out it would spill into the ocean. A small fishing boat was tied up at the dock, gleaming white beneath the first pale rays of dawn. The bow was composed of a cabin with a pilot’s wheel and what was probably a cramped sleeping compartment with built-in galley beneath. Lee was more focused on the storage well, recessed into the aft hull. The fisherman was already unmooring, shoving from the dock, ready to begin his daily run. From what Lee could tell he appeared to be alone, the boat a one-man operation.

“Wait until he goes into the cabin,” he told Kel, his voice thready with fatigue. “As soon as he steps inside, run for the aft storage. You’ll probably have to jump a few feet from the dock.” He grinned tightly. “Shouldn’t be much of a challenge after what you did with that tree.”

Kel eyed him apprehensively. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He could hear voices raised in the distance. Wynter’s men were coming. “Now!” he ordered, spurring Kel forward just as the fisherman opened the door to his cabin. Together they ran from the shelter of the trees and made the leap from the dock almost simultaneously. Lee wrenched open the storage compartment, thankful it wasn’t locked, and pushed Kel ahead of him. He ducked into the well, and sealed the doors over their heads, holding his breath until the sound of pursuit moved further away.

“Are they gone?” Kel asked.

Lee could feel the hum of the fishing boat’s motors as she cut a clean swath into the bay. He cracked the hatch above his head and peered outside, relieved when he saw Wynter’s men racing deeper into the trees, heading away from them.

“Gone,” he confirmed and folded onto his haunches. The storage well smelled of motor oil and bait but at least it was secure. Neither of them was able to stand upright in the cramped quarters, but Lee didn’t care. All he wanted to do was sprawl out for a few minutes and rest his aching body while the fishing boat carried them further away from Wynter’s fortress. The hole in his side had stopped leaking blood, but the pain was ratcheting higher with every passing second. Trying to keep his wits about him, he took stock of his surroundings.

What the storage well lacked in height, it made up for in length, packed with everything from coils of rope and fishing gear to excess food stores and trawling nets, adorned with fat red bobbers. Lee crawled to the corner where several sacks were stuffed with old rain gear and sagged into the makeshift bedding. 

“Do you still have the Lady Ghost?”

The compartment was gray with shadow but enough pale light spilled through a crack in the overhead doors for Lee to see his son clearly. Kel crawled to his side and removed a small velvet bag from his pocket. He spilled the gem into his hand and raised it for Lee to see.

“So that’s her?” Lee observed.

“Her Ladyship,” Kel confirmed. “A blue diamond. One of the clearest I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve seen a lot?”

Kel tucked the gem back into the sack and shrugged. “Only in photos.” There was a cut on his cheek, the skin around it mottled with bruising. “I’ve never stolen precious stones before.”

Lee dusted his fingers lightly over the scrape. “I’m sorry to have put you through this.”

McKellan flinched, caught off guard by the casual touch. The rapid flush on his cheeks and the way his eyes dipped told Lee his reaction was spurred by surprise, not rebuff. “It’s no big deal,” he said awkwardly.

“It is a big deal. It took a lot of guts to do what you did.” Lee felt that unexpected surge of pride again. It was staggering to think the kid had found his way through the tunnels, taken out a guard and stolen the Lady Ghost. “I know grown men who would have balked at the idea of doing what you did. If I’ve been rough on you since you came aboard Seaview, I’m sorry.”

“Rough?” McKellan looked at him strangely. “Salazar was rough. Clarence Kong was rough. You’ve been patient. I guess maybe Cedric was right . . . I should have given you a chance before.” He shrugged uncomfortably and sat facing Lee, crossing his legs Indian-style. “You’ve been pretty decent. And you kicked down a door.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

Kel grinned. “You wouldn’t understand. Point is . . . I know I can cop an attitude.”

“No?” 

Lee chuckled and scraped a hand through his hair, appreciating the kid’s humor. The movement sent a stab of pain splintering through his side and he grimaced. He didn’t know which hurt worse, the wound or his battered ribs. What he wouldn’t give for a shower and a warm bed right now. He’d even take a cot in Sick Bay. Jamie would have appreciated the irony but, the truth was, the hole in his side pulsed painfully with each sluggish beat of his heart. He knew he looked ghastly - - his face bruised, dried blood clotted over his cheek, his shirt stained with sweat and blood. Shifting, he fingered the sticky wet patch on his side, trying to gauge the damage.

McKellan’s eyes fell to the wound and he paled. “Um . . . maybe I should take a look at that . . . your side.”

Lee raised a brow. “Do you know anything about first-aid?”

“No. But...”

“But you sound like a certain Executive Officer I know,” Lee interrupted. He sighed and rested his head against the cushioning pile of raingear behind him. “I’ll be fine, Kellan. The bleeding’s stopped. I just need a few minutes to rest.”

“And then what?” There was a strident edge to McKellan’s tone now. “Don’t you get it? Some douchebag shot you!”

Lee was surprised to hear his voice crack. If the kid had looked pale before, he was green around the gills now. It suddenly dawned on Lee that in the space of a half hour, Kel had been beaten, threatened, chased and shot at, barely managing to escape with his life. He’d seen a man killed at point blank range and had witnessed his father being shot. Yeah, he talked tough and had behaved fearlessly under harrowing conditions, but he was still thirteen-years-old. No matter how nervy he pretended to be, he was a kid who’d survived a horrible ordeal, the reality of that violence now crashing over him.

