Nicholas flipped on the camera feed attached to his mask so Mike could see what he was seeing. They fired up their propulsion devices and started to dive, the lights cutting a path through the murky water.
Beneath the surface it was an odd blurred gray. Large fish swam away from them, salmon, Nicholas thought.
They didn’t see Havelock’s submersible. They followed the radio signal on the side sonar buoy. Within five minutes, they were at the spit of land. They dropped deeper.
And there she was.
Victoria lay on her side, wedged under the wall of granite. She was in surprisingly good shape. They’d been hit and the captain had managed to limp his sub into the loch. Whether the captain had been able to wedge her under the shelf on purpose, or it was the serendipity of the tides and chance, they’d never know.
They swam closer, saw beds of mussels attached to her stern. They swam along the outside length of the sub to the bow and there it was, not a small torpedo hole, but a wide jagged opening, only minutes before blown apart so Havelock could fit through.
Nicholas set his DPD against the side of the sub, then signaled to Halpern to remain at the opening and carefully eased through the jagged tear. His torch was powerful, and it needed to be, he knew, because of all the silt Havelock had stirred up. He followed the ghostly light into the black interior. Fish swam past his face.
He found himself in a long narrow tube, divided into individual compartments. He concentrated on not becoming disoriented. He saw that the first hatch was open, and could make out ancient equipment through the veil of silt, strings of algae flowing off the edges of the sub’s walls and ceiling, waving like ghostly arms.
He swam slowly into the second compartment, through the fog of silt. He saw bits of human bodies, several long bones swaying in the dark water, three skulls loose, the empty eye sockets staring up at him through the torchlight. There was no way to know how many men had died on the sub because the thick beds of refuse and the blinding sediment hid so much. There had to be more than three, he knew, and he paused a moment to pray for these men entombed here for so long. And for the families these men had loved, who’d grieved and prayed.
Every man on the sub had known he was going to die, so they’d locked themselves in this chamber, all of them together in their final moments.
Nicholas slowly swung his torch around the space, and saw something glittering on the far wall. He swam closer, rubbed his gloved hand along the shiny spot. It was a single gold bar. He wiped away more silt. He saw not only one gold bar, he saw a wall of them, stacked from floor to ceiling, maybe six bars deep, shining faintly in the torch beam. He hung in the water, perfectly still, waiting for the water to clear, staring at the unbelievable sight. There was a king’s ransom of gold on this sub. Of course Havelock had known about the kaiser’s gold, but he’d been so focused on finding the key he hadn’t even noticed.
Nicholas swam toward the bow through several more compartments—a small mess hall, rusted pans, ceramic bowls and plates, still whole, and through sleeping quarters with only the wire and steel frames left, open rusted metal lockers.
He saw that the hatch to the bow compartment was smaller than the rest, with some sort of thick corroded rubber gasket around the edges. This hatch was closed.
He spun the wheel, and slowly pulled the hatch open.
Nicholas flashed his torch around the small room, no more than eight by ten feet. He saw a bunk in the corner, blankets floating off in the water, lanterns hanging over it, and a small table, all still intact.
He felt a punch of shock. On the bed was a body, floating inches above the disintegrating mattress, in much better shape than the skeletons scattered in the black waters behind him.
76
He realized this small compartment must have been completely sealed and airtight, dry for a hundred years, until Havelock had forced the hatch open. The body was mummified, almost perfectly preserved, wearing the uniform of a German naval Kapitänleutnant, the uniform cloth still a deep pure black.
But there was no mistaking the long, flowing hair. A woman. No woman should be aboard a sub, impossible, so what did this mean?
Her mummified body would soon be reduced to bones like the rest of the small crew. She hadn’t drowned, he realized, she’d starved to death, trapped in the ship’s womb, unable to get help for herself or her shipmates.
The names Alex Shepherd had said—Josef and Ansonia.
Had he found the Ansonia from Pearce’s files?
And suddenly, the bits and pieces from the Highest Order’s files started to make sense.
