by Scott Cook
“Hmm… that explains why she’s working alone…”
“Yes. The reason she was terminated,” Ariel stated, ‘Was that she gained unauthorized access to information that was classified as ultra-secret. She was caught.”
“But not prosecuted?” I asked.
“Apparently not. She was simply dismissed.”
“Let me guess. The classified information had to do with U-2626.”
“Precisely,” Ariel finished.
“I’m surprised you’d get all that,” I said, “It being so classified and all.”
She grinned, “We have… well placed assets. And since it has to do with Nazi war crimes and so forth…”
“Understood,” I replied, “So… since you can counteract listening devices… I assume you can also plant your own?”
She nodded, “And no, to answer your next question… she’s revealed nothing. Yet I have a suspicion.”
I frowned, “You think she’s after the bacteria for her own purposes?”
She kissed me, “You should really be in intelligence… that’s precisely what I think. What those purposes are is another matter… but Audrey Lambert is certainly here for her own reasons.”
I sighed, “Maybe it’s to recover the stuff and get her back in good graces with Langley. Maybe it’s only to support her grandfather…”
“That could very well be,” Ariel said, “Although why it would really matter to him I don’t know. He’s an old man and hasn’t a great deal of time left.”
I chuckled, “that old guy could live to be a hundred and twenty if he wanted. But yeah… it’d really be best for everyone if the canisters were never found. Eventually they’ll either be broken or buried and no harm to anybody.”
“Perhaps…” she pondered, “Perhaps he just wants to tie up an old loose end. And yet… and yet I have a feeling there’s more to this.”
“You think she might be assisting another party?”
Ariel nodded, “I’ve done a lot of checking into the background of Jack Brody and Jibreel Al-Rajid, as you might expect. As far as I can tell and as far as Joe can tell through his own research, they’re both clean. No ties to terrorists or hostile governments. Brody is exactly what he seems to be. An arrogant yet brilliant man of his profession who thrills in the hunt. Jibreel is a wealthy Dubai business man who’s only real connection is to the crown prince. He’s a second cousin once removed.”
“Okay… then we’re back at square one.”
She nodded, “I suppose so.”
“We need to find those wrecks,” I said, “That’s job one. Once we do, whatever hidden plans anybody has will hatch out. Audrey doesn’t understand that. She thinks I betrayed her and Hank by getting everyone together on this expedition.”
“Yet you want all parties in one place so that you can see what happens when you find that boat,” Ariel said, kissing me again.
“Something like that,” I said.
“Do you know more than you’re letting on?” Ariel asked.
I scowled, “Know? I don’t know more… but I have a suspicion.”
“Would you share it with me?” She asked.
Normally I like to keep my wilder hunches to myself. Should I be wrong, nobody knows that I jumped to a stupid conclusion. Should it prove right, it’s often an important key to the puzzle and keeping it to myself ensures an advantage. I paused in consideration for a long moment.
“You like to play it close to the vest, I see,” She said without rancor.
“It’s safer,” I suggested.
She chuckled, “Scott, you’re talking to an intelligence agent. If you don’t feel comfortable…”
“No,” I said, “I decided to trust you, and it may be a good idea for you to know this.”
“What is it?” She asked.
I told her.
Chapter 30
We arrived at my specified coordinates just after sunrise. I strolled out onto the wide open afterdeck at six-thirty in the morning with a steaming mug of coffee to watch the sun peek over the eastern horizon. The morning was crisp and a light breeze blew. It was in the low sixties and my leather jacket was plenty to keep the chill away.
I was surprised to find Hank Lambert standing near the taff rail with his own mug. He wore a pea jacket and watch cap to fend off the morning cold. He stood statue still, staring out at the light off our port quarter.
“Morning, Master Chief,” I said, sidling up next to him and leaning on the rail.
“You’re up early, son,” Hank replied, not turning away from the view, “Only five bells in the morning watch. You oughtta still be in your rack.”