“Kel?” Lee caught a glint of moisture in his eyes. Is he worried about me? “I’m going to be okay.”

Kel looked away. He muttered something indistinct, sniffled and dragged a sleeve across his face. 

“Are you hurt?” Lee pressed.

The kid shook his head, still stubbornly looking away, and bit his lip. Angrily, he mopped at his face, the tears visible now, tracking down his cheeks. He braced himself to get up, not wanting his emotion to be seen, but Lee gripped his arm before he could flee.

“Let me go!”

“Not this time.” Lee pulled a wilted handkerchief from his pocket. “Why are you so determined to keep walls between us?” His own were crumbling, battered by a strange flutter-punch to his gut. Kel angry, Kel mouthy, or Kel cracking safes he could handle, but Kel crying? He hadn’t thought the kid had it in him - - that Salazar, the streets and even Ginny had stripped that emotion from him, leaving him too jaded to feel. His own pain was suddenly insignificant. All he cared about was chasing away the hurt that brought Kel grief, physical and emotional.  

Uncertain if his touch would be permitted, he raised his hand and gently swabbed tears from the boy’s face. He felt McKellan tense, poised like a deer for flight. Lee could feel terror rolling off him in waves and guessed it hadn’t been often someone touched him with tenderness. God, Ginny, don’t you realize how unfair it was to exclude me from his life?

Growing bolder when Kel didn’t recoil, Lee turned his attention to the cut on his cheek. “Am I hurting you?”

McKellan shook his head mutely, his eyes wide. In the next instance, his composure cracked completely and he sagged forward choking on a sob. 

It was all the encouragement Lee needed. He tugged gently, pulling Kel against him. “I promise we’re going to get out of this,” he vowed. “I didn’t learn I have a son only for Wynter to ruin that now.”

Kel didn’t answer. Or maybe couldn’t. The only sound in the shadow-draped compartment was the creak of the boat as it carried them further to some unknown destination, and his muffled sobbing. To Lee, both sounds were equally disturbing.

***********

McKellan woke with a clogged head, irked for having babbled like a baby. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually cried and was embarrassed to have done it in front of Lee. How did he ever expect his father to take him seriously and treat him with respect if he broke down and gibbered like some wimpy kid who couldn’t keep his act together? He was normally tougher, but everything had caught up with him at once, the adrenalin crash ripping through him like a prize-fighter’s punch. At least he hadn’t blown his guts despite the way his stomach had roiled, threatening to shame him further.

It wasn’t what Wynter had done to him, or even seeing the bastard shot (in Kel’s opinion the world was a better place with the creep lying belly up) but what had happened later. Yeah, he’d taken a pounding from the S.O.B. - - his throat hurt and his cheek throbbed where Wynter had backhanded him - - but that wasn’t what provoked his sudden onrush of tears. No, what eventually shattered his reserve and left him quaking on the inside was the attentiveness of his father’s touch and the way Lee’s voice had softened when asking if he was hurt. Not even Cedric spoke to him like that . . . had ever touched him with such gentle affection. It was a new experience, staggering and baffling. How could a man convey such obvious feeling merely through the stroke of his fingers and the inflection of his voice?

McKellan stirred, setting the thoughts aside. He realized he was balled up against Lee, the heat of his father’s body keeping the chill of the damp compartment at bay. They’d fallen asleep together, Kel curled against Lee’s good side, his father’s arm still looped around his shoulders. He sat up reluctantly and wiped at the salt-stains on his face. Lee shifted at the movement and moaned softly but didn’t open his eyes.

“Captain?” McKellan wet his lips. Will he mind if I call him ‘dad?’

Something was wrong. Lee’s face was flushed and stippled with perspiration despite the heavy, chill air of the storage hold. McKellan realized his own shirt was damp with sweat where he’d been pressed against him. His father’s body wasn’t merely warm, but hot. Too hot. He’s burning up with fever.

Dread waffled from his gut. “Dad?” Experimentally, he touched Lee’s shoulder, giving a gentle shake. “Dad, wake up.” Another nudge until he saw a glimmer of glass-green fired by smoked amber beneath the dense fringe of his father’s lashes.

Lee stirred, turning his head on the balled up raingear he’d been using for a pillow. “Kellan? Is something wrong?”

“No, I . . .” He wet his lips, worried by the glaze of fever in Lee’s eyes. “You’re burning up.”

Lee dragged a hand across his face and pushed back against the raingear, bracing himself so he could sit straighter. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, though he looked anything but. “The break helped.” Groggy and disoriented, he shot a glance at his watch. “Looks like I was out for about an hour.”

“We both were.” 

Lee shifted, trying not to wince, but his involuntarily reaction wasn’t lost on McKellan. “Where do you think this boat is headed?” Kel asked. 

“I’m not sure.” With a grunt of effort, Lee crawled forward and raised the hatch enough to see outside. 

McKellan peered behind him, noting a thin strip of land barely visible in the distance. The boat had veered toward open ocean, moving away from shore. He took it as a good sign they hadn’t been discovered, but couldn’t help thinking the guy driving the boat might be another of Wynter’s goons. He figured his father had reasoned the same and wondered what they would do when they did reach land. It was possible they could be walking into a worse trap than the one they’d left behind. It wasn’t that he doubted Lee’s abilities, just that he was realistic enough to recognize the captain’s limitations. It didn’t take a medical degree to see how badly he was hurting. The man had a freaking bullet lodged in his side and was trying to act as if it was no big deal. If only there was some way to contact Seaview.

