Splashdown

Chapter 7

Dane’s first instinct was to reach for his SEAL-issue Beretta M9, but although he and Bones had one on board the trawler, all the way up in the cockpit, he had foreseen no need for guns aboard the tiny submersible. He watched Bones’ frame go rigid as the Indian no doubt experienced a similar regret. Dane did have his dive knife on a sheath attached to his calf, but as they searched the shadows the figure of a man stepped into the light out from behind the crane.

He pointed a compact submachine gun Dane recognized as a TEC-9 in Dane and Bones’ direction, sweeping the muzzle back and forth between the two SEALs.

“Hands in the air! Both of you. Tall guy, don’t take another step. Sub pilot, you can stay put with your hands where I can see them.”

Dane and Bones complied. Dane made a mental note never to be without his sidearm again while out on a mission. Not that he would have had a chance to use it so far, with the intruders’ shocking element of surprise, but still. He’d feel a hundred percent better if he had it on him.

“What’s the problem?” Dane asked.

“You from that Science Channel expedition?” Bones followed up.

It was either that or the treasure hunters, since they’d seen no other craft.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man paused, his eyes taking in Bones’ full height and breadth of shoulder. “You are, without a doubt, the biggest damn Indian I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m big in a lot of ways. Ask your old lady.”

The man chuckled.

“Who are you?” Dane kept his voice level.

“You can call me Streib.” He gestured with the TEC-9 to Bones. “Here’s what I want you to do, Tonto. Use the crane to lift the sub out of the water.”

Bones moved his eyes without turning his head to look at Dane. He wasn’t much for following orders in any situation, and now, even with a gun trained on him, the idea of executing an operation involving the sub without an okay from its pilot seemed to run counter to the big man’s instincts.

“Do it,” Dane said.

“Slowly,” Streib cautioned.

Bones reached out to the button that would raise the crane arm. He pressed it and a mechanical hum filled the air as the submersible was pulled from the moon pool, water cascading from its hull.

“Stay where you are. Both of you.” Streib approached the sub, his finger still firm on the trigger of the TEC-9. He strode up to the edge of the pool.

Dane could see now that Streib was a beanpole of a man with pale skin and wispy black hair fashioned into a bad comb-over. He wore a leather jacket over jeans with a pair of rubber work boots, and a small utility belt with a holster for the Tec-9, and several smaller pouches that Dane supposed might contain things like a knife, flashlight, perhaps a radio or satellite phone.

Streib crouched and stared intently at the area of the sub that housed the grab arms and sample collection bays. He swept his weapon at Bones, to make sure he remained compliant, and then back to Dane, where the barrel lingered.

“Extend the manipulator arms.”

“That’s my department,” Bones interjected, earning another wave of the gun.

“You may tell him how to do it if he does not know how. Otherwise, just stand there and keep quiet.”

Dane reached across the cockpit to the co-pilot area and pressed a button in full view of the attacker. They heard the revving of servo-motors and then a long shaft of steel protruded from the spherical craft, its metal grasping claws clutching nothing.

“Show me the other arm.”

Dane extended the smaller manipulator appendage. The box stuck to the magnetic plate on the end of it captivated the trespasser’s attention.

“So you found them!” Streib asserted loudly, his face contorting into a mask of disbelief.

“Found what?” Bones asked.

“Bring me the box.” Streib shook the TEC-9 in Bones' direction.

Dane brought his right hand, still resting on the manipulator controls, down and slightly to the left where he deftly flipped open a plastic switch cover.

Bones moved to the grab arm and plucked the metal box from its magnetic plate. They heard objects rattling around inside.

“Open it and bring the coins to me.”

“Let's see if you're right,” Bones said. He opened the box, the hinges creaking as he raised the lid, and looked inside. “Well I'll be…”

“I said bring them to me!”

Bones walked the box over to Streib, who knelt, scooped a handful of silver coins out of the box, and placed them in his pocket. He handed the empty box back to Bones, who shook his head, walked back to the sub and put it inside the sample bay.

Streib looked up from examining one of the coins, his gun still aimed at Bones. “Now…”

Streib never got to finish his sentence. Dane punched the exposed button. Immediately they heard a high-pitched, energetic whine, followed quickly by a dull whump.

The gunman’s face erupted into a grimace of terror and confusion.

One of the missiles rocketed past his head where it slammed into the steel doorframe of the moon pool’s inner airlock. The explosion was instant and brutally powerful. An invisible fist struck them all a vicious blow as a wave of heat swept across them. Bones and the intruder were both knocked off their feet by the blast, while Dane sat suspended in the submersible, now twirling slowly in the air.

