“I'm intrigued by this Russian you call Ivan,” Gunn said. “How do you know him?”
“Our paths crossed when I was working for the CIA.”
“Is he a friend or foe?”
“I'd call him a friend for the moment. I suspect that he'll do pretty much what he thinks is in the best interests of Russia. He is devious and shrewd - and he didn't survive all those purges in Russian intelligence by being a choirboy.”
“That's quite a resume. Despite his checkered background, you think we should trust him?”
“For now. And for one very good reason.”
“What's that?” Gunn said. “He's all we've got.”
NUMA 3 - Fire Ice
-19-
THE SOGGY BUNCH Captain Kemal had rescued from the sea and transferred to the Argo was gone. In their place was a happy band of submariners who could laugh about their ordeal, which was what they were doing when Austin and the others arrived at the conference room.
After boarding the Argo, the NR-1 crew had been checked out by the ship's medical technician, filled with extraordinary meals from the galley and given the loan of NUMA work coveralls. Except for scratches and bruises, the men in the conference room showed few visible effects from their ordeal. Sitting at the metal table that occupied center place were Captain Atwood, Ensign Kreisman and Joe Zavala. Joe smiled broadly when he saw his NUMA colleagues come through the door. He rose and went over to shake hands with Gunn and Trout. Ever the ladies' man, he gave Gamay a kiss on the cheek.
After a quick round of introductions, Austin announced, to claps and whistles, “In a few hours you'll be back in Istanbul, where a jet is waiting to fly you home. Your relatives have been notified that you're safe.” More applause. “You must be anxious to be on your way, but I've got a favor to ask. We've only heard parts of your remarkable story. While the chopper is fueling up for the return trip, I'm hoping you can tell us what happened from start to finish.”
Ensign Kreisman stood and said, “It's the least we can do. I'm sure I speak for the crew when I say thanks to you and Joe for getting us out of that place in one piece.”
“Remind us to bring a Bradley fighting vehicle the next time,” Austin said. He waited for the laughter to die down. “If you don't mind, Ensign, I'll play Perry Mason. I think it will go faster that way.”
“No problem, sir.”
“Good. Why don't you start from the beginning?”
Kreisman took a position in front of a wall chart that showed the eastern Aegean. “Our mission was to dive on underwater archaeological sites off the Turkish coast. Here.” He tapped the map. “In addition to our regular crew under the command of Captain Logan, we carried a guest scientist who called himself Dr. Josef Pulaski, supposedly from MIT.”
Gunn raised his hand. “Point of information. After we learned the sub was hijacked, we went over the roster and found Pulaski's name. When we checked with MIT, they said they'd never heard of him.”
“Too bad we didn't check before he came on board,” the ensign said, with a shake of his head. “In any event, the mission was an unqualified success. We retrieved some artifacts with our manipulator capacity. We were preparing to surface, when Pulaski pulled a gun. Most of the crew was aft of the control room and didn't see it happen. The captain in- formed us over the intercom. He ordered us to stay put.or Pulaski would shoot us. The sub went up a few hundred feet and hovered.”
“For how long?” Austin said.
“About twenty-five minutes. Then a huge shadow appeared in the monitors. It looked like a whale or shark coming up under the sub, and then there was a horrendous clang. The sub shook so hard, anyone who wasn't holding on was thrown to the floor. Next we heard a scraping and clawing, as if big metal beetles were crawling around on the outside of the hull. Divers. We could see them on the monitors. One clown even waved at the camera! Next thing we knew, the divers were gone and we were flying through the ocean.”
Where were the captain and pilot and the other scientist during all of this?" Austin asked.
“In the control room.”
“Did the captain say anything more?”
“Yes, sir. He said to send coffee and sandwiches forward.”
“What was the support ship doing at this time?”
“We heard them calling on the radio until Pulaski ordered all communications shut down. I assume they tracked us until we were out of range.”
“How long did you travel underwater?” Austin asked.
