“But their explosive content has worth.” Hendriks looked at a painting on the wall, an amateurish seascape of gulls gliding above a curled breaker. “Your attack on the Crimean Star,” he said. “Tell me again how the crew was incapacitated.”
“Much of the waters of the Black Sea are devoid of oxygen,” Mankedo said. “Near the coastline, this begins at a depth of around fifty meters. Farther from shore, the oxygen-deprived waters occur at one hundred meters and deeper. Eons ago, the Black Sea was like a swamp. The algae consumed all the oxygen in the water, which in turn killed all the living organisms, then the algae itself. Over time, the dead organisms chemically converted to hydrogen sulfide, which remains locked in the depths. It is relatively harmless to swim through but turns into a deadly gas when it reaches the surface.”
“So you set off an underwater explosion ahead of the ship and the rising gas killed the crew?”
Mankedo nodded. “We discovered the phenomenon while salvaging a freighter off of Romania. We were blasting the wreck to get at its cargo. One of our dive boats was anchored directly above it. The explosion released a gas bubble that enveloped the boat. The entire dive crew died. I lost four good men, and learned that the Black Sea can b
e deadlier than we know.”
“If you can make a small blast,” Hendriks said, “then why not a large one?”
“I suppose there’s no limit on the size of the hydrogen sulfide cloud you could create, given a sufficient explosion and the appropriate location. What did you have in mind?”
“I want to annihilate Sevastopol.”
It was Mankedo’s turn to fall silent. “That would be mass murder,” he finally said.
“I’m not interested in striking the city. I’m interested in striking the Russian fleet’s port facility.”
Mankedo eyed the Dutchman. He had known him less than three years yet had seen a drastic change in his personality. The billionaire had transformed from a buoyant, arrogant man to a brooding and wrathful lost soul.
“I will pay you three times the market value for your munitions, plus five million euros for the attempt.”
“That is a generous proposal,” Mankedo said, “but it is not such a simple act. For the Crimean Star, we dropped a small explosive in her direct path and she sailed into the ensuing cloud. Targeting a fixed point on land is not controllable.”
Vasko sat up straight. “I worked the commercial docks there one summer as a youth. The prevailing winds are westerly. Providing there are no unusual weather patterns or heavy rains, you might target an explosion offshore that would drift over the port.”
“There is still the difficulty of approach,” Mankedo said. “The Russian Navy is not known for its welcoming behavior.”
“It depends on the depths and corresponding anoxic level,” Vasko said. “We might not need to get that close.”
Mankedo considered the payoff. “Let’s take a look at the port entrances. I believe I have a nautical chart of Sevastopol in storage.”
After he stood and left the room, Hendriks turned to Vasko. “Your accent. You are not Bulgarian. Are you from Ukraine?”
“Yes. I was raised in Petrovske, a town near Luhansk. I hear it was destroyed during the Crimean invasion.”
“Your family?”
“My father drank himself to death years ago. My mother and sister fled to Kiev when the artillery shells began to fall. They are living there with cousins, the last I heard.”
“How do you feel about Russia today?”
Vasko stared him in the eyes. “I will help you kill as many Russians as you desire.”
Mankedo returned with a chart, which he unfurled across the desk. The three men huddled around it, studying the narrow harbor of Sevastopol that cut into the western coast of the Crimean Peninsula.
“The Russian fleet is based here.” Vasko pointed to the northern side of the harbor. He dragged his finger due west, past the harbor entrance. “A mile or so out, the depth is about one hundred and twenty meters. Deep enough to reach a strong anoxic zone. The question would be, how much explosive is enough to set it off?”
“Twenty tons ought to be enough to send a message,” Hendriks said.
“I am no scientist,” Mankedo said, “but from what we’ve experienced, I would have to believe that would release an extremely powerful cloud of gas.” He gave Hendriks a hard look. “An act such as this would draw a great deal of attention.”
“You get me a towboat and barge filled with explosives and I will pilot it myself,” Hendriks said in a low tone.
“There is no need for such heroics,” Mankedo said. “We can set an unmanned boat on a course with either timed or remote charges to make the attack.”
Vasko nodded. “We can place a small explosive on the barge that will cause it to sink when it reaches a GPS-coded location, with a second timed charge to detonate the munitions at the designated depth. We will need a tow vessel capable of making the trek—one that would be untraceable to us.”