But what if I did get lost, Papa? How would you ever find me? I asked afterward, trembling and consumed, as usual, by the dread of hidden places and wilder waters.
He’d chuckled. You’re not going to get lost, Pickle. You, my little Kabuli peree, were born to rule these waves—to create mischief and laughter and joy in these depths. Now trust in God and stop worrying! But on seeing my expression, his brow had creased, his hazel eyes imploring as he wrapped his arms around me and I could breathe in his calming citrusy scent. His voice dropped to a murmur. Don’t you know I would sail every current, ride every wave, and dive into any depth, until I found you? But I won’t have to because it isn’t going to happen inshallah. I’m not going to lose you, Pickle.
Ari startles me when his voice brings me out of my thoughts and back to the present. “What are you thinking?” he asks, as he places a tray of warm drinks and snacks beside me in the viewport. “It’s not a good idea. You heard Bia. They have already tried, several times.”
It’s early afternoon now, and we’ve both been engrossed in the requested info, only pausing when necessary. Jojo’s curled up on the sofa feeling lazy after her lunch.
Bia came through for us within the hour, sending whatever she has on the wretched place along with warnings and pleas not to do anything stupid and to just sit tight until we hear from her again. There’s everything. . . . Blueprints of the place itself, security measures, routines, it’s all here. The layout of the files makes the information a headache to decipher, though.
“That’s because Bia’s lot only headed in with submersibles,” I say. “We have a submarine. We can do more. The Kabul has seriously impressive firepower. We can do this! We just have to believe we can. And we have to trust each other. . . .”
He holds my gaze, his own suddenly so intense I might get lost in it.
I swallow. “Oscar?”
“My dear lady?”
“Oscar, grant Ari full primary rights.”
I have to go with my gut now. All I have left are my faith and hope. Ari looks stunned; he opens and closes his mouth several times before we both look away, reaching for our warm drinks. We take a sip and pull disgusted faces at the same time.
“Tea,” Ari says, shaking his head.
“Bitter poison,” I say, reluctantly swallowing the coffee and swapping the cup for my beloved tea. I glance at the info again and screw my face up. “Why are the prison files in such a weird design?” God, I hate technology. “Please separate the files for me; I want to focus on the prison’s defenses.”
Ari’s mouth twitches, and he gets to work sorting through the trench of information, swishing the interior defense file over to me while he concentrates on structure and exterior security.
It takes a good amount of digging around before we share our findings.
“Did you know they have mostly robot prison officers?” I ask him. “Bia’s lot have found a weakness, though—they have a reboot switch at the back of their necks in case of an emergency. Takes them thirty minutes to restart fully and they’re useless during that time. Of course you’d have to somehow get behind them in the first place. . . . You?”
“The security . . . I have never seen anything like it before,” he says. “There are no hatches, only a single moon pool. Apart from opening at random intervals for a few minutes—to allow for the movement of security and supplies—the pool is otherwise opened only once a week for a few hours to allow for new prisoners, supplies, and shift changeovers. The next one is at dawn tomorrow.” Ari rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think the Kabul should go anywhere near the area. It—”
“We go in tomorrow.”
“What—”
“I’m not waiting another week now that I know Papa’s in that hellhole. The way in opens up for a few hours at dawn, so that’s when we try.”
He swears. “You will never survive their defenses! And if you do, you face capture and the same fate as your father. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Because my papa might be dead in a week’s time! I don’t trust
Captain Sebastian or the Blackwatch at all anymore. And that’s if they haven’t already done something to him. . . . What if he’s been hurt? What if they hurt him?” I swallow, looking away. “We must have the Medi-bot ready just in case—” My voice catches in my throat; I stare out into the depths, wringing my hands. What might Papa have gone through? “I didn’t come this far to let fear stop me from trying,” I say. “We can’t waste time. We need to go over everything: our firepower, what sensory devices we’ll be using, how we get past any security posts we come across—the list goes on. We just can’t afford to get it wrong.” I take a deep breath to stop my insides from quivering.
“I think your father will be okay,” Ari says gently, though there’s still tension in his voice. “If he’s as strong as you, then he’ll be holding on.”
We spend the next few hours assessing the Kabul’s weaponry and capabilities, and absorbing all the info on the prison.
My throat and chest feel like rocks have been stuffed into them, and I keep shivering.
Thank God I have Ari with me. And the fact he thinks it’s a reckless idea but is trying to make it work because I really need it to . . . it just makes my heart expand.
I understand why he thinks it’s such a rash plan. It’s Broadmoor—the security’s on another level. But I’m truly desperate. It’s all or nothing now.
I have to make it work.
“Why’s this dolphin acting so weird?” I ask Ari, peering out of the viewport. It doesn’t perform any stellar acrobatics, or blow bubbles to please us. Is the creature ill?
He looks up from the seating area, where the prison’s blueprints hover. “It’s not a free dolphin. Look closer.”
The animal seems almost lifeless, showing only a detached interest in the sub.
I exhale. “I give up. Tell me!”
“Border patrol,” he replies, as he opens up and zooms in on various holographic files. His face darkens and his voice hardens. “A whole army of sea creatures, mostly dolphins, guard Great Britain’s borders. The dolphins are born and raised in captivity. They know nothing but the training forced on them.”
I shudder and stare at the animal. The poor things . . . I place my hand on the window. No reaction. The creature moves away through the late evening waters.
I jump when Oscar materializes.
“My dear lady, the craft is on our tail again. This time they are traveling far too close for one’s comfort, and they insist upon communication.”
Ari glances up from his files, his face set. “I’ll take care of it.”
I hold my hand up. “Erm, no, thank you.”
Whoever they are, they don’t give up easily. They’ve followed us relentlessly since late afternoon, no matter what we try and do to shake them off.
It isn’t the first vessel to get in our way out here. The Kabul only just managed to sneak around a security base over the Orkney Islands, when a private sub attempted to block its path. I sent them a warning by way of light firepower. They yielded immediately. Now isn’t the time for obstructions. I want to get as near to the prison’s location as possible so we’re ready to move in at dawn. Besides, I’ve yet to see a single vessel that doesn’t look dodgy.