OUTCAST Ops: The Poseidon Initiative

TWENTY-NINE

Dante and Jasmijn dropped down into the ocean next to the oil rig’s concrete column. They could see some thirty to forty feet in any direction, the water being clouded by floating microscopic plants and animals called plankton. Dante gripped Jasmijn’s arm to halt their descent.

She opened her eyes wide. What?

He took the underwater slate clipped to the dive vest and wrote on it with the attached pencil.

DO U REALLY NEED ANEMS TO MAKE ANTIDOTE? He’d been wondering this since she brought it up in the lab, but this was the first opportunity he’d had to communicate with her alone.

Jasmijn gave an exaggerated nod that would not be hidden by the gear she wore.

Dante scribbled on the slate again.

SAW LADDER UP TO RIG DURING SWIM OVER. SIDE FACING AWAY FROM BOAT. WE COULD TRY TO HIDE ON RIG, LET THEM THINK WE HAD DIVE ACCIDENT.

They hung suspended in the water while Jasmijn comprehended what he proposed. Then she nodded again. What did they have to lose? There was no doubt that once Hofstad had the working antidote, she would no longer hold any value to them. She harbored no illusions that they would kill her. She took her own slate and wrote on it: OK BUT GET ANEMS FIRST. NOT FAR BELOW.

Dante gave her the diver’s OKAY signal, thumb and forefinger in a circle, and then the pair descended further along the oil rig’s support structures. When they reached a brace system at a depth of sixty feet where multiple struts branched off in various directions, Jasmijn tapped Dante on the shoulder and pointed to one of the flat metal surfaces.

It was covered with white sea anemones, outwardly resembling a bed of flowers. Thick schools of silvery fish swarmed in broad circles around the oil rig pillars.

Jasmijn approached the anemones and deftly pulled one off and dropped it into her bag. She repeated the process a few more times, the uprooted animals dropping to the bottom of her bag in a tangle of silky tentacles.

She signaled to Dante that she was ready to ascend. Their air supply would last longer at shallower depths, although they also needed to avoid detection. The water was not so clear they had to worry about being seen from the boat while they were underwater, but she recalled the Hofstad leader’s words with a chill: We will be following your air bubbles to see where you come up.

She halted Dante and wrote on her slate: OUR BUBBLES?

Dante glanced at it and nodded. He pointed to her air gauge. 2,200 psi. Glanced at his own. 1,800. Figures she has better air consumption, Dante thought, shrugging out of his tank. Women usually do, and she was a much more experienced diver. He wished they could have Liam here, but things were what they were and he would deal with it.

He carefully inflated his buoyancy compensator device (BCD) until it was neutrally buoyant. Then he took a small reel of safety line and used it to tie the vest in place around a steel girder. He loosened the regulator’s purge valve until a steady stream of air bubbles trickled from it and rose toward the surface.

They had to act fast now. It might not take long for the men on the boat to realize that there were two bubble streams far apart, the real one not as constant. But they weren’t experienced divers, so it just might work. Even if they did spot the two streams, they would probably assume they had split up and would hopefully pursue the wrong one first.

Dante breathed from Jasmijn’s “octopus,” or spare regulator mouthpiece, designed with a longer hose to be an emergency regulator in an out-of-air situation. Thus tethered to her side, they swam upward at an angle toward the ladder Dante had spotted on the far side of the rig. They kicked through a maze of steel support beams encrusted with marine growth, the water growing lighter around them and more turbulent as they rose. They were extra vigilant to avoid becoming entangled in the myriad snags of monofilament fishing line, since Hofstad had seen to it that they not be allowed to carry dive knives, normally be worn for that purpose.

After a few minutes they could see the large pillars marking the far edge of the oil platform. Dante checked their remaining air: 1,000 psi. Enough to get to the ladder, but there wouldn’t be much in reserve should something go wrong. He also worried that the ladder might not extend all the way to the waterline. If it was designed for boarding by boats only, it might be too high above the water for them to reach.

But it was time to find out. They passed between two massive support pillars at a depth of about ten feet, and looked up. They could see the watery, distorted shape of the oil platform above, beckoning. If they could get up there, they might be able to hide, to summon help.

Swimming to the far side of one of the pillars so that it would hide them from the boat, Dante and Jasmijn surfaced at the oil rig.