by Dayle, Harry
Not all hands would be lost. Not immediately anyway. The Arcadia still had some life rafts left. She was a big ship; she would take time to go down. Some might escape. Some might even make it to the Lance. And what then? The little research vessel couldn’t sustain life indefinitely. To escape the cruise ship would only serve to delay death.
“Jesus,” was all Daniel managed to say, before he threw up.
For Jake, time slowed down. His mind had processed the information to hand, and was going into overdrive, trying to find a solution. He felt as though he was waking up for the first time in his life, every sense on high alert. He discovered a clarity of thought the likes of which he had never before experienced.
From nowhere, he knew exactly what to do.
He strode quickly but calmly back along the deck.
“Daniel! With me,” he ordered. The young sailor, still dumbstruck, did as he was told, falling in line behind his captain.
Jake stopped and examined the rack of harpoons. His hand ran along them, fingers brushing against their slim metal bodies until they stopped on one with an explosives warning label.
“You don’t think…” Daniel began.
Jake ignored him and pulled the harpoon free. “Load this up,” he said.
Daniel took the device and stared at it.
“Quickly!”
While the weapon was being loaded, Jake positioned himself at the rear of the cannon once more.
Daniel stood aside and Jake searched the sea for the torpedo. He traced the straight line between where the submarine had disappeared below the water on their port side, and the cruise ship off the starboard side. There was no tell-tale trail of bubbles, no obvious wake, no disturbance of the water that gave any clues as to its whereabouts.
“There!” Daniel pointed at a shadow moving quickly. It was almost directly in front of the bow of the Lance.
“Move!”
Jake swung the harpoon cannon around to his left. It wouldn’t turn far enough; a safety precaution. It was impossible to fire across the Lance’s own deck. His eyes never left the dark patch of water speeding towards its target. The cannon held fast, his fingers curled around the trigger. He emptied his lungs and held his breath. His mind was clear and focussed. He had absolute confidence in what he was doing.
The torpedo cleared the bow; it was almost directly lined up with the launcher.
“Now,” Jake whispered. He squeezed the trigger.
It would have been the perfect shot. His timing was impeccable. The harpoon would have caught the torpedo dead centre. But nothing happened.
There was no launch. The explosive arrow stayed exactly where it was.
His mind, so clear and focussed, was filled with a thousand questions. Daniel usefully boiled them all down to just one: “What the fuck?”
Jake squeezed again. And again. On the fourth attempt the harpoon exploded out of the launcher and was away. But he hadn’t followed the torpedo, hadn’t tracked his target and moved the cannon. The harpoon arced out over the sea, and plopped harmlessly into the water where the deadly payload had been moments before. It didn’t even explode.
Jake roared with frustration, but it was a brief moment of anger. Just as quickly, he got himself under control. He hadn’t lost the torpedo. It was closing fast on the Arcadia, but there were still a few precious seconds left.
“Another!”
“On it,” Daniel cried. He was pulling out the only other explosive harpoon. It was loaded into the launcher, and the sailor jumped back out of the way.
Jake swung the grey tube around. He was now facing directly towards his own ship.
The shot was a difficult one. The torpedo was tracking away from him at an angle. He breathed out once more, all the time judging the speed and trajectory of the enemy weapon. He could almost hear Lucya whispering in his ear, guiding him, encouraging him. Still moving the launcher, still tracking, he squeezed the trigger.
Nothing.
He never blinked. He breathed in then out, kept the cannon rotating gently the whole time, following, stalking. He squeezed a second time.
The cannon recoiled very slightly as the harpoon rocketed out of the launch tube.
“Yes!” Daniel’s hands were thrown into the air.
Jake said nothing. He stood up straight and watched the little piece of metal soar through the sky. The torpedo was almost upon the ship. Sixty metres away. Fifty meters away.
The harpoon descended in a graceful curve.
Forty metres.
The arrow head dipped below the water, out of sight.
The world seemed to go black. Jake saw only a tiny patch of water, the shadow barely visible in the distance. It was out of his hands now.
• • •
“Close your eyes, Erica,” Lucya said. She kept her own eyes open, staring at the leader, showing she wasn’t afraid.
The metal table leg swung towards her.
At that precise moment, there was a huge explosion. Not like the previous explosion. This was bigger. Closer. It was followed almost immediately by a second explosion, further away.
Three things happened at once:
The lights all went out.
The ship rolled violently to the starboard side.
The metal pole struck Lucya.
It missed her head, instead catching her full in the side. She felt her ribs crack as it connected. It could have been worse. As she was already tumbling, rolling with the ship, the blow lost some of its force.
Erica was suddenly beneath her, screaming. In the dark, with the ship churning so violently, it was hard to know which way was up. Lucya was reminded of having had the same problem in the pipe. She remembered to use gravity to orient herself. The feeling was returning to her arms and she pushed herself up, freeing the girl.
Around them, there was shouting as the Koreans panicked, not knowing if they had been attacked by their own submarine, or if the whole thing was a ploy by the security team to take the classroom. Their voices were joined by a chorus of screams from the terrified children.
