Dahlgren noticed a slim bone handle protruding beneath the bar. “It looks like it’s sitting atop the remains of an attaché case. Maybe you can pull it over.”
Summer grabbed the handle with the claw. Pulling gently, she shook her head as the handle tore away from the decayed remains of the case. “Nice idea, in theory.” She released the handle and gazed at the gold bar. “I’d hate to leave it here for the Russians.”
“You just need a rake.” Dirk scanned the cabin and pointed to several thin, rusty slats. “Try one of those bits of scrap over there.”
Summer used the manipulator to reach one of the steel slats, a remnant of a bed frame. Using it like a rake as Dirk suggested, she dragged the bar a foot or two, then released the beam and wrapped the manipulator’s claws around the gold bar. “Got it.”
Dirk began easing the submersible away from the cabin when a deep rumble sounded through the water. A second later, they were struck by an invisible shock wave. The submersible was hurled away from the ship, smashing over the side rail and tumbling end over end until driven into the seabed a short distance away. As bits of corroded debris fell through the water in a black rain, the submersible vanished in a cloud of silt.
The submersible’s darkened interior echoed with hissing, creaking, and electrical alarms, as well as some human moans. Su
mmer wiped a bead of blood from her eyes that had trickled from a gashed scalp and realized the interior wasn’t completely dark. A thin row of panel lights flashed near the helm, filling the interior with red and yellow hues.
Her head felt like a jackhammer was splitting her skull, and when she tried to move, her limbs refused to respond. Someone rummaged around the floorboards and shoved her leg aside, igniting a new agony. She tried to cry out but felt too woozy to speak. She perked up when she realized it was her brother but flinched when he leaned over and she saw his face was red. Was it blood or just the lights?
“Hang on, sis,” he said. “The elevator is headed up.”
She gave him a smile and then drifted into a cold, deep sleep.
29
Mansfield’s submersible reached the surface as the explosives detonated. He and his copilot felt only a slight vibration but watched as a fountain of froth erupted from the sea nearby. The submersible was hoisted aboard the Tavda, and Mansfield made his way to the bridge.
“The American ship has inquired about an explosion,” the captain said.
“Tell them we know nothing about it but are standing by to assist if needed.”
Mansfield listened to the angry voice of Littleton relay that he had a submersible in the water. Smiling, he turned to the Tavda’s captain. “Reply that we can assist in the search, but, regrettably, our own submersible requires immediate repairs, which will take several hours.”
The Odin’s captain ignored the message.
A short time later, Mansfield noticed the NUMA ship had several spotlights trained on the water. Following the beams through a pair of binoculars, he spotted the yellow submarine bobbing on the surface.
“So they survived,” he muttered. He turned to the captain. “The Americans will surely leave the site now. When they do, follow them at the extreme range of our radar system until they give an indication of turning to port.”
“What then?”
Mansfield yawned and headed for the door. “Alert your helicopter pilot, then wake me in my cabin.”
Across a rising sea, the NUMA submersible was lifted aboard ship and surrounded by an anxious circle of crewmen. Captain Littleton joined them as the hatch was opened. Dirk appeared, battered and bruised, holding the semiconscious body of his sister. Passing Summer to the ship’s doctor, he ducked back inside to help Dahlgren, who could stand on only one leg. Dirk accompanied them to the ship’s medical ward, then hobbled over to Littleton.
“You all right, son?” the captain asked.
“We got knocked around pretty good down there, but I’m fine. Jack has a compound fracture to his left leg, and I fear Summer has some internal injuries as well as a concussion.”
“We’ve got a good doctor aboard, but we’ll make for Bergen at top speed all the same.” Littleton gazed at the submersible’s dinged and discolored exterior. “What happened down there?”
“I’m not sure.” Dirk shook his head. “I’m guessing some sort of large explosion on the port side of the ship. But there’s one thing. We met up with the Russians’ submersible in the general vicinity just a few minutes earlier.”
“They surfaced right about the time of the blow,” Littleton said.
“I should have known. They must have set a timed charge. Blew apart the entire superstructure. We were lucky to have had the cabin deck as a barrier or else we would have bought it. Fortunately, the sub maintained internal pressure. I was able to purge one of the ballast tanks with emergency power and we floundered to the surface.” He began walking around the submersible, inspecting its damage.
“The Russians offered to help search for you,” Littleton said, “but claimed their submersible was down for repairs.”
“They must be after something belowdecks on the Canterbury.”
“More gold?”