Both of the women’s eyes widened. “Mistakes?”
“Yes.” Lee sighed again, turning around to face them. “There’s a lot involved in what IMIS does. It starts with converting the analog wavelengths of our voice into digital data. It then parses that data into chunks that can be matched against spelling and grammatical rules looking for errors. Then it applies dozens of-” he suddenly stopped when he noticed their eyes beginning to glaze over.
“Okay,” he continued. “So that’s basically how it works…but here’s the problem: the communication is increasingly becoming less systematic. In other words, it’s unraveling.” Lee swung back around to his screen. He grabbed the mouse and scrolled up through the log until the entries displayed the time and date from four days ago. “Look at this. Not as many errors as today.” He then scrolled up further. “And even less last week.”
“So they’re increasing?”
“Exactly.”
“So what are the errors saying?” asked DeeAnn.
“What they seem to be indicating is that an increasing number of language translations are no longer matching. The time synchronizations are off. Which means the data is being received and transmitted out of order.”
Alison stood up straight. “So what does that mean? We’re not really talking to Dirk and Sally, or Dulce?”
“No, that’s the weird part. There aren’t any errors for Dirk and Sally’s translations, just Dulce’s. And, yes, we are really talking to her, for now.” He scrolled back down his log entries. “But the errors are clearly increasing, and we’re already close to one error out of every twenty translations. It’s getting worse, fast.”
DeeAnn shot Alison a worried look. “And you have no idea what the problem is?”
Lee shook his head sheepishly. “I don’t. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but haven’t been able to yet. If I had to guess, I would say there’s something wrong with one or more of the logic sequences we developed for Dulce. Those that are primate specific. Or, perhaps a flaw in one of the algorithms itself. Either way, it indicates this to be a deep problem and not something we can fix quickly, or easily.”
DeeAnn took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “So what you’re saying is even if we build another vest for me to take, it may not work regardless.”
“I’m afraid so. I agree with Juan. We could assemble a vest in time and make it work, even if he went with you and did the testing on the plane. But at some point, your communication with Dulce is going to become less and less accurate until you reach a point that you can’t even understand her.”
“How long do you think I’d have?”
“Hard to say,” Lee shrugged. “Judging from the speed the errors are increasing, I’d guess three or four days.”
Alison folded her arms. “And you think this will take some time to fix.”
“Eventually, yes. We haven’t even identified where the problem is, let alone begun working on a fix.”
Alison turned to her left and stared at DeeAnn. “Well, I guess it’s now or never!”
19
Will Borger peered through the side window of the blue-gray SH-60F “Oceanhawk” helicopter and watched the blur of the blue Caribbean waters passing beneath them. His white knuckles gripped the top of his bag, which was secured tightly between his knees as he kept his eyes closed and tried to fight off a budding sense of nausea.
Borger didn’t like to fly, especially in helicopters. He understood all the physics involved. He understood the properties of air pressure and lift. He even understood the dynamics behind autorotation for emergency landings but none of that helped. In the end, his respect for the simple, yet “terminal”, role of gravity ultimately won out.
Borger checked his watch again, anxiously. He recounted the steps in his apparent mistake at waking up Admiral Langford to give him the news about the Chinese ship. He hadn’t expected to be included on a plane flight with Clay and Caesare, now headed south. Nor was he expecting the Oceanhawk, which had been waiting in Grenada to fly them out to sea, do drop onto one of the Navy’s research ships already en route to Guyana.
Borger heard something through his bulky headset and turned away from the window. He leaned forward and peered past Clay, who was seated in the middle. Steve Caesare was slumped quietly against the wall on his side of the narrow cabin. Borger shook his head in amazement. Watching Caesare sleep, despite the thunderous blades of the helicopter, was bad enough. Having to listen to him snore blissfully through the headset was just plain ridiculous.
The blur of the water below them slowed and the helicopter began to bank to the left. As it came around, Borger glimpsed part of the ship below them. Finally, they had arrived.
The USNS Bowditch was one of the Navy’s Oceanographic Survey Ships, performing research for acoustical, biological, physical, and geophysical ocean surveys. At an impressive 328 feet, with a stark white painted hull, it was one of six “Special Mission” ships in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command.
Once the helicopter dropped softly onto the pad, the sliding door next to Borger was pulled open. The face of a petty officer appeared in helmet and goggles. Powerful rotors could be heard winding down above them while the three stooped and climbed down the short set of steps.
Borger, still hunching forward, followed Clay and Caesare across the gray deck and up the two flights of stairs to the ship’s bridge.
A tall and lean Captain Krogstad nodded to all three men as they stepped inside.
“Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Bowditch.”
“Thank you,” they said, almost in unison. Clay stepped forward and extended his hand. “We appreciate the lift, Captain.”
Krogstad eyed Clay as he shook his hand. “I have my orders.”
Clay hoped that was Krogstad’s version of a joke. He knew the Captain was actually longtime friends with Admiral Langford, and had effectively “retired” to a research ship simply to stay off the “hard.”
