Chapter 6 - The Water's Edge
The guards hauled Rachel down a steep, concrete stairwell that smelled intensely of bleach and stagnant water.
They shoved her through a heavy metal door into a large, cavernous room.
In the center of the room was a massive, drained marine holding tank.
At the bottom of the tank, huddled in a blanket, was Emma Moretti.
She looked pale and exhausted, an IV line taped haphazardly to her arm, attached to a bag hanging from the rusted railing.
“Emma!” Rachel cried out.
Emma looked up, her eyes wide with fear.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Rachel. I work at St. Catherine’s. Daniel sent me.”
The guards forced Rachel down a precarious metal ladder into the tank, locking the heavy grate above them.
Rachel rushed to Emma’s side, checking her pulse.
It was weak and thready.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just dizzy,” Emma whispered. “Thorne said he was transferring me for specialized care.”
“He lied. He’s trying to cover his tracks.”
Rachel looked around the tank.
The walls were smooth, slippery concrete, rising fifteen feet to the locked grate.
There was no way out.
Above them, Thorne appeared at the edge of the grate, looking down like an imperious god.
“I apologize for the accommodations, ladies,” he said, his voice echoing loudly.
“But necessity dictates a certain lack of comfort.”
He pulled a lever on the wall.
A loud, grinding noise vibrated through the concrete, followed by the terrifying rush of water.
Thorne was opening the intake valves from the harbor.
Ice-cold seawater began pouring into the tank from two large pipes near the floor.
“The tide is coming in,” Thorne announced. “This tank will fill in approximately twenty minutes.”
Emma whimpered, clinging to Rachel.
“Why are you doing this?” Rachel yelled up at him.
“You’re a doctor! You swore an oath!”
“I swore an oath to heal the sick, Ms. Morgan,” Thorne replied coldly.
“But the system is broken. It requires capital to fix it. The counterfeit equipment provided that capital.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“I’m a pragmatist.”
Thorne turned away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
The water was already rising around their ankles, freezing and biting.
Rachel frantically searched the walls for any handholds, any weakness in the concrete.
Nothing.
She reached for the lapel pin, praying the GPS signal was strong enough to penetrate the thick walls of the tank.
She pressed it hard, holding it down.
“Daniel, if you can hear me, we’re in the basement. He’s flooding the tank.”
The water rose to their knees.
Emma was shivering violently, her teeth chattering.
“We’re going to drown,” Emma cried.
“No, we’re not,” Rachel insisted, pulling Emma higher, trying to keep her as dry as possible.
The water reached their waists.
The freezing temperature was sapping Rachel’s strength, making her limbs feel heavy and sluggish.
She kept her thumb pressed firmly on the panic button, her only lifeline to the outside world.
Ten minutes passed.
The water was at their chests.
Rachel had to tread water, supporting Emma’s weight as the younger woman grew increasingly lethargic.
“Daniel,” Rachel whispered, her lips blue. “Please.”
Suddenly, the heavy metal door above them exploded inward with a deafening crash.
Through the smoke and debris, Daniel Moretti appeared, his face a mask of absolute fury.
He was flanked by three heavily armed men.
“Rachel!” he roared.
“Down here!” she choked out, swallowing a mouthful of salty water.
Daniel rushed to the grate, assessing the situation instantly.
“Blow the lock!” he ordered.
One of his men attached a small, shaped charge to the padlock securing the grate.
“Fire in the hole!”
The explosion blew the lock apart, sending sparks showering down into the water.
Daniel tore the grate open and tossed down a thick rope.
“Tie it around Emma first!”
Rachel grabbed the rope with numb fingers, securing it awkwardly under Emma’s arms.
“Pull!”
Daniel and his men hoisted Emma out of the freezing water, pulling her to safety on the walkway above.
Daniel dropped the rope back down.
“Your turn, Rachel. Grab on.”
The water was chin-high now, threatening to pull her under.
Rachel reached for the rope, but her freezing hands couldn't grip the thick hemp.
She slipped beneath the surface, the cold water closing over her head.
A strong hand plunged into the water, grabbing her by the collar of her cardigan.
Daniel hauled her up, dragging her coughing and sputtering out of the tank.
He pulled her into his arms, wrapping his own dry overcoat around her shivering body.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
Rachel clung to him, the warmth of his body the only thing tethering her to reality.
“Thorne,” she gasped. “He has the document.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“My men are sweeping the building. We’ll find him.”
A gunshot echoed from the upper floors, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
“Sir,” one of Daniel’s men reported via radio. “Thorne has escaped via speedboat from the rear dock.”
Daniel cursed violently.
Thorne was gone, and he had taken the only proof of his crimes with him.
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Rachel leaned against Daniel, the adrenaline fading, leaving only exhaustion and a terrifying realization.
Thorne was still out there, and he knew exactly who had ruined his empire.