“What do we do now?”

Lee closed the hatch, then eased backward and folded against the raingear again. He gave a muffled grunt, one hand pressed to his injured side. “We wait and see where we’re headed. This is a fishing boat. Sooner or later it has to stop to drop its nets. That’s the ideal time to find out if our captain is on Wynter’s payroll.”

Kel wet his lips. “What if he is?”

“He’s only one man.” Lee picked up the gun he’d set aside earlier. “This should help him see our point of view.”

Kel knew his father had no intention of killing the man, only that with a gun pointed at him, the fisherman would be more inclined to follow instructions. “This boat has to have a radio, right? Do you think you can reach Seaview with it?”

Lee nodded. “Whether or not I can get a secure channel will be the problem.” He grimaced and shifted again, trying to get more comfortable. 

McKellan watched him worriedly, noting fresh blood on his shirt, the glassy glint of fever in his eyes. “Dad...”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lee cut him off, aware of his quiet scrutiny. His lips tipped up in a faint grin. “I see I’ve been promoted from ‘captain.’”

Kel ducked his head uncomfortably. “Does it bother you?” Uncertain, he ventured a sideways glance.

“No.” Lee touched his face, scuffing a blood-stained finger down his cheek. “I was hoping you’d get around to calling me that. There’s so much I want to know about you.”

Despite the affection in the touch, McKellan couldn’t help falling back on bitterness. He was, after all, a thief who’d led a less-than-stellar life compared to Lee’s shining example of heroism and honor. “You mean like why I’m such a screw up?”

“Don’t ever say that.” Lee’s anger was sharp and unmistakable. “You’re my son. You’re not a screw up.”

The fierce protectiveness in his voice left McKellan mentally reeling off balance. He’d never heard those words before - - you’re my son - - and certainly never uttered with such conviction. He was beginning to realize what it meant to have a father . . . someone to stand by him, defend him. Love him unconditionally. Was that even possible?

“What could you possibly want to know?” he asked, certain Lee would question him about why he applied his skills to stealing or why he was so mouthy or:  “You probably want to know what kind of grades I get in school, right - - whether or not I’m failing?”

“No.” Another flash of that faint, tired grin. Lee exhaled a weary breath, his eyelids drooping as he slumped against the cushioning raingear. The flush of fever turned his skin wax-like, his cheeks dusted by the damp gold sheen of sweat. The hand he pressed to his side was wet, stained with fresh blood. “I want to know what your favorite color is . . . whether you like pepperoni on your pizza  . . . what you think about at night before you fall asleep. I want to know about all those things I missed out on - - birthdays and climbing trees, baseball, girls and holiday presents.”

Kel swallowed, that damn flutter-punch back to crippling his gut. “It wasn’t like that for me.”

“I know that.” Lee cupped his cheek, his palm warm and lightly-calloused. “But it can be.”

Kel went very still, unnerved by the touch. It made him feel protected, cared for and safe. He wasn’t sure he trusted his voice but had to ask. “How?”

“When this is over, stay with me in Santa Barbara.”

“You mean you want me to live with you?” He could feel himself shaking inside, that old childish dream tumbling back. “Like father and son?”

Before Lee could answer, the boat shuddered to a sudden stop. The abrupt cessation of movement made them both tense. Lee shifted one leg under him with a grimace and reached for the pistol. Kel could hear footsteps overhead . . . knew that whoever had piloted the boat was making his way toward the storage hold.

Lee nodded toward the corner where several crab pots were stacked together. “Get over there. Out of sight.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Do as I tell you, McKellan.” There was a distinctive edge of command in his tone, the harsh snap of an officer who was used to being obeyed.      

Kel noticed he tended to call him ‘Kel’ or ‘Kellan,’ usually only resorting to his full name when he shifted into parental or Naval Commander mode. Normally, any kind of order made his hackles rise, but he’d gradually begun to respond to the authority in his father’s voice. Isn’t that what a kid was supposed to do . . . place his faith in his parents? He’d had plenty of experience thumbing his nose at the world and doing exactly as he wanted, when he wanted. It was a novel idea to willingly toe the line and do as he was told. Had it been anyone other than Lee, he probably would have told them where they could shove their command.

He slipped his hand into his pack as he crawled toward the crab pots, wrapping his fingers around his dart gun. Lee might be a commander and some kind of pseudo-spy, but he had a bullet in him and looked ready to keel over. He might not have Lee’s experience with international intrigue or cloak and dagger, but if their backs were against the wall, he wasn’t going to let one of Wynter’s yokels take them out.

In the next second, the overhead doors were wrenched open and a heavy-set fisherman clomped into the storage hold, holding a square lantern aloft. A wan glow knifed through the compartment, yellow and phlegmy as mucous. Almost immediately, his eyes rounded in shock - - deeply set flecks of coal above a bushy gray beard - - as he registered the gun pointed in his direction.

“Don’t move,” Lee ordered. “All we want is a way out of here.”

