The water was up to Julian’s chest.
It pressed against his ribcage like an iron band, bitter and freezing, but inside his head, the numbers were locking into place with the precision of a mechanical cash drawer.
Click. Click. Ker-chunk.
“Lin!” Julian shouted, wiping a sheet of black brine from his eyes.
“The Underwood Ribbon-Bar! Get it out of the bag and keep it dry!”
Lin Mei was half-submerged against the basalt wall, but she didn’t hesitate. She held the felt-lined tin box high above her head with one trembling arm, keeping the heavy steel ribbon-bar out of the splashing foam.
“It’s dry, Julian!” Lin Mei yelled, her voice shaking from the cold.
“The tin is airtight! But what are you doing with the deed?”
