The Girl Beneath the Sea (Underwater Investigation Unit #1)(71)

“Offer?” I repeat.

He taps the charts on the table. “Isn’t that how it works? I help you. You offer to take time off my sentence.”

I’ve never heard him sound this cold. “I’m asking you for help.”

“Are you? Last time you said that and pleaded for me to help you for Jackie’s sake. When, actually, I was talking to a cop using whatever angle she could.”

I grab the charts. “This is bullshit.” I stand up and turn to George. “I can talk to Zhang over at FIU. He knows these currents too.”

“Sit down, Sloan. Please,” says George. “Your uncle is right. We’re asking him for something without offering him anything in exchange. What would you do in his situation?”

“This is ridiculous. I’d help family,” I reply.

“That doesn’t mean much when you’re in here, does it, Karl?” says George. “The problem is, we’re not in much of a position to offer anything.”

“That’s not what I heard. I heard you have a direct line to the governor.”

“In a manner of speaking,” replies George. “Do you think I can call and ask him to pardon a narco trafficker with multiple parole violations and a high risk of recidivism? How will that go over? A DA might ask a judge to reduce your sentence, but I’m not friendly with many of them. The problem is, I don’t have a lot of friends in general. I can’t pull that kind of weight.”

Karl searches my face for an explanation. I don’t have one. He shakes his head. “So why the hell are you here?”

“Because your brother said you could make sense of this data.”

“My brother. Right. It’s a family affair,” Karl grumbles.

“So? Can we have your help too?”

“Did you not hear yourself speak? No.” His eyes drift toward me. “No.”

This is his revenge. All that pent-up frustration and anger are now directed at me. The man who protected me from bullies and taught me how to throw a punch. The man who a few days ago told me he thought of me as his daughter . . . now he’s treating me like dirt because his hatred for George Solar is so intense.

I dab at the corner of my eye. “Let’s just go.”

“Fuck this guy,” Karl growls. “Fuck you, Solar, and your manipulative bullshit. I’m not letting you do this.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George says mildly.

“It’s all fucking head games with you. Goddamn it.” He turns to me. “And now he’s got you playing along too.”

“What are you talking about?” I’m experiencing emotional whiplash right now.

“Just give me the damn charts and tell me what you know.”

I lay them back out, and Karl studies the tables and data in the folder. After a long silence, Karl sets down the paper and glowers at George. “If anything happens to her, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Now you’re worried about my well-being?” I reply, exasperated.

“It takes a while to process things.”

“Have you considered talking to a psychologist?” I ask.

“The ones in here will make you even more batty,” Karl says. He points to a spot on the map three miles from the location of the Morning Sun around the time when the Kraken went missing. “Here. This is where I’d try to sink it. Assuming the sub was going about seven miles an hour—which, from Winston’s original specs, is what I’d estimate if it were fully laden—and I rounded the time to the nearest minute, then this would be the spot. It’s about eighty feet and fairly calm. I’ve been there. It’s kind of a dead zone.”

“So, look here?” I ask.

“I didn’t say that. That’s where I’d try to sink it, but there was a big rain runoff and an easterly current. I doubt this Raul character is much of an oceanographer. The sub probably went farther out before it hit sand and then drifted.”

Karl traces his finger down the map to an area 110 feet deep. “It probably got dragged into this basin. Remember when they tried to make a reef out of tires, and they had a tropical storm? A few hundred ended up here. It’s a couple miles to search, but that would be the best bet.”

“Thank you.” I start to gather up the maps.

“There’s one more thing. One of the guys here had a visit from his brother—a former SEAL, like the actual go-in-the-water kind, not a desert rat. He said that his brother was working on some kind of secret search-and-recovery operation. Sound familiar?”

“We’ll be careful,” I reply.

“You don’t understand, Sloan. This guy’s brother’s been working privately for several years doing security for some shady people. He’s a killer.” Karl glares at George. “I’ll say it again: I’m holding you accountable for what happens to her. I know you don’t think that’s much of a threat from a guy stuck in here, but she’s the only thing that matters to me in this world. The only thing.”

“I understand. She’s pretty special.”

“And if I find out you two have been screwing,” he growls, “I’m gonna throw up, then hang myself.”





CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT