by Steve Alten
Celeste stared out her porthole as the powerful beams illuminated a fast-moving current of muddied water swirling beneath the sub.
“Fantastic,” she whispered as the Prometheus plowed through the abyssal clouds to enter the Devil’s Purgatory.
* * *
Benedict stood by the observation window, watching the blazing star approach. So bright were the sub’s lights that life-forms living along the bottom seemed to shrivel back into the seafloor as the vessel passed overhead.
Benedict turned as Captain Prokovich climbed up from the bridge.
“You see, Vlad, our plan is working. The three Kronosaurs will not venture toward the light.”
“Aye, sir. What are your orders?”
“Have the manganese nodules loaded on board the Prometheus the moment she docks. Then inform Celeste that I wish to see her on the observation deck. Oh, and have the girl brought to the hangar for disposal.”
* * *
Jonas stood on deck in his wet suit, inspecting the Abyss Glider-2 as the crew hooked it up to its winch. Situated on its dry mount, the one-man deep-sea submersible looked more like a jet fighter than a sub. Built for speed, its hydrodynamic design and lightweight construction allowed it to fly through the sea like a manta ray. Although the Prometheus would arrive in the Trench first, the AG-2 would complete its descent in one-fifth the time it took the Geo-Tech sub.
The ten-foot-long craft was composed of two hulls. An outer casing made of Kevlar and reinforced aluminum covered the midwings, twin thrusters, and tail assembly. Within this hull was the LEXAN escape pod, the cockpit of the sub. In the event of an emergency, the pilot could jettison the clear pod from its heavier exterior casing and float topside.
Harry Moon and Mac joined him as he finished his inspection.
“Jonas, what are these two smaller housings beneath your thrusters?” asked Mac, pointing to the tail assembly. “The other sub didn’t have them.”
“The AG-One uses a rocketlike hydrogen booster for quick bursts of speed. To achieve the same effect in thirty-five thousand feet of water, we had to redesign the entire tail assembly. These housings hold two auxiliary propellers, which are powered by a liquid hydrogen and oxygen fuel. This sub’s capable of short bursts of speed that would make a torpedo jealous. Came in handy four years ago.”
“Maybe this will come in handy, too,” Harry said, passing Jonas his .44-caliber pistol.
“You think that’s necessary?”
“You’re not dealing with Boy Scouts down there. Mac told me about the videotape. If your wife is still alive, Benedict won’t keep her that way for long. The weapon’s got a full clip. My advice is to shoot to kill and sort out the bodies later. Good luck.”
Jonas looked into Mac’s eyes. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Mac averted his gaze.
“Mac—I . . . I just want to thank you, you know, for always being there—”
“Shut the fuck up. Just go down and get your wife. I expect to see the two of you back here in time for dinner.”
Jonas gave him a bear hug.
Masao was standing by the open rear hatch of the sub. He took Jonas’s trembling hands in his own, squeezing them tightly. “Jonas, you know I love you as much as I loved my own son. I know how difficult this is for you.”
“She’s alive, Masao, but that bastard will kill her unless I stop him.”
“Then listen to me carefully. True courage is doing the thing you fear doing most. There can be no courage unless you are scared. But to succeed in battle, you must move beyond fear. Find your warrior’s spirit—just as you did four years ago.”
“What about my dreams?”
“Use them. Use them to prepare yourself, but don’t make them your enemy. Remember, all of the truly significant battles are waged within the self.”
Masao gave him a quick embrace, then held open the rear hatch. Jonas crawled into the AG-2, sealing himself in the interior LEXAN pod.
Lying prone, he strapped himself into the body harness, then gave a thumbs-up through the clear nose cone of the sub. Seconds later, the AG-2 lifted away from the deck, swung over the rail, and was lowered into the sea.
The sub rolled wildly in the swells while Jonas waited impatiently for the frogmen to release the vessel from its cable.
This is really happening. With a trembling hand, he wiped sweat from his forehead. The Devil’s Purgatory . . . the hellhole where I cheated death eleven years ago. It’s as if the Trench has summoned me back into its depths to settle the score....
A diver tapped on the nose cone, signaling the “all-clear.” Jonas gunned the engines and pushed the joystick forward, the sub descending vertically at a seventy-degree angle.
“All right, you wanted me back—well, here I am! Just let me hold Terry in my arms one last time, then you can kill me!”
The deep blues of the Pacific melded into shades of purple then black as Jonas Taylor guided the Abyss Glider on its spiraling descent, racing toward his destiny.
* * *
“What do you mean, she’s escaped?” Benedict asked.
“She managed to pry off the cover to the ventilation duct and crawl through to the next cabin.”
Benedict smiled to himself. His resourceful mouse had escaped her maze, a tribute to her ingenuity. Over the years he had placed nearly two dozen subjects in similar desperate, life-threatening situations. In each case the individual had either succumbed quickly to the prospect of imminent death, or had chosen to fight until the bitter end. Benedict had studied his subjects’ responses, painstakingly cataloging character traits and personal histories, analyzing strengths and weaknesses until he had developed a set of predictors that he now used to determine which members of his staff would function best in crisis situations. To his surprise, Terry’s actions had defied his data, her fight for self-preservation actually making her stronger as her challenges became more difficult.