He floated in the water, staring at her, her body slowly rising, nearly to his outstretched hand now. He saw that her left hand was missing. Nicholas realized that as she lay dying, she’d held the key and Curie’s book in that hand and Havelock had snapped it right off.
He heard a tapping noise. It was Halpern. He looked down at his dive computer. Halpern was warning him. He’d started with sixty minutes of air and planned to spend only fifteen minutes in the sub, but that hadn’t happened. He’d spent too much time inside.
He swam slowly and carefully so as not to stir up more of the blinding silt, past the skulls, as he emerged out the enlarged torpedo hole. He felt suddenly like he’d been released from hell itself, and breathed deeply. He looked up, searching for fins and bubbles, but he didn’t see Halpern. Instead, he saw a white flash of metal, bearing down on him, four lights shining in his eyes, the water churning around it.
It was Havelock’s submersible. It looked straight out of a science fiction movie, like a giant metal bug, with three large portholes like eyes along the bottom.
Nicholas grabbed up his propulsion device to get away, but it was no match for Havelock’s submersible.
He saw the submersible had stopped. Had Havelock decided it wasn’t worth the time to try to run him down?
He prayed Halpern had escaped and he was already on his way to the surface to warn Mike. Nicholas knew he couldn’t get to Havelock down here, he had to get back up top. Suddenly the submersible shot past him, clipping his foot as it passed, knocking him around in a lazy circle.
Havelock had changed his mind. The submersible was turning to come at him again. He had to get to the surface now, but he couldn’t move. The submersible had shot off a net, trapping his legs.
He pulled his dive knife out of the sheath on his thigh and began sawing at the ropes. He sensed movement out of the corner of his mask, looked up to see a diver bearing down on him, a knife in his hand.
As the man swam closer, Nicholas saw through the face mask a scar bisecting the man’s eye and cheek, and a rictus of a smile around the regulator in his mouth. It wasn’t Havelock.
This must be the man März.
Had he come off the submersible? Yes, that was why Havelock had backed off for a moment. Nicholas swam backward and up, still sawing on the ropes.
Nicholas realized März didn’t want to get into a knife fight, he wanted to cut Nicholas’s air hose.
The submersible was backing away, its lights growing dimmer. Nicholas hoped März hadn’t killed Halpern.
Nicholas used his DPD as a shield as März came at him and kept cutting away the net on his legs. Finally, he kicked free of the netting as März swam over him, knife ready to slice through the tubing on Nicholas’s back. Nicholas corkscrewed in the water and thrust his own knife at März’s thigh as he swam past.
He missed.
März grabbed Nicholas’s tank and got his arm around his neck. He cut through the air hose to Nicholas’s regulator, sending a cloud of bubbles bursting upward. Nicholas twisted, felt März’s knife slash through his dry suit and into his arm, then his knee struck Nicholas’s hand and he dropped his knife. Nicholas managed to jerk free and swing his DPD around, hitting März in the face, shoving him backward.
There was a sudden whooshing sound and Nic
holas could swear he saw a torpedo shoot through the water not six feet away.
He couldn’t begin to understand what was happening. He was running out of breath. He grabbed for the secondary regulator on his shoulder, but he didn’t have time to suck in a breath. März turned a tight somersault and reversed fast, right in Nicholas’s face, his knife up and ready. Nicholas punched his fist into his mask, knocking it half off his face, then he ripped the mask all the way off, and caught März’s face between his hands. He shoved his thumbs into his eyes and pushed, hard.
There was a loud boom. The concussion tumbled both men backward, grappling for a hold on each other.
Nicholas heard the screech of metal, but he knew Havelock hadn’t sent a torpedo into the sub, otherwise the concussion of the blast would have killed them.
So who had fired at what?
Nicholas’s arm was bleeding, he was getting light-headed but knew if he passed out, he’d be dead. He grabbed März’s foot, and jerked him backward, until he was able to flip him around. März struggled even as the stirred-up silt blinded him. He got his thumbs into März’s eyes again and squeezed. A moment later, he felt something give way.
