Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5)

by Michael C. Grumley

  “Closer than you might think.”

  65

  It took Borger well over an hour to reach it. Through heavy traffic and multiple construction zones, his taxi finally pulled into the small deserted parking lot just after two o’clock in the afternoon. Overhead, a partially clouded sun cast moving shadows over the structure, giving the renovated cannery an abandoned appearance. This despite the small maintenance crew keeping it just the way it was when Alison and her team left.

  In front of the building, a small, middle-aged and moderately heavy Puerto Rican woman was waiting. She was dressed in a deep-blue flowered dress, giving her bronze skin a deeper complexion. She approached with a friendly smile when Borger climbed out of the car.

  “Hello, Mister Borger. My name is Bruna Lopez. I am the administrative assistant for the center.”

  “Hello, Bruna,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Yes, a very nice pleasure.” She broke off the conversation momentarily and walked to the back of the car where she spoke to the driver in Spanish. She was still smiling as the poorly dressed man brought Borger’s bag from the trunk, asking for a hundred and fifty dollars.

  Borger paid the driver while sending a curious glance in Bruna’s direction. After receiving his change, he grabbed the handle of his small suitcase and followed her up a paved, overgrown walkway.

  “What was it you said to him?”

  She grinned over her shoulder and continued up and around the side of the building. “They charge tourists too much.”

  “Ah.”

  They reached the side entrance. After a quick glance to each side, Bruna pulled open the metal door and quickly motioned Borger in.

  Once inside, she let the door clang shut behind them and continued down a darkened hallway. Borger followed her, and soon it opened up into a much larger and brighter area. Sunlight streamed down from oversized windows above, as well as through the giant glass wall in front of them, with its open top.

  Borger scanned the space, stopping on the glass wall holding back hundreds of thousands of gallons of seawater. “Well, well,” he said with a smile. “Ali’s infamous lab.”

  “Yes,” Bruna grinned and stared at the tank alongside him. “We are very proud of her.”

  “I think we all are.”

  “Miss Alison said no one was to know you are here. So, I have told our gardeners not to come again until I tell them. Just in case.”

  “Thank you, Bruna. Is there anyone else that might come around? A guard, maybe?”

  “No,” she shook her head intently. “No one would steal from the center. The whole town is proud of Miss Alison. You are safe and secret.”

  Borger smiled again. “You mean safe and sound.”

  She blushed. “Yes, safe and sound. You are safe and sound here. I will be the only person to come. And I will bring whatever you need.”

  He nodded appreciatively. “A desk and some electricity would be great.”

  66

  “You okay, Ali?”

  Alison Shaw blinked before turning to Chris. Her hands planted themselves firmly on the white metal railing in front of her. She nodded and lied. “Yes. Fine.”

  She simply couldn’t believe the news. And she literally felt sick to her stomach over Dr. Kanna. He was one of the gentlest men she’d met in a long time. A truly giving person, and as dedicated to their team as any of them. He had nursed both her and John back to health, each from death’s doorstep, right there aboard the Pathfinder.

  He’d spent hours next to Alison until she regained consciousness and was the first face she saw when opening her eyes.

  The thought of him and Tiewater dead, not to mention Neely and Li Na missing, made her want to throw up. She closed her eyes and tried hard to control her emotions.

  “What was that call about?”

  “It was John,” she blinked. “He said…that something had come up, and Steve isn’t going to make it. And we need to let Captain Emerson know.”

  “Okay. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

  It was definitely bad, she thought to herself. Even without the horrible news about the others, not having Steve Caesare with the rescue effort was going to make it even harder on Corbin and Beene. The trio were the only deep-water trained divers on their team.

  Corbin and Beene had been diving every day. Each time pushing the limits of safety. Now there would be very little margin of error if things went wrong. Because Alison knew firsthand what too much nitrogen could do to someone, especially at depth.

  ***

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  Captain Emerson shook his head and stormed down the steel ramp, descending carefully down the narrow walkways which connected the Pathfinder’s mid-deck and the sail of the U.S.S. Scranton. The sleek, black body of the submarine, now tethered to the side of the Pathfinder, extended almost as long as Emerson’s ship and provided an odd contrast between it and the Pathfinder’s stark white hull. The DSRV, awkward and bulky, was attached firmly atop the Scranton’s stern.

  With his hands on each steel rail, Emerson steadied himself against another strong gust before continuing. The tropical storm was not passing as far away as they’d hoped, and the howling winds and surging swells were rocking both vessels enough to make him thankful for the handrails. It also meant their rescue mission was now in serious jeopardy. And things were only getting worse.

  When Emerson reached the other side, he waited for a moment of calm before stepping down onto the submarine’s sail, or observational platform. There, the sub’s commander was waiting, flanked by two officers.

  “Welcome aboard, Captain,” greeted Kauffman. The younger officer stepped back and allowed Emerson a moment to straighten and adjust his uniform.

  “Thanks, Skipper. How was the trip?”

  “Long. And slow.”

  “My apologies for the secrecy, but we’re on lockdown here. Which means I’m not at liberty to explain a whole hell of a lot.”

