Medusa (NUMA Files 8)

“I watched the dive on TV,” Casey said. “Too bad you lost contact with the surface just when things started to get really interesting.”

“Interesting isn’t the word for it,” Kane said. “But it’s nothing compared to the craziness about the lab. Any news?”

The lieutenant shook his head.

“We’re still trying to make contact,” he said, “but there has been no response.”

“Could it simply be a foul-up in the communications system?”

Casey glanced over at Coombs.

“We have reason to believe that there is more involved than a systems failure,” Casey said.

“You might want to bring Dr. Kane up to date on the details as we know them, Lieutenant Casey,” Coombs said.

The lieutenant nodded, opened a folder, and pulled out several sheets of paper.

“We’ve pieced together a scenario based on witness statements. The situation has been confused, and reports are still coming in, but here’s what we have so far. Yesterday, at approximately 1400 hours our time, a cruise missile was launched against the Proud Mary, the lab’s support-and-security ship.”

Kane shook his head in disbelief.

“A missile? That can’t be true!”

“I’m afraid it is true, Max. The missile hit the ship on the port side. No one was killed, but at least a dozen were injured. The Mary is a tough old gal. She stayed afloat and got off a Mayday. The Navy cruiser Concord showed up within hours and rescued the survivors. Repeated attempts were made to contact the Locker. No reply.”

“Maybe the blast damaged the communications buoy,” Kane suggested.

“Negative. The cruiser checked out the buoy and found it undamaged.”

“Where was the lab’s service shuttle when all this happened?”

“A short while before the attack, the submersible had made a run down to the lab to deliver a representative from the company in charge of the Locker’s security. The sub was still on the lab when the missile came in.”

“What about the Locker’s minisubs?” Kane said. “They could be used to evacuate the lab in an emergency. The lab also has escape pods it can use as a last resort.”

“No subs or pods, Max. Our guess is that what happened to the lab was sudden and catastrophic.”

Kane’s head was spinning. He slumped in his chair as he tried to digest the implications of Casey’s last statement. He thought about Lois Mitchell and the other members of the Bonefish Key lab staff who had gathered to send him off on the B3 dive. He rallied after a moment, reminding himself that he was a scientist who dealt with facts, not suppositions.

Straightening up in his chair, Kane said, “How long before we can check out the lab itself?”

“The Concord is sending down a remote-operated vehicle,” Casey said. “All we can do at this point is to wait for them to report in.”

“I hope the Navy is doing more than sitting on its hands,” Coombs said. “Have you tracked the source of the missile?”

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. Coombs was one of those ubiquitous young staff aides who looked as if he had been punched out of white dough with a cookie cutter. He was as clean-cut as a West Point grad, although his closest brush with a uniform had been as an Eagle Scout. He had cultivated an all-purpose facial expression of quiet competence that failed to hide a barely restrained arrogance. During his naval career, Casey had frequently encountered clones of the White House man, with their inflated sense of power, and had learned to cloak his disdain under a polite veneer.

He prefaced his answer with a pleasant smile.

“The Navy can walk and chew gum at the same time, Mr. Coombs. We’ve reconstructed the probable trajectory of the missile, and we’ve got planes and ships vectoring in on the launch position.”

“The White House isn’t interested in trajectories or vectors, Lieutenant. Has the source of the launch been tracked? If it was launched by a foreign power, this could have serious international repercussions.”

“The missile could have come from a ship, a sub, or a plane, sir, that’s all we know. Pretty much a crapshoot at this time. We’d welcome suggestions as to how to proceed, sir.”

Coombs was too well practiced in the art of passing the buck to take the bait.

“I’ll leave that up to the Navy,” he said, “but I can tell you one thing: this has all the earmarks of a well-organized and well-financed plan.”