Twenty minutes later, three pairs of support beams had blown. Finn sat on an island of wood as the dock walkway buckled and collapsed into the lake. The team was five minutes away, Tox a reassuring voice in his ear. If they got here before the fourth pylon blew, Finn knew one of his SEAL brothers could slip into the water undetected and rescue him.
His heart was breaking for Charlotte. He could picture her clear as day, typing frantically at the computer then rubbing the end of her braid across her lips as she thought. She was a genius, smarter than Finn by a longshot, but Charlotte wasn’t accustomed to adversity. She’d have to dig deep to find her inner steel and keep a cool head. If anyone could solve the cipher, it was Charlotte.
The fourth pylon blew, and Finn was thrown into the water; the cinder blocks jerked his body back and pulled him to the sandy bottom.
Twitch watched through tears as the cipher once again collapsed on the screen, and a laughing devil face appeared. She heard the muffled explosion and watched through the window as Finn disappeared into the water. He would drown. There was nothing she could do to save him.
Behind her, she heard Samir humming. Twitch choked back a sob.
Samir stood at the window. “Well, what do you know. Turns out besting a SEAL isn’t as hard as they make it out to be.”
“Go to hell, Samir,” she said.
“You first.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ll be joining up with your lover in about fifteen minutes.” After placing the gun in his jacket pocket and picking up the small bag of supplies he had brought, Samir opened the front door. “Lovely to see you again, Twitch. I’m going to watch the evidence of my intellectual superiority from a safe distance.”
“Please don’t do this,” Twitch begged.
“You did it, Charlotte. Remember that. On a level playing field, you can’t beat me. I’m always three steps ahead.”
She had to push back her sadness. There was another life at stake, her child.
Twitch wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But she couldn’t. Her grief would have to wait. On the screen, a new line of symbols appeared.
Twitch got to it, muttering her hatred for Samir as she worked. “Screw you, Samir. You’re a psycho. Always three steps ahead.” She screamed at the ceiling, “I didn’t cheat!” Returning her attention to the computer, Twitch thought about Samir’s parting words: I’m always three steps ahead.
“That’s it.” Samir had disguised a more sophisticated cipher within the puzzle. He had added a step, an additional conversion of code to letters. Twitch attacked the keyboard; now that she knew Samir’s blueprint, she could solve the cipher.
Finn estimated he had been in the water for one minute. He was the youngest member of their SEAL squad and could hold his breath the longest—just under three minutes. He had removed his boots and tried to slide the cuffs off, but they were too tight. He had tried to use one cinder block to smash the other, but the water slowed the momentum. Now, in a final desperate attempt, Finn was hauling one block at a time the thirty or so yards toward the shore. He just needed to get to shallow enough water to surface. It was a futile effort, but he wouldn’t give up. For the first time in so long, he wanted to live, had something to live for—Charlotte and their child. So he kept plodding forward, summoning every ounce of will.
His lungs were burning. The lack of oxygen was fogging his brain. Finn counted to himself as he moved each block forward—one-two, one-two.
In his head, he heard music—the scratchy song from May’s old record player.
His count of one-two changed to one-two-three, one-two-three. The silt at his feet swirled, and, for an instant, Finn saw footprints forming on the lake floor, steps moving back and to the side.
Remember to waltz. You’ll get the girl with a waltz.
Rather than bring his right foot forward, Finn moved the cinder block and stepped to the side. His left foot slid over to join his right. He stepped on a rock.
No, not a rock, his multitool.
Finn fought his body’s need to inhale as he scooped up his lifesaver. Slipping out the lockpick, he unclasped the right cuff, then the left, and shot like a bullet to the surface. He bobbed in the water and stared at the sky, the elation of survival coursing through him. He spoke softly to the clouds. “Thank you, May.” Then, he swam like a dolphin to the shore.
Twitch typed like a woman possessed, converting each symbol to a piece of code and each section of code to a letter. Then she did it again with the new series—the third step in the cipher. She finished with five minutes to spare and entered her solution. A large green checkmark appeared on the screen. Then the dancing devil appeared and waved goodbye. The screen went dark except for the timer in the top right, which continued to count down.
“No!” Twitch yelled at the screen and pounded the keyboard.
Suddenly the backdoor flew open, and she shot to her feet.
Finn fell forward on all fours, soaking wet.
“Finn!” Twitch came as far as the length of the chain would allow, and Finn crawled the rest of the way to meet her. She kissed him wildly, then pulled back, still holding his face in her hands. “I solved it, but the timer is still counting down. He was never going to let me win.”
Finn gave her that heartstopping cockeyed grin. “Good thing he doesn’t get to decide who wins.”
Finn reached for the multitool, then silently cursed. He had dropped the lockpick at the bottom of the lake after freeing himself.
With unwavering determination, he stood and took in the room. The chain that held Charlotte’s leg was bolted to the floor.