The man held up his hands, signaling surrender, and said something in a language McKellan didn’t understand. Lee answered in the same language and the man shot off a rapid response, motioning behind him. McKellan tensed, listening as his father and the fisherman exchanged several short sentences. 

Finally, Lee relaxed and lowered the gun. “That will work,” he said. He grinned faintly. “... radio.” 

McKellan expelled a pent up breath, a hiss of air whistling between his teeth. 

Across the compartment, the fisherman grinned, exposing a row of tobacco-stained teeth. “Da,” he agreed. “Radio.” 

It was the single most beautiful word McKellan had ever heard.

**********

Damn.

There was no escaping the butt-ugly truth that nicotine tasted like tar after awhile.

Harry recalled the gooey bubbles of creosote, used for preservation, that clung to the utility poles near his grade school. He and Dean Huey used to press their thumbs over the black blisters, popping them like the air-filled pockets in a sheet of bubble-wrap. He could still remember the ashy smell - - a combination of smoked wood and fireplace cinders, repulsive but compelling at the same time.

He couldn’t say the same for the stale cigarette he crushed in a brass ashtray. Or maybe his umpteenth cup of coffee had soured the taste.

Irritated, he scuffed a hand through his wavy hair and paced in front of the observation windows. How many hours since Ski and Patterson had returned to the sub? How many hours since the advance team reported the assault had weakened and broken off? Lee should have had the damn stone and reported in by now, but he was still observing radio silence, a situation that had Harry chain-smoking and downing coffee like water. His gut was pure acid, and his lungs felt scorched by tar.

He was the one who’d sent Lee on the damn mission. The talking heads at ONI might have ordered it, but he was the one who’d initiated the blasted thing, dragging Lee from a much-needed vacation. What if this was one time too many? Sooner or later, his captain was going to run up against something, or someone, he couldn’t best. 

Like Wynter.

The man was a psychotic with an all-consuming need for revenge, and he was well-funded by the People’s Republic. It was entirely possible he held the upper hand this time around.

“Sir?”

Harry turned to find Chip Morton standing behind him. Seaview’s executive officer looked as haggard as he felt, both of them worn by the long hours of silence from Lee’s end. It was bad enough Harry had sent his captain on the near-impossible mission but Lee was a professional, an officer sworn to duty in the service of his country. 

But I sent McKellan too. What the hell was I thinking? Will Lee ever forgive me?

“What is it, Chip?” He fished the crumpled pack of Marlboros from his pocket, realized it was empty and crushed it in his fist. Tossing it aside, he turned a bleary-eyed glance on his second in command. “Any word from Lee yet?”

“No, Sir.” Chip swallowed hard and wet his lips. “I think we have to face the possibility he’s in trouble, Admiral. He’s way outside the time-table for contacting us.”

“Blast it, man I know that!” Harry regretted the sharp reply as soon as it was out of his mouth. He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger. He had no right to take his frustration out on Chip. The man was Lee’s best friend, as sick about their missing captain as he was, possibly more so. 

If that damn fool makes it back, he and I are going to have a serious sit-down about ONI. The man’s got a son now and a woman who wants to marry him. Harry wasn’t going to let him toss that away because of some twisted sense of duty to Naval Intelligence. ONI had already gotten more than their pound of flesh from him over the years.

He heaved a sigh and waved a hand in Chip’s general direction. “Sorry, Chip. My temper’s short, I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry guessed the whole crew knew it. They were all concerned about their skipper, but he’d sensed their sideways glances when they thought he was unaware. It was no secret how he felt about Lee Crane. In the beginning, he’d tried to keep that emotional attachment under wraps but, through the years, it had become too powerful to disguise. The man wasn’t just ‘like’ a son. He’s become my son.

“We could send out the Flying Sub, Sir,” Chip suggested.

It was something Harry had been considering too. He didn’t want to jeopardize Lee’s secrecy, but Seaview’s captain had gone far too long without contact. Initially, there’d been no consideration for a rescue team given the sensitivity of the mission, but it was becoming obvious Lee and McKellan were in trouble. He prayed they were both still alive.

“All right. See if...”

“Admiral Nelson, report to the radio shack,” Sparks’ voice crackled abruptly through the intercom, the edge of excitement in his tone unmistakable. “I’ve got Captain Crane standing by, Sir.”

An elated whoop burst from the men in the control room - - a roar Harry was sure echoed throughout the sub. He caught Chip’s wide grin of relief and broke into one of his own. “Let’s go,” he said, clapping the exec on the back.

Together, the two men raced for the radio shack and news of their missing captain.

***********

Lee didn’t remember passing out. He remembered standing hunched in the pilot house of the small fishing boat, talking to Nelson on the radio, relaying their coordinates. There’d been a strange whoosh in his ears like the burble of liquid through a long straw, then the deck had pitched beneath him and a wall of darkness crashed down. He recalled a foggy, dream-like image of McKellan kneeling beside him, trying to rouse him, but the light had spooled into his head, stringing blackness in its wake.

The next thing he remembered he was in Sick Bay, Jamie bustling around him, a standing tray of medical instruments at his side. The top was littered with blood-stained squares of gauze and soggy balls of plump cotton. The astringent reek of rubbing alcohol hung heavily in the air. Nelson and Chip stood a short distance away, heads bent together as they conversed quietly in the background. 

