Ghost Ship (NUMA Files 12)

Joe and Sienna stood at what appeared to be the control panel for the maglev train. To Kurt’s surprise, the three hackers from the tram were awake and helping.

“Can you work it?”

Joe looked at Kurt and shook his head. “It’s all Greek to us,” he said. “And by that I mean Korean.”

Calista made her way over. “Maybe I can help.”

Kurt didn’t trust her but even she couldn’t possibly want to stay where they were.

She studied the panel and flicked through a couple of screens. “They’ve cut the main power from up above. I can probably override their command.”

As she fiddled with the controls, Kurt looked over a battery of closed-circuit TV feeds. One showed the hallway where the firefight had been. Another camera showed the stairwell. There seemed to be one on each floor. He checked through all of them. Men were piled like cordwood on each of the upper landings, but at the top level a new group of soldiers were rushing in. They wore gas masks.

“Better hurry.”

“I think I’ve got it,” she said. “Get in the tram.”

At her command, the three hackers began to move. Joe helped Sienna while Kurt stood by Calista, waiting for the inevitable trick.

“Relax,” she said. “I’d rather spend time in a Western prison than a North Korean one.”

She flipped a switch and the power pack came to life. The hum of electricity and the whine of high-voltage generators were a welcome sound to everyone.

“Get on board,” Kurt said.

“We need to transfer control to the remote,” she said, reaching into her pocket and grabbing for something.

The act brought about a quick jab from Kurt’s pistol. “It’s just a remote control,” she said, pulling out a small device with a glowing screen. “We’re going to need it, unless you want to stay behind and press go.”

He snatched the device from her and pushed her toward thetram. As soon as they were all in it, he pressed the flashing green button. But instead of the tram accelerating, a lightning bolt flashed in Kurt’s eyes and across the synapses of his brain. A wave of pain shot through his body combined with the sensation of dropping from a great height.

Aided by a push from Calista, he fell backward, tumbled over the side of the car, and was unconscious by the time he hit the ground.

“I told you I’d be ready next time I saw you,” Calista whispered.

Dumbfounded, Joe watched Kurt fall. There was no sound, no indication anything had happened, Kurt just dropping as if someone had turned off a switch in his brain.

Sienna screamed, and Joe instinctively jumped out of the car and began to pull Kurt up. Kurt was deadweight, a twohundred-pound rag doll.

Behind him there was a commotion.

“Sienna,” Calista said. It wasn’t a shout but a scolding, the way one might address an inattentive child.

Joe turned around. Sienna was aiming a weapon at Calista. Good work, he thought.

Calista obviously felt otherwise. “If you ever want to see your children again, you’ll point that somewhere else.”

Slowly, as if in a trance, Sienna turned the weapon on Joe. Not so good, Joe decided.

Confident she was now in control, Calista addressed Joe directly. “Pick up the remote and toss it to me,” she said.

Joe shook his head.

“Please,” Sienna managed, tears pouring down her face. “She has my children. She has all our children. If we don’t go back, they’ll be killed.”

“We can rescue them,” Joe insisted. “She knows where they are. Just give us twenty-four hours.”

Sienna wavered, but Calista pressed her. “If I don’t bring you back home alive,” she began, “none of your relatives will live to see the morning.”