Encrypted: An Action-Packed Techno-Thriller

by Carolyn McCray

  “You!” a voice called.

  Zach looked down to find the knight from before shouting at him.

  “Page, to me!”

  This was a bad idea. He wouldn’t even try it, except for the fact that every other idea was actually worse.

  Steeling himself for the impact, Zach pushed himself off the wall, twisting in midair. He hit the knight, knocking him from his saddle. The two crashed to the ground, but the knight’s armor shielded them both from the brunt of the impact.

  They sprang to their feet.

  “That’s a good man,” the knight said, patting Zach’s shoulder.

  The guy was making it really hard for Zach to attack. After all, the knight had quite possibly just saved his life.

  “I must be off,” Zach said, pointing to the collapsing castle.

  The knight nearly let him go, and then noticed something along Zach’s neck. The tunic must have gotten torn in his fight with Grant, revealing the camouflage beneath. The knight went for his sword. Turned out that the guy was Hidden Hand through and through. The full set of armor probably should have clued Zach in to that fact.

  Zach threw a punch, cracking into the man’s nose, sending him reeling.

  Scanning the area, Zach came up with no weapons. And that knight was regrouping pretty quickly, yelling for reinforcements. Then Zach saw it. A little black star embedded in a piece of wood. He snatched it from the railing praying that the Taser star still had juice. The only problem, the knight was encased in armor. How in the hell was Zach going to get it the guy’s skin?

  Then the knight heaved back, raising his broadsword with both arms, exposing his midriff below his chest plate. Zach flung the star, nailing the guy in the belly. However, the star didn’t fire immediately, and the knight swung the broadsword down, aiming for the crown of Zach’s head.

  Then the little Taser kicked in, knotting the knight’s muscles, clenching his arms. The broadsword clattered to the ground as the guy fell on his side twitching and flailing.

  Now, to get to Ronnie.

  * * *

  Ronnie tried to put the pew between her and Lino, but the man went berserk, smashing the wooden bench with a single downward blow.

  The monster that had lurked beneath Lino’s surface now fully out for the world to see. No more refinement. No more aloof arrogance. Lino was nothing more than raw, undiluted, fury.

  She backed away until she could back up no longer. The edge of the altar poked into her spine.

  Lino lunged forward. Ronnie gasped, clutching her fists so tightly that she popped beads from her gloves. Lino retreated seeming awfully pleased with himself. Now he was just toying with her.

  “We will rise again,” he sneered, pulling up his congealed lip.

  This time he came at her, not toying at all. She tried to duck out from under the attack, but Lino caught her by the throat, slamming her against the altar. His burnt hand was moist against her neck. She could feel the actual muscles constrict around her windpipe. Lino’s scorched finger dug into the flesh. Was he going to choke her, or tear her trachea from her throat?

  Ronnie’s hand groped behind her, trying to find something, anything, to use against him. One finger touched an object only it was just out of reach. Her lungs screamed for oxygen as her sight constricted down.

  With her other hand, she ripped at Lino’s arm, gouging at his arm, shredding flesh under her fingernails. His grip wasn’t like a vise. It was a vise. Only then did Ronnie realize that this might truly be the end. She would just be one more body they would find after the self-destruct did its job.

  Closing her eyes, Ronnie tried to picture Zach, but her mind was past concentrating on anything else except getting air.

  Then she heard the clattering of hooves against stone. She didn’t think that was one of the “going to the light” events. Cracking open her eyes, she watched a white horse, a charger, really carrying her knight in shining armor. The armor glowed—or was it the loss of oxygen?

  “Ronnie!” Zach shouted, but they all knew he would be too late.

  Lino redoubled his efforts, forcing her back, clamping off her windpipe. Even in his state, he could sense victory. The only problem? Lino had forced her an inch closer to the cross on the altar. Using the tip of her fingernails, she coaxed the silver object to tip over into her hand.

