Deep Fathom

He searched for a full minute more, then lowered the UV light. He stood beside one of the jet’s hulking General Electric engines. Except for impact damage, it was intact. He now knew where he was, and led the way to the side. His goal appeared out of the darkness: a crate marked with the designation 1-A on its side. It contained the first bit of wreckage raised to the surface.

He nodded to his men.

The pair donned surgical gloves, intending to leave no fingerprints. They worked efficiently, with minimal wasted movement. Rolfe pulled a small crowbar from his bag and loosened the crate’s nails. Gregor Handel slid to his knees and primed the bomb’s electronics with four cubes of C-4, enough to blow away several yards of wreckage around it.

David knelt and set down his own thick case, snapping the bindings loose.

“I’m ready, sir,” Gregor said beside him.

David nodded and opened his case. It held the mission’s true prize. Resting on the felt interior was a jade sculpture—the bust of a Chinese warrior.

Even through the night vision goggles, he recognized the fine work. He smiled with pride. This aspect of the plan was pure brilliance on his part. He had ordered the bust fabricated after the first day’s dive on the wreck. It was an exact duplicate of the bust Jack Kirkland had rescued from the seabed. The handsome object was a fragment of the Chinese Premier’s original gift, a jade replica of an ancient warrior seated on his horse. When David had first seen the fragment, he quickly modified his original strategy. It occurred to him now that he should thank Kirkland for this opportune turn of events.

He unscrewed the bust’s ear, revealing a hidden compartment in the jade. He passed the bit of sculpture to his electronics expert. Working deftly, Gregor slid the bomb in place and checked all the wires and transmitters.

Nearby, Rolfe extracted the original bust from the crate’s bubble packing and settled it within their own case.

David glanced at his watch. Only a minute had passed.

“I need some real light,” Gregor hissed, bent over the false bust. He pulled back his night vision goggles. “This Chink electronics is crap. I need to double-check the connections.”

David nodded to Rolfe. The man knelt and shone a small flashlight toward the chunk of jade. David pushed aside his own night vision goggles.

Gregor tilted his head, fingers working over the explosive unit. The timers and detonators had been stolen last week from a Chinese black market dealer; perfect to lay a false trail.

Gregor sighed in relief and held the bust toward David. “All set.”

David accepted it and screwed the jade ear in place. “Let’s get going,” he said, standing up.

As he stepped toward the crate, a call echoed across the dark tent. “Who’s out there!”

David and the others froze. Rolfe flicked off his flashlight. The men returned to night vision. Deeper in the tent, a new light bloomed. It lay over by the electronics bay.

“Show yourself, or I’ll call Security!”

David thought quickly. He now recognized the voice. It was Edwin Weintraub, the NTSB lead investigator. He bit back a curse. The hangar was supposed to be empty. David leaned over to Rolfe. “Shut him down. Minimal harm.”

Rolfe nodded and backed swiftly away, disappearing into the darkness.

Quickly, David adjusted his plans. It was what made him such a successful field commander. In the real world, few plans proceeded as planned. For a mission to succeed, a plan had to be liquid, capable of changing at a moment’s notice. Like now…

David stood, shouting, “Quiet down, Weintraub! It’s just me!”

“Commander Spangler?” The edge of panic in the man’s voice died down.

“I’m just checking to make sure everything is secure before retiring. What are you doing here?”

“I was taking a nap on my cot in the back. My computer is compiling data. I’m waiting for it to finish.”

“You shouldn’t be out in this storm.”

“Everything’s insulated and surge-protected. There’s no danger.”

That’s what you think. David knew that Rolfe should almost be in position. He raised his voice, keeping Weintraub’s attention on him. “Fine! If you’ve got everything in hand, I’m heading out. The guards will be outside all night if you have any problems.”

“Thanks! But I’ll be all—Hey, who are—”

David heard a loud crash. He frowned. Rolfe was better than that. Sloppy work.

“All clear!” Rolfe called out.

“I’m sending Handel over to help you. Bring that slimy sack of shit over here.”

Gregor straightened, a look of inquiry on his face, but the man knew better than to question an order. David waved him forward. Gregor quickly vanished.

As he waited, David lowered the bust to the deck and collected their tools. This unfortunate blunder could be turned to their advantage. His original plan was to set off the explosive device during the workday tomorrow. A few men would probably die, but it was a small price to pay. But now he recalibrated his plans.

Beyond the rumble of the storm, he heard the scrape of boot on deck. He turned in time to see his two men edge into aisle 22, Weintraub’s slack form slung between them. His wrists and ankles were lashed with plastic straps, his mouth sealed with duct tape. The large man moaned and struggled feebly, clearly dazed by the attack.

“Bring him here and dump him.”

The pair lowered their captive to the deck. “I’m sorry, sir,” Rolfe apologized. “I slipped on some grease. He saw me before I could silence him.”

“Poor work all around,” David said harshly. “Weintraub shouldn’t even be here.”

“His cot was hidden behind a wall of wreckage. His computer’s monitor was switched off. In the dark—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses.” David turned his attention to the restrained investigator. By now Weintraub had regained full consciousness. David spotted the large lump behind his left ear. A dribble of blood marked where Rolfe had clubbed him. Weintraub stared at David, his eyes bright with hatred and anger.

“What do we do with him?” Gregor asked. “Toss him overboard. Blame the storm?”

David continued to study his prey. He watched the man’s anger change to fear. “No. Drowning him will do us no good.”

A flicker of hope in the man’s eyes…and suspicion.

David reached over and pinched Weintraub’s nostrils closed. “Hold him down.” Rolfe pinned the man’s legs; Gregor held his shoulders.