I chuckled, “Always been an early riser, Hank. Besides, we’re just about on station by McClay’s calculations. And there’s nothing quite like a rising sun at sea, is there?”
“No,” Lambert said quietly, sipping from his mug, “No there isn’t…”
Suddenly I saw what he saw. Not that morning’s sunrise, but one that took place more than four decades before I was born. The last sunrise that two enemy submarines would ever see. It was an odd juxtaposition, the here and now blending so effortlessly with that long ago morning both taking place in more or less the exact same spot.
Then it came. A tiny sliver of golden light broke where the deep gray of the sea met the rich azure of the morning sky. As we watched, a slowly widening finger of reflected light connected the sun to our ship.
Lambert sighed, “Really something to see. Can’t believe how long it’s been since I watched this… it’s a funny thing about getting old, son. At my age, I feel like I’ve lived two lives.”
“Master Chief?” I queried. I had a feeling I knew what he meant, though.
He turned his strong lined face to me, “Well… there’s the first life. The life of a young man who joined the Navy and served for over thirty years. Then worked in the private sector for a while and retired a little early. Then there’s that second life… a middle aged man growing old for decade after decade. You know I’ve been retired longer than you’ve been alive? Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”
I chuckled, “Hard for me to conceive, Hank.”
He patted me on the shoulder, “you know what the difference is between thirty and ninety?”
“I wouldn’t even presume to guess, Hank. I’m sixty years shy of your experience.”
“Sure ya’ do, son,” Hank said, turning to face me, “Because there isn’t any. Yeah, I look in the mirror and see a white haired wrinkled old fart. I don’t’ move as fast and sleep too much… but inside… in my mind and in my heart where it really counts… I’m still the same strapping young buck I used to be at your age.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re still going strong,” I offered, “It’s said that the mind is our most powerful tool.”
Lambert nodded, “It sure is, son. It sure is.”
He held my gaze for a long moment. It seemed to me that he had something else to say. After a time, he just smiled and sipped his coffee.
“Hey!” Came McClay’s booming voice from the upper deck after rail, “If you two hens are finished clucking, you might want to come up to the bridge. We’re on station.”
“Come on, Master Chief,” I said, patting Hank on the shoulder with genuine affection, “The old man wants us on the bridge.”
I followed Lambert up the exterior companionway to the lounge deck. Although he moved a little slow, his steps were careful and measured. I once again hoped that I was so together in sixty-plus years.
The bridge was crowded when we arrived. Everyone was there. Audrey and Ariel stood as far apart as they could while being able to maintain a good view of the large monitor over the engineer’s station. McClay was tapping commands into a computer console built into the helm station.
“The captain is programming a spiral search pattern,” Brody said, “We’re gonna deploy our towed side scan sonar and camera assembly and see if we can spot one or both of the boats.”
“Anything yet?” I asked.<
br />
“Negative,” McClay said, “Just some small variations in bottom topography. It’s about a hundred and seventy feet deep here with eight to ten foot fluctuations up or down.”
“The trouble is,” Brody continued, in his true element now, “These wrecks have had seventy-five years to acquire growth. It may be hard to detect them electronically.”
“That’s why we’ll use the towed camera,” Ariel added, “These wrecks lie in what’s known as the epipelagic zone of the ocean, often referred to as the sunlight zone. This is where the greatest amount of light penetrates and this is where the greatest variations in temperatures occur. Wrecks at depths shallower than two hundred meters… a little over six hundred feet… tend to acquire the greatest amount of growth. Seventy-five years is a long time in the sunlight zone.”
“But what about deep wrecks like Titanic?” McClay asked, “She’s covered in growth too, even though she lies in twelve thousand feet.”
