Vujnovich took a swallow and looked up.

“You think it is time we told Medikov what has happened?” he asked.

Bogatinoff winced, then gazed at his muddy shoes for a few moments before he answered, “No, not yet. Whether we tell him or not, we will still have to find her, or Boris will feed us to the fish. There is nothing to be gained by giving him bad news just now.”

A sudden unholy howling scream startled the pair. Both grabbed their guns and dove for cover. The intensity of the high-pitched keening rose and fell, like some wounded animal snared in a trap. Vujnovich slipped low toward the door. He waved Bogatinoff to the other side before easing the door open with the barrel of his pistol.

The two sprang forward, ready to blast away.

They found Alan Smythe, still bound tightly and curled up on the floor where they had abandoned him when they tore out the door to chase after the woman. He was coming out of his drug haze, screaming with a mixture of blind fear and searing pain.

Bogatinoff kicked Smythe in the ribs to shut him up. The howling increased. Meanwhile, Vujnovich grabbed a syringe and filled it with the clear liquid from a bottle on the nearby end table.

“I cannot take that screaming! I have to shut him up before he drives me nuts.”

Vujnovich jammed the needle through Smythe’s clothes into his buttock and pushed the drug into the OptiMarx CEO’s body. The heroin took effect at once. Smythe quieted and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Bogatinoff shook his head. “Many more shots like that and you will make him an addict.”

“I do not care as long as it silences that wailing. Besides, I do not expect he will live long enough for it to be a problem. If he does live that long…and if we don’t find the woman, then we—you and I—will not have long to live ourselves. Boris will see to that.” Vujnovich turned and stomped out of the room. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder. “Let us fix some breakfast so we have the strength to get back out and find the bitch.”

Hector Gonzales climbed up the ladder from Toledo’s engine room and through the hatch into the ASDV. Sam Donlan was already up inside the cramped control space in the forward compartment of the tiny submarine. Gonzales eased past him and settled into the pilot’s seat. He glanced over at his copilot as he slipped on his communications headset. “We ready to go?”