  “I expected as much,” Kauffman replied grimly. “But with all candor, it’s going to make things pretty damn difficult for my men and I to help if we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Understood. But unfortunately, we need to keep your men out of this. At least to the extent we can. What we have here is an underwater rescue of a single sailor, and that’s all I’m able to tell you.”

  Kauffman’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced at his executive officer, who showed no reaction. “Excuse me, Captain. But how exactly do you expect us to rescue him with no information? Magic?”

  Emerson coldly stared back at the young officer. He didn’t have time for the man’s ego. “You won’t be the ones doing it.”

  “Come again?”

  “I said, you won’t be the ones doing it,” Emerson repeated dryly. He leveled his gaze at Kauffman. “What you’re going to do, is teach my men how to use your submersible.” He paused, watching Kauffman’s eyes widen in response. “And you have one hour to do it.”

  67

  The Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle, called Mystic, was just over fifty feet long and weighed in with a displacement of over thirty-nine tons. Painted in a familiar black for stealth, its long hull was made from double-walled reinforced steel, giving it enough internal strength to dive over 5,000 feet deep. It was designed specifically for rescue operations on downed submarines, able to dock and embark up to twenty-four sailors in less than twelve minutes flat.

  Lieutenant Ackerman, the Pathfinder’s interim chief engineer, sat crammed into the vessel’s small pilot seat, studying the instruments. Beside him, one of Kauffman’s crew carefully ran through each screen and its corresponding controls. Fortunately for Ackerman, most of the controls were similar to what the Navy used in their smaller ROVs, units he’d worked with for years.

  Ahead, near the front of the vehicle, Smitty and Odonnell were being run through the DSRV’s controls for an underwater docking. Traditional submarine rescues transferred men between subs through
the water itself, wearing protective, pressurized suits. But for cases in which a sub-to-sub transfer was not possible, a physical docking with the submarine was required. It was a much slower process, calling for the creation of a stable, airtight seal around the exit point.

  The advanced hydraulic sealing system on the Mystic was crucial, with its new design allowing up to a forty-five-degree angle between the DSRV and the surface they were attaching to. This would allow their attempt at rescuing Lieutenant Tay to take place at a higher point on the alien ship’s hull, lessening the rate of nitrogen absorption in divers Corbin and Beene. Which meant more time below the surface should something go wrong.

  The second piece of the seal—a fat, ringed skirt—was already affixed to the DSRV’s outside nose cone. But its inflation and pressure controls were inside the craft and would have to be activated manually. And, in their case, extraordinarily fast.

  Unfortunately, the third piece, the drill repaired by Emerson’s crew, was simply too large to fit within the Mystic’s rubberized skirt. The drill would have to be operated by Corbin and Beene until it fully penetrated the alien hull. They would then have to immediately remove the drill and use the massive inflow of water to marry the two hulls. If all went according to plan, they could make the hole and seal it inside of fifteen minutes.

  From his seat, Ackerman glanced up at the metal roof when he felt the whole submersible rock from side to side. It wasn’t just the DSRV. It was the entire Scranton rocking, due to the increasing surge from the nearby storm. Conditions were becoming worse, leaving Ackerman notably worried about what they were heading into. Primarily because if they couldn’t keep the Mystic’s nose firmly attached to the alien ship, if they couldn’t keep the seal secure, things could unravel quickly.

  Minutes later, one of the Scranton’s crew dropped his head down from above, just below the ceiling, and called out to the men. “We detach in fifteen minutes!”

  ***

  “And just what do you think you are doing?”

  Alison glanced up from the metal bench and into the harsh gray eyes of Captain Emerson. “Uh…getting my gear on?”

  “Wrong, Ms. Shaw. I’m afraid you’re staying topside.”

  Alison frowned and looked first at Chris, then to Corbin and Beene, who were also donning their scuba gear. Behind them, several of the Pathfinder’s crew were using a winch to move the massive drill into place at the edge of the stern.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s an order,” Emerson replied.

  Alison stood up. “Captain, we’re going to need everyone’s help on this one. I think–”

  The captain cut her off. “That’s an order, Ms. Shaw. These conditions are clearly not what we were hoping for. And we almost lost you the last time. I’m not taking that chance again.”

  Alison glared at him and took a step forward, lowering her voice. “Captain, I hate to remind you, but I’m not in the Navy. And I’m not officially part of your crew.”

  The captain raised his brow with a faint look of amusement. “Ms. Shaw, if you are implying that I don’t have authority over you or your actions while you are aboard my ship, you are gravely mistaken.”

  Alison didn’t bat an eye. Instead, her demeanor rose to match the captain’s. “Oh, I’m sure you have the authority. But I don’t think you have the ability to keep me.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you have more important things to worry about than what I’m doing. Like rescuing Lieutenant Tay. Besides, next to them,” she pointed to Corbin and Beene, “I’m the best diver on this ship. And I’m not taking any chances either.”

