Beneath the Surface

by Amy McKinley

  A gurgle and a bubble of red splattered from her blue-tinged lips, painting them a morbid red.

  I can’t lose you too.

  Elsa’s hand came up and circled mine in a weak squeeze. Her lashes fluttered and lifted with effort. “Love you.” Her identical blue eyes hardened. “List—he knows who our parents’ killer is. He’s one of the guys at the top. Promise me.” Elsa coughed, and blood splashed from between her lips.

  I nodded, stifling a sob. The whirl of a motor sounded in the distance, and I shook with fear for Elsa. They were coming, but I knew it would be too late. The boys were almost there. I leaned closer, my ear to my sister’s mouth, as her voice faded.

  As the herd of footsteps neared, Elsa flicked her fading gaze to just beyond me, and her features softened before she found mine again.

  “Do whatever needs to be done, Han. Make them pay.”

  My lips trembled, and I fought against sobs to get out the words that would be a brand inside my heart. “I promise.”

  It would be nine years until I could fulfill my promise.

  Chapter 1

  Hannah

  9 years later—present day

  Hannah settled into the plush leather seat of the private jet across from Henry, her boss and the United States Secretary of Defense. She tugged the airplane window shade halfway down to cut the glare from the clouds. They’d been in the air for almost five hours, and they still hadn’t completely covered why she was accompanying him to Havana, Cuba or why he had a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. That needed to change.

  The robust sixty-something man leaned back and gave her one of his shit’s-about-to-get-real expressions. She knew it well and welcomed it until Henry’s features drooped and he rubbed his face repeatedly. Every nerve in her body went on alert.

  Before her, he looked to have aged a good five years as worry lines etched deeply around his mouth and half-moon smudges hung beneath his eyes. “I realize I haven’t briefed you about our main reason for traveling to the US Embassy in Havana.”

  He tossed a flesh-colored set of earbuds on the table directly in front of her and again ran a hand over his concern-creased forehead. “The truth is, our people are being attacked. We’ve suffered irrevocable injuries.” He gestured to the table. “Those earbuds were designed specifically for all the US employees and military to wear in Cuba. You’ll need them in your ears at all times while we’re there.” Henry motioned to the back of the plane with a wave of his hand.

  The sound of someone rising from a leather chair caused her to look over her shoulder. Todd, one of their two security guards, was approaching.

  When the large man stopped in front of Henry, he was given four earbuds. “Wear these at all times in Cuba. No matter what, do not take them out.” Henry pointed behind her. “Give Steve his, and let him know too.” Todd nodded before he lumbered back to where he and Steve were sitting.

  She pinched one of the tiny earbuds between her thumb and forefinger then lifted it for closer observation. It resembled a small Bluetooth earpiece, but that didn’t make sense. “Who made these?”

  “Chris Shaw. You’ve met him a few times in the office.”

  She nodded.

  “He’s a technological genius, and we’re lucky to have him contracting with us on this project. We tasked him with inventing countermeasures for attacks in Cuba.”

  She knew him mainly from his file and one or two orchestrated encounters at work. Chris was part of a private military team called the Gray Ghosts, with whom the CIA and the Pentagon contracted from time to time.

  Henry had been in meetings with Rich Stevens, CIA, who had connected Henry and Chris in the hopes that something could be figured out to aid both the undercover agents and special-ops teams in Havana. That much she knew from Henry—and because Rich, her actual boss, had her installed some time ago as an undercover plant at the Pentagon to keep unofficial eyes on things—her official title was “executive secretary.” Her meetings with Rich had been sporadic and infrequent of late, but Henry had no idea, not even when she’d accompanied Henry to a meeting with Rich some time ago.

  When they’d walked into Rich’s office, he rose from his desk as his shaggy eyebrows climbed his wide forehead. Henry introduced her, and she extended her hand. The scent of cigars clung to him as he shook her hand seemingly for the first time. He gave nothing away, not the fact that he had hired her or that she’d reported anything of interest from the Pentagon to him.

  The sound of Henry clearing his throat brought her back to their present conversation taking place 35,000 feet in the air.

  “Chris is part of the Gray Ghost team?” She had to make sure they were on the same page and that her information was correct.

  “Yes.”

  “Does this have something to do with the response I typed up for you about the hearing-and-brain-damage report about a handful of special operatives?” Holy shit. Even in the moment, she was shocked by how sound waves had been used in such a way that resulted in eardrums bursting and, in some cases, the molecular destruction of neural tissue—brain damage.

  Red infused Henry’s face, and his eyes flashed angrily. “The damage to those men and women was irreparable.” He scrubbed his hand over his face again. “Hell. We’re dealing with sonic warfare.”

  Hannah frowned. “I read the reports, saw the soldiers’ files. It was a tragedy. I can’t imagine…” This is bad—news of the weapon could change everything.

  “It was, and it is. They struck with no warning. And before you ask, no, we don’t know who’s behind it at this time. That’s part of the reason for the meetings at the Havana Embassy.” He shook his head. “With a weapon of this caliber, there was no way to take precautionary measures—until Chris.”