“A matter of hours. When we surfaced, it was as dark as Hades. Not a light to be seen anywhere. Then armed men came down the hatch into the NR-1.”
“Russians?”
“We couldn't tell, although 1 think they were carrying AK-47s. They were wearing cami and acted like professional soldiers. Not like those jerks on horseback that you saved us from. They kept their mouths shut. Pulaski did all the talking. He told us to get out of the NR-1. We climbed out onto the deck of a big sub.”
“Any idea on the sub's length?” Gunn said.
Kreisman looked around the room. “Anyone want to take a stab at a guess?”
Another seaman spoke up. “I served on a boomer when I first joined the navy. Judging from its beam, around thirty feet, I’d estimate this baby was as long as a Los Angeles class. About three hundred sixty feet.”
“The NR-1 is only one hundred fifty feet long. They could easily piggyback you with more than two hundred feet to spare,” Austin said.
The sailor nodded. “That sub was bigger than our support vessel.”
Austin glanced around the room. “Anyone see markings?”
Nobody responded. “Too dark and no moon,” Kreisman explained.
“So they moved you into the big sub?”
“Correct. They locked us in a bunk room. Not enough beds for all of us, so we took turns sleeping. They brought food from time to time. We submerged for twenty-four hours. When we surfaced again, it was night. The ocean was different from the Aegean. The air didn't have the saltiness we'd been used to. More like one of the Great Lakes.”
“Tell them about the ship sounds we heard before that,” one of the submariners said.
“Sorry, I forgot about that. It was a while before we surfaced. The bunk room was as quiet as a grave. Some of the guys in the bunks said they could hear the sound of ship engines through the bulkheads. We all put our ears up to the hull and listened. It was true.”
“You were in an area of heavy ship traffic?”
“That's what we figured. Eventually, the noise died out. Several hours later, we came up next to a surface ship. It must have been waiting for us. They hustled us onto the ship and into another bunk room. That was our home sweet home for three days.”
“They kept you there all that time?” Gunn said.
“Hell, no! Early the next morning, we were assembled on the deck. Guys with guns kept us covered, and the big sub was nowhere to be seen. Pulaski was there. He gave us that creepy smile of his. 'Good morning, gentlemen,' ” Kreisman imitated Pulaski's accent. “ 'In return for this delightful cruise, we are going to ask that you do a little job for us.' He said we would be salvaging material from an old ship. Pulaski and another thug were going with us. So we piled into the NR-1 alongside the ship, which was acting as our tender, and down we went.”
“How deep?”
“Four hundred feet plus. No big deal for the NR-1. We noticed the water buoyancy was different. We needed less ballast to bring us down. The sea bottom was mud for the most part, sloping before it abruptly dropped off into the deep. The wreck sat on the bank of an underwater canyon or valley that ran at right angles to the cliff face.”
“Was there a name on the ship's hull?”
“None that we could see. The vessel was covered with seaweed and barnacles. The bow was more up-and-down than raked, like those pictures you see of the Titanic.” He used his hand to demonstrate.
“What was its position on the bottom?”
“The ship sat on the slope, lea
ning over at a sharp angle. It looked as if a good shove would tip it over. We saw a big hole in the starboard side.”
“Could you see inside the hole?”
“It was filled in with rubble. We only stayed there a minute. They were more interested in the other side. They had fitted out the manipulator arm with a cutting torch. We touched down on the slanting deck. It was pretty dicey putting the sub down at an angle. We had the feeling the ship could roll over at any time. Then they told us to cut a hole in the superstructure.”
“Not in the hold?” Austin said with surprise. “That's where the cargo would be.”
“You'd think so, but we weren't in a position to argue. We made an opening around ten by ten feet. It wasn't too hard - the metal was old and rusted. We had to be careful, though. It was like a surgical operation. One nudge and the ship would drop off into the deep; we were all aware of that. We could see the old bunks and mattresses. Pulaski and his buddy got real agitated. They started to jabber over some diagrams of the wreck that they had with them.”
