As the second piece ricocheted off the wall and fell onto her shoulder, the revelation of her circumstance struck her as vividly as if she’d been dumped in icy water. The stranger had an American accent. She was the sole survivor from a Russian spy vessel, and she was in trouble.
Svetlana glanced at her surveillance monitors. She pocketed a small USB drive with all the valuable information she’d gathered, including the internal recordings of her captain and the submarine commander who’d offered to sell the Omega Deep. She still felt that the information was valuable, certainly important enough to risk her life to keep.
What frightened her was who to provide it to. Someone within the Russian Foreign Intelligence had betrayed her government, trading in their secrets for money. The question was, how high up was the insurrection? If she returned to Russia for a full debrief, was she walking straight into the hands of the very people who were involved in the conspiracy?
Perhaps it was better that her government continued to believe she went down with the Vostok until she could study more of the information on the USB stick. There had been hundreds of hours of continuous sound recordings inside the Vostok. Somewhere in there were the answers she needed before she knew who to report to.
She then removed her laptop’s hard drive, slid it into a slot on her desk, and flipped a switch. A brief humming sound of the degaussing machine wiped and destroyed the drive. She suspected if the U.S. Navy had boarded her vessel, they would most likely guess without any trouble what the ship’s true purpose was, but at least there wouldn’t be irrefutable evidence.
A few minutes later, the stranger broke through the opening.
She looked up and saw his arm reach down into the narrow opening of ice.
“Give me your hand,” he said. “I’ll pull you up.”
Svetlana took one last look at what had been the highlight of her short-lived career in espionage and gripped his hand.
The stranger pulled her up through the narrow ice hole without any effort, and in a matter of seconds, she was standing in the bogus fishing hold.
“My name’s Sam Reilly,” the stranger said, offering her his hand.
She took it. “Svetlana. Thanks for getting me out of there.”
He had a nice face with a carefree and kindly smile, full of even white teeth, and piercing blue eyes, that reminded her of the depths of the ocean.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “How long have you been trapped?”
She thought about it for a minute. “About two days, I think.”
“You must be starved. You’re lucky you’re not frozen. Come on, my friend and I have a yacht. You’d better come aboard and have something to eat and get warm. We can notify the authorities and get you back home.”
“Sounds great,” she said.
She couldn’t believe her luck. The Vostok must have been spotted by local sailors or tourists. Of course, that luck would only last so long. The U.S. Navy would investigate as soon as her rescuer notified the authorities.
It didn’t matter. She would have to work out a way to deal with that. Svetlana hardened her resolve. If she needed to, she might have to kill the man who’d come to her assistance – only if she had to.
She followed him up the ladder onto the deck.
Into a portable radio, Sam said, “Tom, do you want to come alongside now with the Matilda. I have one survivor.”
Svetlana glanced to the west, where a wealthy pleasure cruiser was making its way toward them. She smiled. What were the chances that she should be picked up by a wealthy tourist on vacation and not a U.S. Navy patrol?
The pleasure cruiser pulled up alongside the hull.
Sam said, “Here, give me your hand, and I’ll help you across.”
She reached the side railing of the Vostok and stopped. “I’m sorry. Can you please wait a few minutes? I just realized I forgot something that I really need from down below.”
“All right,” Sam replied. “No problem. Can I give you a hand?”
She made her best smile, tilting her head to the side in that coquettish way that came unnaturally to her, and said, “I’m fine. I’ll just be a minute.”
Her eyes met his.
She bit her lower lip, hoping that he would buy it. If not, she wondered whether she would need to dispose of him? She had no doubt she could kill him by surprise, inside the dark confines of the Vostok’s hold, but what about the other men on board the pleasure cruiser? How many were there? Would she be able to take them out, too?
No. It would be best if Sam just left her alone.
The stranger said, “All right. I’ll just wait here. Let me know if you need anything.”
She smiled. “Actually, can I borrow your flashlight.”
“Sure,” he said, handing it over to her.
She took it. “Thanks. I’ll just be a minute.”
He smiled warmly. His voice filled with the insouciance of a rich tourist, happy to just be where he was. “Take all the time you need.”
She nodded and made her way quickly across the icy deck and down the first ladder. She picked up the metal hammer that was left on the forward hold, the same one she’d been using to chip away at the ice. From there, she made her way to the aft section of the hull, where she found another trapdoor. It didn’t take long to break through the ice and open the hatch.
This one led to the bottom of the Vostok’s hold, where the bilge was dry. No water had made its way into this part of the ship, and as such, despite the freezing conditions, there was little ice. Svetlana switched on the flashlight. She shined it across the bilge. The hull was made of thick steel, designed to protect against icebergs in the Arctic Sea above Russia.
Several thick steel pipes penetrated the hull. These were called seacocks, with an oversized lever like the handle of a tap and were designed to release bilge water when the ship was in dry dock. They were larger than they needed to be, but that was because they served a secondary purpose.