  She leaned forward. “So he came up with more than just the earbuds?”

  “He did. The earbuds block harmful frequencies while filtering through normal sound. And the other part”—he patted the steel briefcase that was handcuffed to his wrist—“is a prototype for a similar weapon for retaliation against the attackers if and when the situation presents itself. They were all delivered with extreme precautionary measures just before we boarded.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This has been in the works for a while now, and it’s top secret. Rich and I collaborated to make sure the weapon gets into the right hands—without our government’s or Cuba’s knowledge. Not only that, the reason for personally attending the meetings is to protect our president. There are unknown enemies. That’s why such secrecy and precautions have been put in place. If the case is opened with even a single wrong digit entered, or by force, everything inside will be destroyed.”

  Hannah’s instincts flared to full alert. It was big—huge—especially if word of the prototype or the earbuds got to the wrong people… my people. She shoved the concern aside and focused on her role as Henry’s executive secretary, at least for the time being. It was all she could do. “What are the frequency levels?”

  “What has been used against our special-ops teams was recorded at a hundred and sixty decibels and twenty kilohertz. The one-sixty ruptured eardrums, and the twenty caused horrible damage. Molecular destruction, but not death.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, the only sign of her distress she couldn’t control. “They used a variation of both, I take it.”

  Henry nodded.

  “And my presence is needed for…?” She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs as she slipped the earbuds into the small zipper pocket of her purse before dropping it by her side.

  “The usual. Take notes in the meeting and watch for anything odd. This problem will take up a great deal of time, and it’s easier to have you close by. With that being said, I’ll need you to not only manage what you can with emails, reports, and the like, but also to observe everything with your invaluable insight. That’ll help me to know if there’s anything to be extra cautious about.”

  There was more to her job than secreta
rial duties. “Are you concerned there’s an informant at the Embassy?”

  Henry drummed his fingers on the top of the table. “Call it a gut instinct or whatever, but I have this feeling something has been going on right underneath our noses for a good four to six months. I just haven’t been able to hone in on who it could be.”

  Noted. “So these earbuds… Will we need to wear them in our sleep as well?” Hannah raised her cup and took a sip of water. Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

  “To be on the safe side, yes.”

  She shook her head then retrieved her laptop, pulled up Henry’s calendar and email account, and scrolled through his many looming engagements. After a couple minutes, she had moved things around and rescheduled a few appointments. “Okay, you’re all set for the week. I’ll handle your workload as much as I can so we don’t come back to several all-nighters.” With a tight smile, she snapped her laptop closed and put it away. She’d have to pay close attention. If Henry suspected a mole, then her world could potentially implode.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Henry rummaged through his pocket before he placed a small key in front of her. “I meant to give this to you last week. This is for a secure box I reserved. You may need to retrieve papers I’ve placed in there from time to time. Not until we fly back, of course.”

  “At the Pentagon?” Of course it was. If he’d reserved the box, it had to be in their secured archives. At his affirmation, she pulled her keyring from her purse and added the new one. There wasn’t much left of their flight, maybe half an hour. “What is our agenda when we get off the plane?”

  Henry let out a low whistle as he glanced out the partially obscured window, his ruddy complexion losing some of its color. “The officials will be unavoidable when we arrive, but we’ll need to get settled before any meetings. The weapon is the priority. Right now, we’re using the prototype as a test for when the special-ops team or the undercover agents locate who is behind the attacks. And with the possibility of a leak somewhere, it seemed safer to take it directly to the front line. We want the least amount of people to know about this weapon.”

  Keeping the information about the prototype private might not have worked, and she could tell Henry thought the same, given how he’d indicated his gut reaction about a potential breach in the office. “Aside from the weapon, why are you needed there?”

  “I’m meeting with the President of Cuba first then with our special forces and undercover operatives. The President of Cuba is very concerned about the attacks and has assured us he doesn’t know their source.”

  “Do you believe him?” Hannah tapped her nails against the table.

  “I’ll know more about what to believe after we meet with our military.”

  Hannah shifted her gaze to the briefcase. “What’s to stop Cuba’s president from taking that?”

  He snorted. “He can try. But I don’t believe he would—or that he is guilty.”

  Interesting. They settled back in their seats and managed to get a great deal of work accomplished for the remainder of their flight. After taking a sip of water, she checked the time and put the remaining papers away. The flight was taking a long time. They should have landed already.

  She followed Henry’s glance out the window and frowned. They were flying awfully low. Nothing looked like it should, based on her previous trip to the country. Why is there only ocean around us? Blue water seemed to be getting closer. She craned her head in the other direction and peered out the opposite window. The sight that greeted her wasn’t familiar—water with a small glimpse of heavily forested land.

  It wasn’t Cuba.

  Clouds had gathered, and the fading glint of the sun was exchanged with a hazy blanket of dusk. The plane dipped then thumped as they hit an air pocket. Her body tensed as they continued through turbulence. Again, she peeked out her window. What she saw wasn’t a coincidence. With a glance over her shoulder, she took in Steve’s and Todd’s wary expressions as they spoke in low, tense voices.