Lee tried to snag their attention, but his vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate and his eyelids were too heavy to hold open. His whole body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. When he twisted on the gurney, parting with a low moan, Nelson moved swiftly to his side.

“Easy lad.” He remembered the admiral bending over him, the warmth of familiar fingers threading through his damp bangs. “You’re back on Seaview, but you’ve got a high fever. Will’s got to get that bullet out of you.”

Bullet?

The next thing he knew his thoughts were sucked into a funnel, chased into the gray murk of oblivion by his dwindling consciousness. When he woke again it was to a drug-hazed delirium. He was aware of bandages swaddled on his side, the pinch of an IV line in his arm, and the low pulse of fire below his ribs. This time it was Alyssa seated at his side, her fingers wrapped around his.

“Lee?”

He blinked through the fog, forcing his sluggish mind to focus. His mouth was abdominally dry but somehow he formed a single name. “McKellan?”

“Safe. He’s with Cedric.” Alyssa smiled softly, her eyes bright with tears. “Are you in much pain?”

He shook his head. He wouldn’t call the gnawing blood-thump below his ribs pain so much as discomfort. She didn’t need to know that. He’d already put her through hell with a mission that could have proved fatal. Judging by the circles under her eyes, she hadn’t had much sleep since he’d left. It suddenly dawned on him he had no clue how long he’d been out. She must have read the thought in his eyes because her fingers curled more tightly around his.

“You’ve been out almost forty-eight hours. Jamie said the surgery went well, but your fever was so high.” She bit her lip and a tear spilled down her cheek. “I was worried...I thought...”

“Lyss.” He raised his hand, gently collecting the drop of moisture. He could feel her trembling and knew her control was close to shattering. How many times had he done this to her . . . put her through an agonizing wait while he ran off and courted danger? How many more times would she tolerate the pain? It wasn’t something a man should do to a woman he loved. “I promised I’d come back, didn’t I?”

She nodded, ducking her head. “You should rest,” she whispered, her voice close to cracking.

But he couldn’t. There was too much he wanted to tell her - - how much he loved her, how he couldn’t live without her. Not another minute, not another day. I need you to be my wife. He shifted, biting back a grimace when his movement awakened a spike of pain. She looked up instantly, alerted by his soft moan.

“Lee?”

He forced a wan smile, aware his face had drained of color. “I’m okay,” he said shakily.

Alyssa started to rise. “I’m going to get Jamie.”

“No.” He caught her hand, holding her in place. “I need to talk to you.”

Slowly she sat down, her eyes riveted on his. “About McKellan?”

His shock couldn’t have been plainer. “I...” How could she possibly know? He wasn’t sure they were thinking the same thing until she smiled gently and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. 

“Thank you for bringing him back safely. He’s been worried sick about you.”

Lee swallowed uncomfortably. “Did he . . . did he say anything...”

“About you being his father?”

Lee flushed, alarm streaking through him. “Alyssa...” This was not how he’d meant to discuss it with her. “How...”

“Cedric told me while you were on the mission. I think, deep inside, I probably knew anyway. He looks so much like you, Lee.” She lowered her eyes, unsure of herself and her standing. “Ginny gave you a wonderful son.”

“Ginny’s not here.” His mouth was dry, his gut corded into a tight knot. He never wanted her to doubt how much she meant to him, how much he needed her. “And she wasn’t a fit mother. I have no doubt she loved him but, between the accident and her drug addiction, she became a pale imitation of the woman I knew. Kel deserved more than that. He still does.”

“He needs a family,” Alyssa agreed.

Lee wasn’t sure he was reading her correctly. His heart thumped against his ribs, daring him to believe the impossible. “Are you saying . . ?”

“I’m saying I’d like the three of us to be a family. Kel and I already talked while you were out. He was worried about coming between you and me and said he’d go back to Oregon with Cedric.” She leaned forward, the sheen of unshed tears bright in her eyes. “I don’t want that, Lee. I don’t think you do either.”

“No.” His voice failed him as his throat constricted around a lump of emotion. He swallowed hard, searching her eyes. Like the grainy image from a dream, he recalled her sense of dread that something would come between them on this mission. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel.”

“Scared,” Alyssa admitted shakily. “I’m not sure what kind of mother I’ll be.”

Lee relaxed with a grin. “I’m not sure what kind of father I’ll be.”

“What about Seaview and the Institute?” 

He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. It felt good to have her close again, to have the grueling mission behind him. He looked forward to the time when they would be home, cuddled together in bed. “The admiral and I have already talked. He knew about McKellan before I did. He’s assured me he’ll work with me as far as my schedule and that nothing will change.”

“And ONI?”

“ONI,” Lee repeated with a fatalistic exhale. “That could be a problem.”

***********

Harry was sure Admiral Johnson and the head honchos at ONI had congratulated one another with slaps-on-the-back for a job well done. Within seventy-two hours of Lee arriving on Seaview, the Lady Ghost was returned to the coffers in the House of Ryhdderich, enabling the marriage of Solana Olexa Erys Rhydderich and  Kaden Rainart Laren IV to proceed. Lee had remained in Sick Bay while Harry acted as an envoy, delivering the jewel in time, prior to the engagement party, thus thwarting the plans of the People’s Republic to stop Graetoria from uniting.

Harry was pleased with the results, but not pleased by the injury to his often reckless, easily-recruited-by-ONI captain. When was the man going to realize it wasn’t only his role as Seaview’s commander that made him irreplaceable but, most especially, his bond as Harry’s ‘son?’ 

