Page 73 of Doyle

Stein handed him a plate of eggs. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” Then he gestured to Emberly to follow him to the next room.

“What?” She kept her voice at a whisper.

“My walkie isn’t working. And my burner is dead. I need to get a charger and connect with them.”

“Fine—”

He cocked his head. “I’m not leaving him here with you.”

“Thanks for the trust.” She took a sip of coffee, winked.

His mouth opened.

“Just kidding. I wouldn’t trust me either, Frogman. So, what’s the plan?”

“We need to take him with us.”

“Shopping?”

“We’ll make it look like we’re tourists. Out for a stroll on the square. I found clothes in the closets.”

“Convenient.” But she sighed. “Fine. But he’s not going with us. Go find something to wear. Add a hat. I’ll take care of Luis. I’ll lock him in his room. He’s not going anywhere. We go out, we come back, no detours.”

“You’re so much fun.” He smirked.

She pressed past him into the kitchen.

And that’s when things had started to careen off the rails?—

Now she sat up. Outside the vault, in the main area the elevator moved—the sound of the motors whirring against the concrete chamber, like a hum.

Emberly got to her feet. She had to leavenow.Whether up or down, the lift was in motion, which meant it was between floors.

She’d already secured the hard drive into the sealed pouch in her wet-suit pants, still soggy but drying. As was her dive shirt. She’d left her fins, her mask, and her tank in the chamber below.

Swimming in through the smugglers’ river had been too easy. Clearly Stein and his security team needed to up their game.

The manual override key hung in a panel near the door, and she turned it. The electrical panel died and disengaged the lock. Pulling the lever on the door, she pushed.

The heavy metal door moved, and she stepped out into the space. Barren, just her light flickering on the cement floor.

And there, in the space, the cables moved, lowering the box.

Never mind closing the vault, she dove for the opening, sliding into the space. She landed on the mechanism at the bottom, eyed the opening to the tunnel. What if the lift was headed all the way to the bottom?

Flattening herself against the floor, she braced herself. Being trapped under a lift didn’t seem any better than being trapped in a vault, and what came down had to go up?—

Except the box stopped at the floor above. And as she leaped for the dark opening to the cavern, a word of discovery sounded from above her.

Yeah, sorry to leave such a mess.

She rolled onto the floor, then headed for the door. So much for their lock change—she’d brought in her own lock-picking device, a.k.a., a small detasheet she’d used to destroy the lock on the metal door. Now the door hung half open, darkness beyond, outside the glow of her headlamp.

Behind her, the lift hummed, churning to life.

She scampered down the stairs, her feet slick on the steps. Last thing she needed was to land on her backside and roll her way to the bottom.

Not when she was so very, very close to freedom.

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