Kelly listened to the bustle he could hear on the other side of the locked door. Since Crane had a given a direct order for silence, his XO had said nothing, but sat ramrod straight in the chair, an icy glare of hatred focused on his captor. Kelly found the steadiness of that frosty gaze both amusing and disconcerting. Amusing because there was no way Morton could act on the anger that lay simmering deep in those frozen blue eyes, but disconcerting because the cold, steely glare stirred butterflies in his stomach and made his fingers tremble. He'd seen tough sailors reduced to quivering jelly by that glare; it was close to doing the same thing to him.

But he was unable to resist the temptation to test that silence; how far could he go, what could he say that would force Morton to break that silence, to disobey that direct order? He sidled closer to the desk. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" Of course they hadn't been expecting it. Their pedestrian little minds could never have conceived of something like this. "I've been around the office often enough. You were really stupid, not to read the signs." He kicked at Allbright's body, and watched for a reaction in that impassive face, but the man was locked down tight. There wasn't even a flicker in those frozen eyes. Oh, how he longed to shatter that mask, and finally see what lay behind it. "I thought she'd scream. Maybe have hysterics. Something. But she didn't put on a show at all, did she?" He studied the spatter that had bathed the desktop, Morton's uniform, and his skin in Allbright's blood and brain tissue. "I didn't need her anyway, except to make sure I had you secured."

But despite the taunts, there was no sound forthcoming; just that penetrating gaze that made Kelly's gorge rise in his throat. If the man got loose from those cuffs…

But he wouldn't. Oh, he'd tested them; every now and again, Kelly saw him twisting his hands against the steel, but he'd made no headway, and after awhile, he'd given up, turning that glare on Kelly as if he could make the man back down with his eyes alone…

Kelly glanced at his watch and sighed as a giggle bubbled up in the back of his throat. "I really thought they'd make the effort to be on time." He clicked his tongue resentfully. "I guess they don't value you as highly as I thought they might." He steadied the gun with both hands and the giggle broke free when Morton's breathing quickened slightly. The commander lifted his chin and his gaze darkened, forcing Kelly back a step. He knew he was about to die, but he wasn't giving an inch, and that icy glare made the bottom of Kelly's stomach drop out…

A soft jolt rumbled briefly through the deck plating, a herald of the flying sub's return. Kelly hesitated, sighting down the barrel of the gun, watching his captive through narrowed eyes. It seemed the admiral had made an effort after all…

Give him a few minutes to get to the door, and then Kelly would explain matters in terms that would be completely understood…

A knock at the door warned of Nelson's presence; the unmistakable bass timbre of his voice was a growl of a displeasure. "I'm here, Kelly."

Morton's gaze slid toward the door, his expression unreadable. Kelly lowered his eyes to his watch and frowned, hiding the burst of laughter that tickled his throat. "Five minutes late, Admiral." He shifted his aim just enough. His father had taught him well; he knew how to use a gun, how to hit a target, and he knew how to make his point. And just maybe, his next move would signal the endgame. "I gave you three hours."

A moment's silence; Kelly knew Nelson well enough to know what he was thinking. The bastard never really believed that anyone could outwit him. He thought his Nobel Prize, and his fistful of degrees made him something special, but he wasn't all that smart. "The time frame was unreasonable. I got here as quickly as I could."

"And you were late." The truth was irrefutable. "Someone has to pay for that, Admiral."

He felt the full force of Morton's glare again, but his back was already against the wall; no possible retreat. He steeled himself with the admonishment that after all, he had the upper hand. He had the gun, and the XO was handcuffed to that chair, defenseless except for those cold eyes. Though he was compelled to admit that the glare alone was a most formidable weapon…

"Kelly, if you want my cooperation…"

Kelly cut across the admiral's angry words. The time had come to make sure everyone understood the stakes. "Oh, I'll have your cooperation, Nelson. But you need to realize that I'm not bluffing." He tapped the hair trigger and felt the gun buck in his hand.

Response to the shot was immediate; the admiral's voice rose to full bellow, beyond the door, echoed by Crane's shout. He could hear the commotion in the hallway outside, knew it was overflowing into the Control Room. The crew had an unnatural loyalty to their officers. He could just imagine what they were saying, and the thought made him smile…

But the smile died as he realized that the one man he'd expected to cry out had made no sound at all. Morton slumped back in his chair, his face white, shifting a little to the right in an attempt to ease the strain on his shoulder. The entry wound was high, just below the collar bone, and it leaked down the sleeve and spread across the chest of his uniform. The fresh blood shown crimson against the darker, dried stains of Allbright's blood spatter. His eyes were closed, but Kelly knew he wasn't unconscious.

"Kelly!"

The admiral's voice finally penetrated. Kelly took two steps toward the desk, his gun still leveled. "You were late. When you don't do what you're told, your man here pays the price."

He could hear the admiral's basso rumble and Crane's softer tenor, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. As he waited for a response, he watched Morton's eyes open and eagerly read the molten pain that glittered in his exhausted gaze. "Not so haughty now, Commander." He sneered the words, but received no response; it surprised him how much he wanted to crack that impassive façade. He lifted his voice. "This is what I want, Nelson. We are going to rendezvous with a ship at latitude negative two degrees six minutes thirty-two seconds, longitude one hundred seventy-seven degrees fifty-three minutes twenty-six point twenty-five seconds. We will reach this rendezvous point in eighteen hours. Do you understand?"

"Do you understand that I cannot proceed until I know how badly injured my XO is?" The steel in Nelson's voice only made Kelly smile. "If you want to make the rendezvous, you have to give me something."

Standard negotiation techniques. Did Nelson think he was stupid? "I'll give you something." Kelly stepped around the desk, closer to his prisoner, reversing the gun in his hand, holding it like a hammer. He saw Morton's eyes widen as he swung the gun with all his strength, crashing the steel butt into the commander's shoulder wound. The brutal blow finally elicited the cry he'd wanted. He swung the gun again, and enjoyed the feel of it hammering into fragile flesh, laughing at the gasping groan of pain Morton couldn't stifle. "Do you want me to give you more, Admiral?"

But it was Crane's voice that answered, and he spoke directly to the XO. "Chip, how bad?"

Morton drew in a shuddering breath, but his voice was remarkably steady. How the hell did he manage it? "It's nothing, Lee. Dr. Kelly just thinks he can prove his point by hitting a man who can't hit back."

The contempt that dripped from that stoic young voice infuriated Kelly; he swung the gun again, this time across that pale, pain-sculpted face, pleased to see the blood leap up under the skin in an ugly spreading bruise. Morton's eyes rolled up into his head as he lost consciousness. Kelly reversed the gun again and jammed the barrel against the commander's temple. "Eighteen hours, Nelson. The time table's tight, so you'd better get moving."