“True,” Ariel confirmed, “At that depth, the third layer of the ocean is known as the bathypelagic or midnight zone. There is no light there, yet some organisms thrive. Some surface creatures such as the Sperm Whale dive this deep for food. However, the Titanic is coated in a form of small colony organism known as a rusticle. It’s a spongey growth that resembles melting steel. However, barnacles and soft growth such as we see in the epipelagic zone are impossible. That’s why so many artifacts have been preserved as new even from more than a century on the bottom.”
“I’ve seen it in person,” Brody said. His voice held a note of solemnity that surprised me, “It’s… it’s hard to describe. The ship itself looks almost pristine until you’re right on top of her. Even then, she’s still in pretty good shape, considering. But the stuff between the bow and stern sections… the debris field… is like a museum. I’ve seen dinner ware, clothing, and clocks… even found a bottle of Bordeaux that was still intact!”
“Bet that went for a pretty penny,” Lambert mused.
Brody smiled, “It would probably be worth millions. But it’s in Jibreel’s museum now.”
“You can see why Miss Tariffa is so valuable,” Al-Rajid said with a smile.
Audrey cocked an eyebrow and looked like she was going to make a snide comment but refrained. I was glad for that. This was hardly the time.
Juan wandered onto the bridge carrying a steaming mug and looking bleary-eyed. Lambert treated him to a wry grin.
“Finally clawed yourself out of your rack, eh, son?”
“Is too early…” Juan moaned, “We should all be in bed.”
“Early to bed, early to rise,” Al-Rajid quoted with a wry grin.
I clapped Juan on the shoulder, “You’re just in time for the show, Juan.”
“Once we deploy the sled, the feed will show up on this monitor here, although you can see it from just about anywhere aboard,” Brody explained to us.
“What about the mini?” Audrey asked.
“We’ll use her once we locate the wrecks,” Brody replied, “We can then use her as a mobile headquarters for extended dive time. The water is shallow enough for scuba, but we’ve got a supply of re-breathers aboard. That’ll give us far more bottom time and allow for easier access to the boats.”
Brody and Imani headed aft. Hank and Audrey sat on the sofa along the starboard bulkhead and Al-Rajid stood near the engineer’s station.
“It’ll be a few minutes,” The Arab stated, “Perhaps you’d all like to have a bite of breakfast?”
“Si,” Juan piped up a bit, “I’ll make the breakfast.”
“Good on ya’, son,” Lambert said, “He’s a great cook, too.”
Al-Rajid smiled and led Juan, Hank and Audrey out and down to the galley. The bridge was suddenly very quiet and almost lonely.
I went over and stood behind McClay’s shoulder, examining the ship’s controls.
“Looking for the wheel?” he asked with a wry grin.
“I haven’t seen one yet,” I said, “it’s all fly by wire, obviously. I see the asipod controls and throttle settings here… and I see you can use this built-in computer workstation to program your GPS and autopilot.”
“You got it,” McClay said, “Damned precise too. With these pump jets, I can practically hold her on a dime. I can use a remote hand held and drive the entire ship by remote control with amazing accuracy.”
I leaned in close to inspect the Star Trek-like control board and said almost in his ear, “Ari—Imani told me about Audrey.”
McClay nodded slightly, “What’s your read?”
I shrugged, “No idea. But the fact that everybody is here and two hundred miles to sea means we’re in control.”
McClay snorted, “Don’t be so sure.”
I chuckled, “Well, we have a semblance of it. She says Brody and Al-Rajid are on the level. Is that your assessment?”
“So far,” McClay said, “But one can never be too careful, can one?”
“I’ll drink to that,” I whispered, “and at least no assassins can sneak up on us out here.”
“Let’s hope this little adventure ends a bit quieter than our last,” McClay offered with a wry grin.
“Bridge,” Brody’s voice filtered over the intercom, “The sled is awash. Let’s proceed with your pattern at say… two knots.”
McClay tapped a toggle on his console, “Roger that, after deck. Recommend feeding out a four to one scope.”
“Will do,” Ariel replied.
“This is the fewest number of crew we’ve ever had,” McClay said, “Usually there’s a dozen folks aboard on this kind of operation.”