The lights flickered once, twice, then came back on. The ship was rolling back the other way.
Some of the men were in a heap at one end of the room. Partially paralysed, they could do nothing to help themselves.
The leader was back on his feet. He was reaching for the gun that had ended up on the floor in the commotion.
It was Erica who stopped him. She was alert, and her limbs reacted faster than those of Lucya. The girl sprang forwards and charged at him.
“Erica! No!” Lucya cried out, but she was too far away, and too late.
Her head down, Erica rammed the leader in the groin. It may not have been elegant, but it was mightily effective. The man went down heavily on his knees, which cracked as they hit the ground. His hands were still free though, and he reached for the weapon. Lucya was there. A blow to his arm knocked it free the very second he touched it. She raised her fist again, but one of the other men grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. She shrieked in pain. Erica leapt onto the man’s back, but he bucked and threw her off. She staggered backwards and was caught by some of the other children.
The leader was recovering. He raised his hands and placed them around Lucya’s throat. She struggled, but her arms were locked behind her, and — she realised with alarm — she could no longer feel her legs. The virus too, had her in its clutches.
“Enough,” the leader said, choking on the word. “Enough.”
His hands gripped tighter. For Lucya, the world started to go black. Her lungs heaved and strained, desperate for oxygen. She looked into the Korean man’s eyes, and understood that he was enjoying this. He was enjoying killing her.
Then, a movement at the side of the room. A bang. The scraping sound of table legs on the floor. Shouting. Shapes approaching. Children screaming.
The man’s hands were pulled away. Lucya fell to the floor, choking and retching. Somehow Erica was by her side, calling her name, hugging h
er. She tried to look up, to see her one last time, but the room swam around her then faded to darkness.
Thirty-Four
JAKE’S HEIGHTENED MENTAL state was blown to smithereens with the torpedo. Reality crashed back into his head and he finally felt all the panic, the stress, and the desperation that he should have felt when he first saw the weapon deploy.
“Yes!” Daniel leapt into the air this time. His shrieks were joined by others, and Jake saw that the rest of the sailors were standing alongside.
The explosion was as impressive as the two others he had already seen. More so even, as the backdrop of the cruise liner gave it a sense of scale.
The explosive-tipped harpoon had found the torpedo just metres from the ship, and the resulting detonation caused her to roll heavily. Jake wasn’t worried. He knew the Arcadia was a stable old girl. There might be a few more cuts and bruises on board, but it was nothing compared to what could have been.
Behind them, a second explosion, just as loud. The men on the deck spun around to see another column of seawater rise into the air.
“Was that…” Daniel asked nervously.
“I hope so,” Jake said.
The radio in his pocket beeped, and a muffled voice called out. Jake had forgotten all about the device. He pulled it out and turned up the volume.
“…are you out there? Repeat, Lance? Ambush? Are you out there?”
“This is Captain Jake Noah.”
“Thank God! Captain, this is Rupert Bembridge of the security team. The hostage situation has taken a turn…”
Jake felt his legs go weak.
“The hostages are safe, but some of the security team had to intervene. There are three officers inside the classroom, exposed to the virus. We really need that antidote.”
“Understood. Stand by, Officer Bembridge.”
Jake switched the channel on the radio. He looked out at the ocean. No submarine had surfaced. There was no indication as to which boat had taken the hit. He checked the transceiver, then lifted it to his mouth. “Ralf, if you’re out there, old friend, we need your help, and we need it now…”
• • •
“What did that mean, ‘stand by’?” The woman from the security team was hopping about nervously.
“I don’t know,” Bembridge replied. “But I trust Captain Noah. He’ll come through, I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I had your confidence. And I wish I knew what the bloody hell’s going on out there. It sounds like world war three.”
Bembridge experienced a moment’s doubt, wondering if he had acted too impulsively. No, he was sure he had done the right thing. It had looked like Lucya had the situation under control, but when the Korean thug had got his hands around her throat and she didn’t kick out or fight back, he had understood: she was suffering from the effects of the virus. Partially paralysed, she couldn’t save herself. They had had to storm the room.
“How is she?” He looked down at the chief radio officer. The third security man was with her.
“She’s weak, but it could have been worse. Dunno how long she’s got.”
“Keep your voice down, mate. Let’s not worry the kids.” He looked at the children, huddled in the corner of the room. The female officer had returned to them and was telling them a story. Erica sat by her side, a leader to the others more than one of them.
In the opposite corner were the Koreans. Between the virus and their injuries, they were in a sorry state. Only three of them posed any kind of threat, and they had been tied up together. Of the others, one was on the cusp of death.
The teacher had been moved out of sight, hidden under a coat taken from a North Korean. Bembridge wondered how many more bodies would join hers before they got out of there.
“You did the right thing, Rupert,” the man on the floor said. “We had to help Lucya. We should have gone in earlier. Screw the virus.”
“I hope Max sees it that way. He’ll be mad. I’m going to be thrown off the team.”
“Max should have been here giving the orders, not gallivanting about doing who knows what. If anyone is due a reprimand, it’s him.”