He’d wanted to read Lee the riot act upon his return (he wasn’t the only one - - he knew Chip Morton did too) but he’d cooled his heels and waited until Lee was comfortably recovering from surgery. Part of him regretted his belligerence as he’d ranted to Lee in Sick Bay, the other part convinced the tirade had been a long time in coming:

“. . . tired of Johnson assuming all he has to do is crook his little finger and you’re at his beck and call,” he’d seethed as he paced back and forth before Lee’s rack, waving one hand angrily to punctuate the remark. “You did an incredible thing lad but, had you failed, there would have been no accolades. Johnson and his cronies would have washed their hands of you like dirty laundry.” The bastards.

“I know that, Admiral.”

That was what made it so damnably hard, Harry thought as he’d studied his captain propped up with pillows, his face drawn and gaunt. Lee was fully aware of the danger and potential consequences any time he took a mission but never saw the risks as reasons to refuse. That taciturn bit of logic was frustrating for Harry, who believed in duty to his country but not in orchestrated suicide. Too many times Lee had come close to that end.

“I don’t want to turn my back on national security, but I think Seaview needs to step back and be a science vessel. That’s what I designed her for,” Harry continued.    

Lee was watching him intently. The captain’s fever had passed, but he was still weak, the normally vibrant spark of his green-gold eyes, dulled by low-level pain. “What are you suggesting, Sir?”

“I’m not suggesting,” Harry snapped, sharper than he’d intended. “I’m telling you - - I want you to think about your future. In a short while you’re going to be responsible for a wife and a son. You’re going to have a family.”

“I know that.” Lee grinned shyly and lowered his eyes. He was silent a moment then ventured ahead with a steady glance. “If you’re asking me to reconsider my commitment to ONI, you don’t have to do that. I’ve already thought through the potential scenarios - - what it would mean to McKellan to lose his father or Alyssa her husband.”

Harry stopped pacing, surprised. “And?”

“And no more high-risk missions,” Lee assured. “That doesn’t mean I can’t consult from time-to-time, but I plan on telling Admiral Johnson my days as a field operative are over. I don’t expect he’ll react favorably. It’s likely I’ll need your backing, Sir.”

Harry grinned from ear-to-ear. “Consider it given, lad. There’s nothing I’d like better than to tell Johnson where he can stick his next assignment.”

The giddy rush of triumph he’d felt at that moment still made him grin. When he checked in on his captain a short time later, he found him sleeping soundly, still confined to Sick Bay by Jamie’s orders. He stood for a few minutes, looking down on the sleeping man, recalling everything McKellan had told them about the mission.

Harry had been impressed by the kid’s composure as he’d relayed the details of what had happened - - repeating everything from the moment they’d stepped into the tunnels to their rescue from the fishing boat. Lee had passed out shortly after relaying the boat’s coordinates and had been unconscious when a med-evac team arrived, headed by Jamie. Given McKellan’s own condition, Harry would have expected him to be shaky, even weepy, but he’d held his fear and fatigue in check, almost as if trying to make his father proud. Harry hadn’t really expected him to pull off the heist of the Lady Ghost - - it had been a gamble without alternative - - and was shocked when McKellan passed him the jewel.

The kid had been cold, his teeth chattering. His eyes kept straying to his injured father, any elation he should have felt for accomplishing the impossible, smothered by silent concern. When they made it back to Santa Barbara, Harry knew McKellan would have to be included in any debriefing that took place - - let ONI chew on that one!

Fortunately, the fisherman turned out to be a good ally - - someone who spat his distaste at the mere mention of Wynter’s name - - and had done his best to keep Lee comfortable until help arrived. Harry knew Lee and McKellan had not been on the best of terms when departing on the mission but, whatever friction had existed between them, it was obviously gone now. One look at the kid as he watched his father and Harry was conscious of worry, pride and fear mixed in his gaze.

Now, as he stood staring down at Lee, he felt a familiar warmth spread through his gut. Like Lee, he’d found his son years after the fact. Maybe he and Lee didn’t share a bloodline like the captain did with McKellan, but their bond was every bit as strong, every bit as eternal. 

Gently, he brushed his fingers through the sleeping man’s bangs, overcome by a rush of affection. Lee had given him an amazing gift by entering his life.

He was sure McKellan would do the same for his father.

***********

Lee was adjusting the knot in his tie when someone tapped lightly on his cabin door. A full week had passed since Jamie had dug the bullet out of his side and, although he still tired easily and was not permitted to return to duty, Jamie had consented to allowing him to remain in his cabin. 

Seaview would be entering Santa Barbara’s harbor in another two hours, finally returning home after the long secretive mission. Lee wanted to be dressed and in the control room, even if he couldn’t command her. It would be his first true venture of any length, his carefully stitched side still giving him difficulty when he moved.

“Come in,” he said as he turned from the mirror and shut the door on his wardrobe. 

“Dad?” McKellan grinned almost shyly as he stepped inside. The kid still had a habit of brashly speaking his mind, but some of his rough edges had been smoothed away since returning from the Crouic Mountains. “Got a minute?”

“Of course.” Lee motioned him to sit.

“Not for me.” Kel ducked back outside then reappeared a moment later pushing Cedric St. Germaine in his wheelchair.