“Can we handle it?” I asked.
“Should be okay. We work on a three-watch system with a full crew, so there’s plenty of redundancy. But we’re taking it slow today because either Jack or Imani will be operating the sled.”
“What’s involved with that?
“Obviously the ship provides motive power. But the sled has a rudder, adjustable planes and even a small ballast system. So the operator can maneuver it horizontally or vertically. Which is helpful when you’re scanning close to the bottom. Wouldn’t do to smash the thing into a big rock. Also, somebody has to monitor the sonar and video feed. So it takes two people, although one can do it if necessary.”
“Damn,” I said, “I feel like I’m on a Discovery Channel project.”
McClay laughed, “We’ve done that.”
By early afternoon, our spiral search pattern had expanded considerably. To be clear, it wasn’t a curving spiral, but more of a series of right angles that started at a centralized point and continued to expand with each full round.
For instance, we started at my plotted point and drove due east for fifty yards, turned north for another fifty, then west for one hundred yards, south for one hundred yards and then east for one-hundred and fifty. In this way, each complete square would extend our search radius by fifty yards. Brody calculated that this was a good spread because the visibility was about a third of that and the sonar returns were extremely strong out to that range.
After five hours or so, the square was nearly a mile on a side. A complete circuit at that stage would take almost two hours to complete.
It was interesting how discouraged Audrey got by that time. She became restless, took to walking around the ship, fidgeting nervously when watching the video feed and even huffing and puffing from time to time. She was the only one, however.
“This could take days,” Brody tried to explain after lunch, “Even assuming Jarvis’ plot was within a mile or two of the wrecks. This isn’t an exact science, Miss Lambert.”
She threw a withering glare in my direction as I stood behind Ariel who was at the sled’s control console in the oceanographic lab. I noticed but pretended I didn’t.
“Maybe his plot is shit,” she finally said when her nasty looks weren’t getting the appropriate rise out of me.
“Maybe it is,” I said absent-mindedly as I watched the video feed and compared it to the sona
r monitor.
The bottom topography was interesting. Sharp craggy hillocks of granite and other rocks that mixed with a variety of fans. There were schools of small reef fish such as Sergeant Majors, Pin fish and Grunts. At one point, a massive school of Cobia filled the camera’s view, each fish the size of a sofa it seemed.
“Perhaps you’d like to try your hand, Audrey?” Ariel said in a tone that was as distant as mine, although the hint of challenge in it was anything but subtle, “put your years of sailing experience and oceanographic expertise to work?”
“I’m only suggesting that it could be incorrect,” Audrey snapped.
Something caught my eye. A strange curve on the sonar return and something vague and regular at the edge of the right side of the video screen. Since the camera was looking forward, this would be off to starboard.
“Imani…” I breathed, leaning in, “What… can you pan right?”
She manipulated a joystick that turned the sled’s rudder. This had the effect of slewing the nearly six hundred pound device about forty-five degrees to the right. There it was again. A vague and milky something that was barely visible. It blended in with the bottom and was mostly obscured by water turbidity.
“What is that?” I whispered.
Ariel tapped a switch on her board. I heard the hiss of an open intercom link before she said, “Bridge, O-lab. Make a waypoint and do a three-hundred and sixty degree loop to starboard. Maybe… one hundred yard radius.”
“Roger that, lab,” McClay answered, “Find something?”
“Check your monitor,” I said, “What do you think? And you, Jack?”
Brody hunched over the other side of Ariel’s chair now, “Christ… it looks promising. But that could be anything. This kind of bottom would hide these boats well.”
Al-Rajid entered with Hank Lambert. The Arab had a big smile on his face, “You found them?”
“Dunno yet, Jibreel,” Brody said, tapping the screen, “but there’s something big over there.”
Lambert came to take a look and I heard a sharp intake of breath. One of his boney hands found my forearm and gripped it with surprising strength.
