The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(19)

She glanced at her watch. She only had five minutes. She had to hurry.

She ran back to Jean-Pierre’s study, where she’d seen him carefully place the box holding the Holy Grail into his safe. She’d memorized the combination weeks before.

She quickly opened the safe and yanked out the box that contained the stone. It was heavier than she expected. She had to use both arms to carry it. It hadn’t seemed at all heavy when Jean-Pierre had carried it.

She lugged the box to the elevator, but it wasn’t working. The EMP had done its job well, shutting off everything electrical on the yacht. The box was much too heavy for her to carry up the stairs. She left it, ran up the stairs to the helicopter pad on the aft deck.

When she stepped into the deck, she was overwhelmed by the dead silence. No voices, no sounds of the mighty engines, no motors running. She’d felled the yacht. It was dead in the water. All she heard was water lapping against the hull far below, and for a moment the guilt nearly brought her to her knees. She saw her sister’s face, so very young and innocent, so frightened, and the bitch had told her over and over she was the only one who could save her. Only sixteen, her whole life in front of her. All right, Devi had done what Nevaeh had demanded of her. It would soon be over. Elina would soon be safe.

She heard the whap-whap-whap of a helicopter’s rotors in the distance.

Nevaeh was coming.

Devi ran to the edge of the helipad. With the boat completely disabled, the helicopter wouldn’t be able to locate it on radar, so she had to guide them in herself, by hand. She’d stashed a set of flares and a Maglite in the padded bench. She pulled them out and shot off the flare, then turned on the Maglite and started waving it toward the sky. The chopper came closer, growing louder and louder until it appeared above her, hovering like a giant insect.

Devi set the flashlight on the deck of the helipad. Its strong beam of light illuminated the landing spot. The chopper touched down. The doors opened and Dr. Nevaeh Patel climbed out of the pilot’s seat. Her vicious Irish-born bodyguard, Kiera Byrne, jumped down after her, an M4 carbine strapped to her chest. Devi feared the woman perhaps more than Nevaeh. She’d never seen an ounce of pity in those green eyes. And now, looking at Kiera, loaded with holsters and harnesses full of guns and knives, Devi felt cramping fear. She knew Kiera was on the lookout for any crew member still standing, and Devi knew Kiera would shoot them dead with no hesitation. Kiera was better armed than the security Jean-Pierre had hired. The fear was now bitter in her throat. She believed Nevaeh Patel was insane, but she knew Kiera Byrne was a sadistic monster.

Nevaeh smiled at her, raised a hand in greeting. She wore her signature black trousers, black turtleneck, and black blazer, black low-heeled boots on her feet. As always, she looked powerful, her very stance announcing her intelligence, her control. Tonight, at this moment, when she smiled she looked as smug as a shark about to devour prey. The sadist stood at her elbow, silent, watchful.

Nevaeh said, “Hello, Devi. Congratulations on disabling the ship. I trust everyone is down?”

“Yes. There will be no resistance, as you asked.”

Kiera stopped in front of Devi. “Well, where is the Grail?”

“I left it at the base of the elevator, downstairs. But everyone is unconscious, I made sure of it.”

Rage crossed Nevaeh’s face, brutal and quick, making Devi jerk backward. “Is this some kind of trick? I told you to meet me here with the Grail.”

“It was too heavy, Nevaeh, I couldn’t manage it. It’s where I told you, just downstairs. Please, I’ve done as you asked. Take me to my sister. You promised.”

“Is the transponder off?”

“Yes, and I uploaded the virus to the navigation system, just like you wanted. Please, Nevaeh. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, and more.”

Nevaeh paused for a moment. She reached out a hand and ran it along the younger woman’s jawline. “So pretty. You lasted six months. You must have pleased Jean-Pierre greatly. By the way, your sister is dead. And now, so are you.”

She nodded to Kiera. The bullet caught Devi in the face, and she went down hard on the deck.





CHAPTER TWELVE


Nevaeh didn’t look at the young woman who lay in a pool of blood on the deck, her beautiful blue gown spilling around her. She’d been a good tool, but she wasn’t important now. She followed Kiera down the stairs to the main deck. True to Devi’s word, the black box was sitting, unsecured, by the elevator door.

Nevaeh felt her heart jump, then a strangle rumbling began inside her body, as if she’d touched a low-voltage live wire without insulated gloves. It felt odd. Arousing.

“Open it,” she whispered, and Kiera released the latch. Nevaeh fell to her knees, reached her hand inside. The stone was dark, a greenish black, nothing exciting or fantastical about it. It looked like it could fit in the palm of her hand, but she had to use both hands to lift it out of the box, it was so heavy and dense. Strange, it seemed to shrink away from her when she reached in to touch it. Surely that was her imagination.

It was definitely giving off an electrical buzz that she now found quite unpleasant, like she was being shocked instead of warmed from within. The temptation to drop the stone, to throw it overboard, was overwhelming. She held on, though.

“You are mine now.”

The nasty electrical sensation was easily ignored when the Numen, hundreds of them, spoke as one, their melodious voices reverberating through her, their shadowy bodies dancing around her, as if released from the stone itself.