“In Russian.”
“Sounded like it. Apparently, they'd had us cut through the wrong spot. We tried two more times before they found what they wanted. It was a fairly big cabin filled with metal boxes the size of those old steamer trunks you see in antique shops.”
“How many boxes?”
“About a dozen, jumbled every which way. Pulaski told us to grab them with the NR-1's manipulator arm. We had a tough time moving them. They were obviously heavy and strained the manipulator to capacity. We pulled the boxes to the opening and called the surface ship and told them to lower some lines with hooks on the ends of them. We attached the lines, stood off and let the ship winch the stuff up with its superior lifting power.”
Austin, who had been trained in deepwater salvage, nodded. “Exactly the way I would have handled it.”
“Captain Logan's idea.” Kreisman smirked with embarrassment. “We were like the British soldiers in that movie, Bridge on the River Kwai. We really got into it. Professional pride, I guess.”
“Don't feel bad. They probably would have killed you if you hadn't done the job.”
“That's what the captain said. We worked round-the-clock shifts. There were a few of the hitches you'd expect with a job that complicated, but we got all the stuff they wanted off the ship.”
“Did you see what was in the steamer trunks?”
“That was a funny thing. They shoved us around the corner, but we could hear them prying the boxes open with a crowbar. They sounded pretty excited. Then there was this silence, and next we heard them yelling. It sounded like an argument. Then Pulaski appeared and started shouting at us in Russian, like whatever happened was our fault. He looked real angry, but I think he was a little scared.” Kreisman glanced around the room and got nods of agreement from the other crewmen.
“No indication what the dustup was all about?”
He shook his head. “They put us below, and when they brought us on deck again it was night. The monster sub was back. There was a ship nearby, too. We couldn't see in the dark, but it sounded like a big one. They loaded us aboard the sub, except for the captain and pilot-same first-class accommodations. We traveled underwater, a shorter time than before. When we were allowed out, we were in a place as big as an airplane hangar.”
“That would be the sub pen. What happened to the NR-1?”
“We don't know. It was still tied up alongside the salvage vessel when we left. The captain and pilot are okay, I hope,” he said with consternation. “Why would they keep us prisoner and let them go?”
“They may have further work for the NR-1 or simply want hostages. What happened next?”
“They put us in yet another bunk room. A real dump. We were there a couple of days. Bored as hell. The only excitement was what sounded like a big explosion from somewhere below.”
“They were sealing the entrance to the sub pen.”
“Why would they do that?”
“The base had been discovered, and they wanted to make sure no one would find the evidence. The big sub used in the hijack had served its purpose. I wouldn't be surprised if they planned to plug the surface entrance later. Maybe with you inside. What was the guard situation?”
“Same bunch who kept an eye on us on the salvage ship. Military types with automatic weapons. They gave us black bread and water, and locked us in. Next thing we know, these guys with the funny hats and the baggy pants showed up. The first guards were Girl Scouts compared to this gang. They beat up a couple of the guys just for chuckles, dragged us outside and herded us into that big field. You know the rest.”
Austin looked around the room. “Any questions?”
“Did you get a glimpse of your GPS position when you were on the NR-1?” Gunn asked.
“They kept us away from the positioning gauges, then turned them off later so we couldn't see.”
“Damn shame,” Gunn said.
Laughter rippled around the room.
“Are we missing a joke?” Gunn said.
A slim blond-haired crewman in his midtwenties stood and identified himself as Seaman Ted McCormack. He passed a sheet of paper toward the table. “These are the GPS coordinates for the wreck.”
“How can you be sure?” Gunn said, reading the figures.
McCormack held out his arm and displayed what looked like an overgrown digital wristwatch. “My wife gave this to me. We got married just before I shipped out. She's got a chart back home so when I called her she could mark exactly where I was.”
“We used to kid Mac about being on a short leash,” Kreisman said. “Not anymore.”
“When we were hijacked, I slid this thing up my arm and kept it covered under my sleeve,” McCormack said. “They never frisked us. Figured we were harmless, I guess.”
