“Then why are you working for Gadaire?”
Josh paused a moment before answering. “He makes weapons, Hannah. Just like you’ve done on occasion.”
“It’s not the same.”
“It’s all just a matter of degree, isn’t it?”
Hannah looked ahead and realized that her formation would soon move beyond the well-lit city center and toward the darker valleys that lay beyond. “There’s a line, Josh. You spied for him, and now you’re willing to kill for him?”
“No one was supposed to get hurt. I’m just here to protect the mission.”
“Are you really that naïve? Gadaire puts you behind the controls of a submersible with missile launchers, and you think no one is supposed to get hurt?”
“It’s just a job. An extremely well-paying job. Just like I work for you and your weapons.”
He was rationalizing. She could argue with him all day or just appeal to the Josh she had known for years. “Help us. Please. How many more of you are down here?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“Josh, don’t do this. If Gadaire succeeds, millions of people could be killed.”
“I don’t want you to become one of them, Hannah.”
Matthew’s voice cut in. “Josh, you need to get to the surface now.”
Josh laughed incredulously. “Is that an order?”
“Your hull is damaged. I think your partner’s already dead back there, and you will be, too, if you don’t get topside in a hurry.”
“You’re a bad bluffer, Matthew.”
“I can see the damage. You climbed into a ten-year-old retrofitted piece of shit and took on Hannah Bryson’s latest subs. How did you think it was going to end? You’re putting even more stress on it right now. Slow down!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’re wobbling. Everything in there probably feels like it’s about to shake loose. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Oh God, yes.” Josh didn’t say anything else for a moment. “Stay back, Matthew. There are three more Guardian subs in the alga field. I’d bet you’re already in their sights.”
“Josh!” Matthew’s voice was agonized.
Hannah heard a sickening roar, a rush of static.
Then nothing.
The only sound was the whisper-quiet engine of her sub. “Matthew?”
“Yeah.” Matthew spoke hoarsely. “He’s gone, Hannah. His hull ruptured, and he . . .” The words caught in his throat. “Josh is gone.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
“Hannah,” Kirov said gently.
“I know.” Her eyes opened, and she said huskily, “Stay in the moment.” She drew a deep breath. “Okay, Matthew. Let’s rejoin the party and finish this.” She switched back to the team’s radio frequency. “Are you there, Sandford?”
“Nice of you to drop back in, Bryson.”
“There are three Guardian minisubs in the alga field. One or all three may be harvesting, but they’re all weapons-equipped.”
“Just how do you know this?”
“Trust me. We’re almost there. Watch your hyperspectral scanner readings. Their targeting systems will heat up as they lock in on Matthew. He’s over there now.” She shared a worried glance with Kirov. “Don’t wait for your onboard system to identify the spectral signature. When they heat up, lock on and fire. Matthew’s life depends on it.”
“They’ll have a head start in locking in on their target,” Helms said.
“I’m sure our systems are faster,” Hannah said. “Are you comfortable with that, Matthew?”
“Comfortable isn’t really the word. But since I’m here, may as well use me to draw them out.”
Hannah searched for their other subs in her viewport. “Where’s Reynolds?”
“Trying to tow McCallister to the surface,” Sandford said. “He has fairly substantial damage, so it’s just the four of us.”
Kirov was staring intensely at his console. “I have two targets lighting up.”
“Wait for my order to fire,” Sandford said.
Hannah was incredulous. “Have you been listening to me?”
“Guys . . . ?” Matthew sounded panicked.
“Easy, Matthew. Firing at two targets,” Kirov said. “Missiles engaged.”
Hannah felt the sub’s engines automatically revving to counteract the thrust of the twin missiles firing from each wing.
“Dammit, Kirov!” Sandford shouted. “Everyone stand down.”
Hannah saw two more missile flashes, and she realized that Matthew had also fired. She watched the four trails as they rocketed over the ocean floor. The trails converged, and Hannah lost sight of them. Seconds passed. A bright, almost blinding, light filled her viewport, and a low rumble shook her submersible.
She shouted into her microphone. “Matthew, are you okay? Matthew?”
No reply.
She checked her viewport indicator. Matthew’s name still appeared on its surface, so at least his transponder was operational. But that was no guarantee that he—
“I’m here.” Matthew’s voice. “Still in one piece.”
“Good,” she said. “I can breathe again.”
“I can confirm two minisubs destroyed. I got a visual.”
“What about the third?” Sandford asked. “If there is a third.”
“There is. I saw it. It was trying to tow a large sled. Probably the TK44 they harvested.”
“What do you mean trying to tow?” Hannah asked.
“The sub may have been damaged in the explosion. They cut and ran. The sled is still here on the ocean floor.”
“You have a visual on that?” Sandford asked.
“Yes, I’m coming up on it now.”
“Good,” Sandford said. “We’ll be right there.”
Within a minute, Hannah, Sandford, and Helms cruised over the massive crater created by the missile strike. The water was still thick with blast sediment.
