Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

Though Pitt and Giordino discussed the situation with casual calmness, Ana could tell things were dire. “How bad is it?”

“No need to don our swim trunks just yet.” Pitt gave a reassuring smile. “We have limited power at our disposal, but it is currently restricted to just a few applications. Al will do some rewiring to keep our oxygen scrubbers operating.”

“Can’t we call the Macedonia?”

“At the moment, we don’t have power to our communication systems. Plus, there’s our inverted position. Our communications transponder is located on the submersible’s topside, which is now buried beneath us. We might not have much of a signal to transmit. But, no matter, as the Macedonia will come hunting for us soon enough.”

“Can’t we surface on our own?”

“Normally, we could, by thrusters or ballast. But our thrusters were knocked off, and the hissing you hear is a rupture to our ballast tank.”

“That still leaves our emergency drop weights,” Giordino said.

Pitt pointed up. “They’re atop us now. We can’t release them upside down.”

A cold shudder ran through Ana. “How long can we stay down here?”

“If we can keep our scrubbers running, we’re good for at least twenty-four hours.”

Giordino cleared his throat. “We’ve got a recycle interruption.”

“Manageable?” Pitt asked.

“The O2 tanks were separated from the frame.” He spoke the words casually for Ana’s benefit, disguising the severity. The submersible’s supply of oxygen had been ripped away during the assault and now lay unavailable on the seabed. “Power’s down on the scrubbers, but I’m checking a work-around.”

In the darkness, Pitt saw Giordino give him a faint shake of the head. There was no hope for repair.

The gears in Pitt’s head started turning. The severed lines meant they had no access to fresh oxygen. Absent the operation of the carbon dioxide scrubbers, the air in the submersible would grow deadly. He didn’t need a calculator to compute the time. With three people packed into its tight confines, it wouldn’t take long.

Pitt had no doubt the Macedonia would find them. The depth was shallow enough that divers could attach a lift cable and pull them to the surface. But time was now the enemy. The Macedonia’s crew would think they were still on the freighter’s wreck site. If their emergency beacon was muffled, it would take hours, maybe a day, to be found and rescued. More time than they had.

“How about another thought,” he said. “We roll her upright. Or, at least, half over. Far enough to jettison our emergency weights.”

Giordino shined his flashlight out the viewport, highlighting a rusty, growth-covered hull plate. They were positioned alongside the Kerch on an uneven, sandy surface.

“We can only move laterally,” he said, “away from the wreck.”

Pitt rapped a knuckle on the steel above his head. “We’ve got twin ballast tanks. If we can flood the port tank ahead of the starboard tank, the weight might pull us over.”

“Worth a shot . . . if the pumps are operational. I’ll see if I can get them some juice.”

He wrenched open a side fuse panel and attacked the myriad wires that were housed inside. After a few minutes, he called to Pitt. “Give it a try.”

Pitt reached around the pilot’s seat and toggled the controls to flood the port ballast tank. A whirring could be heard overhead, followed by gurgling water.

“Nice work, Sparky,” Pitt said.

As the ballast tank filled, they could feel the submersible shift slightly. But when the tank reached full and the pumps shut off, it still held to its inverted position. The three tried to help with the weight transfer by all standing on the port side. Giordino even jumped up and down a few times, but the submersible held firm.

Ana let out a low sigh. “We’re still stuck.” The initial sense of claustrophobia crept back into her thoughts, magnified by the stuffy air that was beginning to make her feel light-headed.

“I think we’re close,” Pitt said.

Giordino retrieved a toolbox and some dive gear and stacked it on the weighted side. “I’m afraid we don’t have much else that isn’t nailed down to give us an extra push.”

Pitt regarded his comment. “Actually, we don’t need any more weight, we just need another hand. An extended one, that is.”

Giordino looked at him a moment, then grinned. “Of course. We can try pushing ourselves over.” He brushed past Pitt to the fuse box and began tracking the wires.