In the event of being captured or boarded, the seacocks could be opened fully, causing the hull to flood within minutes, sending all they had to hide to the bottom of the sea.
Svetlana didn’t hesitate. She reached the first seacock closest to the bow and opened its lever. Seawater gushed into the bilge hold with the pressure of a fire hydrant. She made her way quickly toward the stern, opening each one, before quickly climbing the ladder to the main living quarters deck.
She shined her flashlight into the hatch and was pleased to see that the water was rising fast. Much faster than she expected. For an instant, she wondered if she’d gone too far opening all the seacocks and the Vostok was about to sink while she was still below decks.
Svetlana put the thought out of her mind. She would have done it anyway, even if it killed her. The information on board, particularly about whatever strange material her captain had purchased which ultimately froze the ship, would have been enough to incriminate her government. No, she would have sunk the ship anyway.
She started to run, racing across the icy passageway, and climbed up the deck.
Behind her, seawater had already reached the hatchway and was now flooding the passageway. She grabbed the ladder and started to climb.
Before she reached the top, a hand reached down to grab her.
It was Sam’s. She took it, and he pulled her up.
“Quick!” he said. “The Vostok’s about to go under!”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Svetlana ran across the icy deck. The Vostok was sitting much lower in the water, and its fishing deck was already at the same level as the sea, with the gentle crest of the ocean’s swell lapping along the icy deck.
Next to it, the bow of the pleasure cruiser, which was previously much lower than the Vostok’s deck, was now above it, meaning that they would need to climb to reach it.
She felt the Vostok sink beneath her as she jumped to reach the bow.
Another stranger grabbed her and pulled her up over the railing onto the plea
sure cruiser. Behind her, Sam made the large jump, gripped the railing and pulled himself up and over, onto the expensive teak deck of the pleasure cruiser.
The pilot of the Matilda didn’t wait for introductions, but instead threw the yacht into gear, and powered the engines.
It took seconds for them to break away from the stricken Vostok.
Svetlana took in a deep breath, reveling in the warmth of the tropics as she watched Russia’s most technologically advanced intelligence gathering vessel slip beneath the waves, and disappear into the depths of the South Pacific Ocean.
She exhaled. She had pulled it off.
Sam Reilly turned to face her, his piercing blue eyes fixed on hers, as though he could read her thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He grinned as though it had nothing to do with him.
“What is it?” she persisted.
“Do you want to tell me why you just opened the seacocks and intentionally sank your vessel?”
Chapter Forty
Sam studied her response.
Her full lips formed a coy smile that he was almost certain was well practiced, rather than natural. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Excuse me?”
A wry smile formed on his lips and his eyes narrowed. “Did you just open the seacocks?”
Conflict twisted her face into a grimace of indecision. For a moment Sam thought she was going to lie, but instead, thinking better of it. She answered with the truth or a very near version of it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“We’re a scouting trawler. Some of the places we go aren’t strictly legal for international fishing, and some of the locations and in-depth fishing analysis are the company’s intellectual property. I figured the best thing I could do was to sink the ship. It’s not like it was going to be repaired. Besides, it would have served as a dangerous hazard to any other would-be rescuers.”
Sam knew she was lying, but that suited him fine. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time, don’t open all the seacocks, or your vessel might drag you under before you get a chance to get free.”
She put her palms upward in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. I’ll remember that. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Sam stood up, recalling his manners, he said, “You’d better come down below and get warm. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Well, we’d better find something for you to eat, too.”
Sam stepped onto the flybridge.
He said, “Tom, meet Svetlana, the only survivor from the trawler.”
Tom had taken the Matilda back to an idle and cut the engine. The swell was calm, and there was no point heading anywhere until he knew where they were heading. Tom glanced at Svetlana, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tom. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge there. Sam will grab you some warm blankets. Let me know if I can do anything for you. You’ve no doubt been through a lot.”
“Thank you,” she replied, taking a seat and wrapping a warm blanket around her.
Sam opened the fridge. It was stocked with fresh seafood and a variety of sandwiches with fresh meats. “Hope you’re not allergic to seafood, that’s all we appear to have stocked. Wait... it looks like we have premade sandwiches too.”
“I’ll take the sandwiches, thanks.” She took a large swig of water from the cup.
Sam put out a plate of seafood and one with sandwiches. “Help yourself to whatever you like.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
“Not a problem.” Sam said, “We have a satellite phone on board. Do you want to use it to call someone?”
Svetlana finished drinking her cup of water. “Soon. There’s a lot of people to call. I’m not really sure who protocol dictates I should contact first. This is the first time I’ve been on a ship that’s sunk.”
“I bet you’re the only person who’s been on a ship that froze in the tropics,” Sam said. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what’s caused the accident?”
“Not a clue. I work in the dark hull, beneath the waterline. My expertise is in bathymetric imaging, which normally refers to sonar-generated 3D mapping of the seafloor, but I was employed on the Vostok to study fish life and their environments.”
