They left the SUV, staying on the side of the streets and away from the streetlights until they got to the side of the warehouse. Sebastian went to the front door and crouched down to start with his entry tools.
Winston came up beside him and tried the door handle. “Sebastian, sweetie, it’s open.”
Sebastian pushed the door open slowly. He crouched low and made his way inside. He was in a long hallway. Sebastian motioned for them to cover him as he moved towards the light that was coming from an office at the end of the hall.
Winston and Bernadette took up positions inside the door while McAllen followed Sebastian. There wasn’t a sound coming from the lighted room.
They moved slowly, crouching low, their weapons at the ready. McAllen got to the window and looked inside. He saw Samantha and Becky inside.
He moved to the door to open it.
The lights of the warehouse came on. A voice yelled, “Drop your weapons or she dies.”
McAllen looked behind him. Sokolov was standing beside Winston with a gun to her head.
44
“Don’t drop your weapons!” Winston yelled. “He’ll kill us all anyways. Shoot him.”
Bernadette stood two metres away. She looked at the options for a shot. Her gun was raised. She could see only a fraction of Sokolov’s head. Should she chance it?
She felt a gun barrel at her head. “Drop your weapon,” a thickly accented voice said. Bernadette dropped her weapon on the floor and looked at Winston.
McAllen and Sebastian were at the end of the hallway. They had their submachine guns pointed at them. What would they do? If Winston and Bernadette both hit the floor would McAllen and Sebastian open fire? How could she get the message to Winston?
“This is a nice standoff, no?” Sokolov asked. He was smiling with his gun at Winston’s head.
“The odds aren’t in your favor,” McAllen answered. “You shoot those two women—I’ll finish you off and free the other two hostages. It doesn’t seem worth your while. You die for very little.”
“I do not intend to die. You will not let me shoot this lady. You Americans are very soft on your people. You always try to negotiate your way out of conflict. We Russians embrace conflict—it makes us stronger. We could teach you all many things, when we’ve taken over your country you will see—”
A hissing noise sounded. Sokolov’s head exploded. Bernadette heard another hissing sound behind her. She turned to see the man holding her fall to the floor, a pool of blood spreading from his head.
Percy Stronach strode into view behind Winston holding a gun with a smoking silencer. “Was anyone else getting tired of that Russian’s speech—cause damn—I sure was.”
Behind Percy was Grace Fairchild. Bernadette looked behind her to see Margaret Ashley and Theo Martin with their weapons walking towards her. Margaret was congratulating Theo on his shot.
“It helps when they stand still like that,” Theo replied.
“But, I thought you were all dead back on Lake Nicaragua,” Bernadette said.
McAllen strode up the hallway and hugged Margaret then looked at Bernadette. “We had our plan B. When attacked we separate, it’s also good to let the enemy think that some of you are dead. They then work on the objective—from the grave.”
“How did you escape the rocket attack from the helicopter?” Winston asked as she cleaned Solokov’s blood off her face.
“We’d built a safe room in the basement,” Percy said. When we saw that helicopter rise up to a firing position we ran downstairs and buttoned up a steel door. Sure the house burned down on top of us, but we had a tunnel we’d built to the other side of the island with another boat there. We watched you as you drove away to make sure you were safe.”
“They’ve been working on this case from the moment we arrived in Key West. How do you think I’ve been able to get chartered planes and firearms so quickly in each location?” McAllen said.
“I’m impressed,” Bernadette said. “Now, what’s in that room at the end of the hall?”
“The best surprise yet.” McAllen could hardly suppress a grin. Bernadette followed him to the room to see Samantha and Becky. She felt tears well up in her eyes as they hugged.
Samantha looked at them. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. The reason we’ve been kept alive is that they found Barney up in Alaska two days ago. They picked him up and took him back out to the site where they’re drilling again.”
“Do you know where they’re drilling in the ocean?” Bernadette said.
Samantha shook her head. “They were always secretive about that. I know it’s off this coast somewhere as they used this warehouse for resupply of the submarines. But I have no idea where.”
“Did you get us a boat?” McAllen asked Sebastian.
Sebastian looked at Percy. “Yeah, Percy picked us up a little something down in Los Angeles. I think you’ll like it.”
Percy looked up and winked at McAllen. “You said you wanted something with some speed. I got us a super-fast yacht that will top out at 30 knots.”
“I hope you didn’t break our bank account to get it,” McAllen said.
“Oh no worries. We stole it,” Percy told him, giving him a nudge and a wink.
McAllen clapped Percy on the shoulder as they moved out of the building into the night. The sky was now a red glow from the fires in the hills. They needed to get out of there as fast as possible.
Sebastian, McAllen, Bernadette and Winston followed the other four in their rented van to a road that turned into water. They got out and slogged their way up an embankment until they reached a pier.
“Most of the piers that aren’t floating are under water,” Theo said as they walked along what was left of the pier that looked like it was about to float away.
At the end of the pier was a long silver yacht. To Bernadette it looked about seventy or eighty metres long. As she approached, she saw a strange looking boat on the stern.
“Is that a mini submarine on the back?” Bernadette asked.
