Fire Ice (NUMA Files 3)

"Where does that leave us?"

"Nowhere, I'm afraid. I wish Max and I were there to take a crack at the puzzle."

Austin replied with a grunt, then looked at the phone. "The solution may be at hand. You tell me

if it's possible."

He explained what he was thinking and Yaeger said it was doable, given the right equipment. Austin returned the phone to Trout, who got up and began to go through drawers in the console and other cabinets in the room. He found some cables that he spliced together, and then plugged one end into the computer's entry port. "It's not the greatest modem in the world, but I'll try to attach it to the phone now." He removed the back of the phone and ran the other end of the cable inside. Then he dialed a number.

The computer screen went squirrelly for a second. Letters and numbers streamed by in a blur. The screen went blank. Then a message appeared: "We're wired. Starting to download. Hiram and Max."

Austin glanced at his watch as he paced back and forth, wondering how long it would take Yaeger to do his job. The minutes ticked by. He feared that they would have to leave before the job was done. But after ten minutes, a big yellow smiley face wearing granny glasses that looked suspiciously like Yaeger's appeared. "Hack job done. Hiram and Max."

They quickly disconnected the makeshift modem and replaced the parts. Austin stuck his head out the door to see if the way was clear. The corridor was deserted. Moving with haste they made their way back to the ship diagram and selected a shorter route to the moon pool. So far their luck had held out and they'd seen no one. Austin was puzzled at the lack of personnel, but wasn't about to argue with good fortune. They were hurrying along a passageway, when they passed a door and heard voices speaking in English. The accents were unmistakably American. Austin tried the door and found it locked. Again, he resorted to his lock picks.

The door opened onto a cabin with two bunks. Lounging on the bunks, with bored expressions on their faces, were Captain Logan and the pilot from the NR-1. Their conversation stopped in midsentence, and they stared at the newcomers with unbridled hostility, assuming they were guards who had come to make their life miserable.

Logan turned to the pilot and said, "Where are they getting these guys?"

"The tall one looks like he should be scaring crows in a field," the pilot said.

"That suit on the shorter guy sure didn't come from Armani," Logan said, with a chuckle.

"Armani was closed, Captain Logan. We had to borrow our wardrobe from the ship's crew."

Suspicion clouded Logan's eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"That gentleman imitating a scarecrow is my colleague, Paul Trout. My name is Kurt Austin, but you can call me 'Shorty.' "

The captain sprang from his bunk. "Dammit, you're Americans!"

"Told you our disguises wouldn't hold up," Austin said to Trout. He turned back to Logan. "Guilty as charged, Captain. Paul and I are with the NUMA Special Assignments Team."

The captain looked toward the door. "We didn't hear any fighting. Have your guys taken over the ship?"

Austin and Trout exchanged amused glances. "Sorry to disappoint you. Delta Force was busy, so we came alone," Austin said.

"I don't understand. How – "

Austin cut him off. "We'll explain after we get you off this ship."

He motioned to Trout, who opened the door slightly to see if it was safe to exit. Again the hallway was clear. With a Trout leading the way and Austin taking up the rear, they moved along a corridor toward the stairway as if they were escorting the submariners.

The strategy came in handy a moment later when they encountered a lone guard walking in their direction, his weapon shouldered. Austin guessed from the man's casual demeanor that he was on his way back to his quarters. The guard's eyes flicked toward Trout and his brow wrinkled as he tried to figure out why he didn't recognize a shipmate of a Trout's imposing height. The captain stopped when he saw the guard, unsure of what to do.

Austin could have taken the guard out, but he preferred that the visit to the ship go unnoticed, if possible. He hooked his foot around Logan's ankle and gave him a shove. The captain went down on his hands and knees. The guard's puzzlement changed to amusement, and he roared with laughter and said something in Russian. He laughed again when Austin kicked the captain lightly in the rear end.

Austin shrugged and replied with an innocent look. Still laughing, the guard continued along the hall until he was out of sight. Austin reached down and helped Logan up.

"Sorry, Captain," he said, with obvious embarrassment. was getting a fix on Paul, and I had to divert his attention."

Logan dusted off the seat of his pants. "I've had my command hijacked, my crew kidnapped, and been forced by these seagoing thugs to use a U.S. Navy vessel for their purposes," he said with a grin. "I'll suffer whatever it takes to get off this ship."

Trout stopped and examined another wall diagram. "It looks as if the moon pool hold is divided into a smaller and larger section. I'd advise going in the smaller end to avoid crew quarters here."

Austin told him to lead the way. With long, loping strides, Trout led them along a series of passageways until they came to an unlocked door. On the other side was a catwalk that ran along the wall of a high-ceiling chamber about a third the size of the moon pool.

"What the hell is that thing?" the captain said. He was looking at a huge cylindrical object suspended from the ceiling. It was at least four feet across and fifty feet long. The bottom end was cone shaped and several projections were clustered around the top, where a complex set of cables and hoses snaked into the ceiling.