Ghost Ship

Sam reached out a hand and stroked the strong head. “Smart dog. Good judge of character.”

Tom glanced at Genevieve and laughed. “Yeah, you have no idea.”

A woman sitting behind one of the non-assuming computers tapped furiously at some keys. Her dark hair only seemed to accentuate her exotic, purple eyes. This was Elise, the Tahila’s tech goddess. She’d been responsible for navigating them to the train on its way to The Hague and she’d been instrumental in getting them back alive.

Tom looked over at her, ruffling the dog’s ears. “Hey there, beautiful. How are we doing?”

Elise laughed in disbelief. “Oh! You hear that, Sam? Looks like amnesia’s catching.”

Tom rolled his eyes, pushing away the dog’s enthusiasm. “Oh, stop. Sam, tell them to stop”

Elise tapped some more keys, then pivoted the computer on its turntable so the rest of the crew could see. “All right. Gentlemen. Now. Tell me, who’s the best?”

Sam leaned forward. He had to admit. It looked like Elise was the best.

On the screen was a 3D outline of an imposing looking fortress. It looked vaguely familiar. He squinted at it. “What’s that?”

“Ivangorod Fortress.” Elise gestured at the screen. “Used to be an ancient castle, established in 1492 by Ivan III. Big year in the history of the world, it seems. Now it’s a national monument and a Russian museum.” She drew on a tablet and zoomed in. It looked even more imposing. “That’s where they’re keeping her. When they told you to come for her, that’s where they’ll be waiting.”

She glanced at Sam. “They told you to come, right?”

“That’s right.” Sam nodded, a feeling of inevitability welling up inside him. “They told me to come. At 18:00 hours.”

Genevieve checked her watch. “That gives us another two hours. Plenty of time.”

Tom craned his neck. “Matthew! How’s our arsenal?”

Sam glanced up, startled. “What? No.” He glanced around at the crew. “Not you. Just me.”

The crew exchanged glances. Then they burst out laughing.

Elise shook her head. “Now I know he’s lost his mind.”

Genevieve took Sam’s hand in hers. “Sam, if you think we’re letting you in there alone, you really are crazy.” Beside her, Tom was nodding and Caliburn’s tongue lolled. His tail wagged and licked Sam’s hand.

He looked at all of them. “Thank you all for your offers, but I can’t ask you to get involved in this. This is my fight.”

The mission control room was quiet but for the hum of the machines and the dog’s panting and the swish of his tail. It was full of determination.

“Even so.” Sam gestured at the screen. “This place is a museum. How is it even possible that they’re hiding a prisoner there? Isn’t it… I don’t know. Open to the public?”

Elise tapped some more keys. Satellite images opened up on the screen. She navigated with some skillful strokes, narrowing in on and enlarging the center of the castle. It looked like a fortress. That was the stronghold in any keep, the most difficult to breach. Elise pointed at it. “The middle section is off limits to tourists. If they do have Catarina — and you’re sure they do?”

Sam’s jaw tightened. “I’m sure they do.”

Elise nodded. “Then that’s the best bet at where the mafia men are going to be keeping her.”

Tom leaned in, squinting at the map. “Good call, Elise, good work as always. But looking at that map, it looks like there’s only the one entrance for tourists.” He pointed, and Sam could see he was right. “There, right there at the southern end. Let’s say we do go in. Anyone keeping an eye out for Sam would spot us a mile away.”

Sam shook his head. “I can’t ask you to get involved. I’ve told you. This is my fight. If you’ll just give me back my gun, I’ll —”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tom said. Then, turning to Elise, he asked, “Any chance you know another way in?”

Elise grinned. “As a matter of fact, there is… but it’s been flooded for centuries.”

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Ivangorod Fortress

The river rushed along the bank in a swift moving torrent of pale gray.

On one side was Russia and on the other, Estonia — with the Tahila in the middle. The high walls of the fortress gleamed in the evening sun as if the whole castle was made of gold.

Ivangorod Fortress had been established by Ivan III in the fifteenth century as a claim to Muscovy’s right to the Baltic Sea. The castle had changed hands numerous times during conflicts and border shifts over the centuries that followed, growing into a full-fledged town as the years marched on. It returned once again to Russian rule after World War II, having outlasted Hitler’s disastrous march on the motherland.

The river had always afforded the fortress an extra layer of protection and access. Centuries ago, prisoners had been brought into the dungeon by rowboats through tunnels leading to the outside, which helped deter all thoughts of escape. But over the centuries the river had been dammed, increasing the water level above the entrance and flooding the prison passageways.