Celtic Empire (Dirk Pitt 25)

“Our slithering friend highlighted their security system,” Pitt said.

“No divers allowed,” Giordino replied. “Or submersibles.”

“Possibly supported by surface sensors or video monitoring. Hopefully, no one’s watching at this hour, especially since a tanker just departed a short time ago.”

A few feet to the side, Pitt spotted a framed stanchion rising from the lakebed. He approached for a closer look.

“I’m spotting several of them on the sonar, in an L-shaped configuration coming from shore,” Giordino said. “They must be supports for the dock.”

The Nymph’s lights illumined a pyramid-shaped latticed support bolted to a concrete base. The steel security netting hung in front of it. Pitt angled the submersible for an upward view of the surface dock, revealing a large hydraulic apparatus extending from the support.

“The great Loch Ness disappearing dock,” Pitt said. “They can raise and lower it several feet to keep it out of view.”

“A lot of trouble,” Giordino said, “just to keep some transport activity quiet. Seems more like the workings of a Central American drug cartel.”

Pitt guided the submersible along the dock and its supports, until they turned and angled to shore. At the bend, a large flexible hose stretched across the bottom. It rose along the corner support, suspended by a valve assembly on the dock that provided the means to load the visiting tankers.

Pitt followed the dock supports toward shore as the depth receded. He slowed the Nymph when the dorsal camera poked through the water and provided a surface view. Little could be seen. Both the dock and the lab facility were pitch-black.

“Looks like everyone is asleep,” Pitt said.

“Then let’s go have a look. Though I must confess, I wish I hadn’t left my night vision goggles in my other suit.”

Pitt surfaced the submersible and nudged it alongside the outer dock as Giordino opened the hatch, hopped onto the dock and tied up the Nymph. A minute later, he jumped back inside.

“Afraid we’ve got company,” he said, shaking his head in bemusement. A loud dog’s bark sounded through the hatch.

“Yes, I met him earlier,” Pitt said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the napkin-wrapped lamb. “Try offering him this.”

Giordino unwrapped the napkin and looked inside. “The way to a Rottweiler’s heart?” He poked up through the hatch just long enough to toss the meat on the dock. That set off another round of barking, until the dog stepped over to investigate the treat.

“I’m not sure a truckload of filet mignon would satisfy that guy,” Giordino said.

“Those tidbits should do the trick.” Pitt smiled. “We’ll just have to give him a few minutes to digest his meal.”

“Did you add a secret sauce?”

“About a dozen Dramamine tablets pressed into it. Loren alwa

ys carries some when she travels. The best I could do on short notice.”

He adjusted the exterior video camera to view the dock. They watched a dim image of the dog devour the lamb, then peer at the submersible.

“What about a handler?” Giordino asked.

Pitt swiveled the camera toward shore, saw no activity. “He appeared to be roaming the grounds freely and alone when I saw him earlier.”

“Unless you have a sheep stashed aboard, I hope he doesn’t have any friends.” Giordino poked through a toolbox and pulled out a wrench for self-defense.

They watched on the monitor as the dog lay down on the dock and eventually closed his eyes. Exiting the dock, they took a few steps up a stone pathway, then stopped. In the faint starlight, they saw it led to the building’s main entrance and a pair of high steel doors. It wasn’t the imposing entrance that made them pause. It was a small descending set of stairs to their right that led to an underground doorway.

Giordino followed Pitt as he stepped down to the side door and twisted the handle. It turned easily. He opened the door a fraction to peer in, then stepped inside.

He found himself in a small control room cut into the hillside. A narrow window at eye level overlooked the dock. A large console below the window contained a smorgasbord of dials, switches, and controls. Video monitors showed live feeds from either end of the dock. While the moored submersible sat too low to be detected, one of the cameras showed the snoring Rottweiler.

“Must be their control room for piping the product from the lab to the tanker ships,” Giordino said. “Glad nobody was around to watch our arrival.”

Giordino noticed a back door to the control room and gave it a try. It opened to a narrow tunnel, dimly lit with overhead lights. “This looks like our kind of entrance.” He ducked under the archway and stepped in.