45
“Yes, it is,” Percy grinned, “We had a bit more trouble stealing this one. But when Mac reported the bad guys could be using submarines, we figured we’d best get one of our own.”
Bernadette walked to the stern and examined the small, compact submarine with the bubble in the front. “How safe is this thing?”
“Supposed to be the ultimate in a mini, it’s got a six hour mission time and a depth of 1,000 metres,” Percy said. He stood beside Bernadette and caressed the clamshell dome of the observation deck with one hand.
“I hope you’re the one going down in this thing,” Bernadette said as she walked back towards the others. “At a thousand metres deep I want more than that bubble between me and the ocean.”
Bernadette found the others in the wheelhouse. Theo was showing McAllen and Samantha the bridge and detailing how state of the art this yacht was that they’d stolen.
“Ah, I just have a question?” Bernadette asked, stepping in between Theo and McAllen.
Theo looked at Bernadette; he was annoyed at having his description of this beautiful yacht interrupted. “What is it?”
“Don’t all of these high priced yachts have GPS tracking devices installed so that when they are stolen they can be traced?”
“Sure they do,” Theo said. “Percy found the tracker on the bridge and disabled it. My god, they placed it right behind the helm, what a bunch of goofs.”
“Maybe, they were some smart goofs,” Bernadette said. “Can’t they track this yacht with its satellite signature?”
“You’re right,” Percy said. “I have been in the boat building business all my life. These big yachts communicate with shore by satellite. They all have a distinct signature, just like an airplane. We need to turn it off.”
“Does that mean we’re navigating blind?” Bernadette asked.
“No, it just means we can’t communicate with anyone other than by ship to ship radio or if we’re close to s
hore if we don’t want to be recognized. You can use your burner cell phone when in range of shore and that’s about our communication with the world.” Percy turned to everyone. “And use the computers only for web searches or downloads. If you try to face time with someone from this ship, I’m sure it will get picked up.”
“Who cares about satellites?” Sebastian said. “There is a million-dollar sound studio on this thing. I can make some great audio and video tapes.”
Margaret laughed. “That’s great, we can do a video of our pleas for clemency when we get caught. By the way, what’s a boat like this worth?”
“About 80 million US. That’s not including that little mini sub and the outrageous sound studio. I think we’re floating on over 100 million.”
“When you want to be in the theft over 5,000 dollar category. I guess this is it,” Bernadette said.
Winston came up beside her. “We’ve gone from international terrorist to international thieves. I hope our rap sheet doesn’t extend too long or I’ll never see my son’s grandchildren. Of course, that’s even if we live through this and I get to see my son.”
“I think it’s time to be getting under way,” McAllen suggested.
Bernadette nodded and followed McAllen, Theo and Percy to help them cast off the ropes. The big yacht’s engines growled as they moved away from the pier and into the harbor.
Becky and Margaret went forward to call out any floating debris that could pose a danger to the hull. They motored slowly past oil drums, lumber and a few shipping containers that had floated off the docks as the seas had risen. Several times, the yacht had to either go around or reverse to miss objects in the water.
Bernadette had seen a sign that said San Leonardo before they got on the ship. They motored slowly by the shadow of Oakland Airport. The runway was underwater, all planes that could fly had left and only a few lights showed through the smoke from the fires.
As they passed by Oakland there was an eerie silence. Sebastian stood beside Bernadette. He looked at the city and shook his head. “There was a rumour of a tsunami in the Pacific Ocean. The people were leaving here in droves when we flew in yesterday. Probably only the looters left in town.”
To confirm Sebastian’s words, they heard the sound of gunfire and sirens. They turned away and watched Treasure Island and Alcatraz glide passed them. Alcatraz Island was in darkness. The ocean had breached all of its docks. Boats that had been there to ferry tourist across to view the once famous prison had all been moved to safer places.
Fisherman’s Wharf came into view on their left side. Few lights were on. Grace said she’d heard they’d had a massive power outage from the forest fires in the hills.
The Golden Gate Bridge loomed over them as they passed under it at one in the morning. Bernadette felt the ocean breeze. It was cold, but it pushed away the smoke from the fires. It felt good. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders, taking one last look at the darkened city as they sailed away.
“That’s the Point Bonita Light House on the starboard side,” McAllen said, pointing at a sweeping light off to their right. “The last point of land.”
Bernadette came beside McAllen on the bridge. “Any idea where in this big ocean we’re heading for?”
McAllen shrugged his shoulders. “I figure we go straight west. That River of Thule game mentioned it’d be out in that direction. What’s your rock doing?”
“My rock?”
“Yeah, that little piece of rock you were given in the Arctic. That old woman told you it came from the River of Thule.”
Bernadette reached into her jacket pocket. The rock was now warm to the touch. When she pulled it out, it had a slight glow to it.
“Put it up here on the helm,” McAllen said.
Bernadette placed it on the helm with its point towards San Francisco. The rock turned itself around to point out to sea.
“Did you see that?” Bernadette said.
McAllen’s mouth hung open. “I sure as hell did,”
Grace Fairchild came onto the bridge. “Where did you say you got this stone from?”
