MK10.
Dear God in heaven.
Hannah ran into the forward torpedo room, where the earsplitting alarm was even louder than it had been at the compass module. She opened a supply locker, where eight MK10 submarine escape-and-immersion suits hung. They probably hadn't been touched since a drill years before.
She knew that the British-made MK10s were standard-issue equipment in almost every submarine fleet in the world, but she hadn't been aware the Russians used them until her first visit aboard Silent Thunder. They had never been extensively used in crisis situations. The bulky, padded outfits were created for one purpose: for emergency deep sea escapes, commonly through a hatch. In extreme situations the wearer could climb into a firing tube and be shot out like a torpedo. It had always seemed to be an absurd notion to Hannah, since extreme depths would kill its wearer anyway, and in shallower waters there were far safer alternatives to evacuating a submarine.
Except maybe this time, this place.
She slid into the salt-encrusted suit and fastened the buckles at her waist, wrist, and ankles. If only Conner could see her now. He'd love this.
Kirov jumped through the hatch. "Hurry, Hannah. Put on the helmet and climb into the tube headfirst."
"What about Pavski?"
"Pavski will be taken care of."
She looked down to see that Kirov was holding his canvas bag, the one in which he'd carried Niler's explosives.
It was now empty.
She stared at Kirov as realization dawned. "You booby-trapped the sub."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Where it will do the most damage."
"The aft fuel tanks?"
He nodded. "Being a museum piece wouldn't suit Silent Thunder. She'll like going down in a blaze of glory."
"How soon?"
"She only has a few more minutes to live."
"Like anyone who's still in here when those charges detonate."
Kirov motioned toward the open torpedo chamber. "Quickly. Pavski may already be inside the sub."
"We haven't tested the torpedo tubes. They may not even fire anymore. They might just fill with water and drown us."
"That's why you have to go first."
"Are you joking?"
"If there's a malfunction, I need to be here to pull you out." He took the helmet and opened the latches. "It looks like I'm only your support team once again."
"It's too risky. These things were finicky even in the best of circumstances."
"You'll be fine." He smiled. "Remember what I told you about the Silent Thunder having a soul?"
"You mean that bit about her coming through whenever you needed her most," she said unevenly.
"Yes. She's not about to let us down now."
"You'll be right behind me?"
"There's a trigger switch inside the tube. Once you're away, I'll go myself."
She stiffened as a sudden memory of the nightmares he had told her about came back to her. "You're lying."
"Hurry, Hannah."
"No." She stepped back. "You're planning to go down with your ship, you crazy Russian."
"There isn't time for this."
"This is insane. However you feel about the Silent Thunder's socalled soul…"
"I didn't say I was-"
"You've served her well, Kirov," she said desperately. "Now let her go."
"We're out of time."
Kirov slammed her against the bulkhead and dropped the helmet over her head. As she struggled to break free, he fastened the latches.
"Thank you, Hannah." He leaned so close that his breath fogged her faceplate as he spoke. "Thank you for everything." He smiled gently. "Pomni, ya vsegda ryadom."
He picked her up and pushed her into the open hatch of torpedo tube four.
"Kirov, come with me," she called frantically. "The same tube at the same time. Don't do this!"
The hatch slammed shut behind her.
Darkness.
Silence, except for the faint knocking of engines.
Damn him.
She heard, then felt, a trickle of cool salt water pouring into the chamber. Could the old pumps even pull this off?
The trickle became a stream, and the stream became a torrent. Water leaked through the suit's tattered seams. She became buoyant, floating in the center of the chamber.
The water climbed higher. She held her breath, trying to preserve the precious little oxygen her suit still held. The water ran cold against her cheek.
The moment of truth. She crossed her ankles, lowered her head, and folded her arms across her chest. She wished she'd inspected the tube. A piece of twisted metal or a bent plate in her path would tear her to shreds.
The Silent Thunder is always at her best when you need her most.
Hannah suddenly relaxed. Nestled in the Silent Thunder's watery embrace, she somehow felt… protected. Cared for. Treasured.
Was the lack of oxygen making her loopy?
Probably.
Or maybe she was just an atheist in a foxhole.
A roar filled her ears, and thousands of pounds of pressure slammed her from behind.
Pavski, Koppel, Lepin, and Norzalk stood on the bridge, staring at the smoldering remains of the navigational computer.
"Blin!" Pavski swung the butt of his gun toward the console.
"Wait," Koppel said. "This means Kirov and Bryson must have the coordinates. All we have to do is find them, and…"
Koppel fell silent as they felt a distinct vibration and heard the release of enormous pressure from the sub's hold.
"It's the torpedo chamber," Pavski said.
Koppel eyes widened. "The escape suits. They're getting away?"
Pavski ran for the hatch. "Or we were meant to think they are. Kirov is a driven man. He wouldn't give up this chance to take me out."
They moved down the narrow midship stairwell to the engineering level, where the engine noise was almost deafening. He motioned for Lepin and Norzalk to proceed down the starboard service corridor. They nodded and disappeared through the narrow hatch.
Pavski turned and stared down the main passageway. "I know you're here, Captain!"
No reply.
