Clearing the gap between the ships was becoming increasingly difficult. Madison was tired, and her ankle throbbed. Running, she kept most of the weight on her good foot, glancing off the toes of the other and ignoring the twinge. But to jump she had to use both, and it was hard to land without at least bumping her bad ankle.

She took a deep breath and focused on the opposite deck. Bent her knees and launched herself in the air. The same terror in her belly as the gap opened up beneath her, a hundred-foot drop to icy waters, seconds that felt like minutes as she waited to plummet downward, cartwheeling off the hull…then she was clear of the gunwale and hit the metal deck hard, trying to catch herself on one foot. But this time she tripped, and something snapped. Her left foot hung off to the side at a strange angle. Frustrated, Madison pounded the deck with her fists, willing herself not to black out.

Her head reeled when she tried to sit up, and she awkwardly shifted onto one hip. She eased to her knees and pressed back on the ball of her good foot. Madison straightened slowly, but in spite of her precautions the injured foot shifted and she gasped in pain. There was a roaring in her ears as she forced herself to stand, this time balanced entirely on her right foot. She hopped forward one step, then another. Tears streamed down her face but she kept going. Another hop. The approaching footsteps slowed. She made it three more feet before an arm wrapped around her from behind.

“Stupid bitch,” Lurch said in her ear.

“She didn’t make it this far,” Jake said, scanning the deck. He hadn’t heard a splash, but it was a big fall, he might not have. He peered across the decks of the other ships but couldn’t see anything.

“All right. I want to fan out, clear each deck before we go on to the next boat,” Syd said, keeping her voice low. “Remember, objective is to retrieve the girl alive.”

The men spread out. Jake crossed to the far side of the ship and climbed up on the cable rigging. He scanned the waters below. Aside from seagulls bobbing and the gentle slap of waves against the hull, there was nothing visible. He waved to Syd, indicating that he was going on to the next boat. She shook her head vigorously, but he ignored her.

“Jake, hold back,” Syd’s voice crackled from his waist. Damn, he’d nearly forgotten about their MBITRs. They each had a Multiband Inter Team Radio clipped to their vests. Syd had ordered them to maintain radio silence until they got a lock on Madison ’s position. Jake decided this was the perfect time to heed that request and turned his volume knob off.

He cleared the gap in a single leap, landing in a crouch on the three-foot wide wooden block separating the boats, then vaulted again to land on deck. He straightened slowly, gun ready, scanning from side to side. It was amazing how that training came back, years later he still moved instinctively when the situation called for it.

He moved forward as silently as possible, although he had to assume the kidnappers heard the Zodiac approach. He cleared the first turret, checking quickly to see if anyone was hiding behind it. The deck appeared empty. Jake heard a hard thud on the deck behind him, glanced back and saw two other members of the team. They fanned out around him, weapons drawn and held at chest level.

They were about to jump to the next ship when Jake heard a sound. It was dull and muffled, but definitely came from below. He caught Syd’s eye and motioned down. She followed his hand, nodded that she understood and exchanged a series of elaborate hand signals with the others.

They were on a Fulton class submarine tender. As a teenager Jake had gone through a brief obsession with naval warships, probably since living in central Texas made the ocean seem as remote as the moon. He’d flirted with the idea of entering the navy, maybe even becoming a SEAL like his older brother. When he discovered that diving made him claustrophobic, he turned to the FBI instead.

But he could still picture the layout of this ship. There would be twelve ways to go below deck. Syd and one member of the team headed for the far end of the ship, and two others tackled the middle of the boat. The last Delta guy appeared beside him. Jake thought his name was Maltz, but introductions had been quick.

“You want to go first?” Maltz murmured.

Jake really didn’t, but damned male pride made him nod. He yanked open the door. A blast of air from inside, cold and dank. The sweat under his vest immediately chilled and he repressed a shudder. It was pitch-black. He switched on his flashlight, held it next to his gun the way he’d been taught-training again, he thought. Sometimes being turned into a mindless robot was something to be grateful for. He tried not to think of a crypt but that’s what the must and cold reminded him of.

He descended the metal steps to the berth deck as silently as possible, Maltz at his heels. It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this, and sweat seeded his brow despite the cold.

Jake reached the bottom of the staircase and swept his light across the hallway. Shadows leaped away from him. Maltz’s light crossed his, illuminating the far wall. They were in a long, narrow corridor. Another hallway branched off to the left. Their flashlights only penetrated a few feet into the gloom.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Maltz was gesturing down the hall. Jake was a little unclear on the hand signals but it looked like he wanted to split up. Not Jake’s favorite course of action, if ever there was a perfect set for a horror movie, this was it. But the ship was enormous, it could take hours to search it. He nodded acquiescence and Maltz slipped toward the stern. Jake steeled himself and walked forward.

Another hallway branched off to his left, the middle corridor bisecting the ship. He debated for a minute. The hallway he’d been following was empty, no places to hide. It was mainly used to get quickly from the bow of the ship to the stern. Here, on the other hand, every few feet a door was set in the wall. Heavy steel, rust chewing through the gray paint. Crew quarters, thought Jake. He cocked his head to the side, listening. If someone had grabbed Madison, they’d probably holed up somewhere below deck. And the only way to find them was to check each room.

Jake faced the first door on the left. Three deep breaths before he decided he wasn’t getting any more ready, might as well get it over with. He threw the door open and braced his shoulder against it. Quick sweep of the room, left to right, then behind the door. Nothing but a broken chair and metal bunk bed frames welded to the wall.

“One down,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. He followed the same drill with the door opposite: quick sweep, all clear, nothing but junk the navy hadn’t bothered selling for scrap.

Jake was halfway down the hall when he heard a shout. The ship’s acoustics distorted it, he couldn’t tell if it was male or female. He darted back to the main corridor and strained his ears…another yell, garbled, and he suddenly remembered the radio. He spun the volume dial and heard Syd barking out instructions.

“Syd? Where are you?”

She was speaking rapid-fire, other team members chiming in. Jake was about to throw the radio against the wall in frustration when footsteps pounded toward him. He spun. Maltz was running, talking into his radio. As he passed Jake heard him say, “Op tango objective princess located? Say again.”

“What’s going on?” Jake asked, falling in step beside him.

Maltz shook his head and quickened the pace, their flashlights shining frenetic beams of light down the dark corridor. Jake hustled to keep up.

They were almost at the bow when shots rang out.