by Larry Baxter
Chapter 31
* * *
Puerto Aventuras, November 10, present day
Robert and Teresa took advantage of Gabor's offer to move them into Bolero. They packed their luggage and equipment at the Akumal hotel and checked into small but well-equipped staterooms with a view of restaurant row at Puerto Aventuras. Setting up the videoconference system on deck, they contacted Dr. Teppin and filled him in on the recent events.
"Excellent, really excellent," said Teppin. "I thought Gabor would come through for you. So are you going in soon?"
"As soon as we're set up, tomorrow or the day after," said Robert, "We're going to use a robot minisub with a television camera tomorrow to look around."
"I could probably find some more soldiers for you, but I think in a cave you do not want too many people. And Kiraly, I understand, is as good as any two squads of Marines. Anything you need after you neutralize the occupation forces?"
"We may need some survey equipment. We'll be looking for a large, complete Maya laboratory, if our understanding of the glyphs is correct. We didn't see anything even close in our previous trip. How's our budget?"
"I have been in touch with Washington," said Teppin, "and they've given me a blank check. I will set up an account in Mérida with five hundred thousand dollars to start. Let me know when you need more."
"Wow," said Teresa. "The heck with saving the world. Let's grab it and fly to Pago Pago."
"Could you order an underground radar for us?" asked Robert, "We may have to look through some walls."
"Look for it on tomorrow's flight to Cancún. Anything else?"
"Ultrasonic subterranean imaging gear. Excavation equipment. Pneumatic hammer drills. Generator. Compressor. Power chisels. Heavy duty extension cables. Halogen lamps. Hand tools, picks and shovels. Put it on my tab."
"Pumps, in case you need to pump out a flooded cave. Support timbers. A backhoe." added Teppin.
"Maybe hold the backhoe," said Robert.
* * *
Tulum, two days later, 2:00 A.M.
Bolero prepared to sail. The power and water lines were disconnected, a check for a week's dockage was left in the marina office to reserve the spot, the motors were started, the radar was turned on and warmed up, the bridge lights were dimmed and the dock lines were cast off, all with as little commotion as possible.
The lights of the marina illuminated the scene well enough to make the outward passage through the tight channel uneventful. Bolero had twin-screw propulsion and a bow thruster, and Gabor was used to snaking clumsy hundred-fifty-foot single-screw freighters through crowded Mediterranean harbor traffic.
The white ship eased into the Caribbean Sea. The ocean was roughened by the usual fifteen-knot wind, with low swells and light chop. Bolero slipped through the well-marked channel in the offshore reef and headed south, navigating with GPS and the light of the moon—nearly full now—to the shoreline off Tulum.
They set the anchor off the reef and deployed a few fishing rods, hoping any interested parties would mark them down as another drunken night fishing expedition. Robert and Kiraly lifted the remote sub over the transom and held it in place until they heard its motor start up. In the computer room, Goldstein took control of the sub through the ultra low frequency radio link and brought the video picture from the sub's camera up on a video monitor. He added the audio channel and the side-looking sonar display.
Steering with a joystick and controlling the throttle with the computer keyboard, he gave Robert and Kiraly a thumb's up and they gathered in the computer room with Teresa, Sarah and Gabor and the boys to watch progress. Goldstein turned on the sub's lights briefly as he passed the coral reef and worked through a forest of large elkhorn coral and then turned off the lights and the motor to look around in the dark. Nothing was visible except phosphorescent fish and the refracted yellow moonlight, and nothing was audible except the splash of waves on the reef and the muffled hum of Bolero's generator.
Goldstein turned the lights back on and steered the craft under Robert's direction until he found the ribbon that marked the channel entrance. The picture changed to show the rock walls as the craft entered the tunnel, and Goldstein's computer screens showed them water speed, absolute speed, and a superimposed bird's-eye-view track on the local map. The sub's inertial navigation system substituted for the GPS navigation system, as the GPS was unable to receive the high-frequency satellite signals underwater.