  With the last of her strength, Ronnie gripped the cross, pulling it from its stand, driving the end through the exposed muscles of Lino’s abdomen. The silver sank in with a slurping sound. Lino’s grip squeezed all the tighter and then let go.

  “That is for Francois,” Ronnie choked out as Lino fell to the ground, the cross sticking out from his belly like a flag.

  Dizzy, Ronnie stumbled toward Zach as he dismounted.

  As oxygen finally reached her lungs, Zach caught her before she hit the stone.

  “Hey, sexy,” he said brushing back her hair with his gloved hand.

  Ronnie just smiled her answer, mainly because she couldn’t use her throat yet. Catching her breath, Ronnie felt her chest rise and fall against the metal chest plate of Zach’s armor. Granted, it was a little early in the relationship for dress-up, but still. Damn.

  “Hey there, yourself,” she responded.

  Time to get off her butt. Ronnie pushed off the altar, although her muscles still shook.

  “Take it slow,” Zach said steadying her.

  The only problem with that proclamation was the floor rumbling beneath them.

  * * *

  Zach grabbed Ronnie and tucked her under him as an explosion rocked the castle. He let the back of his armor take a pounding from the shattered glass, mortar, and rock. Finally, the debris stopped, only to have another explosion sound from across the courtyard.

  “You did reset the auto-destruct timer for five minutes instead of three, right?” Ronnie asked.

  Oh. Crap. He knew he’d forgotten something. A big something.

  Ronnie must have read his response in his face, because she rose to her feet. “We have got to get out of here.”

  No kidding. The horse had turned tail after the first explosion and was long gone. Rubble and rock blocked the only entrance to the chapel.

  “Come on,” Ronnie said grabbing his hand as she climbed up onto the altar.

  “What are you—?”

  Despite a bruised neck and about a hundred little nicks and scratches, Ronnie beamed back at him as she pointed to the one remaining window. Above them soared the archangel. What exactly did that have to do with them, though?

  She urged him upward until they stood on the altar, looking out the broken lower window to the raging sea below.

  “Whoa,” he said until explosion after explosion rang out and the very foundation of the castle shook.

  As a fireball whooshed toward them, they ran down the altar and leapt though the window. The force of the blast caught them, hurling them out over the ocean. For a moment it felt like they were going to fly forever, then that nasty gravity kicked in and they plummeted down the cliff.

  Somehow in it all, they never lost hold of each other’s hands. That is, until they hit the frigid water. Zach gulped a breath before going under. Next to him, Ronnie plunged into the water, and then buoyed back up. Zach just kept sinking.

  The armor. Trying to stay calm he tried to grope for the ties, but his fingers refused to loosen the leather ties. He kicked hard, trying to overcome the fifty pounds of added weight—to no avail. Zach could barely see Ronnie’s shoes anymore as she broke the surface.

  At least she was safe.

  * * *

  Ronnie gasped for breath, spitting out seawater. Explosions still rang out above them. The Hidden Hand apparently took their self-destruct mechanisms very seriously. So much the better.

  Shivering, Ronnie spun around in the water looking for Zach. Where was he? And where in the hell was the helicopter? Quirk? The pilot? Then she felt something brush her shoe. Sucking in a deep breath, Ronnie dove into the chilly water.

  Th
e storm had churned up the sea, taking visibility down to almost nothing. With the exception of Zach’s silver armor that glowed nearly as brightly as it had in the chapel. Very heavy armor. She swam down beside him as he kicked furiously, trying to get to the surface.

  Grabbing the armor by the shoulder, she added her strength to the effort. Using every last bit of verve they had left, she got him to the surface. His face broke the water next to her, gasping and sputtering. Then he started sinking again.

  No!

  She blew out five times fast, then gulped a breath, and headed down.

  Zach tugged on a strap, showing her what they needed to untie, but the leather knots had swelled in the water, making them nearly impossible to undo. Finally, as his face blotched, trying not to take a breath, Zach pushed her away.

  Ronnie shook her head. He was so not giving up.

