Flood Tide (Dirk Pitt 14)

Visibility beneath the surface was nil. The water enclosed the sub like a thick quilt. Looking up and ahead, they could just barely make out the shadowy outline of the launch. Then came a deep rumble as Cabrillo increased the rpms of the powerful Rodeck 539-cubic-inch, 1,500-horsepower engine that drove the big double-ender launch. The propeller thrashed the water, the stern dug in and the launch strained before surging forward with the bulky submersible in tow. Like a diesel locomotive pulling a long train up a grade, the launch struggled to gain momentum, finally increasing its speed until it was dragging the deadweight below the water at a respectable eight knots. Unknown to Pitt and Giordino, Cabrillo had the throttle of the powerful engine set at only one-third power.

During the short journey from the Oregon to the United States, Pitt programmed the on-board computer analyzer that automatically set and monitored the oxygen level, electronics and the depth control systems. Giordino activated the manipulator arm by running it through a series of exercises.

"Is the communications antenna up?" Pitt asked him.

Lying next to him, Giordino nodded slightly. "I let out the cable to a maximum length of sixty feet as soon as we entered the water. She's dragging on the surface behind us."

"How did you disguise it?"

Giordino shrugged. "Another cunning ploy of the great Albert Giordino. I encased it in a hollowed-out cantaloupe."

"Stolen from the chef, no doubt."

Giordino gave Pitt a hurt look. "Waste not, want not. It was overripe and she was going to throw it in her garbage collector."

Pitt spoke into a tiny microphone. "Chairman Cabrillo, do you read me?"

"Like you were sitting next to me, Mr. Pitt," Cabrillo came back quickly. Like the other five men in the launch, he was dressed as a local fisherman.

"As soon as we reach our drop zone, I'll release the communications-relay antenna so we can remain in contact after you've returned to the Oregon. When I drop the antenna, its weighted line will settle into the silt and it will act as a buoy."

"What is your range?"

"Underwater, we can transmit and receive up to fifteen hundred yards."

"Understood," said Cabrillo. "Stand by, we're only a short distance away from the liner's stern. I won't be able to come in much closer than fifty yards."

"Any sign of a security force?"

"The whole ship and dock look as dead as a crypt in winter."

"Standing by."

Cabrillo was better than his word. He slowed the launch until it barely maintained headway and steered it almost directly under the stern of the United States. The sun was coming up as a diver slipped over the side and descended down the towline to the submersible. "Diver is down," Cabrillo announced.

"We see him," answered Pitt, looking up through the transparent nose. He watched as the diver released the connection mechanism mounted on top of the submersible between the twin tubes and gave the familiar "okay" sign with one hand before disappearing up the towline. "We are free."

"Make a turn forty degrees to your starboard," directed Cabrillo. "You are only eighty feet west of the stern."

Giordino gestured up through the murky depth at the immense shadow that gave the illusion it was passing over them. The seemingly unending shape was enhanced by the sunlight filtering between the dock and the gigantic hull. "We have her."

"You're on your own. Rendezvous will be at four-thirty. I'll have a diver waiting at your antenna mooring."

"Thank you, Juan," said Pitt, feeling free to use the chairman's first name. "We couldn't have done it without you and your exceptional crew."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Cabrillo came back cheerfully.

Giordino gazed in awe at the monstrous rudder looming overhead and pressed the lever that dropped the antenna's anchor into the silt on the bottom. From their position the hull seemed to travel off into infinity. "She appears to be riding high. Do you recall her draft?"

"I'd have to make a wild guess," said Pitt. "Somewhere around forty feet, give or take?"

"Judging from the look of her, your guess is a good five feet on the low side."

Pitt made Cabrillo's course correction and dipped the Sea Dog IIs bows into deeper water. "I'd better be careful or we'll bump our heads."

Pitt and Giordino had worked as a team on countless dives into the abyss and operated a score of submersibles on various NUMA projects.

Without any discussion each man spontaneously assumed his well-practiced responsibilities. Pitt acted as pilot while Giordino kept an eye on the systems monitor, operated the video camera and worked the ma