“Interesting,” Sam said, impressed by how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. “And you have no idea how that whole crazy freezing thing happened?”
“Sorry. Like I said, I was below decks at the time. Luckily, the room I work out of is insulated with soundproofing to prevent any sound intrusions from affecting the hydrophones I was using. As a consequence, I survived, while my crew all died.”
“That was fortunate. Pity we’ll never know what happened.”
Svetlana shifted uncomfortably in the leather lounge, uncertain if she was being reprimanded for intentionally sinking the Vostok, and thus destroying any evidence of what happened. She appeared to regain her composure quickly and asked, “What are you and Tom doing here?”
“Fishing.”
“Really?” she sounded incredulous. “Where did you come from?”
“San Cristóbal, Galapagos Islands.”
“That’s nearly two hundred miles north of here.”
Sam shrugged. “We like offshore fishing.”
“Well, you won’t have much luck out here. There are more than two thousand feet of water below our keel, I wouldn’t think there’d be a lot of fish out here, and I’d know, I’m an expert fish finder.”
“Right,” Sam said, and they both knew each other was lying.
“How long will you stay in the area?” she asked.
“Two more days. Possibly three. We’re waiting to meet up with my ship.”
“Your ship?” she cocked a delicately trimmed eyebrow. “I thought the Matilda was yours?”
“No. Just a rental. My ship’s on its way.”
“What’s sort of ship do you own?” she sounded impressed.
“It’s an old icebreaker, actually.” Sam smiled, ready to end the game of secrets. “But it’s been refitted to work in ocean salvage. Her name’s the Maria Helena. You might have heard of her?”
“Really?” she said, unable to conceal her interest. “What’s she doing out here? I hope you don’t expect to salvage the Vostok?”
Sam laughed. “No way in hell. As you pointed out, we’re in more than 2000 feet of water here. There’s nothing onboard the Vostok to entice me to drag her out.”
Svetlana asked directly, “So, what are you looking for?”
“A missing nuclear attack submarine called the USS Omega Deep.”
Her face paled. “What makes you think it’s out here?”
“Nothing. I was hoping you might be able to tell me where it is.”
“Why?” She couldn’t contain her concern now. “What makes you think I know anything about a missing submarine?”
Sam smiled. “Well, for a start, you were in the process of tracking her when your strange weather event occurred.”
Chapter Forty-One
Sam studied her face in silence.
Svetlana was attractive, not just beautiful, but striking. Earlier, she had flirted with a coy and coquettish appearance that didn’t match her obvious intelligence. That façade had been stripped back like the curtains at the opera, revealing a cold, calculating, hardness in her gaze. Her lustrous dark hair was smartly tied back in a single plait. She wore no makeup whatsoever. She had intelligent, smoky blue-gray eyes and a strong nose. Her jaw line was prominent, with high cheek bones, leading to a rosebud mouth and full lips that now appeared set with defiance.
She didn’t deny the truth, nor did she refer to it. Instead, she said, “Now what?”
“Now, we wait until my ship arrives. When it gets here, it will be with a support vessel. You may, if you choose, decide to join our support vessel, which should be able to accommodate you, and find a means of transport so that you can return home.”
H
er eyes narrowed. “And what will you do?”
“Tom and I will continue to search for the Omega Deep.”
“You’re in the U.S. Navy?”
“No. Like I said, we work in ocean salvage. Our ship’s racing here as we speak and when it gets here, we intend to find the submarine if it has indeed ended up on the seabed somewhere.”
“You’re civilians?”
“Yes.”
“What’s a nuclear attack submarine to you?”
“We’re Americans. You could call it patriotic duty to help. We have the technology, and we’re going to try to help, if we can – as we would, if there was any other stricken submarine of any nation. Of course, for us, the Omega Deep is personal.”
“Why?”
“Its commander just so happens to be Tom’s father.”
Sam had a bite of a roast beef sandwich. In the excitement of the past few hours, he hadn’t realized he’d neglected to eat lunch.
Svetlana was the first to break the silence. “So, you’re willing to let me go?”
“Of course,” Sam said, his face a show of mocked indignance. “What sort of people do you take us for? As soon as we meet up with our support vessel, you can go aboard, and see what they can do to help you get home.”
“Don’t you want to interrogate me and find out if I know where the Omega Deep is?”
“No. You already said you didn’t know.”
“And you believe me?”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“Because I know how its cloaking technology works, and we can’t track it, so there’s no way for you to track it.”
“But you knew the Vostok came into recent contact with the Omega Deep?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The way your vessel froze all of a sudden. It’s a problem with the highly unstable material blackbody, which I presume some of your crew were experimenting on. Given that the Omega Deep had the last known supply of the rare element, it’s only natural to assume that you made contact with it or someone who’d made contact with it.”
Omega Deep (Sam Reilly Book 12) Page 19