“Cedric.” Lee greeted the man with a smile. He’d only seen the gentleman thief briefly since returning to Seaview. He vaguely remembered St. Germaine stopping by Sick Bay to see how he was doing, but he’d been doped with morphine at the time and the memory was hazy. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Wishing I were less encumbered.” St. Germaine motioned to the heavy cast on his leg. “What about you, Captain?”

“Better.” Lee knew better than to attempt his patented ‘fine’ answer. A glance in the mirror when adjusting his tie had told him how gaunt he’d grown over the last week, his skin still bearing the sallow cast that came from a long illness. While his cracked ribs were painful, and the bullet wound was certain to give him grief for weeks to come, it was his raging fever that had exacted the highest toll. Even with antibiotics, it had taken Jamie several days to get it under control, a fierce battle that had ravaged his already weakened stamina.

“We’ll be in Santa Barbara soon,” he said to St. Germaine, easing into his desk chair so he could converse with the older man on eye level. “I imagine you’ll want to head back to Oregon after that.”

“Precisely.” Cedric’s eyes shifted to Kel. “McKellan, will you give us a few moments, please?”

If the boy was put off by the request, he gave no indication, almost as if he’d expected it. “Sure.” He started to turn away then glanced back to Lee as if he wanted to say something. In the end he shook his head and ducked out the door, leaving the two men alone. 

Lee’s eyes tracked after him. “He’s confused.”

 

“That’s to be expected. He’s thrilled you’ve accepted him as your son and excited you want him with you. But he’s sad too.”

Lee nodded, glancing down at his hands. “Are you going to be able to say goodbye to him?” It terrified him to think how hard it would be - - that maybe, even after all he’d done to bring Lee and McKellan together - - Cedric wouldn’t be able to let go. The last thing Lee wanted to do was put McKellan in a tug-of-war between them.

“I already have,” Cedric said quietly.

Surprised, Lee glanced up sharply. He saw sadness in St. Germaine’s eyes but kindness too. “I was wrong about you,” he admitted. “I said some harsh things in the past. You raised him well.”

“Ah . . . so you no longer object to him being a thief?”

Lee grinned, catching the spark of humor in the older man’s eyes. “I don’t plan on hiring him out again, if that’s what you mean.” His smile thinned as he grew serious. “You taught him honor. I can’t thank you enough for the love and care you’ve given my son.”

Cedric bowed his head, a regal nod that hinted of a long-forgotten code of chivalry. “It’s been my honor, Captain Crane. McKellan and I have already agreed to part ways in Santa Barbara harbor. His life with me has ended, but his life with you is just beginning. I prefer that he remember me as I am now, not the sickly bed-ridden thing I am certain to become.”

Lee blanched. “Cedric...”

The older man held up his hand to stop the protest. “Surely, Commander, you’ve seen enough fatalities in your day to acknowledge the truth. I don’t know that you and I will ever meet again in this lifetime, but I’m pleased we have someone who is equally important to both of us. I should like you to have this.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he extended a plain white envelope.

“What is it?” Lee asked, rising to accept the paper.

“Something I’m entrusting to you for McKellan. You may examine it after I leave.” He paused deliberately, watching Lee intently. “You will be there for him - - in the future?” 

“Always,” Lee vowed. He realized the conversation had come to an end and extended his hand. “I won’t forget you, Cedric.”

“Likewise. And now, if you’d be so good as to get the door, I’m sure I can find my way out. McKellan and Alyssa insist on taking me everywhere, but I’m not without the means to get about on my own.”

Lee nodded and opened the cabin door. He understood Cedric’s desire to be self-sufficient and didn’t interfere. There would come a day, not far in the future, when St. Germaine would need the aid of others to function but, until that time arose, he deserved what independence he possessed. 

When he was gone, Lee removed his letter opener from his desk, and slit the flap on the envelope. The paper inside was heavy vellum, stapled in a blue legal wrapper. Lee scanned the first paragraph with an increasingly heavy heart:

Last Will and Testament of Cedric Laruent St. Germaine. 

Being of sound mind and body I, Cedric Laurent St, Germaine, do hereby bequeath all of my worldly possessions and wealth to my ward, Lee McKellan Crane, to be held in trust by his father, Lee Benjamin Crane, until the time of his twenty-first birthday . . .

Lee breathed deeply and folded the heavy paper, returning it to the envelope. He wondered if McKellan knew what St. Germaine had done for him. He had his answer a moment later when Kel pushed the door open. 

Lee turned, catching sight of his son standing forlornly on the threshold. It took only a second to register the pain in his blue-green eyes, a second more to understand the crippling wave of anguish that contorted his face.

“He’s going away. He’s never coming back.”

“I know.” Lee crossed the cabin and pulled the boy in his arms.

McKellan resisted, too proud to cry. And then he deflated like a balloon, clinging to Lee as the first sob built and exploded from his chest.

**********

An hour later, Lee stood in the observation nose watching the hypnotic dance of bubbling water beyond the windows, Alyssa and McKellan at his side. He eased into a seat, sending a melancholy glance to the control room where Chip oversaw preparations for docking.

“You want to be in the thick of things, don’t you?” Alyssa asked with a knowing smile. She stood slightly to the side of McKellan, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Lee gave a guilty flinch, looking between the two of them. “Am I that obvious?”