März jerked and danced in his hands, ribbons of blood curling around their heads. Nicholas ripped the regulator from März’s mouth, and sucked in air. Then he held März’s body between his legs and twisted his neck until he heard the crack of bone. He shoved his secondary air in his mouth, took a huge breath, and let go of März. He was facing Nicholas as he fell away, his eyes black holes, his head now dangling sideways. Nicholas watched his body hang limp in the water before slowly, slowly gliding downward.
Nicholas checked his air tank. His air was low, too low, but he hoped there was enough to make a decompression stop on the way up.
He started a slow ascent, carefully breathing in and out. Mike suddenly appeared in his brain, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot. Was she calling him a lamebrain? A set of fins came into view. It was Halpern, he was alive and waiting for him. He’d never been happier to see someone in his life.
Nicholas saw the air gauge on his dive computer was flashing red. He made a cut across his throat. Halpern quickly gave him his own regulator, and pointed to his dive watch, signaled three minutes.
Nicholas pointed to his arm where blood snaked into the water, and Halpern grabbed on to him. They hung quietly, off-gassing for a full three minutes, sharing the regulator back and forth.
Together they rose in an octopus ascent, skimming gently higher and higher, minute by minute, careful and smart, hanging still for another agonizing three minutes, then finally broke the surface. Nicholas saw the Dover not fifty feet away, and the men on deck shouting to them. Nicholas followed their pointing fingers and saw that Havelock’s ship, the Gravitania, was on fire, raging flames amidships, her nose now pointing to the sky. He watched as she slipped silently into the sea.
77
9:00 p.m.
Mike paced the deck of the HMS Dover, watching for Nicholas and Halpern. She’d had a firsthand view of everything Nicholas saw until März attacked. The initial impact had knocked the camera free. She’d never been so afraid in her life. She prayed, promising every good deed she could think of if only the right men would surface. She wouldn’t believe März had won.
The sun was gone, the air brisk and cool. They were using the ship’s big lights to scan the water. A young sailor joined her. “Ma’am? The captain’s asked for you. We have a hit on our sonar. We believe it’s the submersible you’re looking for.”
The Dover had steamed into the loch at the same moment Nicholas and März faced off. They’d gotten both Mike and Shepherd off the Gravitania, and onto the deck of the Dover. Shepherd was being treated in their sick bay, and Mike had briefed the ship’s captain. He’d immediately set to work looking for Havelock’s submersible. And now they’d found it.
Captain Kinsley showed her the spot on the screen. “It came from that narrow strip of land over there about five minutes ago. We can take it out with a single shot, it’s not moving fast enough to outrun us.”
“You’re sure it isn’t Drummond and Halpern?”
“It’s too big to be men, it’s displacing too much water, and moving at about four knots. I’m sure it’s not divers.”
But they could be close, she thought, too close, and she closed her eyes against the possibility. She gave it only a moment’s thought. The key didn’t matter, killing Havelock eliminated the threat of the micro-nukes.
“Light it up, Captain. The man on that submersible is an enemy of both our countries.”
He smiled, signaled to his man, who said, “Firing, firing, firing,” and the torpedo was free. It hissed away, and there was an impact. Mike felt the concussion.
“Direct hit, sir. The submersible is down.”
Havelock was dead. It was over.
A second explosion, this one from above the water, made them all rush to the rails. The Gravitania was on fire, flames spreading through the ship as if following a trail of gasoline.
Mike shouted, “Did you hit it, did the torpedo hit the ship and not the submersible?”
The captain shook his head. “The torpedo was on a completely different path. That explosion was internal to the ship, not external. And there’s no one aboard, so it was probably on a timer of some sort. You didn’t see a bomb on board?”
Mike shook her head, realized her hands were shaking. They’d been plucked off the Gravitania and brought on board the Dover only twenty-two minutes before.