He and Koppel crept down the passageway with their guns at the ready. "You couldn't come this close to me without wanting to finish the job. Not when I'm standing in the gangway of this stinking monstrosity you love so much."
No response.
They were now in the mechanical section. The engine noise and diesel stench were overpowering.
"Here I am, Kirov. Your chance at last. Come and get me."
He heard Koppel whimper behind him. Stupid coward.
"Pavski," Koppel muttered.
Pavski gave him an impatient glance, then stiffened as he saw the terrified expression on Koppel's face. He slowly turned his head, and his gaze followed Koppel's to the fuel tanks.
Pack after pack of plastic explosives, mounted on either side of the fuel tanks.
The triggering mechanism flashed red and emitted a highpitched whine.
Hannah tilted her head back and clawed for the surface, writhing and spinning in the water like a towel in a washing machine. But which way was up? The direction seemed to change every second.
She'd never felt anything like this before; it was like…
Like being shot out of a freaking torpedo tube.
She finally broke the surface. She fumbled for the latches, lifted off her helmet, and tossed it into the water. Air!
There was a deep, metallic rumbling behind her. She turned to look at the sub.
The charges erupted deep within the Silent Thunder, their intensity magnified and spread by the massive fuel reserves. The back third of the submarine buckled, heaved, and tore open from the sheer explosive force.
Kirov!
More explosions, throwing spires of flame high into the sky. Silent Thunder listed hard to starboard as oil in the water caught fire around its superstructure.
She couldn'
t take her eyes off it.
In the next few minutes, the ruptured hull took on water, pulling the sub down by its stern. Pockets of air exploded to the surface. The burning, twisting metal groaned like a wounded whale. The anguished sounds continued as the Silent Thunder plunged beneath the waves, leaving a massive field of debris and burning oil in its wake.
Hannah trod water, stunned.
Kirov and the Silent Thunder. Gone.
"Goddamn you," she whispered, tears running down her face. "Goddamned men and the sea. There's no sense to you."
A white craft in the distance headed straight for her. Probably a Coast Guard cutter. Hard to steal a 560-foot Russian submarine without somebody taking notice, she thought.
She turned back to the debris field. Kirov had probably thought it was fitting for him to die with the sub he loved so much. And maybe it was.
To hell with that.
It was just one more tragic loss. She'd had enough tragedy. She didn't want Kirov to-
Something was moving, bobbing slightly out of sync with the rest of the floating debris. It almost looked like…
She swam past the pools of burning oil, a task made difficult by the sheer bulk of her suit. As she drew closer, she momentarily lost sight of the object.
Had she just imagined it?
No. There it was, less than ten feet in front of her.
The helmet of an MK10 suit.
"Kirov!"
No response.
She pushed herself forward, grabbed the suit's padding, and spun it around.
It was Kirov.
Unconscious? Dead?
She unlatched his helmet, yanked it off, and splashed water in his face. "Wake up. You come back to me, Kirov. Do you hear me?"
He couldn't die. Not now.
"Kirov!" She slapped his face as hard as she could.
He opened his eyes. "That hurt."
Relief surged through her. "Can you move? Wiggle your toes."
He nodded. "I'm fine. You?"
"Yes."
"Any sign of Pavski?"
"No. He's gone."
He glanced at the debris and burning oil. "And so is the Silent Thunder."
"Yes. I was afraid you were-"
"The thought occurred to me. After all, there is a certain tradition and obligation."
"Bullshit."
He smiled. "That's what I thought. Silent Thunder would want me to survive. She's saved me too many times for me not to realize that."
"You cut it close."
"I had to make sure Pavski was inside the sub. The charge went off just as I ejected."
"Then you're lucky to be alive."
"Lucky." He thought about it. "Do you know, I'm feeling very lucky at this moment. Would you like me to tell you why?"
She felt a warm surge of feeling as she looked at him.
"No." She tore her eyes away from him and glanced at the Coast Guard cutter, which was almost upon them. "Save it. That officer on the bridge looks pretty grim. We may need all the luck we can get in the next few hours."
EPILOGUE
U.S. NAVAL DESTROYER BAINBRIDGE
THE BLACK SEA
32.4° E LONGITUDE 44.1° N LATITUDE
"There it is," Hannah murmured as she stood on the top deck watching the eight-foot oval black capsule being lifted by a crane from the sea. "Right where Heiser said it would be."
"Good thing for you." Bradworth gave her a sour glance. "If you'd been wrong, you'd have been in pretty hot water with my superiors. The only reason they let you off the hook for blowing that sub is the deal you and Kirov made to give them the location."
"But we weren't wrong," Kirov said. "And you'll be able to make some pretty fancy deals yourself when you contact the Czechs and Russians. They'll be falling over each other to do you favors."
Bradworth shrugged. "The company thought Pavski would have been a much more valuable prize."
"What did you think?" Hannah asked.
Bradworth was silent as they watched the crane swing the capsule toward the deck near them. "I think Pavski is exactly where he deserved to be. That's strictly off the record, of course."
"Of course."
