With a soft click, the heavy steel door locked electronically. The lights shifted from bright fluorescent to a dim emergency red.

“I’m sorry, Serena,” Jonas said, the nervous energy gone from his voice, replaced by a hollow calm. “But Vale is paying me enough to disappear to a country without an extradition treaty.

I couldn’t let you walk onto that sub and ruin the retirement plan.”

“You sold out your country for a retirement plan?” I snarled, drawing my weapon and pointing it at his chest.

“I sold out a broken system,” Jonas corrected. “And you aren’t going anywhere. I’ve initiated a Halon purge in this room. The fire-suppression system will pull all the oxygen out of the air in about three minutes.”

Above us, a loud mechanical hiss echoed through the warehouse.