The ProTek GPS watch was a miracle of miniaturization, said by its manufacturer to be the world's smallest GPS device. It could give the wearer his position anywhere on the planet within a few yards.
Austin grinned. “Let's hear it for love.” He looked around the room. “Now, to quote the immortal words of Porky Pig, 'That's all, folks.' Thanks for your help. And bon voyage.”
The NR-1 crew rose to their feet as one and stampeded out of the conference room like thirsty steers who'd smelled water. Austin turned to the NUMA team.
Paul flipped open his laptop computer and connected it to the modem that would allow files to be projected on a large screen at one end of the room. Gamay stood next to the projection screen with a laser pointer. Paul tapped a few keys, and a map of the kidney-shaped Black Sea and the surrounding land appeared.
“Welcome to the Black Sea, one of the most fascinating bodies of water in the world,” Gamay said, outlining the shores with the bright red dot. “It's roughly six hundred thirty miles from east to west and three hundred thirty from north to south. It's only one hundred forty-four miles here at the 'waist,' where the Crimea sticks out. Despite its relatively small size, it's got a big bad reputation. The Greeks called it Axenos, which means 'inhospitable.' The medieval Turks were less diplomatic. They named it Karadenez. The 'Sea of Death.' ”
“Catchy,” Zavala said. “It has a certain poetic quality.”
“I can definitely see the chamber of commerce using that in a New York Times ad,” Austin agreed.
Gamay rolled her eyes. “Are you two ever serious?”
“We try not to be,” Austin said. “Sorry to interrupt, teacher. Please go on.”
“Thank you. Despite the bad press, the Black Sea gets a lot of visitors. Jason came this way in the original Argo to look for the Golden Fleece. The sea has been an important trade route and fishing ground for thousands of years. During the Ice Age, it was a big freshwater lake. Then around 6000 B.C., a natural land dam broke and the waters of the Mediterranean burst through. The sea level rose hundreds of feet.”
“Noah's flood," Austin said.
“Some people think so. The people who lived around the lake fled for their liv
es.” Gamay smiled. “I can't say whether they did it on an ark. The salt water effectively smothered the lake. River nutrients pouring into the sea have only made the situation worse.” She signaled to Paul, who projected a profile of the sea onto the screen.
“This gives you an idea of the incredible depth. A continental shelf that's probably the remnant of the old shoreline runs around the perimeter. It's the widest off the Ukraine, then it plunges down for seven thousand feet. The thin layer near the top is rich with life. But below the five-hundred-fifty-foot mark, there is no oxygen and the sea is lifeless. It's the biggest body of dead water in the world. Even worse, the depths are loaded with hydrogen sulfide. One breath of the stuff can kill you. If that mass of poison ever rose to the surface, it would release a cloud that would kill every living thing in and around the sea.”
“The Turks weren't kidding about the sea of death,” Zavala said.
Paul projected a map that had a dotted line running around the inner edge of the sea. “Kreisman said the ship was found around the four-hundred-foot level. That would put it at the edge of the continental shelf. Any deeper and ship wouldn't be there. Wooden vessels are perfectly preserved in the depths, because there is no oxygen to sustain wood-boring worms, but the chemicals eat away at metal.”
“The ship would have been reduced to its basic molecules,” Austin said.
“That's right. That gorge he talked about is probably an extended riverbed. The continental shelf is smooth and gradually dips seaward, pretty much like the ensign's description. The decay from all those organisms has formed pockets of methane gas. Presumably, a diver could be insulated from that type of thing, but there might still be some danger in diving in a poisonous environment.”
Gunn had been absorbing the discussion. He rose from his seat and borrowed the laser pointer.
“Let's see what we've got. The NR-1 was hijacked here.” He ran the red dot from the Aegean through the Bosporus. “This is where they heard sounds of ship traffic.” He moved the pointer along the edge of the continental shelf. “Here's our mystery ship, according to the GPS.”
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