Chapter Text
"Two birds handcuffed in the back of a pleasure craft and one pervert guiding the boat into dangerous currents. You couldn't have set me up for dirty jokes better if you tried, love."
I thought calling The Serenity a pleasure craft was stretching the meaning of the words to the point of absurdity. With the pair of us on board, we couldn't afford to spring for a newer model with a lot of onboard controls. The thorn manacles that kept our magic from tearing the engine apart weren't an insurance policy against disaster. The water would dampen most excess magic, but if we had to come out of the water fighting, we were sunk.
The 1952 Runabout was just a step above a rickety row boat and looked like a kid's toy when we'd seen it tied to the docks in the marina. There was barely enough room for Hannah and I to sit, let alone move around or get up to anything fun.
Hannah fingered one of the steel links I'd threaded between the manacles. It had taken several hours and a lot of sweat, but I'd managed to lengthen the chain to allow us a few feet of breathing room. It could pose problems on the approach, but in my head, the element of surprise when we dropped in on the Fomor superseded the risks for tangling that the longer chain posed. We were going straight down. The approach was dangerous but not complicated.
"I could strangle you with this, Binder," she said sweetly. "Drop you over the side, and nobody would ever know."
"Do it and you'll have to guide this beauty," he rubbed The Serenity's dash for emphasis. "Back into the marina and we both know how bad it would be for your image."
Hannah's lips twitched as she gently bit back a smile. She snapped her fingers with a muttered, "Damn it, he's right. I think we'll keep him alive a little longer."
I'd tuned out most of their banter. It had surprised me to learn that she'd done business with Binder on a routine business during her years with the Fellowship. It hadn't been difficult to hitch her wagon to his when Nicodemus needed to put what he believed to be an undercover agent in the fold.
"Are we almost there?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Lake Michigan wasn't exactly a sauna, even on sticky summer days. Add in high winds and the wetsuits we wore, and you had the potential for hypothermia.
Binder ignored the waspish tone of the question and leaned over the dash, examining the slip of paper Lily had given me the night before. He consulted a set of instruments and nodded.
"About a mile off. You sure you want to do this, love?" he asked, directing the question to Hannah. "There are safer ways to pay my fee. I know at least four joints in Chicago that would be easier to knock over than this place."
"None of the banks in Chicago have a stake in the peace negotiations," I said.
"Oh for the love of..." Binder trailed off before scrubbing his face hard in frustration. "You're doing this to tweak the bloody Fomor's nose? Not smart. Do you even remember Uncle Binder's rules? Do the job, get paid, and don't make things personal. The Fomor will take this fucking personal, Hannah."
Hannah stood and stretched, popping the kinks from her back. It was essential to relax before we executed Operation Hail Mary, our last desperate attempt to save Thomas' life. There was only a small chance of success, but we were betting the house on the outcome we wanted.
She offered me a hand up and I took it. We watched the waves foam white behind the motor, the trailing bubbles dying away when Binder came to a gradual stop. He busied himself with the dive cable, letting out enough line to touch the bottom far below...we hoped. Without more modern sensors, we could only estimate the depth, and the Fomor stronghold hidden under a network of enchantment.
"Are you sure you don't want to opt for scuba gear?" Binder asked. "Would only take a few hours to make the swap. It might be safer."
"No, the risks are the same either way," Hannah said. "If we do it wrong, we drown. Molly and I learned that the hard way when we were stationed in Belize. There was an aquatic mission we did for the Fellowship and we rented scuba gear. We managed to screw up the equipment mid-mission, blowing out portions of the tech that would have helped us get out of the underwater cave network that a Count used to dispose of his victims and political enemies. We're lucky we didn't end up bobbing inside the cave like so many others."
Binder winced. "Jesus."
I shuddered. I still remembered that grotto full of bloated bodies. The way flesh sloughed off if you brushed against one too hard. The cold, creeping panic as our air ran out, afraid we’d meet the same fate.
"Freediving will work. And once we're inside, we'll be safe." I paused, then amended, "Okay, we'll be safe from drowning. There's still a high probability we get shot."
"Let me worry about the Servitors," Hannah said. "You get in, grab the bullion, and get clear."
It sounded simple in theory. Steal the gold kept on hand to fulfill wergild as was due in the accords. We had two separate objectives, both designed to pit the factions against one another. Confusion and conflict were distracting, and we needed all eyes elsewhere tonight. Hannah and I were providing a big, shiny distraction while Lara and Harry smuggled Thomas out. It also meant that we were exposed to a hell of a lot more risk than the rescue party.
"Right," I said, my confidence in our plan flagging as I stared down at the impenetrable surface of the water. Could I really reach the bottom in one breath?
"Ready to go?" she asked, cracking her knuckles. If she was feeling any nerves, it didn't show. She was pushing up on the balls of her feet, seeming almost eager for the coming fight.
"Oh hell no, but I'm going anyway."
Hannah let out a pealing laugh. "Good. It's been for fucking ever since I've fought beside you. Let's do it right this time. Is DJ Molly C taking any requests?"
I allowed myself a small smile. She was right about one thing. It was good to have a friend watching my back again.
"I might be. What did you have in mind?"
She told me.