Devil's Gate (NUMA Files 9)

GAMAY TROUT had finished cutting through the net and had eased Rapunzel and her harness of explosives through. Since then, she’d been looking for what the Truxton’s captain had described.

“Head two-nine-zero,” Paul said.

She turned Rapunzel onto the course and got her moving again. She considered shutting off the floodlight, but she didn’t want to run into any more obstacles. Besides, they were almost there — up ahead she could see the base of some large structure.

A large tube ran up to it, like a city’s oversized sewer pipe. She guessed this was part of the accelerator.

“That’s it,” she said. “It’s got to be.” “I think you’re right,” Paul said, excitedly. “Find the base where it connects to the seafloor.

Gamay looked around, shining Rapunzel’s light in the darkness. Then she directed her to the base of the huge pipe.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Wedge her in there between the bottom and the pipe where it starts to angle out of the water,” Paul said. “It’ll give the explosion more force.” Gamay did as he suggested. “That’s as far as she’ll go.” Paul grabbed the detonator, flipped the safety cap up.

“Do it,” Gamay said.

He pressed the switch.

“Good-bye, Rapunzel,” she said, thankful for the little machine and sorry to see her go.

The feed to Gamay’s visor cut out, and she lifted it up. Two seconds later the concussion wave reached them. It hit with a shuddering rumble, shaking the sub for a moment and then fading away.

UP ON THE PLATFORM Djemma saw all the indicators on his weapon turn red. He saw a great eruption of water and silt just behind the emitter. A moment later the raised portion of the accelerator tunnel collapsed into the sea.

How? he wondered. How had they done it?

At almost the same moment, one of his men called from the radar console. “More missiles inbound. One minute to impact.” Djemma ignored him. He walked out of the control room, moving forward onto the platform. The wind buffeted him. The darkness of the night swirled, and the water churned where his weapon had been breached.

He looked up to the horizon. He could see the tiny dots of fire approaching: the tail end of the Harpoon missiles that were zeroing in on him. There was no escape.

“And so I shall fall,” he whispered to himself. “Like Hannibal before me.” The missiles hit to his left and right almost simultaneously. The explosions merged together, vaporizing him into a fireball that could be seen for miles.

62

KURT AND KATARINA continued toward the aft end of the Onyx. Kurt kept one arm around her waist and held her close beside him because she was weakening and barely able to keep up with his pace.

The tunnel itself was filling up with a dense white fog and a cold that chilled them to the bone. With the high voltage off-line, the liquid nitrogen was beginning to warm and expand. It would boil off as soon as it got above negative 321 degrees. Kurt guessed a system like that would have relief valves that might vent the gas into the tunnel.

They pushed forward, feeling their way through the frigid cloud. At times, visibility in the tunnel was no more than three feet. They moved slowly, looking for the aft-most hatch.

Finally, Kurt’s hand fell on a curved seam. He recognized the recessed handle and the shape of an access hatch.

“Our way out of here,” he said, reaching up and turning the wheel that sealed the hatch shut.

After pulling it open, he helped Katarina onto the ladder. She began to crawl up the rungs. Kurt was ready to join her when a familiar voice cut through the dense mist like a knife.

“Kurt Austin.”

Katarina stopped on the ladder.

“Go,” Kurt whispered. “And don’t wait for me.”

She pushed off, moving upward, and Kurt held still.

“Do you realize you’re quite possibly the most aggravating man alive,” Andras said, still hidden in the vapors.

Certain the killer was setting up to spray the tunnel with automatic weapons fire, Kurt dropped flat to the deck and pointed the barrel of his nine millimeter into the white blanket of mist.