Goldstein had calculated that the sub's batteries would be adequate if the sub could maintain an average absolute speed of three knots in the tunnel. As its peak speed in still water was a little better than ten knots, he was counting on the river staying under seven or eight knots. But the screen showed that the sub's speed was slowly diminishing, and Robert felt the tension in the room as they all figured out the implication. The display of absolute speed in the corner of the screen fell to two knots, then one, then a half knot.
"This is the narrow part that you could not swim through?" said Gabor in an uncharacteristic raspy whisper. "If the current is over ten knots, we can't get the sub through, hey?"
The speed display fell to zero and motion stopped, except for a slow oscillation as Goldstein fought to keep the submersible centered in the passage.
"Rats," whispered Teresa. "Do something, Robert."
"Try moving the sub up to the ceiling into that narrow crevice," said Robert.
"Don't want to get stuck."
"I know, but if you're careful, the current flow should be a little slower up there. And a little is all we need."
The sub slipped into the crevice, and they heard through the hydrophones the scraping of its hull on the rock walls. But the sub's sensors and robot arms were concentrated on its prow and underside, and it did not get snagged. Slowly the craft inched forward again and the audience let out its breath. The absolute speed display worked its way back up to three knots. Teresa leaned forward and gave Robert a noisy kiss on his forehead.
Robert had added a map note at the spot where he estimated they would find the cut to the north passage, and nearly fifteen minutes later, Goldstein closed on the spot, slowed the sub and panned the camera to make sure they didn't miss the turn.
The cut was located as advertised and Goldstein jockeyed the sub through, with the audio again announcing the scrape of steel against stone at the passage. Turning downstream, he let the sub drift without power, with the automatic ballast tanks keeping the depth at the tunnel center. The sub drifted downstream past the ladder and they saw a steel mesh net, bolted firmly to the walls and apparently controlled by a hydraulic cylinder. An armored conduit, stapled to the wall, led upstream.
Goldstein turned the sub back upstream to the ladder and guided it up to the surface, turned off the light, broke the surface with the camera pod, and looked around the cave where Robert and Teresa had first entered. The cave's light was on, showing no activity except that the hydraulic crane now held one of the green torpedoes. Goldstein held the sub in position.
"So, that's the spot, hey?" asked Gabor.
"That's the spot. The torpedo is new, maybe they're moving the inventory," said Kiraly.
"Or adding to it," said Robert. "See the water puddle underneath the torpedo?"
"Quiet now, though," said Kiraly. "Maybe they do think you bought it."
"Next time," said Goldstein, through their headphones, "I'm adding some legs to this sub so it can crawl out of the water. Evolutionary improvement."
* * *
"You're in command, Kiraly," bellowed Gabor. "Do we go?"
"We go. Pull the sub. Suit up."
Sarah, Teresa, and Goldstein were to wait on Bolero, with Goldstein continuing to monitor the robot sub and handling communications and Teresa keeping an eye on the horizon. The others dressed in Kevlar flak jackets and wet suits, and added SCUBA gear, gas masks, communications headsets, wide rubber belts that carried nine mm pistols, spare ammunition clips, lead weights, crampons, and grenades. Kiraly handed out Sig/Sauer
9mm handguns that included a powerful LED-array lamp and laser aiming spots in different colors, and showed the team how to operate the weapons.
Robert carried nylon line, pitons and caribiners, a gallon of grease, and a variety of miscellaneous gear stowed in the big zipper pockets of the black nylon combat vest. Kiraly carried an AK-47 assault rifle in a plastic bag, smoke grenades, flash-bang grenades, and gas grenades.
Teresa observed them in amazement. "I don't believe it. You can still stand up."
"Absolutely nothing to it," bragged Bartok. "Child's play. A mere bagatelle. Ice cream. Piece of cake." He fell full length on his face with a huge crash on the mercifully deep carpet, still talking in a muffled voice, "Walk in the park. Taking candy from a baby." Bela exploded into laughter.
Kiraly yanked Bartok to his feet, "Good Christ, you idiot, your sense of humor will kill us all one of these days. Those are live grenades."