“An Inuit woman gave it to me in the high Arctic. She said it was from the goddess of the sea and asked us to return it to the headwaters of the River of Thule.” Bernadette said.
“Well, I think we just found our guide,” Grace said.
“Looks like we follow its heading,” McAllen said. “I’m increasing our speed to 30 knots. It’s going to take us about forty hours to get where I think this place is, so everyone, get whatever rest you need and take turns keeping a lookout for small floating debris. And, if you see any patrol boats from the US Coast Guard or Navy, we may have to outrun them.”
Bernadette looked up at the stars that were coming out into a moonlight sky. In front of them was only sea, and somewhere a drill that was producing heat from the Earth’s ocean that was damaging the planet.
She hoped they arrive in time to shut it down. That shutting down part was the question that rolled around in her mind. How does a yacht, even a multi-million-dollar one, stop a submarine?
46
Bernadette sat in the ship’s galley with the rest of the crew that wasn’t on watch or piloting the yacht. Grace had bustled amongst the kitchen stores and produced a passable mac and cheese with several amazing bottles of wine.
Theo decanted a 1960 Bordeaux wine that probably cost several thousand dollars. He felt it would complement the pasta and ‘bring out the aroma of the cheese.’
Bernadette dug into the mac and cheese and tasted the wine. It tasted earthy, complex and damn good going down. She smiled at Theo and complimented him on his choice.
Becky and Sam were sitting around the table. They didn’t look too bad from their ordeal of captivity. Neither of them had been abused at the hands of Sokolov, and both were happy that the nasty Russian was dead.
“Do you think we’ll find my grandfather alive?” Becky asked as she pushed her plate aside.
“I have no idea,” Bernadette said. She always thought honesty was the better answer than the positive thinking bullshit faction. It covered all bases.
Sam turned to Becky and stroked her hair. “Your granddad is a survivor, he’s escaped from them once, and he can do it again. We’ll do everything we can to help him.”
Bernadette put her wine glass down with a thud. “That’s it. We need more help.”
“What’re you thinking?” Sam asked.
“I just realized how crazy we are. We have this super yacht with a mini sub and some pissy assed weapons to take on a submarine. We need some serious back up,” Bernadette said.
She went below to the cabin that she now shared with Grace and Margaret and found her cell phone. The phone had power and it still showed some bars of service. They hadn’t come that far off the coast yet.
She glanced at her watch. It was 2:00 am, which meant 3:00 am mountain time where Anton was but it couldn’t be helped. She dialed the number.
The number rang several times until a sleepy Anton answered, “If this is who I think it is, I hope you saved the world, cause damn I’m tired.”
“You have the sexiest morning voice, you know that, Anton?”
“It’s 3:00 am, how sexy can I be?”
“I’ll be brief. You need to call in some backup for us. We’re on our way to where Sigurdsson is.”
“You know where he his?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s not exactly mean?”
“We’re pretty sure we know where he is,” Bernadette said and went on to explain how they found the warehouse in San Francisco, saved Samantha and Becky and killed Sokolov and his henchman.
“So, you have the coordinates of this submarine and the drill site?”
“Well… no, not yet”
“What do you have?”
Bernadette explained the stone she’d received from the Inuit woman in the Arctic and the yacht they’d stolen to get to their destination.
Anton paused for a long moment. �
��So, let me get this straight. You want me to call in the American Navy and Air Force to back you up in a stolen yacht where you’re heading out to sea on the direction of an ancient stone? Did I get that right?”
“Exactly.”
“You woke me up for this?”
Bernadette winced. Anton did not sound happy. She waited silently on her end of the phone, hoping that the phone would stay in service while he made up his mind.
“Okay, Bernadette. What can I say? That is one hell of a story. But so far, you are closer than anyone else to possibly solving this. I’ll call my liaison in the Canadian Forces and they’ll contact the American forces in San Francisco. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll see—”
The phone went dead. Bernadette stared at the phone’s screen. It was showing no service. She only hoped that Anton would come through. She went back on deck. McAllen was there with Percy and Margaret.
The stars were coming out in a massive blanket of light overhead with a full moon. The super yacht glided over a calm sea leaving ribbons of silver wake.
Bernadette looked at the rock on the helm. It was starting to glow with a faint reddish tinge.
Volkov stood on the bridge of the supply ship, hoping this would be the last trip he’d have to make on this terribly slow and ponderous vessel. He preferred to travel by yacht, or to have flown by helicopter or seaplane. None of these options were open to him.
The operation was now hemorrhaging money. He had to watch their expenses or start to dip into his own capital and he was not willing to do that. He suffered the slow trip on the supply ship in silence, but boiled on the inside as to the time it was taking.
He’d been told they were making headway with the main submarine. The volume of steam and temperature they needed was imminent. This would be the last trip. He’d make sure they killed the submarine crew and placed depth charges on the drill. Several months from now, Volkov would hire a company to come out and seal up the vents, ‘the ones he’d somehow found,’ making himself and his people heroes.
Climate Killers: Book 3. Bernadette Callahan Detective Series Page 23