Chapter 14: The Dead-Man's Switch
Evelyn stared at the detonator in Kestrel’s hand. The blinking red light on the device synced perfectly with a digital countdown timer on one of the monitors behind him: 04:59.
"Vance," Evelyn said calmly into her comms. "Code Black. The ship is a floating bomb. Evacuate the overwatch team immediately. Get everyone out of a three-mile radius."
"Evelyn, what about you?!" Vance’s voice was laced with panic. "Get off that ship!"
"Just do it!" she snapped, cutting the channel. She kept her weapon trained on Kestrel. "You're a businessman, Anton. There's no profit in suicide. What’s your angle?"
"Chaos is a ladder," Kestrel quoted smoothly. "The naval depot destruction will cause a massive spike in defense spending. My companies will secure the contracts to rebuild and supply. The money I lose tonight is a drop in the ocean compared to what I stand to gain. And I have a submarine waiting below the hull to extract me before the timer hits zero. But you? You have no way off."
"You talk too much," Evelyn said.
In a blur of motion, she didn't shoot Kestrel in the chest. She aimed precisely at his right hand. Crack! The suppressed gunshot shattered Kestrel's wrist. He screamed in agony, his hand spasming—but instead of dropping the detonator, his fingers locked around it in a death grip due to the severed tendons. The dead-man's switch remained depressed.
Evelyn holstered her weapon and lunged across the teak desk. She grabbed Kestrel by the collar, slamming him against the wall and securing his ruined hand to ensure the button stayed pressed.
"You stupid American!" Kestrel spat blood, his face pale with shock. "You've doomed us both! The timer is still ticking!"
02:14.
Evelyn glanced at the countdown. She dragged the struggling, cursing Kestrel toward the heavy steel door. "I'm not dying on this ship. And neither are you. You're going to face justice for every life you've ruined."
She kicked the door open, dragging the arms dealer out onto the rain-swept deck. The ship's alarms began to blare, bathing the deck in flashing red light. The remaining mercenaries, realizing something was wrong, swarmed toward the bridge.
"Hold him!" Evelyn shouted to the darkness.
From the shadows, two of Vance’s tactical operators—who had refused the evacuation order to back her up—repelled down from a nearby crane. They hit the deck with military precision, laying down suppressive fire that pinned Kestrel's men behind the cargo crates.
"Boss! We have a speedboat secured at the port side!" one of the operators yelled, grabbing Kestrel's other arm.
"Keep his thumb on that button!" Evelyn ordered, wrapping a thick layer of duct tape from her utility belt tightly around Kestrel's hand and the detonator, permanently holding the switch down.
00:45.
They hauled the screaming arms dealer to the railing and threw him into the water below, diving in right after him.
They breached the surface, hauling Kestrel into the idling tactical speedboat. "Go, go, go!" Evelyn screamed at the pilot.
The engines roared, and the speedboat tore across the black water, putting maximum distance between them and Pier 44.
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00:03... 00:02... 00:01...
A deafening, earth-shattering roar ripped through the night. The Iron Star vanished in a blinding sphere of orange fire and twisted steel. The shockwave hit the speedboat a second later, tossing it violently, but they held on. Evelyn looked back at the towering pillar of smoke, knowing she had just saved thousands of lives.