  A very loud explosion sound sent a jolt of panic through her. The plane dipped to one side, and she leaned forward to look. Dark smoke billowed then trailed near the wing. The acrid scent of burning machinery filtered through the cabin. Shit—an engine exploded. Alarm spread over Henry’s features, and he shifted the briefcase shackled to his wrist securely between his feet. They dropped without warning only to level out again. The impact caused her teeth to rattle.

  One engine and turbulence made everything seem erratic. Her gaze tangled with Henry’s as they both tightened their seatbelts. The exit door was directly behind her, creating a divide between them and the two guards.

  With each drop in altitude, the blue water taunted from below, and she mentally ticked off what she needed to do. The pilot’s tense voice blared over the intercom, “Prepare for impact.”

  Masks dropped from the overhead compartment.

  The right wing dipped, and her water cup slid across the table to fall to the floor, splashing her feet. She met Henry’s gaze and saw the naked worry in his tightly pursed lips.

  The metal around Henry’s wrist rattled as he stretched the mask’s elastic to fit over his head. Before securing the oxygen, he caught and held Hannah’s gaze. “If something happens, keep the prototype out of enemy hands.” He dropped his handcuffed wrist to his lap, his apprehension over their pending crash evident.

  She nodded before digging her heels into the carpet and swiveling her chair away from the table and window. Henry mimicked her preparation. Wishing for a blanket to cover her head wouldn’t make it miraculously appear, but she curled over her legs and huddled for the pending impact while Henry’s words raced through her mind.

  They tilted. The angle of the plane sent alarm through Hannah as it plummeted down. She peeked at the window across from her. Blue water was the main thing visible as they neared a dense tree line. They were about to hit it.

  A loud boom exploded inside the cabin, and the shock of impact radiated through her body as the plane’s wing clipped the water. They skidded and hit something solid. Trees?

  The crunch of metal rang in Hannah’s ears as her body jerked like a ragdoll’s. The only thing keeping her in her seat was the tight seatbelt around her waist. As her chair swiveled from the crash, her head smacked into the table, and fuzziness filled her brain. Time slowed, and an eerie silence overtook the plane’s cabin. Nausea swirled in her stomach as the full realization that they’d fallen from the sky and collided with the Earth in a bone-jarring crash set in.

  Dizziness and pinpricks of black compromised her vision, so she kept her eyelids closed. Was I unconscious? If so, it couldn’t have been for more than a few minutes.

  Her body hung from her chair at an awkward angle. The only obstacle was the hard surface beneath her head and the tight tether at her waist. Held in place by her seatbelt, the impact had rocked her chair to its prior position, and her face again collided with the hard surface of the table.

  Chapter 2

  Hannah

  Slumped over the table that sat between her and Henry, she concentrated on slow, even breaths. The oxygen mask sat awkwardly on her cheek, displaced from the crash. Her head spun, sending waves of nausea in its wake. A warm wetness coated her forehead and temple. She was surprised she didn’t feel airflow from the mask against her cheek. She wondered whether any of them were working, or if hers was the only broken one.

  The silence worried her. Did anyone survive? Motionless, she inventoried each twinge, sharp pain, and dull throb. She’d had worse. This, she would survive.

  She remained motionless, and her mind whirled with what she knew—Henry suspected a mole, a secret weapon was onboard, and the engine blowing forced them to crash. She doubted the explosion that brought them down was from a random technical malfunction. Someone wanted the weapon. The crash wasn’t an accident.

  The pounding in her head was intense, and without touching her forehead, she knew she’d find a trail of blood making a path from a cut
to the surface she rested on. The injury wouldn’t slow her down, however. Her seatbelt bit into her hips and abdomen, which were at a weird angle, given that the nose of the plane was lower than the tail. A groan sounded. She tensed but dismissed her worry when she realized it was only one of the guards coming to.

  No other sound within their vessel alerted her to danger—at least not yet.

  In slow increments, she lifted her eyelids. A few blinks, and her blurry vision cleared—just not the headache. A small amount of blood had pooled under her face. Hannah lifted her head and observed Henry, who was slumped in his seat, from across the table. Still handcuffed to his wrist, his briefcase pulled his arm oddly askew and toward the front of the plane.

  She tore the useless oxygen mask from her face. Heart pounding, she scanned the cabin that held her unconscious boss and two armed guards. Through the window, she noted thick, leafy vegetation. They’d crashed somewhere off course, probably close to the ocean. Is it the Gulf of Mexico, or are we nearer to the Caribbean Sea? She raised her hand and wiped away the blood that trickled from her nose.

  Across from her, Henry moaned, his mask crooked on his face. A second ticked by, then another. When he didn’t stir, she shifted her focus away. He would have to wait.

  Wiping the blood from her forehead so it wouldn’t drip into her eyes, she placed one hand on the table and unhooked her seatbelt with the other. She eased to her feet, first holding the table then moving her hands to the back of Henry’s chair. Dizziness threatened to drop her to her knees. Her vision flashed in and out, and she sucked in air, pausing until she could successfully take a step.

  Todd, one of the guards seated behind her, got to his feet in a stumbling clatter of movement. “Stay in your seat, Hannah.”