Lucya gave a moan. Her eyelids flickered, but remained closed. The security man stroked her head. Some of her hair came away in his hand.
Bembridge sighed loudly, and walked back to the door.
On the other side he could see Vardy. He was talking into a radio, his face animated, his voice rising. Rupert couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t even tell if the man was happy or angry. Then the doctor threw the radio down on the floor and ran. Away from the classroom.
The minutes passed slowly. The children settled. One or two even complained they were hungry. Lucya looked in a bad way though.
After standing at the door for so long, hoping in vain to see the doctor return, Bembridge’s legs started to feel numb. He turned to find a seat, to take the weight off, and discovered he could no longer move them. For Rupert, it was a horrible return to the events of a few weeks prior. He had been one of the later victims of the virus. He’d felt the paralysis before, but it had attacked shortly before they had found the miracle drug that flushed it out. That was the old virus, the version that killed slowly and painfully. This virus killed quickly, and just as painfully.
“What have I done?” he asked himself. “I’ve killed three more people.”
“Look lively, lad,” a voice nearby said cheerily. He turned back to the door. Standing outside were three medics dressed in overalls and gas masks, and brandishing syringes.
Thirty-Five
THEY HAD ASSEMBLED in the medical suite. Coote was awake at last, and there was no question of him being left out of the briefing.
There wasn’t enough space for chairs, so the members of the committee had to stand. It wasn’t just the committee. A security officer Jake knew only as Trent was present too, standing in for the still inexplicably absent Max Mooting. Vardy stood in for Grau Lister, who was resting up after having attended to the Mitchells. Captain Ove Kolstad was seated in a wheelchair, representing the interests of the original Lance crew.
At the foot of the bed, Submariner Ewan Sledge was presenting the findings of their exploratory diving expedition.
“In conclusion, we believe the submarine was a Chinese Type 095—”
“What?” Coote couldn’t help butting in. “You mean to tell me that project was real?”
“It would seem so, yes. There’s a second dive to the wreck taking place as I speak, but everything we’ve seen so far matches the intelligence we had on the alleged 095 program. The latest stealth technology, acoustic tiles, and a near silent pump-jet propulsor. Virtually undetectable to passive and active sonar. She was powered by an advanced reactor. Gunson will want to take a closer look, but the images he’s seen so far have impressed and scared him in equal measure. The reactor easily matches our own in terms of technology.”
“So they weren’t Koreans? It was a different set of survivors?” Jake asked.
“No, this is where it gets weird. Almost all the bodies we’ve found down there so far were wearing North Korean uniforms. The same uniforms as the men who took the Lance.”
“Is the reactor safe? What about weapons?” Coote stroked his beard.
“The reactor shut itself down and is perfectly safe. Still, we’re going to send Gunson down to check it over first hand, to be sure. As for weapons, there are more torpedoes on board, but we haven’t found any missiles or warheads. I don’t think the submarine was on operational deployment. I would guess she was still undergoing sea trials.”
“Sorry, Ewan, still confused about the crew.” Jake glanced around the room to see if he was the only person who didn’t understand. “It’s a Chinese submarine, with a North Korean crew. How does that work?”
“I honestly don’t know. Perhaps they captured it. Perhaps it was a joint project between the two nations. Our friends in the classroom are the only people who can shed any light on that matter now.”
“If t
hey survive,” Coote said. He looked at Vardy, then at Jake. “Any news? Lucya?”
The surgeon lieutenant spoke up for all to hear. “The antidote is working, but we’ll have to keep them in quarantine for at least a few more days. We can’t risk that virus getting out. She’ll be fine though. Two of the Koreans, not so lucky. The virus was too quick for them.”
“And the children? Can we get them out?”
“They’re immune, but that doesn’t stop them carrying the virus. They’ll have to stay put as well. Spirits are high from what I’ve seen. Lucya has got them singing songs and making up stories. They want to see their parents, of course, and can’t really understand why that’s not possible. All things considered, they’re holding up well.”
Coote looked back at Ewan, nodding for him to continue.
“We’ll salvage as much as we can from the 095 wreck. There are some small firearms.” He couldn’t help but look at Jake as he said it. The captain rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. “There’s also a good amount of food and medical supplies, and some spare uniforms that we can certainly use.”
“Nothing to suggest their motivation, you know, for trying to blow us up?” Jake asked.
Ewan shook his head. “Ralf will see what he can do with the computers. They might be wrecked by the seawater, but he thinks he’ll be able to get some data from the hard drives. We might find end-of-the-world-scenario orders on there.”
“I doubt that very much,” Coote said, throwing a look at Jake. “That’s not the sort of thing you keep in a computer. Look for a safe. It will probably be hidden. Check the computers too, though. If that boat was Chinese, she may be carrying access codes for Yulin.”
Jake raised a hand, and his eyebrows.
“Yulin Naval Base,” Ewan explained. “Hainan Island, southern China. Huge base with twenty submarine pens built right under a mountain. Had the Americans all worked up a few years ago. They say you can sail a couple of aircraft carriers right in there it’s so huge.”