"And excellent live grenades, I'm sure," said Bartok. "Sorry, Sergeant, I'll be a good little soldier from here on in, I absolutely promise. I don't know what happens to me sometimes, I guess I get a little crazy. It won't happen again, honest, sir." He walked to the transom and appeared to lose his balance, flailing his hands in the air, overbalanced into the water and screamed, "Man overboard!" Kiraly growled deep in his throat.
They launched the minisubs from the rear platform. Kiraly and Robert entered the water more gracefully, checked communications with Goldstein, and unclipped the subs. They grabbed the steering handles and pushed the throttle levers forward, working their way up the channel and coming in view of the robot sub in fifteen minutes. Then Bela and Bartok submerged, and Gabor joined them—after some last minute advice from Sarah—to await the reappearance of the minisubs. The minisubs arrived on schedule, drifting slowly up through the fresh water outflow, and they each grabbed one and motored up the passage and through the cut and then back downstream to the steel ladder, joining Robert and Kiraly.
They tied up their subs to the ladder, removed their weight belts and slung them on the lower rung. Soon the team was assembled in the water at the entrance cave, just under the surface, breathing through snorkels.
Robert poked his head up and saw the cave was as before: narrow gauge rails, forklift truck, hydraulic equipment. The air smelled strongly of oil and motor exhaust. One of the green torpedoes had been added, on a cart near the hydraulics. He pulled up Kiraly. "Your show, commander."
Kiraly nodded, and then he and Robert removed their SCUBA tanks and ran to the other end of the room to check the entrance door. Kiraly signaled all clear and the team followed.
Goldstein spoke through their headsets, "Hey, guys, if you pick me up and carry me with you, I'll watch your back." Kiraly motioned with a nod of his head to Bela and Bartok, and they returned to pick up the hundred-pound robot sub and carried it to the door.
Back on Bolero, Sarah, Teresa, and Goldstein watched the scene on the monitor. The team's breathing, a faint hum, and sounds of waves came from the speaker.
"Todd," Teresa said, "Can you show both directions at once? I know they're there in the cave somewhere, they must be."
"Sorry, no, but I can swivel the view around pretty quickly. I'll keep it scanning." The scene bounced as the robot was carried down the corridor.
She stared at the monitor as if she could will the Colombians from appearing.
Robert disengaged the latch on the door as he had the first trip, motioned them through, and produced a wooden wedge and slipped it under the door, kicking it into place, and then looping a nylon line around the door fittings. That would hold for long enough, in case more visitors arrived from the tunnel. He looked down the corridor, remembering details, as Kiraly led the team to the T intersection and peeked around the corner. No activity. The scene was still darkly illuminated with low-power incandescent lamps. But where were the intrusion alarms? Why was it so quiet? Maybe they were alone. No, that torpedo at the entrance cave, if it was full of cocaine, was probably worth more than Biloxi. They wouldn't abandon it. He couldn't believe their luck, they still seemed to be undetected.
Bela and Bartok positioned the robot on the narrow ledge, then the team strapped crampons to their feet and slipped night vision goggles over their eyes.
Kiraly moved down the ledge, staying low, his rifle ready. He disappeared around the bend, returned, and signaled for the team to follow. As they passed the bend, Robert emptied the can of grease and spread it on the floor. He checked his grip with the crampons; they worked well, the steel teeth digging through the grease into the soft limestone.
Kiraly stopped a little way up the corridor and gestured to the lights. Robert spotted the bare Romex stapled to the wall a little too high to reach and pantomimed to Kiraly who crouched, back against the wall. Robert pulled the wire cutters from a belt loop, stepped onto Kiraly's knees, reached up and cut the wire. The bright flash penetrated Robert's closed eyelids. When he opened his eyes the lights were out and he saw the scene through his night vision goggles, illuminated by the infrared lamps in their helmets. Robert then bared the ends of the cable and touched them together to short out the power. A smaller spark was accompanied by a momentary surge in the note of the generator. Robert heard a low hum. A ribbon of smoke curled up from the length of the cable and the wire in his hand got too hot to hold. As he dropped it, the hum stopped and the generator shut down. Robert hoped it was the master breaker that had tripped.