Such an interesting subject. A pity she has to die.
“Search the ship. Use the closed-circuit cameras in my quarters. I want her found immediately and brought to me. She’s earned my personal attention.”
* * *
Terry entered G deck’s corridor, taking her place in line behind a half-dozen men waiting to enter the docking station, which was now draining and depressurizing with the arrival of the Prometheus. Leaning back against the wall, she folded her arms across her chest and kept her head low as Captain Prokovich stormed past her, two staff members in tow.
Beads of sweat dripped down her face. She could taste toothpaste on her lips.
Stay calm ...
The titanium door of the docking station opened. She followed the crew into the vault.
The conning tower of the Prometheus opened. Three men climbed out, shaking hands with the others.
Terry made for the ladder, yielding as another crew member climbed up.
Avoiding his eyes, she slapped the man on the back and descended quickly into the Prometheus.
The vessel was empty.
Terry headed for the bathroom. She’d seal herself inside the storage locker and pray no one would look inside during the sub’s five-hour ascent.
As she turned the knob, someone inside the bathroom simultaneously pulled the door back to exit.
Terry froze, startled.
Celeste looked up, eye contact unavoidable. “Oops, sorry . . . My God—Terry? Terry, is that you?” Celeste laughed.
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. “Celeste, please don’t say anything. Help me hide inside. Please—”
“Oh, God, if only Jonas could see you now. So, have you been taking care of Benedict for me while I was gone?”
“Celeste, please—”
“Jonas and I had a great time. You know, I think he was actually relieved when I told him you were dead.”
“What?”
“Maybe I should have told him you had a sex change.”
Captain Prokovich climbed down into the sub.
“Celeste, Benedict is waiting for you on the observation—”
“Vlad, have you lost anything?” Celeste asked, pulling off Terry’s hard hat.
In a blind rage Terry grabbed Celeste by the throat and threw her to the floor, pressing her thumbnails into her trachea.
Prokovich quickly intervened. Grabbing Terry beneath her arms, he tossed her sideways through the open bathroom door. Terry’s head slammed painfully against a pipe beneath the sink.
Celeste sat up, wheezing to regain her breath. A large reddish-purple welt ringed her neck. Prokovich helped her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Celeste touched her throat, smearing away blood from a small cut. “Lock her in the hangar, but don’t harm her, understand?” She tasted her blood. “There’s something I need to take care of. I’ll join you in the hangar in twenty minutes.”
* * *
Surrounded by impenetrable darkness, Jonas quickly lost all sense of direction. Through the cold LEXAN nose cone, he stared into oblivion, his mind racing.
Anger had replaced fear, his sense of purpose giving him courage. He knew what was waiting below, but it no longer mattered.
Only Terry mattered . . .
Jonas released the joystick to wipe sweat from his palm.
He checked his depth finder: 10,085 feet.
Not even a third of the way . . .
He pushed down on the joystick.
* * *
Celeste took a deep breath, then climbed the access-tube ladder to the observation deck. Benedict was alone, staring into the abyss. She sealed the hatch behind her.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“Just thought I’d give us some privacy.” She moved behind the bar, pouring them each a drink.
He turned to face her as she finished stirring the contents of his glass. “What happened to your throat?”
“Terry Taylor attacked me aboard the Prometheus.” She handed him his drink.
Benedict smiled. “Such a resourceful girl. A shame we have to kill her.”
“I’ll handle it, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he said, finishing his drink.
Celeste moved closer. “You seem kind of melancholy. What’s wrong?”
“As Oscar Wilde once said, ‘In this world, there are two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.’”
She rubbed her hand along his inner thigh. “Maybe I could put you in a better mood.”
Benedict grabbed a fistful of her blond hair, pulling her close. “I missed you.”
She smiled, staring into his glimmering eyes. “Then fuck me.” She reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties.
Panting like an animal, Benedict led her to the nearest couch, then stopped, holding the side of his head.
“Benny, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know . . . a sudden attack of vertigo.”
“Maybe you should lie down.”
Benedict staggered forward, the room spinning around him. He looked at Celeste as the realization dawned on him. Staring into her eyes, his emerald gaze seemed more animal than human. “My drink—”
“Just a little something to help you sleep.”
He pushed her away, stumbling toward the sealed hatch.
Celeste grabbed the bottle of vodka and smashed it over the bald crown of his head, knocking him out.
* * *
Prokovich hastily bound Terry’s wrists behind her back with a length of electrical wire, then pushed her into the hangar, sealing the door from the outside.
Staring at the closed hangar door, Terry closed her eyes, remembering Sergei’s death.
“Oh, God.” She glanced around the sixty-by-thirty-foot cell, empty, save for a half-dozen UNIS robots lined up along the far wall.
Terry found herself breathing hard, her pulse pounding in her head. She struggled to loosen her bonds, seized by the reality of what awaited her.
* * *
Benedict opened his eyes, the pain rousing him from unconsciousness. He was seated in front of the observation window, his wrists and ankles bound tightly around the chair. Blood seeped from the deep gash atop his head.