It was grudging approval, but in the three weeks since the destruction of the Silent Thunder, Bradworth had been surly but marginally supportive. That was all they could hope for from him considering how much flack he was taking. There had been grueling sessions of debriefing and interrogations, and the only weapon they'd had to survive was the cradle that was being carefully set on the deck.
And when weighed against the gratitude she felt for what he'd done to save Cathy's children, she had no problem with that surliness.
Bradworth glanced back at Hannah. "I understand that the maritime museum is already in negotiations to purchase another decommissioned Russian sub."
Hannah shrugged. "I talked to some friends. The Logan Foundation is giving them a very generous grant. I told them I'd donate my services if they-It's down! Come on, Kirov." She hurried over to the spot where the capsule had come to rest, steered gently into place by eight waiting sailors.
Several large bulletin boards were set up nearby, covered with photos to serve as a visual reference for the items that might make up the treasure. Two officers and three historians with bulky notebooks were standing ready to document the find.
"Easy." Kirov's gaze was on her face. "Anticipation sometimes leads to disappointment."
"Don't give me that morose Slavic bullshit. I have a right to be excited, and I'm going to run with it."
Kirov smiled. "By all means. And I'll enjoy every minute of watching you."
A young sailor with a tool kit began work on the corroded iron latches, chipping away at them with a small hammer and chisel. He worked through the latches in just a few minutes, and when he was finished, two other sailors helped pry open the capsule.
They separated the two halves to reveal thick pads of black felt padding. They lifted out the largest of the pads and carefully unwrapped it.
It was like a nesting box, Hannah thought, with each layer giving away to another, smaller package. Finally, under the eighth layer, she saw a glint of gold.
She stepped closer.
"Kolybel," Kirov said quietly.
The Golden Cradle of Princess Libushe's firstborn was less than eight feet in front of Hannah. She didn't even have to look at the visual references to know they'd found the real thing.
Gleaming in the sunlight, it was simply stunning. The craftsmanship was clean and elegant, and the sides-inside and out-featured intricate patterns that could only be the work of a master. The bejeweled rockers caught the light and bathed the onlookers in an ethereal rainbow glow.
"The paintings don't do it justice," Kirov said.
Hannah shook her head, unable to look away. "No painting could." She reached out a tentative hand. It felt… solid. Well, what had she expected? That it would vanish or crumble when she touched it? "Conner would have loved it," she said softly. "It would dazzle him…"
"It will dazzle millions once it's in a museum," Kirov said. "And you were responsible for saving it for them."
"Why are you making me out to be noble? That's crap." She turned away from the cradle and moved over to the rail. "I didn't do it for humanity. I did it to keep Pavski from getting his filthy hands on it. I wasn't going to let him have his dream even for a second."
He chuckled. "I can always count on you for blunt honesty. But I watched your expression when you saw the cradle. Perhaps it wasn't as enthralled as when you examined a fine piece of machinery, but there was a hint of bedazzlement in you too."
"Of course there was. I appreciate both beauty and antiquities. I told you I'm not like one of your submarines."
"But you are." His smile faded. "Smart and sleek and with all the thrust and heart that any captain could ever want."
She couldn't breathe. "Jesus, are you propositioning me?"
"No. I promise you'll know when I do that. But it doesn't hurt to ma
ke a few opening moves to let you become accustomed to the idea. After a few months at Marinth, I'll get serious."
Her eyes widened. "Marinth?"
"I need something to occupy my time while I decide what path to take. I contacted your employers at Marinth and told them how valuable I'd be to them during the recovery operation."
"They hired you?"
"I can be very persuasive."
God knows, she knew that was true. "It's my job. I won't let you get in my way."
He smiled. "We'll take turns being the support team. That way it will be less damaging to our egos. We can work it out."
She felt a warm surge of feeling as she looked at him. "Maybe we can. Do you think it will be worthwhile to try?"
"Oh, yes. Most definitely."
The sun was stroking his dark hair with light, and the expression in his eyes…
She suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him.
Christ, in front of Bradworth and a shipload of sailors?
She glanced away from him. "It could be difficult. I didn't like it when you slammed me into that torpedo tube."
"It was necessary. I didn't like it when you socked me in the jaw when we were in the water."
"It was necessary." She had a sudden thought. "You said something in Russian right before you crammed me in that tube. What was it?"
"Pomni, ya vsegda ryadom." His brows lifted. "If you were curious, I'm surprised you didn't look it up before this." Then he shook his head. "No, you started backpedaling even before you hit the water. You didn't want to know. I'm encouraged that you're asking now."
"Stop analyzing and tell me what it means."
"Remember, I'll always be with you," he said softly.
She felt a wave of joy and warmth so intense it almost overwhelmed her. Too intense. Don't lose control. "How completely sappy," she said unsteadily.
"What do you expect? I'm Russian. We're not afraid of being sappy when the occasion calls for it. It's you Americans who are embarrassed by sentiment." He smiled into her eyes. "Sappy can be both fitting and wonderful. Admit it."
"I don't have to ad-" Oh, what the devil. The sun was bright, treasures were being found, and perhaps another was right before her on the horizon. She smiled luminously back at him and nodded. "Okay, I admit it. Absolutely wonderful…"
Silent Thunder Page 29