  Zach stopped kicking, though. There was no way she could get him back to the surface without his help. His body sunk in the water. Damn him and his stupid idea of sacrificing himself.

  Then her eye caught a glimmer of gold at his waist. Screw untying the leather. Ronnie grabbed the Khan’s blade and sliced at the ties. She only needed to get one side free. Bubbles tumbled from Zach’s mouth. In another few seconds, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from taking a breath.

  Finally, the leather gave way and the breastplate tilted, allowing Zach to duck under it. Side by side, they struck for the surface. Even with wind and rain lashing their faces, Ronnie had never been so glad to face a storm.

  “Look,” Zach sputtered, pointing up.

  Above the conflagration that used to be the Hidden Hand’s castle, a huge, glittering symbol rose. One like none she had seen before. Then, just as quickly, it dispersed along the wind.

  “What?” Zach started, then spit out some seawater. “What did it say?”

  “I have no idea,” Ronnie replied, bobbing along with the waves. “No idea at all.”

  “Where is the chopper?” Zach asked as his teeth chattered.

  That was pretty much the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, wasn’t it? Which of course, she did not have the answer to either.

  So now that they didn’t have to worry about getting crispy-fried, they had to be concerned with acute, fatal hypothermia.

  Awesome.

  * * *

  Quirk pointed out the front windshield of the two-engine seaplane. “There! I think that’s them.”

  The only response he got from the pilot was a grunt as the plane banking starboard. Which was more than enough for Quirk. He hadn’t even bothered to ask the pilot what happened to the helicopter, or where he’d gotten the seaplane. Quirk liked to keep the mystery alive in their relationship.

  Making it look like there weren’t nearly enough hurricane-strength winds, the pilot brought them down low over the waves, then landed softly on the ocean. Water sprayed out behind them as they slowed, pulling the plane right next to bobbing swimmers.

  Quirk hopped out of the copilot’s seat and opened the hatch door.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he said, but then Ronnie frowned that frown.

  Dog paddling in frigid ocean water was not her best look.

  He helped her climb onto the pontoon and into the cab, suddenly regretting taking off the wet suit. Zach made it halfway up before nearly falling backward. Great. More sloppy wet hands all over his new sweater. Alas, fashion must, under only the direst of circumstances, take a backseat to function. Darn it.

  Quirk surveyed the water. “Where’s Francois?”

  He turned to find Ronnie pulling a blanket over her shoulders. The way she didn’t look at him told Quirk that Francois was lost. Even though he hadn’t really liked the guy, seriously, black loafers with khaki pants, the Frenchman did smell of freshly baked sourdough bread.

  Still, he didn’t think Francois would want them moping around. Not with the Hidden Hand’s castle afire and their precious vaccine in the hold. No, Francois would want them to haul ass out of here.

  Which was exactly what Quirk had planned. Shutting the door, he gave the pilot the thumbs-up. Without hesitation, the seaplane skimmed out over the water. Quirk rushed to take his seat as the pilot lifted them off the ocean and directly into the storm’s wake.

  * * *

  Zach peeled off his sopping-wet T-shirt. His chest and abdomen mottled black and blue—a harsh reminder of the last few days. Gingerly, he dried off with a towel. He glanced up to find Ronnie staring at his injuries. Zach had dreamed of her staring at his body like that, but not for this reason.

  Donning the clothes that Quirk provided, Zach turned to Ronnie. “Your turn.”

  He held up a towel to provide her with some measure of privacy. It was almost hard to imagine that they had beaten the Hidden Hand. Well, they couldn’t exactly declare “mission accomplished” yet. Not with Plum Island ignoring their hails. He wouldn’t let himself consider the possibility that the Hidden Hand had taken over the facility.

  Even under the best of circumstances, you know, those circumstances where everyone has succumbed to the plague rather than being hostilely taken over by a cult, the Hidden Hand needed to manufacture vaccine, lots and lots of vaccine. How could they do that if there was no one left alive with the skills necessary?

  “We’ll know soon enough,” Ronnie said, touching his arm. He’d call her out on being a psychic, but they were all probably thinking the same thing.

