Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

A shock wave rippled through the water as the explosion created a large gas bubble in the depths. The bubble rose rapidly, expanding in size and power as it ascended through less dense layers of seawater.

On board the Sea Raker, the shock wave was felt first, rattling through the ship like a burst of thunder.

“What was that?” Díaz asked as the deck shuddered beneath his feet.

The chief mining engineer shook his head. “I don’t know. There should be no impact to the ship at this range.”

Pitt smiled at the two men and pointed to the video screen. “Perhaps your explosives got tied up below.”

Díaz looked at the screen. The video feed from the bulk cutter had gone blank.

“What have you done?” he screamed at Pitt. He turned and grabbed an assault rifle from one of the guards.

Pitt didn’t have to answer. A second later, the explosives-induced gas bubble struck the underside of the Sea Raker like a boot to the belly. The ship’s midsection was driven almost out of the sea, its keel fracturing in three places. Hull plates ruptured along the vessel’s spine, allowing the sea to flood in from stern to stem. Alarms sounded throughout the ship as power from the main generators was instantly severed.

On the bridge, shipboard diagnostics told the captain his worst fear. Flooding was pervasive and there was no hope of staying afloat. He issued the order to abandon ship, which blared through the vessel’s PA system on a recorded message.

In the control room, everyone had been knocked off their feet. The electrical power had vanished, pitching the bay into total darkness. As Díaz climbed to his feet still clutching the rifle, emergency lights slowly flickered on, casting the room in a red glow.

The chief mining engineer stood and grabbed Díaz’s arm. “Come, we must get out of here.”

Díaz shook his head, his face a mask of rage. He knocked the engineer away and swept the room with his weapon. “Where is he?”

His anger magnified when he realized that Pitt was no longer there.

75

Pitt was already on the run to save his daughter. His only hope, albeit a slim one, was with the auxiliary cutter machine that was aboard the ship. If he could quickly lower and drive the cutter to the Starfish, he might be able to latch onto the submersible and raise it to the surface.

It was a big if.

Crawling out of the blackened control room, he found an early state of chaos on deck. There was already a panicked exodus as the crew flocked to the lifeboats. Shouts and curses filled the air as the soldiers, most with no prior seagoing experience, ran about searching for the boats. Whatever loyalty the soldiers owed to Díaz had vanished in a sudden effort to save their own skins.

Pitt realized he was on the opposite deck from the auxiliary cutter and sprinted across an amidships passageway. He stopped momentarily at the rail and radioed Ramsey, requesting he return with the Gold Digger to pick up survivors and make an emergency call for a deepwater submersible rescue. He knew the chances of the latter arriving in time were minimal.

As he raced forward across the deck, he saw the Sea Raker had generated a noticeable list but seemed to be settling slowly. She was going to afford Pitt a few minutes afloat.

He fought past a group of men lined up to board a lifeboat, then ran along the explosives barge, still secured to the ship. Just beyond the barge, he found the dark bay where the auxiliary cutter was housed. Only partial power had been restored to the ship, and Pitt feared the machine would be dead. Locating a control station at the edge of the bay, he found that wasn’t the case. A row of lights illuminated the control panel, showing the auxiliary cutter still had full power.

Pitt fidgeted with the controls, decoding the machine’s drive mechanism and activating its forward lights and camera. A separate overhead hydraulic lift was used to lower the cutter over the side. Searching for its controls, he stopped as several men rushed into the bay.

“There he is,” a voice cried out.

It was Díaz and a guard, both leveling assault rifles.

As he dove to the ground, Pitt punched the winch activation button and slapped the auxiliary cutter’s forward control lever. A seam of bullets ripped into the control panel an instant later, showering him with plastic debris. Although the bay was dimly lit, he was still in view of the gunmen and he rolled to the side as more shots followed.

The back of the hangar proved darker, and Pitt scrambled behind the rear of the cutter. The big machine was surging forward, its steel treads clattering against the wood decking. With its cutter head barely ten feet from the rail, the vehicle was well on its way to marching over the side.

Díaz yelled to one of his men on the right, so Pitt crawled along the cutter’s left side. A hail of gunfire sounded through the bay, but it wasn’t directed at Pitt. Someone was aiming high, the bullets hitting the ceiling.

The auxiliary cutter ground to a halt as something struck the deck with a thump just in front of Pitt. It was the cutter’s overhead power cable, deliberately severed by the gunshots to disable the machine. Sparks flew from the end of the cable, which began spooling loosely about the deck as its supply winch continued to turn.

Pitt heard a noise in front of him. A guard had hopped onto the cutter machine’s front frame and was lining up a shot on him.

Pitt lunged forward, grabbing the severed cable lead and jamming it against the steel frame. The gunman screamed as a fatal surge of high-voltage power coursed through the cutter.

Pitt pulled away the cable and stepped to the front of the cutter, intent on grabbing the dead man’s weapon. He hesitated at hearing a shuffle on the deck. Díaz was charging around the left side of the cutter, while two others approached from the back.