The fact of the matter was that Krogstad had seen his share of naval incursions over the last thirty years, both official and unofficial. Like many hardened senior officers, he had decided combat was rarely the answer to most problems; something politicians never seemed to figure out. Krogstad had also long since given himself to the sea and, frankly, had no intention of giving up an active command. Not until they took it from him.
The captain turned to the young female officer standing next to him, dressed sharply in a white shirt and skirt. “This is Commander Neely Lawton, our technical officer. She will show you to your quarters and help you with anything you need. Once the chopper’s buttoned up, we can get underway again.” He glanced at his watch. “We should make landfall by tomorrow morning.”
They thanked the captain again and nodded to Commander Lawton. “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said. “If you’ll come with me, please.” With that, she stepped past them and pulled open the door they’d just come through.
The three followed her down another set of stairs to the mid-deck, then along a catwalk to the foredeck. She led them through a series of hallways until they reached an end with doors to each of their cabins.
Lawton motioned to the doors. “Feel free to settle in, gentlemen. Have you been on a Pathfinder class ship before?”
Steve Caesare flashed his winning Italian smile from under his dark mustache. “We sure have.”
Lawton was turning away but stopped and did a double take at his smile. Almost imperceptibly, she furrowed her brow and continued. “Then I assume you know the layout of the ships. I’ll be in the science lab for most of the afternoon. If you’re hungry, please feel free to stop by the cafeteria. Our cook should be there for another couple hours and would be happy to make you something.”
The men thanked her and watched Lawton turn and walk back down the narrow passage. After she disappeared from view, Clay frowned and looked at Caesare.
“Not the reaction you were looking for, eh?” He slapped him on the back. “Maybe your smile is losing its charm.”
Caesare scoffed. “Impossible!”
After an early lunch, the men visited the lab, which was located near the center of the ship and one of the largest sections on the mid-deck. The room, brightly lit from dozens of fluorescent lights overhead, had only a few small windows. The walls were painted in the ship’s familiar light gray, covered with glass-door shelving. The tables were full of science equipment and computers.
Commander Lawton was on the far side of the room, standing over two seated researchers. All three of them studied a huge computer monitor mounted securely above the table. On the screen was a three-dimensional topological map of the ocean floor, with bright orange dots spread uniformly across the picture.
Caesare crossed the light-colored tile floor and stopped next to her, joining them to examine the monitor. “And what do we have here?”
Lawton did not take her eyes off the screen. “It’s part of a new array we’ve been deploying in the eastern Caribbean. Similar to the old hydrophones, but these are based on active sonar technology. More sensitive with a much better range.”
“How many have you deployed?” asked Clay.
She straightened and turned around. “Several thousand square miles so far. We’re still running tests and fine-tuning, but within a few years, we’ll be able to monitor everything larger than a life raft in this area.”
Caesare looked wryly at Clay and Borger. “Could have used that with the Forel.”
“Is that the Russian sub you found near Brazil?” she asked.
“Correct.”
“Any chance you know what direction it came from?” asked Lawton.
“It’s debatable,” Caesare grinned.
“I don’t think it came through your array if that’s what you’re asking.” Clay suddenly had a thought about the Forel. “Although it would be interesting to see what happened if it did. We found it carrying a powerful active noise reduction system on board, which we assumed was used to silence its propulsion system. But now I’m wondering whether it could do something similar with the sound waves from sonar.”
Borger’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow. I hadn’t thought about that. If those speakers run the length of the sub…that could be big.”
Caesare eyed the two biosafety cabinets behind them, used for providing ultra-sterile testing environments. “So, Commander Lawton, what is your background, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Biology. Systems Biology, to be exact. DNA, proteins, complexes…that sort of thing. We have two other biologists onboard, both biochemists. The rest of our science team is comprised of geologists, oceanographers, and marine ecologists. The technical team covers electronics, sounding and imaging, and a few other areas. All in all, we have a pretty well-rounded group.”
“It certainly sounds like it.”
“Speaking of which, your arrival has us all a little curious. Why exactly are we headed for Guyana if the sub is reportedly in Brazil?”
“You don’t know?” Clay asked, with raised eyebrows.
Her blonde hair pulled back into a bun, Lawton shook her head with a serious expression. “No. All we know is that we were ordered to pull out in the middle of our project, without much explanation. We were told to prepare to receive you and head straight for Guyana. We were assuming you would fill us in.”
Clay looked at Caesare. “We have a Chinese corvette class warship sitting in the middle of Guyana, which has been idle for some time. It appears we’re not the only ones interested in finding out what it’s doing there.”
“Corvette class?” Lawton exclaimed. “What’s a corvette doing in the Atlantic?”
Caesare shrugged. “Beats us. They’re new, with a pretty stealthy hull design to boot. Yet this one was being spied upon by the Russian sub.”
“How long has it been there?”
Borger spoke up. “At least a few months from what we can see from the ARGUS.”
Lawton’s looked at him with surprise. “You have access to the ARGUS?”
“We do.”
“I’m impressed. Do you have the data with you?”