Farther down the corridor, the river dove out of sight under a rock outcropping and the corridor widened, leading to another door. Kiraly spoke quietly, "Goldstein. See anything?"
"The lights went out, is all. I'm on infrared. Nothing's moving."
"That was us, we killed the lights. Keep me informed."
He opened the door slowly and all hell broke loose. A klaxon siren sounded and room lights went on brightly. They glimpsed a workroom, with a large wall-mounted display screen, a computer console, and communications gear. Seconds later, two men looked around an open door and drew back out of sight, shouting in Spanish. Kiraly unclipped a gas grenade and rolled it into the room. The whoosh of escaping gas was heard, followed by more screaming in Spanish. Kiraly gestured the team back around the corner as a head appeared in the door, wearing a gas mask and night vision glasses and raising a rifle. A chatter of shots echoed through the cave, several of them impacting on Kiraly's chest—on the Kevlar vest—some ricocheting down the corridor. He retreated around the corner.
Kiraly emitted a blood-curdling scream, then fired a burst of three shots and the gunfire stopped. He unclipped a smoke grenade and a flash-bang grenade, yelled "Flash-bang" to his team, and threw the grenades simultaneously through the open door, shielding his eyes. The incredible noise of the explosion echoed back and forth and finally died out. Goldstein's voice, a little awed, came through their headsets, "I hope that was us?"
"That was us," confirmed Kiraly. He looked at his team. "Everybody OK?"
They nodded. Bartok's eyes were wide, looking at the bullet holes in Kiraly's chest showing the frayed Kevlar fabric. "Jeez, that scream, I thought you were killed."
"Always a good idea to let the opposition think you're hurt," said Kiraly in a whisper, "Unless, of course, you are actually hurt. Go back to the entrance cave. They'll counterattack, we can check their strength, and we can try out the grease trick."
They moved quickly back to the entrance cave. The door that Robert had blocked was still closed and quiet, he unblocked it and they slipped through. A minute or two later, they heard the opposition working down the corridor. Kiraly ran back to the bend far enough to let himself be seen, drawing a salvo, and ran back to the entrance cave. Robert thought the scraping of the crampons would give the game away, but three men ran after him, rifles raised, looking for a shot. At the bend, all three kept going straight—their legs moving in the air like cartoon characters—and fell into the river. They shouted back something Robert didn't catch as they disappeared under the outcropping.
Goldstei
n's voice again, "Was that us? That screaming?"
"That was them. Did you catch it on the monitor?"
Teresa spoke. "It's a little hard to follow. What happened?"
"Three down," said Kiraly, quietly. "All them. Unknown number remaining. Goldstein, get Sarah to handle communications. Launch the Zodiac and take it north from your position, about, what, five hundred yards?" He looked at Robert.
"Closer to three hundred."
"Three hundred yards north. Take a lamp and some quarter inch line. Look for three dead bodies, or three live ones if they can hold their breath good. Tie up the live ones, no slack. Load 'em up. Then bring the Zodiac back and tie it up. Robert, how long for the trip?"
"Something like four or five minutes."
"They'll be getting there before you do. Watch yourself."
"Now what?" asked Gabor, in an uncharacteristic whisper.
Robert spoke. "They're pretty well equipped. Night vision, gas masks."
"Everything but crampons," said Bela.
"Good thing, too," said Bartok. "I was getting a little worried, there, I don't mind saying, yessir."
"Praise the Lord," said Kiraly. He turned to Robert and continued, "If I was them, I'd sit tight, it's always easier to defend a position than to attack one. They don't know our strength or exactly what happened to the other three guys so they'll move slowly. And they could call for reinforcements. I assume there'll be an aboveground installation nearby with a minisub. They'll open the net for them, they could be here in half an hour. Or maybe if there's a dry back door, they'll be here sooner. We could be in a bit of trouble, here."
Teresa spoke through their headsets, "Goldstein's away, Sarah's got the comm, I'll get back topside and see if there's any activity."
"Use the night vision binoculars, and be ready to move ship if you're threatened," said Gabor. "You should be able to outrun anything except a Cigarette. Head towards Cancún."
"All quiet here," said Teresa after a moment.