  “We couldn’t come this far…”

  He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Instead, he lifted his arm, letting Ronnie tuck down against his chest. Heat mingled as their bodies tried to thaw out from their icy plunge.

  As they flew, Zach thought of his mother and sister. Had they done as he told them? Stayed home? Avoided contact with anyone and everyone? Or would he go home to find a red “X” upon their door?

  As Ronnie snuggled up against him, he put thoughts of his family aside. If there was one thing his grandmother had taught him, it was “no sense in worrying until the worry finds you.”

  Besides, he had the woman in his arms who just saved the freaking world. She deserved his undivided attention. He pulled another blanket over her back, and then on second thought, pulled another one over his.

  “Thank you,” she said, still with her cheek against his chest.

  “For what?”

  Ronnie tilted her chin up. “For riding to my emotional and physical rescue.”

  Zach leaned in, ready to taste her salty lips, but Ronnie laid her head back down on his shirt.

  “Not here. Got it,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. The way her head rose and fell with his breath and how her arms wrapped around his waist, Zach wasn’t going to complain.

  * * *

  Amanda huffed a breath as she inched the crash cart up the last stair. Winded, she leaned against the wall, trying desperately not to cough again. Her lungs hurt—physically hurt. She could feel where the bacterium had taken hold and burrowed in. She could feel her immune system trying to fight Yersinia pestis—to no avail.

  She looked down the long, empty hallway. Amanda knew it was only a couple of yards, but it felt like five end-to-end football fields. Okay, it was time to admit that she, too, was in the last stages of the plague. Turning on the tank of the crash cart, Amanda put the mask to her face and inhaled. She stood there probably longer than she should have, replenishing her body’s desperate need for oxygen.

  But standing here sucking on the mask wasn’t going to help Jennifer, if her friend could be helped at all. With one last inhale, Amanda turned off the tank and pushed the cart forward. The one wobbly wheel complained as they made their way down the hall.

  After the gruesome scene in the infirmary, Amanda shouldn’t have been shocked by all the blood pooling around Devlin’s head, but she was. No matter what a jerk he’d been, in the end, he’d saved her life—and paid the cost with his own.

  Guiding the cart, she gave Devlin’s body a wide berth as she made her way to Jennifer
. The woman didn’t rouse as Amanda turned her over onto her side. Pulling up more epinephrine, this time in a therapeutic dose, Amanda heard a groan. Dropping what she was doing, she rushed over to Devlin.

  “Oh, man,” he said weakly. “That hurt.”

  Amanda dropped to her knees, wiping away the clotted blood. Underneath it was a perfect line where the bullet had grazed the scalp. Okay, not just grazed it but dug into it, only bouncing off the skull bone.

  “Is it going to scar?” Devlin asked as he sat upright, seeming stronger by the moment.

  Given the fact that bone glistened back at her…oh, yeah.

  “Here,” she said, putting his hand against the gauze squares. “Put pressure on the wound.”

  He winced but obeyed. “And Henderson?”

  “Let’s just say that he got the sixty-second version of the plague.”

  Devlin cocked his head, but then seemed to think better of it. “As long as he’s dead.”

  Yes, Henderson was definitely dead, but how much longer until Jennifer and Amanda joined him?

  CHAPTER 34

  Over the Atlantic Ocean

  5:43 p.m., EST

  Ronnie took aim. “Hold still!”

  Quirk bobbed and weaved. How her assistant could avoid her in this cramped seaplane, Ronnie had no idea.

  “No!” Quirk said, avoiding the hypodermic needle in her hand. “No needles.”

  Ugh! For such a hypochondriac, Quirk certainly did not like to take his medicine.

  “It is the vaccine for the plague,” Ronnie reminded Quirk as he tried to crawl under the plane’s dash. She pulled him back into his seat. “Or, would you rather get the plague, and then have the antiserum injected into your belly?”

  Quirk’s eyes dilated. “No way. They have to put it in my abdomen?”