The Steel Shark

Chapter 36

“They’ve stopped, sir.” Vivian sounded excited and energetic and all the other things Joe ought to be. “And an object is approaching them from underwater.”

Joe opened his eyes and tried to sit up. His stomach told him that was a bad idea. This entire plan was a bad idea. He should never have left his cozy house underground. He should have sent the Navy. But they hadn’t been interested, and he couldn’t leave the mystery alone. His stomach berated him for his stubbornness and his curiosity.

“I’m bringing the mini-drone in,” she said. “The captain blacked out the lights, and it’s high up, so they shouldn’t notice it this time of night. We’ll change out the battery. Smart of you to order so many extra batteries.”

“Yeah,” he said.

The view on the monitors swayed sickeningly. A roiling black sea. He almost lost the meager contents of his stomach.

“I’m filming,” she said. “It’s streaming live to Mulcahy, as you requested. I’m also sending him the sonar feeds. He has all the data we can give him.”

Joe struggled into a standing position, his hand on the wall. “We need to affix the transponder. I’m going for the DPV.”

“With respect, sir, I don’t think you’re in any shape to do that.”

“Noted.” She was right, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “I’m going to suit up.”

She stood in an easy, relaxed movement. Like people move who aren’t seasick. “I’ve set the drone to hover. I’ll get Marshall to take over the feeds and keep the drone on track.”

He started for the door. Edison walked next to his leg, a calm presence in a rolling world. She slipped by him and jogged down the corridor like a superhero.

He kept going forward. He could make it to the end of the corridor without throwing up. He could. He did.

When he opened the door that led outside, his heart jackhammered, even though he wasn’t really outside. The captain had set up a long canvas tube across the deck to the swim platform. Like walking inside a hamster tube, but enough to keep his panic at bay. It just needed railings, barf bags, and lights.

The air smelled fresher out here, and his stomach calmed down. Wind rattled the canvas around him. Because it was night, he could barely see a few steps ahead, but that didn’t bother him. Edison strode along in front of him, showing him the way. Dogs saw better in the dark than humans, and Edison saw better in the dark than most dogs.

Too soon, the tube opened into a tent pitched on the swim platform. A dim red light illuminated what looked like tiny bombs — bullet-shaped cylinders with a round propeller on the end. As ridiculous as they looked, they were key for the next part of his plan. They were diver propulsion vehicles, called DPVs, bought by Captain Glascoe as military salvage.

In theory, a diver could hold on to the handles, and the vehicle would propel him forward at about ten miles an hour. They were quiet and small. The only trick was supposed to be controlling the buoyancy control. Or so he’d read.

He’d planned to practice driving his vehicle around the boat as they traveled after the Shining Pearl. Instead, he’d spent all that time throwing up in his cabin, monitoring the feeds. Vivian had used them and given him detailed descriptions of how they worked. If using them to drive around underwater bothered her, she hadn’t said anything. Not that she ever complained.

She popped into view with an armful of gear. “I sent Marshall down to keep an eye on the screens and to watch our six. I’ll leave Billy piloting the drones. He’s got an eye for it.”

“Thanks.”

“I know you originally planned to take the captain with you on this expedition, but he and I’ve agreed it’s better if he and I go and you stay.”

A lot less danger for Joe. “You don’t have experience with the equipment.”

“I trained on the DPV while you were indisposed.” She’d already stepped into her wetsuit. “You’re about my height, so everything fits, and he said I check out fine.”

Even with the fresh air, he still felt terrible, but he argued. “I set this up. I’ve studied this equipment a lot.”

She zipped up her suit. “Agreed. You’re strong on theory. But you’re short on practice.”

Captain Glascoe appeared next to her. He wore a pair of black pants and a dark turtleneck. The guy always dressed like death on the high seas. “Sergeant Torres is more than capable of completing this mission. As am I.”

Joe swayed on the deck and swallowed hard. This wasn’t the moment to puke.

“More capable than you.” Vivian wasn’t ever one to soften the blow.

“I paid for this trip. I’m going. No arguments.”

She and the captain exchanged glances, and the captain reluctantly stepped back.

Joe put on his wetsuit, and the captain helped him into his buoyancy compensator and air tank. Edison barked and wagged his tail.

“Not this time, buddy.” Joe patted the dog. “Too dangerous.”

The propulsion vehicle required both hands when moving. He could probably strap the dog to his body somehow, but he wouldn’t be able to help him if things went wrong, and he couldn’t take that risk with Edison’s life. Edison nudged his knee and looked up with pleading eyes. The dog didn’t pull out the big eyes very often, and they almost always worked.

“Nope.” Joe fastened his weight belt, adjusted his mask, and checked his regulator. Everything worked. He added the underwater night vision goggles, but didn’t turn them on. Too bright here. “Go back to the cabin to wait for me, Edison.”