“Nailed,” McKellan confirmed with a grin.

Lee laughed lightly. Despite the sadness of saying goodbye to Cedric, Kel was ramped up - - excited about what awaited him in Santa Barbara, anxious to see the Institute and his new home. In the last hour, he’d been spilling over with enthusiasm about Seaview (now that he didn’t try to hide his excitement any longer) and Lee had given him a short tour, including a circuit through the control room, explaining what each station and crewman did. Unfortunately, talking about his boat made him itch to return to duty all the more, even if it was only to take her into port.

It was a mostly light-hearted crew that prepared for docking. Although they’d suffered tragedy and loss, Lee and Alyssa had announced their upcoming marriage and, with Kel’s blessing, had shared the news he was Lee’s son. Elation had given way to shock then quickly returned to elation. A few people had been caught with their mouths hanging open, but most were only too glad to wrap their heads around the unexpected announcements.

“Got a minute, Captain?”

Lee glanced up when he heard Chip’s voice behind him. At first he feared something was wrong until he saw the mischievous glint in his friend’s bright blue eyes. There was time to kill, the control room was running smoothly, and Chip clearly wanted to shoot the breeze.

“Let’s give Chip and your father a few minutes to talk,” Alyssa suggested to McKellan.

Damn if the kid didn’t grin like a Cheshire cat. “I’ve still got to pack,” he said to Alyssa. “Want to help me?”

“Sure. Then you can help me.” With a wink for Chip, she steered McKellan toward the spiral stairs.

Lee glanced up at his friend. “I still can’t get used to that.”

“You mean the ‘your father’ thing?” Chip guessed, taking a seat across from him.

“Yeah.” They were frequently on the same wavelength so he knew Chip would understand. Who better to talk to than your closest friend when you were feeling on top of the world but terrified at the same time? “It’s scary, but thrilling too. I look at him and think part of him is me. Can you believe he knew who I was in Oregon and didn’t tell me?”

“He’s a different kid than he was then, Lee. Heck, even I like him now.”

Lee laughed. “You’re enjoying all this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely. You’re getting married and you’ve got a family. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

And yet Lee sensed an unspoken flicker of concern. He wet his lips, guessing Chip was worried where the changes to his marital status and living arrangements left his commitment to Seaview. “I’ve already talked to Nelson, and Alyssa and I have done some brainstorming. We’ve both got erratic schedules, but we think we can work things so that when one of us is out of town, the other is at home with Kel. Lots of guys on submarines have families, Chip.”

“Hey!” His friend raised both hands in a signal of surrender. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Then what were you thinking?”

“That you need to let me throw you one hell of a bachelor party - - and that before you become a dyed-in-the-wool family man you and I - - just the two of us - - need to get roaringly drunk. Like we did after Annapolis and graduation. Remember that?”

Lee groaned, recalling the hangover he’d nursed afterward. “You were flagged.”

“You were plastered.”

“At least I didn’t puke in my date’s purse.”

Chip waved the observation aside. “You’ve got to admit I made an impression.”

Lee laughed, remembering an otherwise forgettable brunette who’d left in a huff, dragging Ginny Rook with her. He and Chip had been too far gone to realize the trouble they were sure to be in with the ladies the next day. Chip’s relationship had soured within the week and, it wasn’t long after that Lee and Ginny had been in the accident that ultimately changed their lives.

“Okay,” Lee consented. “I don’t think I can tie one on like that again and be halfway human anytime within the next century but I agree - - you and I should celebrate. It’s been a lot of years since Annapolis but I wouldn’t want to get drunk with anyone else.”

“It’s nice to know I’m good for something.” Chip clapped him on the back, then gave a jerk of his head toward the control room. “Want to watch me put her into port?”

“Why not? Someone has to make sure you don’t scrape the paint.” 

He caught Chip’s familiar wry grin and knew that whatever the future brought, some things - - including a friendship that grew stronger with each passing year - - would never change.

Lee followed his executive officer into the control room, fully content that ‘home’ was where he wanted to be.

*****End****

*                 Ageless

**                Stronghold

***                       Thief’s Honor

****                      Web Spinner

*****          Depth of Field

******        Way Station

*******       All that Glitters

********     The Fringe of Daylight

Note:  Because most people who knew about this story in advance have said it feels too final - - as if it’s my swan song for Voyage - - I’d like to say I’m not planning on this being the last Voyage story I write. Yes, I am going to be writing in another fandom at the same time, but I still plan to continue with Voyage. Anything I write after this will be set in a pre-Lady Ghost universe. I doubt I’ll be producing stories with the same frequency I have in the past, split between two fandoms, but I’m hoping I still have a few tales left to tell. In any event, I hope you’ve enjoyed my vision for the guys and their future. I love these characters too much not to have given them some kind of closure.

So, where am I headed? Back to the same fandom that was my home for three years prior to writing Voyage - - Starsky and Hutch. I hope to ‘see’ some of you there. A list of (existing) S&H stories (in sequence) is available by email to veniceplace12@verizon.net. I hope to be pubbing new S&H stories in the near future. All tales are gen fic of the PG-13 or R-rated variety.

Thanks to all of you for the wonderful support, feedback and emails you’ve sent me about my stories during the course of my three years writing Voyage. This won’t be the last you ‘see’ of me!

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