Everyone but Mike watched the ship sink. She was staring down at the water. She knew how much air they had, and it was gone. She had to face it, Nicholas and Halpern hadn’t made it.
The surface of the water began to bubble. When she saw Nicholas’s head break the water, she didn’t say a word, so grateful, she stood mute, heart pounding, thinking over and over, You did it, James Bond, you did it.
—
NICHOLAS AND HALPERN were chilled to the bone. The medics from the Dover wrapped both men in special heat-trapping blankets, stitched Nicholas’s arm, dropped a pain pill down his gullet. When they finally let Mike in to see him, she went straight to his bed and hugged him hard, and kissed him. His lips were cold, his teeth chattering, but he grinned at her.
Mike said, “Didn’t we have a talk about you pulling death-defying stunts? You scared me to death.”
Nicholas ran a hand over her hair, rested it on the back of her neck. “At one point down there I saw you clear as day—did you call me a lamebrain?”
“Not this time, I was too scared. You’re all right, Nicholas, you’re all right.”
“I’ve got to admit I didn’t think I was going to make it up, and I wouldn’t have if not for Ryan.” He called out across the sick bay, “I owe you one, Ryan, you saved me. What was the explosion? Tell me what happened above water.”
“They hit the submersible with a torpedo. If Havelock was still in it, he’s dead.”
“So I didn’t dream it, then? I thought I saw a torpedo whiz by. Havelock dead? Somehow I can’t quite come to grips with that. I have a lot to tell you.” He realized he was still holding her close and pulled his hand away. She didn’t move for another moment, then slowly straightened, and he told her about the billions of dollars in gold bars in the sub, about the woman he’d found in her own private tomb. He mentioned briefly März’s attack once he came out of the sub. After they thrashed it all out, she pushed him again about März. Nicholas said only, “He knifed my arm, but in the end, I killed him. As for the key and Curie’s book, Havelock took them.”
“Do you think this was the woman Shepherd spoke of? Ansonia?”
“I do. Is Shepherd awake? I’d like to hear more.”
“Shepherd was in and out of consciousness the whole time you were down. He’s messed up pretty bad. They had no choice but to operate, possible because they’ve
got a small operating room on board.” She looked at her watch. “They took him in for surgery maybe twenty minutes ago. It’s going to be a while before he’s coherent enough to talk.”
“Has there been word on Adam and Sophie?”
Mike shook her head. “I would assume they’re probably off on this phantom boat Shepherd talked about, with Weston and Havelock’s whipstress. But there’s been no sign of it.”
“His what?”
“I made it up. Sounds fitting, doesn’t it?”
He burst out laughing, startling the medics, who rushed over to make sure he was okay. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Agent Caine’s a comic, that’s all.”
The captain strode into the sick bay. “We’re receiving some sort of distress signal from that long piece of land and someone’s waving a white flag at us. We’re sending a boat over, and the chopper for support, in case. We’ll have whoever it is on board shortly.”
They heard the chopper’s rotors whining, heard it lift off, and they waited.
78
HMS Dover
9:30 p.m.
After a reluctant nod from his captain, the medic unhooked Nicholas from his IV and discharged him from sick bay. He and Mike went up onto the deck of the Dover to watch the rescue.
The lights of the chopper swung crazily along the coast of Loch Eriboll, the granite cliffs shining white in the beams of light. A small rescue craft scooted over the water, sending out ripples across the surface. The chopper hovered, spinning up debris and rocks, then set down next to the hut.
Five minutes later, the boat was headed back, no shots fired, no trouble at all. When the boat drew close enough, Mike let out a shout. “It’s Sophie Pearce!”
She was a mess, bedraggled, bruised, exhausted, still wearing Alex Shepherd’s shirt, the gauze bandage still wrapped tightly across her back, but she managed to climb the ladder to the deck of the Dover. Both Nicholas and Mike wanted to speak to her, but a medic said, “Nope, first we take care of her.”
The Lost Key Page 30