“Amazing,” Hannah said. “The entire alga field is gone.” She looked ahead and saw Matthew hovering over the large underwater sled, an enclosed contraption similar to the type she had used to collect artifacts from the ocean floor. Hannah studied her sonar screen. “We can track that last minisub. There’s a good chance it will lead us straight to Gadaire.”
“Negative,” Sandford said. “We’ll secure the sled and prep it to bring to the surface.”
“What?” Hannah said. “Hell, no. They’re getting away.”
“That’s not our priority.”
“Why not? This may be our only chance to positively link this operation to Gadaire. For God’s sake, he murdered your commanding officer down here.”
“Our orders are to secure the TK44. With that field gone, this may be the last of it left on earth.”
“Good. Let’s destroy it and go after that sub.”
“Those aren’t our orders.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Kirov nodding. This was what Kirov had feared, she realized.
“You want the weapon,” Hannah said. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? That’s why you didn’t want to fire into the alga field, even though Matthew’s life was on the line. You just want the damned weapon.”
“I have my orders, Bryson. And now you have yours.”
“It won’t do you any good. Melis Nemid’s scientists are already developing a chemical to counteract it.”
“Good,” Sandford said. “We don’t want a superweapon that we can’t control. Control is everything.”
Hannah turned to Kirov. “It’s exactly what you thought.”
“I would have been happy to be wrong.” He met her gaze meaningfully. “But Sandford is right. Being in control is very important.”
She slowly nodded as she understood what he was trying to tell her. She spoke into the microphone. “Do what you want, Sandford. I’m going after that sub.”
“If you do, I’ll have your security clearance revoked. You’ll never work on another military proje
ct as long as you live.”
“Really?” Hannah checked her sonar screen and eased the minisub backwards. “I guess it will come down to who has more powerful friends, Sandford.”
“Don’t do this . . .”
Matthew entered the conversation. “I’m coming with you, Hannah.”
“Sorry, Matthew. I think your weapons system may have a little glitch. I want you to get to the surface.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s for the best. Good luck.”
Hannah accelerated upward and turned off her radio so that she wouldn’t have to hear Sandford shouting at her. In another two minutes, the group’s running lights were tiny dots in her rearview monitor. She turned toward Kirov. “We should be able to catch up with that sub, especially if it’s damaged.”
He nodded. “I’m surprised Matthew gave up so easily. He wanted to come with us.”
“He’d never argue with me when the safety of his vessel is at stake. And besides, I talked to him before we left the Copernicus. He knows he’s needed back there.”
Matthew spun his sub around and rose above Sandford and Helms, gazing down at the sea sled they had hooked between them. They were towing it in tandem, slowly bringing it to the surface.
“Just be glad you didn’t take off with her,” Sandford said. “It was a career-wrecking move. You’re too smart for that.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Have you considered a career in the Navy? We could use you on our team.”
“I’ve already been in the Navy. I liked it. I just like my life better now.” Because I don’t have to deal with pricks like you, Matthew thought.
He felt a low rumble in the water. What the hell . . .
It was as if an oil tanker was approaching.
Matthew stared at his instruments, not quite believing what they told him. “Guys, look at your sonar. The entire right side of the monitor is covered by . . . something. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Matthew leaned forward and looked out his viewport. He gasped. There, hard starboard, was a massive shadow that might have been left by a dozen oil tankers.
“What the hell is that?” Helms whispered.
“We need to get out of here,” Matthew said. “Drop that damn sled.”
“No way,” Sandford said. “Don’t even think about letting go, Helms.”
As the shadow drew closer, Matthew realized that he had seen it before, on that terrifying last afternoon in Marinth. “My God, dolphins. Thousands and thousands of dolphins. And I think they’re pissed.”
The first wave hit Sandford, Helms, and the sled like a wall of stone. Matthew, now over a hundred feet above them, was spared the brunt of the attack, but he was still capsized by their brute force. He watched as the other two vessels tumbled through the water, struck repeatedly, and swept away from the sheer force of the onslaught.
Helms released his vessel’s claw-grip on the sled, leaving Sandford alone to wrestle it with the mechanical arms. “I’ve got to use the missiles!”
“They’re too close and almost a solid mass,” Sandford said. “We’ll blow ourselves up unless we can get some distance from them.”
Before Helms could regain control, another wave of dolphins struck them, flipped the sled upward, and slammed it against Sandford’s viewport.
“It’s the sled, dammit,” Matthew yelled. “Let go of it!”
The dolphins’ crushing force was now directed almost entirely at Sandford. They spun around him, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Their speed and sheer mass made navigation impossible, and his sub spun with their current until the accumulated force flung him from the whirlpool and wrenched the sled from his grip.
The dolphins, moving as one, swam toward the lights of Marinth and circled back in a long arc.
The water still churned as Matthew raced toward the sled.
“Good man,” Sandford said. “Grab it.”
Instead, Matthew moved his sub fifty feet over the sled, then froze in place. “Keep away, guys. Dammit, I’ve just had a weapons malfunction. Hannah warned me . . .”
Sandford managed to right his vessel, though he still apparently had difficulty with the propulsion system. “What kind of malfunction?”
“Two mines discharged. Get back!”
The softball-sized explosive charges dropped through the water and fell directly onto the sled’s top surface.