“Celeste?”
“Right here.” She crossed the room and stood before him, sipping a drink.
“Why?”
“Opportunity makes the thief, isn’t that what you taught me?”
“Thought this out, have you?” he said weakly, blinking away trickles of blood from his eyes.
Celeste wiped the blood away. “I’m ready. You’ve prepared me well.”
“Perhaps. But our little empire has just gotten a lot larger. You’ll need my help.”
“I think not. Pardon the pun, but I’m tired of getting fucked in the ass. This organization could stand my touch.”
“It doesn’t . . . it doesn’t have to be like this—”
Celeste stood before him, her eyes blazing hatred. “Looking for a little mercy, Benedict? Funny, I don’t remember you giving my mother any mercy.”
“Your mother?” Benedict’s eyes widened.
“Don’t try to deny it. We both know Sergei loves to babble when he’s drunk.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since I was sixteen. From that moment on, you were mine. Every time I looked into those emerald eyes of yours, I knew I was looking at a dead man.”
“Our relationship, our bond, all that I’ve given you over the years—none of that means anything to you?”
“Why do you think I waited this long?”
“Even after the wound has healed, the scar remains.” He shook his head. “How disappointing to learn that, after all I’ve taught you, you still lack the virtues of honor and loyalty.”
“Fuck you. All of a sudden, you’re the guardian of morals?” She straddled his lap and lifted his chin, pressing the remains of the broken bottle to his throat. “Tell me, was killing that Muscovite worth my mother’s life?”
“Your mother was a whore. I took her off the street when she was only nineteen. I gave her a life, presented her to your father as a gift.”
“A gift?”
“A beautiful gift, one with something special inside. Your father was unable to have children, so I impregnated your mother and gave him a family.”
Celeste dropped the bottle and stood, covering her mouth as she backed into the LEXAN glass.
Detecting movement, the adult male Kronosaurus circled along the perimeter.
Benedict gave Celeste a sadistic smile. “That’s right. You’re my daughter.”
A thousand thoughts raced through Celeste’s mind at once.
“Your mother was ravishing, the most beautiful woman I had ever met. She was also an invaluable tool, helping me to acquire secrets from your father that eventually led to Geo-Tech’s procurement of the Tokamak reactor.”
“Is that all she was to you—a tool?”
“No.” Benedict blinked away a steady trickle of blood. “I loved her, but she was weak. After your father’s death she again turned to drugs. I found I could no longer trust her with my secrets, let alone to care for you. Her last act helped me to remove a potential enemy from the Politburo, a man whose appointment would have blocked our acquisition of the Goliath.”
“So you killed her?”
Benedict looked up at her in pain. “Celeste, dress my wound before—”
“So you killed her!”
He stared into his daughter’s eyes. “I had restored meaning to her life years before. When she again lost her way, I put her out of her misery. I had something infinitely more valuable. I had you.”
“Helluva way to treat your daughter.”
Benedict shook his head. “Your beauty captivated me. In my eyes, you were the reincarnation of your mother. My weakness for the flesh—”
She turned to face the abyss. “I understand these monsters share that weakness.” With the remote control, she turned on the exterior lights.
Benedict saw mo
vement along the periphery. “Celeste, listen to me. We could accomplish great things together. The power of the sun is ours—”
“I’ll go it alone.”
“Celeste, I’m your blood. I am what you will be, I was what you are.”
“I miss my mother.”
“Ultra posse nemo obligatur—don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
“Why, Benedict, are you begging?”
“Do you wish me to?”
“No, it’s too late. The die is cast, and I have no desire to hold a wolf by the ears.” She wiped more blood from his eyes. “If I don’t finish you off now, it could be me sitting in that chair one day.”
“It appears I taught you too well.”
“Must be in the genes.”
The male Kronosaur banked sharply, racing toward the observation room window.
Benedict closed his eyes. “Majori cedo—I yield to a superior. I suppose the goal of every parent is to see the child spread her wings greater than the nest.”
“Then you should be proud.”
He opened his eyes and saw movement coming from the abyss. “I think you’d better go.”
Celeste turned. Seeing the creature, she kissed Benedict full on the lips, then ran to the access tube and opened the hatch.
“Celeste?”
“Yes . . . Father?”
“I’ll see you in hell.”
Celeste descended the ladder quickly, resealing the hatch above her. To her right was a keypad that activated an emergency hatch designed to seal off the observation deck from the rest of the ship. She punched in her security code.
Above her head, hydraulics slid a three-ton titanium plate in place over the access-tube hatch.
Benedict continued staring into the abyss, focusing on crimson eyes that seemed to grow. From the pitch, a crocodilelike head appeared, its jaws opening wider.
With a thunderous detonation of glass, the creature smashed headfirst through the LEXAN window. The unfathomable pressure instantly imploded Benedict’s skull and collapsed the dome of the Benthos, crushing the Kronosaurus to death beneath more than twelve thousand tons of titanium. A mushroom cloud of bubbles and blood and debris rose from the flattened upper level as if God himself had crushed the top of the vessel with his heel.
A high-pitched creaking reverberated throughout the ship as the hull of the Benthos fought to equalize.