Page 6 of The Bachelor Spy
What had the torpedoes detonated?
The elegant promenade had transformed into a scene from Dante’s imagination. Passengers rushed in all directions—some screaming, some paused in stunned silence. Crew members attempted to maintain order, but there weren’t enough of them, and the list of the ship made launching the boats a nightmare of physics on both sides. The starboard lifeboats swung too far out, the port side nearly rested against the hull of the vessel … and the ship was still trudging forward at a speed too fast to lower any boats safely.
Blake scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of auburn hair, a rose day suit, those violet-blue eyes—
Stop.His jaw tensed. He pinched his eyes closed against the weakening around his heart.
She made her choice.
Youhave a mission.
But even as he thought it, his gaze continued searching.
The ship lurched again, the list growing more severe. Blake grabbed the railing to keep from sliding. Deck chairs and loose equipment began shifting toward the bow, picking up speed as they slid. A woman nearby stumbled, and Blake caught her with his good arm, steadying her toward a lifeboat.
“Get to a boat,” he told her. “Stay calm.”
She nodded, staggering toward the growing crowds surrounding the davits designed to lower the lifeboats.
Once the ship could slow down.
But was there even time for it to slow before it disappeared beneath the sea?
Blake moved along the deck, helping where he could—a child separated from his mother, an elderly gentleman struggling with a life belt, a woman attempting to find her husband.
Blake’s shoulder throbbed with every movement, but he pushed the pain aside. There would be time for pain later.
Ifthere was a later.
His gaze returned forward.
The water was rising too fast. The ship’s bow had already submerged, and the stern was beginning to lift out of the water. Passengers fought against physics or desperation—or both—as they began to realize the lifeboats on the port side couldn’t be launched away from the tilting hull.
He’d barely made it through the companionway connecting the two sides of the ship when an eruption of screams pulled his attention to the left. Careening down the deck came a lifeboat filled with people, mostly women and children.
He jumped out of its trajectory, barely, but could do nothing to stop its ultimate destination as the boat crashed into the water-covered bow and joined a motley collection of deck furniture, debris, and … bodies sloshing together in a pool, awaiting the sea to swallow them.
Heaven help them.
Nearby, he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd—the steward who’d served him dinner just last night, now helping women and children into an overcrowded lifeboat. Their eyes met for a moment, and Blake glimpsed the resignation there. The steward knew he wouldn’t be getting into a boat. There weren’t enough.
Blake sent him a small nod of acknowledgement and moved on.
Just as he reached one of the boats to assist, a massive explosion from somewhere deep in the ship sent a shudder through the entire vessel, quaking everything around him. Blake seized the railing again as the deck tilted even more sharply. The funnels groaned. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered. The beautifulLusitaniawas dying, and she was dying rapidly.
Holding to the railing, Blake worked his way down the ship, dodging debris and panicked passengers. One lifeboat he passed hung at an odd angle, half its occupants already spilled into the churning water below.
At this speed, the ship would be gone in minutes. And when she went, she’d likely take anyone still aboard with her—pulled down by the suction, the churning propellers, the deadly dynamics of a ship this size going under.
He looked over the railing at the approaching sea and made his decision.
Hehadto survive. Had to deliver that intelligence to Director Lark.
Without another look back, he stripped off his jacket, removed his shoes, and made his way to the railing just as the ship gave another sickening lurch. Around him, others were doing the same, sliding the fifty or more feet down the hull toward the rising water.
With a prayer on his lips, he took a breath and vaulted over the railing.
The impact with the water drove the air from his lungs. Frigid. So impossibly cold. The Atlantic in May was barely above freezing, and the shock of it almost made him gasp and inhale the sea.