They exploded, incinerating the sled and its contents.
After the last of the shock waves had subsided, Matthew called out on the radio. “Oops. Are you guys all right?”
“This is treason,” Sandford hissed.
The dolphins had completed their long arc around the city and had almost finished their return trip. “Hold tight,” Matthew said. “Our friends are back.”
Matthew braced himself for another pounding, but this time the dolphins passed overhead and circled for a full two minutes. Then they rushed toward the surface in a corkscrew pattern.
“What the hell was that about?” Helms said.
Matthew took a moment to catch his breath. “They obviously weren’t happy with you. We went through the same thing when we brought up the trellis. Maybe they somehow knew we shouldn’t have those things.”
“Don’t give me that new-age crap. I’m bringing you up on charges,” Sandford said. “Hannah Bryson may never work again, but you’re going to jail for that stunt you pulled with the mines.”
“Weapons malfunction,” Matthew repeated. “They released on their own.”
“Bullshit.”
“Must be something your military people did to the control system. You really shouldn’t have monkeyed around with Hannah’s design without consulting her . . .”
CHAPTER
19
“What the hell happened down there?” Gadaire shouted into the radio of his Colombian-made submarine. “Five of my minisubs went down, and only one is coming up?”
That one survivor, Lane Garvin, had managed to raise him on the underwater wireless system. His voice was thin and laced with static. “They were ready for us. Some kind of attack minisub I hadn’t seen before. Sort of . . . winged.”
It had to be Bryson’s minisubs. None other came close to that description. Gadaire cursed. He had already sold those minisubs she had destroyed, and this was going to cost him dearly. “How much of the TK44 did you get?”
Garvin hesitated. “None of it.”
“Tell me I didn’t hear that correctly.” His voice was low and vibrating with anger. “Tell me I didn’t contract a bunch of fools to carry out the most important project of my career. Can you tell me that?”
“All hell broke loose. I was lucky to get away with my life. My ship is damaged. I have to get out of this thing before it takes me down to the bottom.”
“Where are you now?”
“Maybe a couple miles out. I’m heading straight for you. Prepare to take me aboard.”
“Has it occurred to you that you may be leading them to me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? Break off, Garvin. Do you think you’re the only one in trouble? I’m having to go on the run myself. I don’t dare go to Fuertenventura as I planned. They could be waiting for me. I’ll have to change course for Las Palmas. I’ll radio you with new rendezvous coordinates later.”
“I have you on my sonar. I need to keep pace with you. I’m not sure how much longer my vessel can last.”
“I said break off.”
“And I said I can’t.”
Gadaire nodded to Asad, a bald Somali with light brown skin. Since the submarine was not equipped with an integrated weapons system, the Colombians had devised an effective solution to combat the military and police patrols that might discover and pursue them. Asad, in his capacity as weapons officer, had adopted the technique for use in Somali waters. He climbed the steel ladder that would take him to the outside top deck.
“Okay. I can see you’re in a bad sit
uation.” Try to sound sympathetic toward Garvin. As sympathetic as a cat toward a mouse. He turned back to the control board and changed course to intercept the Atlantic-Tenerife sea-lane that would lead him to Las Palmas. Then he upped the speed.
Damn Bryson and Kirov. All his escape plans were centered on that airport at Fuertenventura. He’d be lucky to get to a safe haven before anyone caught up with him. He turned back and spoke again on the radio to Garvin. “All right. We’ll wait ten minutes.”
“That’s all I need.”
That’s all I’ll need, Gadaire thought. He climbed the ladder and joined Asad on the top deck.
Boom.
“What the hell was that?” Hannah asked. The explosion came from up ahead, in the direction of the minisub they had been pursuing. “Are they firing at us?”
“Too far away,” Kirov said. “But it’s possible that with the damage sustained, they—” He looked at his instruments. “Wait. It’s gone.”
“Did we lose track of it again?”
“I don’t think so. I’m picking up some diffuse matter in the water ahead . . . Debris.”
“The minisub?”
Kirov nodded. “Either its damage was worse than we thought, or—”
“Gadaire,” Hannah said. “That fits with his M.O., doesn’t it? Eliminate anyone who might incriminate him?”
“We need to be careful,” Kirov said. “Remember Captain Danbury’s report on Gadaire came back that he was probably in a submarine himself.”
Hannah slowed her rate of speed. “But we aren’t sure.”
“I’ll broaden the sweep, but it doesn’t look like he has a ship in the area. It would be much easier for him to travel undetected in a sub.”
Hannah studied the sonar. “So far I’m not detecting anything. There’s only one ship in the area, and it—” Hannah felt a chill run through her. She had been so intent on tracking the minisub that she hadn’t made the connection, hadn’t realized how far and in what direction they’d been traveling.
They had just reached the Atlantic-Tenerife sea-lane.
“Oh, my God.”
Could he be so lucky?
Gadaire stared at the schooner in the distance.
He was in the control room reworking his route to Las Palmas when he’d spotted the distinctive masts of Fair Winds. He hadn’t even been aware that the schooner was still in these waters after the most recent Marinth expedition concluded.
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