  Emerson’s amusement faded while he continued glowering at Alison. Finally, tilting his head, he folded his arms and spoke even lower. “I’m not in the habit of being defied on my own ship, Ms. Shaw.”

  At that, Alison let out a grin that only he could see. “I’m not defying you, Captain. I’m merely letting you know where I’ll be.”

  Unbelievable, Emerson slowly shook his head. Was the woman heroic or just overconfident? It didn’t matter. She was right. He needed as many skilled divers as he could get, and she was more than qualified.

  “Need I remind you that you’re still–”

  “I’m fine,” Alison interrupted.

  Emerson stopped and shook his head. There was something quite impressive about the young woman in front of him. He finally gave in and sighed, raising his hands to his hips. “Do not expect me to get in the habit of being dressed down on my ship. But something tells me Commander Clay has endured far worse.”

  She grinned. “He knows better.”

  “I imagine he does.” Emerson glanced past her to the two SEALs, both of whom were continuing with their gear. “I don’t want you within a hundred feet of those two, do I make myself clear? This is a team effort, but I don’t want you or your dolphins in the way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If I need you, I will tell you. You are emergency backup, and that is all. And believe me, if I even think you are in danger, you will reboard this ship. Immediately. And if you fail to do so, you will find yourself facing charges, civilian or not. Is that understood?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Good. Now go out there and get our friends ready. Something tells me we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

  68

  Hello Alison.

  “Hello, Sally. You were waiting for me.”

  Yes. I wait. We work now.

  “We’re about to,” Alison replied. She found herself mildly surprised at not hearing an error from the translation. She swam closer. “Where’s Dirk?”

  I here Alison.

  Before she could turn to look, Dirk rocketed past her in the turbulent water. He made a wide arc before slowing and coasting in next to Sally.

  You like us help Alison.

  At that, Alison turned and peered beneath the dark bottom of the Pathfinder, spotting the massive submarine on the other side. Fighting just to stay in place, she had enough visibility to see both ships moving up and down under the intensifying surges.

  “Let’s hope not.”

  ***

  Captain Kauffman looked up at the sky as the gray clouds opened to release a fresh wave of warm rain. Dotting just his uniform at first, it quickly began wetting everything as the drops intensified. “Cast the lines.”

  “Aye,” his executive officer nodded. He called out the order, and several crewmen behind them began working to unravel the massive lines from the submarine’s deck.

  Both officers peered up to watch the crew of the Pathfinder simultaneously begin hauling in all lines with the help of two powerful electric winches.

  As the huge lines snaked back toward the larger ship, Kauffman spoke again over his shoulder. “Everyone below decks. Prepare to submerge.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain. All hands…below decks!”

  Kauffman’s men scrambled back up the base of the submarine’s sail while the captain made a full scan, ensuring all men were accounted for and finally stopping on the Mystic. Silent and still, the DSRV waited patiently to be released into the waves splashing wildly over the port side.

  Kauffman’s executive officer stepped in behind him. “They’re really going to do this all by themselves.”

  “It appears so.”

  The younger man shook his head. “This is crazy.”

  The captain nodded without taking his eyes off the Mystic. “Crazy is not the adjective I’d use.”

  ***

  Below the surface, Alison was startled at the powerful blasts from the Scranton’s ballast tanks as each one simultaneously released giant waves of bubbling air. Reducing its buoyancy, she watched in captivation as the great dark hull on the other side of the Pathfinder began to sink.

  She was also surprised to see the hundreds of dolphins swirling around her come to a rapid stop, all twisting around to watch the human’s giant metal. Seemingly just as fascinated.

&nbs
p; Foot by foot, the black vessel descended, finally slowing to a stop. It held its position approximately forty feet below the surface.

  Alison and the dolphins remained transfixed, watching, while the powerful surges pushed them back and forth in place.

  “Chris?” she said. “What’s happening?”

  “I think they’re lowering to get the rescue sub detached.”

  No sooner had he answered than two loud clangs could be heard reverberating in the water––the releasing of the heavy struts securing the Mystic in place.

  Alison kicked her fins hard again and looked up to see two splashes from above. Corbin and Beene, ordered not to enter the water until the last minute to delay any further nitrogen absorption until they had to, came into view.

  Both men separated above her just before the rear of their drill broke the surface. Once fully submerged, they quickly disconnected the support lines and turned it around. Like the hydrophone, the drill was now tethered only by its fat, black power cable. It immediately began descending alongside Corbin and Beene, with both men quickly grabbing hold and riding it down.

  As they faded into darkness, Alison’s eyes caught sight of a glow not far beneath the Pathfinder. After several seconds, the glow intensified until two bright lights turned toward her, piercing the water like powerful spotlights.

  It was the Mystic.

  With the elongated shadow of its hull behind it, the vehicle’s movement seemed slightly erratic before finally smoothing out and turning downward to follow the drill.

  Inside, Ackerman cursed to himself and released the stick. He flexed his right hand and wrapped it back around firmly. Damn controls are sensitive.

  He glanced up to find Smitty and Odonnell both watching him.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth behind tight lips and wiggled around in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. What’d they make this for kids?