Borger smiled at her. “I sure do. Shall I fire it up?”
“Please.”
Once logged in, Borger accessed the data on his external drive and brought up some of the detailed overhead shots he had shown the guys during their call with Langford.
They were examining an overhead shot of the corvette when Lawton leaned closer to the wide screen that Borger was borrowing. “How close can you zoom in?”
“Pretty close.” He used his mouse as they zoomed in, stopping to reposition the frame so that it came in on the middle of the ship. The extreme detail was incredible. They could see the anti-ship armament almost as clearly as if they were standing on the ship itself.
“Wow,” she mumbled.
“The ARGUS is pretty impressive.”
“You’re telling me.” Lawton tilted her head to compensate for the rotation of the picture. She glanced at the bottom right corner where the time and date were displayed. “Midday,” she said. “Where is everyone?”
“Good question. I haven’t had time to run a detailed scan yet, but so far I haven’t seen anyone topside.”
“It supposedly came in for repairs.” Caesare straightened up and folded his arms. “So far, we can’t see any damage or repair equipment.”
Next to Caesare, Neely Lawton straightened as well. “It’s not there for repairs.”
Clay and Caesare looked at each other, then back to her.
“Guyana doesn’t have facilities for repairing a ship that size. I’ve been there. If anything, its capital, Georgetown, is more of a retail and administrative center. Its biggest claim to fame is having the CARICOM headquarters there.”
“So, it’s there for something else,” mused Caesare. “What are Guyana’s primary resources?”
“Rice and sugar exports,” replied Clay, dryly.
“Rice and sugar?”
“And a little timber and gold. But if that’s what the Chinese were after, they would have come with a freighter, not a warship. Which means…”
“They’re probably guarding something,” finished Caesare.
“Without anyone being on the ship?” Borger leaned forward, rotating through the same images taken on different days. Each picture looked the same, with only a few obscured by the cloud cover. They all watched Borger continue further back. He looked up over his shoulder. “Could it be abandoned?”
Clay shook his head. “Not with a ship like this.”
Lawton watched, thoughtfully. “Can we bring it back to present day?”
“Sure.” Borger complied until he was back at the most recent image.
“Now let’s roll back again at, say, an hour a minute.”
After a few mouse clicks, the video began to advance at an accelerated pace. The brightness of the hull dimmed several times from patches of clouds. As they stood, watching silently for several minutes, there was still no sign of anyone. They could then see the resolution begin to darken across the frame as evening approached.
Less than a minute later, the picture had grown almost completely dark. The only exception was the faint lights from the modest city of Georgetown, illuminating one by one.
“This is strange,” said Lawton. “I guess I can see why you hijacked our ship.”
Caesare grinned. “Now you know almost as much as we do.”
Borger spun his chair around to face them. “I’ll see if I can get more data from the ARGUS and go back even further. If we can zoom in from the beginning, when it first arrived, we should be able to find out what happened to everyone.”
“And where the Forel came from.”
“Right.”
“I’m assuming the Forel arrived after the corvette. Something strange is going…” Borger suddenly fell silent as he noticed the expression on Clay and Caesare’s faces change. Their eyes were wide open, as was Neely Lawton’s. All three were staring at the screen behind him. When Borger whipped back around to the monitor, hi
s eyes grew wider than anyone’s. “Whoa!”
The video was still advancing and had elapsed through the first two hours of darkness, as viewed from the satellite. That’s when things changed. At just a couple of hours after darkness, the area around the mysterious warship suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.
20
“She’s doing what?!” Chris Ramirez’ jaw dropped open as he sat on one of the boat’s padded bench seats.
Alison took a deep breath and shrugged. “She’s going.”
Kelly Carlson was leaning against the skipper’s chair with a similar look of surprise.
The boat was a forty-eight foot Prowler catamaran. Alison still wasn’t a huge fan of the government, but their generous funding certainly helped. It also meant that Alison’s team had been able to replace their old boat with a larger model: one with more range and less mechanical problems. The extra room also meant they were able to stay out in the ocean longer without the team feeling like sardines.
“And you’re just going to let her go?” Chris asked, appallingly.
“Well, I can’t exactly stop her now, can I?”
“Ali,” Chris said, with concern. “I’ve been to South America. I spent almost three years in Paraguay with the Peace Corps.”
“I know.”
“I’m telling you, South America is a dangerous place. Unless you’re in a large city, it can be very dangerous!”
Alison didn’t say anything. She remembered the stories Chris had told her when they’d met. Especially the one night when their camps were raided, a few people in Chris’ group were nearly kidnapped, and a young woman in another group had been raped by two of Paraguay’s soldiers. It still made her sick to even think about it.
Kelly crossed her arms and raised one of her feet, resting it on the rung around the bottom of the chair. “How much do we know about this billionaire guy?”
“He checks out. And he certainly seems genuine.”
“This is nuts,” Chris muttered, shaking his head. He knew how strong-willed DeeAnn was and decided to take a different tack: one of practicality. “How is she even going to talk to Dulce?”
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