Bones recovered first from the blast and leapt to his feet. He reached the attacker in three strides, zeroing in on the hand still weakly clutching his weapon. Bones batted the weapon aside, wrapped a meaty hand around the man’s wrist, and drove his knee into the man’s exposed groin. As the fellow doubled over, Bones followed up with a knee to the forehead that sent the fellow to the ground on legs suddenly turned to rubber. He kicked the hand holding the gun hard with his rubber fishing boot, eliciting a grunt of pain and sending the firearm skittering across the deck far out of reach.

The intruder recovered enough to struggle to regain his feet. Bones dropped on the intruder, putting him into a control hold, Dane leapt from the dangling sub. He hit the moon pool deck hard, rolled, and broke into a sprint as he came to his feet. He dashed across deck and picked up the TEC-9. He checked the clip, confirmed that it was loaded, and then walked over to Bones and the attacker, gun raised.

Dane motioned for Bones to move out of the way. His partner extricated himself from the man, giving him a final shove as he stood and backed away.

It was Dane’s turn to give the orders. “On your feet, hands up.”

Their attacker wobbled to his feet like a frat boy on Saturday night. “That was loud,” he groaned. While Bones had been tested with various types of ordinance detonating in close quarters throughout BUDS school and knew what to expect, their would-be attacker had clearly been stunned by the experience.

“You’ll have to speak up so I can hear you over the ringing in my ears,” the man mumbled.

“Hands up!” Dane yelled.

The stranger complied, fingers trembling but hands held high.

“Bones.” Dane indicated a coil of polypropylene dock line nearby.

Bones grabbed it and was on the intruder in seconds, binding his hands behind his back.

“Let’s try this again,” Dane said. “Who are you and what do you want with us?”

The man took a deep breath. “My name is Roland Streib. I’m really not your enemy. You’ve got to believe me. I just didn’t handle things the way I should have.”

“Dude, you got that right.” Bones folded his arms across his chest and fixed Streib with a cold stare.

“Tell us something we don’t know, Streib.” Dane twitched the TEC-9 at their captive.

Streib narrowed his eyes and went on. “I’m the project manager for the space capsule salvage operation, for the Science Channel.” He paused, as if this credential might impress them in some way. He was met only by the stony stares of two naval warriors.

“That’s crap,” Bones said. “A TV guy carrying a TEC-9? No way.” He freed his dive knife from its sheath. “Tell us the truth or I start cutting off the parts you aren’t using at the moment.” His eyes dropped to Streib’s belt line.

Streib’s eyes widened. “It’s true! I swear! I borrowed it from an ex-military buddy of mine for this trip. We've had some anonymous threats about disturbing the past or whatever. Besides, I wasn’t going to hurt you. I only wanted to scare you away from the capsule.”

“Why?” Dane demanded.

“We’re about to raise it, for one thing. We don’t need any interference. But…” He trailed off, looking at the submersible.

“But what?” Dane pressed.

“I also wanted to see what you brought up. The coins. I tried but couldn’t get my ROV far enough inside the Bell to get them.” He stared at the manipulator arm with the magnetic attachment.

Dane followed his gaze while keeping the gun trained on him in a rock steady stance. “So what's the significance of these coins?”

Their captive managed a laugh. “You don’t have to feign ignorance. Why else would you be going to all the trouble to dive on the thing if you weren’t already in the know?”

Dane and Bones exchanged glances and Bones nodded. The meaning was clear. Dane could take first crack at extracting information from the captive — which in turn would become intel once they brought it back to the Admiral. If he failed, Bones would take over.

Dane considered the situation. Above all, he needed to maintain their cover. He disapproved of torture and he really didn’t enjoy killing, but would have considerably less choice in the matter should Streib prove to be privy to their agenda. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We did bring up that metal box, but we didn't know what was in it until you told us.”

Streib snorted. “Give me a break. Why else would you be diving on the capsule if it weren’t for the coins? There’s nothing else of real value on Liberty Bell 7. It’s a priceless piece of American space history, sure, but it’s not like you could sell it. It’s still government property that you’d have to turn over. Besides, if treasure was all you wanted you’d be on the Spanish frigate site, only a quarter mile from here.”

Dane thought fast. Apparently this guy knew a lot about some coins in the metal box that Bones found, but nothing about the nuke on board the craft. Dane had to keep it that way.

“We wanted to dive the Spanish wreck, but there’s already another ship on that site, so we thought we’d check out the capsule wreck as a pre-dive to test our systems.”

Streib glanced at the submersible, its spinning arc now beginning to slow.

“Listen guys, I don’t know who you are, but you don’t fool me. There are only a handful of subs in the world capable of working at these depths.” He stared into the sloshing moon pool. “You must be U.S. government: either employees, contractors, or possibly military,” he said, casting a sidelong glance at Dane and his new TEC-9 with which he already appeared more than comfortable.

Dane felt his jaw start to go slack and he willed it shut. Even Bones glanced over at him for the first time since he’d started guarding Streib. But it was the expedition manager who filled the silence first.

“You can drop the pretenses. I know why you’re here.”