Chapter 45 - The Safehouse at Cape Disappointment
The third pursuit boat never made the reef.
Declan knew the treacherous granite teeth of Cape Disappointment like the back of his hand. Cutting his running lights entirely, he threaded our boat through a jagged passage known as the Devil’s Throat. Behind us, the surviving security craft attempted to follow our wake at full throttle, only to hit an underwater granite shelf at thirty knots. The sound of its keel snapping was like a cannon shot, followed by the hiss of steam as its engine block breached.
Ten minutes later, Declan beached the battered *Sea Hawk* onto the gravelly, fog-shrouded shores of an isolated cove beneath the looming shadow of the abandoned Cape Disappointment light station.
We scrambled out into the surf, our boots sinking into wet pebbles. Daniel supported Declan, whose leg was badly injured from a ricochet fragment, while I carried the baby wrapped tight against the elements.
At the base of the cliff sat a weather-beaten fisherman’s shack, half-swallowed by coastal brambles and salt-crusted pine. Declan kicked open the reinforced side door, revealing a dry, musty interior filled with nautical equipment, ham radio gear, and vintage survival supplies.
"This station belonged to my grandfather," Declan breathed, collapsing onto an old wooden bench. He pulled a field trauma kit from a shelf and tossed it to Daniel. "Off the grid. No optical lines, no satellite uplink unless I manually engage the emergency generator."
I knelt by the wood stove, quickly striking a match to the kindling already laid inside. As the dry pine caught fire, a wave of warmth pushed back the killing chill. I undid the baby’s wraps, checking his tiny fingers and toes. He was warm now, whimpering softly, his dark eyes blinking in the amber firelight.
"He's a survivor, Elizabeth," Daniel said softly, kneeling beside me. He placed a gentle, calloused hand on my shoulder. His fingers were shaking slightly from exhaustion. "Just like his mother."
"We aren't safe yet," I said, looking down at the titanium cylinder resting on the wooden table. "Arthur gave this to us for a reason. What is inside it, Daniel?"
Daniel picked up the cylinder. He examined the base, which contained an illuminated biometric scanner. "Arthur told Declan it was the dead-man's switch. But look at the reader. It’s calibrated for a direct lineage match."
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He looked at me, then down at the baby in my arms.
"Arthur didn't lock it with his own thumbprint," Daniel murmured. "He locked it with the DNA sequence of the last legitimate heir of the Vance bloodline."