The dog looked between him and Vivian, then headed back down the tube. His tail drooped as he walked away. He didn’t want to go back alone, and Joe didn’t want him to leave either, but he couldn’t come along safely. Not that Edison could understand.

“When we get closer, I expect their boat to be lit up. Anything else would be suspicious, as they’ve had it lit all the way,” Joe said.

“Yup,” Vivian said.

Captain Glascoe wrapped duct tape around her arm, and it took Joe a second to figure out why. Her cast must not fit into the suit. She was doing everything he was, but with a broken arm. She was tougher than he was.

He decided to review the plan. “The plan is to stay undetected. I’ve set this up in circles — the first circle was the extra distance we got from towing the surveillance gear. Because it’s so high up in the air, we can detect them because we have a longer range, but they can’t detect us. Or at least the yacht can’t. The sub hopefully can’t hear our engines, but they can find us on sonar if they want to use active sonar. I’m betting they want to stay undetected and won’t.”

“I got that far.” Vivian looked at the water. She clearly wanted to get going.

“The second circle is this one. We’ll use the DPVs to get close. If we keep the DPVs within three feet of the surface, we’ll get lost in the froth or look like marine mammals even if they do use active sonar.”

“That’s Mulcahy’s theory?” Vivian asked.

“Not just him.” Joe’s stomach was starting to settle. Giving the briefing was taking his mind off his seasickness. “We’ll stop about a hundred yards from the submarine and send in the remote-control submarine to affix the transponder. It has a camera on its nose, so we should be able to see what it’s doing, and we’re far enough away to be undetected.”

“We went over this,” Vivian said.

“Humor me,” he said. “Are you checked out on the scuba gear?”

He’d originally wanted to use rebreathers, but he’d been too sick to practice on one, so they were going with standard scuba gear.

“Mostly,” she said. “I practiced being towed behind the ship.”

Her face said it hadn’t been a pleasant experience.

She tapped her DPV’s control panel. “I’ve programmed the GPS coordinates for both vessels in here. Just follow the equipment and you’ll get there and back.”

“Thanks.” He should have been doing that, instead of spending his time curled up around his toilet. “I know you’ve done a lot.”

“That’s what you pay me for. Plus a combat bonus.” She lifted her DPV and slipped it over the side without even a splash. It bobbed to the surface, and she went into the water beside it, gave him an OK sign, and waited. He could barely see her against the black water.

He patted the pocket of his BCD. He had a couple of transponders in there and the tiny remote-control sub strapped to his side. The sub was about as big two cell phones strapped together, and he’d already made sure it was working. Nothing more to do but jump out into the open air, then dive beneath the water. The first part was the worst.

He bent and grabbed the DPV with both hands. He had to cross only a foot of open air. His heart rate jacked up at the thought, and he felt shaky. On the bright side, his nausea was better.

“It’ll just be a minute.” He tried to explain it to the captain. “I need to get ready.”

He started his first breathing exercise. Control the breath, control the heart, control the mind. In that order.

Before he could even exhale, Captain Glascoe picked him up by the suit and threw him into the ocean.

Cold water splashed his face, chasing away the last vestiges of nausea and leaving only panic. Before he had time to give in to fear, he set the propulsion device to negative buoyancy and sank.

Underwater was pitch black, and his heart rate slowed. He wasn’t outside. He was underwater and, paradoxically, his brain had decided that was safe. He was only three (red) feet down, but it was enough.

As crappy as his system was, Captain Glascoe had done him a favor by tossing him in. Not that he was going to tell him.

Vivian moved up alongside. A faint red light shone from the compass attached to her device. It illuminated the outline of her head. Like him, she wore a hood that covered everything but her face, and a scuba mask and regulator covered most of that.

He kept her on his right and tried to control his buoyancy. The device wanted to sink, and he constantly had to aim it toward the surface. He’d read up on how to use it, of course, and listened to Vivian’s instructions while throwing up, but that wasn’t the same as holding on to an anchor while fumbling with switches in near darkness. Then he remembered his night vision goggles and turned them on. The world got a lot brighter. The glow from his instrument panel was readable, and he could see Vivian, too. He could do this.

He concentrated on following the heading, keeping the device stable, and trying not to throw up. His nausea was better than it had been in hours. Apparently, he’d needed a shot of adrenaline. Nothing like the fear of death to trick the body into not caring about inner-ear messages.

Even with night vision goggles, the water was dark. In the past few years, he’d made his peace with darkness, but at least in the tunnels he had gravity to orient himself — he knew down from up and backward from forward. Here, he rushed through the cold water and could trust only his instruments and Vivian.

His hands gripped the handles so tightly they ached, but he was afraid to loosen his grip. If he lost the vehicle, he’d become practically invisible. His heart pounded, and he took slow breaths, shutting out the sensation of water pressing against his wetsuit, the taste of rubber in his mouth, and the worry they would miss their target and shoot off into the sea until they ran out of fuel and air and died.