Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

Dirk and Giordino waited briefly for the gas to disperse, then sprang from their cover. The first commando was crawling toward the door while the second staggered after him. Dirk ran over and scooped up the first commando’s weapon. Giordino in turn launched himself at the second commando with his elbows flying. He struck the man hard in the side, propelling them both out the doorway.

Dirk sprinted out after them, finding the two commandos writhing on the deck with Giordino on top. Giordino had already wrestled the AK-47 from his victim as the man clawed at his eyes. Dirk was reaching down to help Giordino to his feet when a burst of gunfire tore into the bulkhead just above their heads.

“Drop your weapons!” Calzado shouted from twenty feet away. Alerted by the gunfire, he had rushed to the scene accompanied by two more commandos. All three stepped closer, each with an assault rifle aimed at Dirk and Giordino. The NUMA men had no choice but to drop their weapons and stand empty-handed.

With considerable effort, the two tear-gassed guards rose to their feet, their eyes red and burning.

“Close and lock the door to the lab,” Calzado ordered.

The guards nodded and did as instructed. After the door was sealed, one of the commandos motioned toward Dirk and Giordino. “What about them?”

“I have no time for further hindrances,” Calzado said. “Stand out of the way. I will take care of them right now.”

Raising his rifle, the commando leader took aim at the two captives and tightened his finger on the trigger.

71

Absent the normal humming of its heat-producing electronics, the Starfish felt like an icebox. Summer sat with her teeth chattering as the bulk cutter made a return appearance, inching past the submersible while dragging the long detonator tube. She tried to watch the cutter insert the end of the tube in the trench, but her view was blocked by one of the ROVs.

The boxy device approached the submersible and hovered outside its viewport. Summer resisted the urge to extend her middle finger at it, instead shielding her eyes from its glaring lights.

Then an odd thing happened. The ROV flashed its lights.

This time, she didn’t hesitate, letting loose with her finger while cursing Díaz for his taunting gesture.

Though clearly observing Summer’s response, the ROV didn’t waver. Instead, it flashed its lights again, in a short-long-short sequence, as if sending a modified SOS signal.

Intrigued, Summer watched the ROV repeat the flashing twice more. She then reached up and toggled a switch, flashing the submersible’s forward external lights.

Her mouth dropped when the ROV responded by tilting up and down as if nodding. Somewhere, someone at the other end of the controls was trying to help.

She leaned forward and watched the ROV as it eased closer. It turned slightly to angle its bright lights away from the cockpit and brushed against the submersible’s low-mounted manipulator arm. Again, the ROV flashed its lights.

Summer activated the controls, raising the robotic arm from its cradle.

Again the ROV nodded approval. When Summer continued to raise the manipulator, the ROV pivoted side to side, expressing its disapproval.

Through trial and error under the ROV’s guidance, Summer extended the manipulator laterally to its full reach and opened its claw grip.

Ahead of the submersible, the bulk cutter had completed its task and was retracing its tracks to the drop point. Those tracks would bring it alongside the Starfish in another minute or two.

Summer watched as the ROV seemed to consider the cutter for a moment, then darted to the submersible’s side. Summer had to press her face against the viewport to see its next move.

The ROV pivoted and dropped to the seabed. It thrust toward the Starfish, shoving a thin layer of sand in front of it like a snowplow. At first baffled, Summer saw the intent. The ROV had begun its push on the opposite side of the detonator tube’s firing cable. It was shoving it toward the Starfish. Or more specifically, toward the submersible’s manipulator arm.

The ROV wanted her to grasp the cable. She waited as the ROV pushed again. When the cable came into reach, she snatched it with the arm’s claw grip.

The ROV gave a quick flash of its lights, then rose and hovered over the approaching bulk cutter. As the big mining machine churned close, the ROV dropped along its side and bumped up against a stubby metal appendage that protruded at a forward angle.

It was a spud, or stabilizer leg, that could be lowered for extra leverage when the cutter was battering through hard rock. The ROV moved up and down along the spud’s flat metal foot and flashed its lights.

Summer understood. She retracted the manipulator arm clear of the bulk cutter’s path and waited.

The churning steel treads shook the seabed as the machine crept across the bottom. The operator held to his prior tracks, driving alongside the Starfish. As its forward treads inched past her viewport, Summer raised the manipulator and aimed it toward the bulk cutter.

When the stabilizer assembly drew within reach, she extended the manipulator and draped the firing cable around the spud’s foot. The bulk cutter moved so slowly, she had ample time to loop the cable a second time before releasing her grip. As the machine crept forward, the loop drew tight, snagging fast on the metal appendage.

The ROV appeared outside the viewport and nodded its approval. With a final flash, it whirred off to follow the bulk cutter. Summer waited a minute, then flicked on the Starfish’s external lights. She saw the detonator tube unraveling from the trench and sliding past her, tailing the cutter. She killed the lights and watched the glow of the assorted mining equipment again recede into the distance.