Chapter 16 - Iron in the Water
The descent down the fast-rope was a blur of freezing spray and screaming wind. When my tactical boots slammed onto the salt-crusted iron deck of the Valkyrie, the ship lurched violently beneath me, rolling twenty degrees to the port side.
The stench of diesel fuel, rusted metal, and stagnant bilge water hit my nostrils immediately. The ship was already sitting dangerously low in the water; the scuttle valves had clearly been cracked open, flooding the lower ballast tanks to drag the freighter into the depths of Lake Michigan.
“Timer is down to twenty-two minutes,” Miller’s voice crackled through my tactical earpiece from the helicopter circling overhead. “Thermal scans show approximately forty armed crew members moving toward the bridge and the engine room. The human cargo is locked in Cargo Hold Three below the waterline!”
Gunfire erupted from the forward superstructure.
Two mercenaries positioned behind an iron container opened fire on our landing team with automatic rifles, sparks raining across the wet deck. Rhys didn't hesitate. He dove behind a heavy steel winch, returned fire with three disciplined bursts, and dropped the first gunman instantly. The second gunman attempted to retreat down the narrow companionway, but Rhys surged forward like a panther, tackling him against the bulkheads and disarming him with a brutal wrist-lock before knocking him unconscious with the butt of his weapon.
"Isadora!" Rhys shouted over the roar of the engines and the howling gale. "The lower hold access is through the midship hatch! Where are the sea chest valves?"
"The engine room, lower level behind the auxiliary generators!" I shouted back, running toward the heavy round hatch labeled HOLD 3. "If we don't close the primary sea chests, the water pressure will seal the cargo doors permanently from the outside!"
"Miller, take two men and secure that engine room!" Rhys ordered into his comms. "Kill the bilge pumps! Close those valves!"
"On it, boss!"
Rhys turned to the heavy hatch of Cargo Hold Three. A massive industrial chain had been wrapped around the locking wheel, secured by a heavy brass padlock. From beneath the iron deck plating, the muffled, terrified sounds of screams, crying children, and desperate banging against the steel hull echoed up through the metal.
My heart shattered at the sound. It was the sound of helpless souls who believed the cold water rising around their ankles was the end of their lives.
"Stand back!" Rhys barked, raising his tactical shotgun.
Two deafening blasts pulverized the padlock into fragments of shattered brass. Rhys kicked the heavy steel wheel with all his strength, spinning the locking dogs free, and threw the heavy hatch cover open.
A wave of warm, humid air smelling of sweat, fear, and seawater washed over us.
I scrambled down the rusted iron ladder into the gloom, Rhys right behind me. The lower hold was already flooded with eighteen inches of freezing lake water. Trapped inside three enormous shipping containers whose sides had been cut open for ventilation were dozens of women, young girls, and small boys, shivering violently, clutching each other in utter terror as the water crept higher with every passing minute.
When they saw Rhys—tall, broad-shouldered, clad in black tactical gear and carrying an assault rifle—the women screamed, huddling their children into the corners, expecting an execution squad.
I splashed through the rising water, pulling off my helmet and tactical goggles so they could see my face, my long hair falling wet around my shoulders.
"Don't be afraid!" I cried out, my voice ringing with every ounce of warmth, compassion, and authority I possessed. "We are not with Lucian Vane! We are here to get you out! My name is Isadora Calder, and this is my husband! You are safe now!"
A young woman clutching a toddler looked up through tear-stained eyes, her gaze darting between my open hands and the gentle, protective way Rhys stood behind me, keeping watch on the upper gangway.
"Safe?" she whispered in broken English. "The water... it’s coming in..."
"Not on our watch," I said, reaching down and gently lifting the crying child into my arms, pressing the shivering girl against my chest. "Rhys, get the evacuation harnesses ready!"
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Suddenly, the ship groaned—a long, agonizing shriek of tearing metal that echoed through the entire hull. The floor lurched sharply beneath our feet.
“Boss!” Miller’s voice screamed through the earpiece, drowning in static. “We took the engine room, but Lucian’s men rigged an explosive charge to the primary propeller shaft! The sea chest room is collapsing! The ship has less than eight minutes before she capsizes!”
