The orderly poured a cupful of the water and handed it to the seated Krysty, who quickly drank its contents. A second cup was poured and given to the redhead with the admonishment that she should sip or she’d make herself sick drinking so fast. Sound advice. Krysty sipped as the orderly set down the tray and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Leaving Krysty and the two men together.
She felt suddenly vulnerable without her familiar weapons and clothing, but quashed the feeling. Still, there was a hint of the unknown here that made her feel uneasy.
No one offered assistance without expecting some sort of payment.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“They call me the Admiral. My chosen name is Poseidon. You may address me as ‘Admiral’ or ‘Sir.’ I’m the senior officer here at Kings Point,” the man said, smiling and enjoying the sounds of his rich bass voice. “Now, it’s my turn. Who are you?”
“Krysty Wroth.” There was no reason not to be honest.
He smiled when he heard the name. “You’re a very lucky woman, Miss Wroth,” Poseidon said. “If my submarine hadn’t come along when it did, you would most certainly have drowned.”
“Submarine?” Krysty had heard of such devices, but had never seen one.
“Aye, that’s what I am truly, a submarine commander.”
It seemed unreal for a man to be inside an underwater wag, and Krysty expressed the opinion verbally to Poseidon.
“Beneath the ocean at a certain depth, the activities of the surface world become meaningless,” he replied. “We were passing by and then, the next thing I know, bodies were showing up on sonar.”
“I owe you a life debt of thanks,” she said. She still had a suspicious feeling about her self-proclaimed benefactor, but if what he said was true, then she was beholden to him.
“Not at all. Picking you up safely is part of my responsibilities as watchman of the sea.”
Krysty took another sip of the lukewarm water. There was a question she had been dancing around, but she could no longer resist. She had to ask. She had to know.
“Where’s Ryan?”
“Your companion? He’s across the hall. Would you like to see him?”
Krysty felt twenty pounds of worry drop away from her body. She was still suspicious of how polite everyone was being, but she had no choice except to play along for now. Perhaps Ryan could help shed some light on what was going on in this place.
“Yes, I would. Please,” she said, nodding.
Poseidon gestured, and the sec man standing behind him exited. He returned in less than sixty seconds with the person the Admiral knew only as her “companion.”
When the pajama-clad Jak was presented to her, she tried hard to contain her disappointment. She was glad to see her friend, but had hoped that Ryan was the one they were talking about. Still, she knew the others—Doc, Mildred, J.B. and Dean, as well as Ryan—had to be around somewhere. Perhaps she and Jak had been the only two injured the night of the storm.
“Hey, Krysty,” Jak said easily. Too easily. Krysty knew from past experience that he was sizing up everything and everybody in his field of vision.
“Hello, Jak.”
“You okay?”
“Never better. Got a lump on the back of my head, that’s all.”
“Hair so big, helped protect you,” Jak said, making a joke while continuing to take in the situation.
Krysty was waiting to see when the others would be presented. Apparently that wasn’t going to happen.
“This is Jack? Jack Ryan?”
“No, no, just Jak. Jak Lauren.”
“So his name isn’t Ryan?” Poseidon said, gesturing at Jak.
“No. I’m sorry. I was thinking of one of my… other companions.”
“Too bad. One of my favorite fictional characters is named Jack Ryan,” Poseidon said. “Course, he’s not the striking picture you are, son. No offense.”
“Sure,” Jak said, taking it very personally but not pressing the issue. There were no hidden throwing knives up the sleeves of the loose-fitting burgundy pajamas.
“Where are my other friends?” Krysty demanded.
“Other friends?” the Admiral pulled a perplexed expression onto his bearded face.
“In the boat, where I fell from.” Again Krysty remembered the explosion, the sensation of falling and nothingness. The boat had either run into something in the storm, or a bomb or some kind of grenade had gone off in the hull.