Abyss Page 16

  “Why not; it’ll settle my nerves.” Cate looked out of the window as the tall building shot by. She was never a fan of New York – it was big, intimidating and way too crowded. But they had already been planning to stay a few days and now Valery had picked up the entire tab.

  She frowned and leaned forward. “We’re not going to the docks?”

  “No, ma’am; we’re heading to Teterboro.” The driver spoke without turning. “I understand you have a jet to catch.”

  “Of course we do,” Jack said.

  “Will Valery, ah, Mr. Mironov, be meeting us?” Cate looked at the man’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

  “I don’t know, ma’am.” He turned another corner. “But you’ll know soon enough.”

  “Okay.” Cate got her bearings, and realized they were heading into the Lincoln Tunnel. They quickly passed North Bergen, Ridgefield, and crossed into Winant Avenue heading for the expanse of the private airfield.

  In another few moments the Mercedes sedan slowed, parked, and, like magic, the driver was opening their door. It was a warm evening and sultry night air rushed in. Cate could see two huge men on either side of a sleek jet’s doors. The men waved, and ushered them on. She also noticed they kept looking around as if expecting trouble. Perhaps some of Valery’s past demons still haunted him.

  “This way, please.” The driver led them, carrying their bags.

  It was obvious to Cate that they were being herded. They climbed the steps of the small jet, and inside, Sonya waved to them. Behind them the door was pulled shut and locked. Almost immediately they heard the whine of the engines starting up.

  “Buckle up; we’re taking off,” Sonya said. They sat down opposite her in what seemed more like a luxurious office than an airplane cabin. She smiled broadly.

  “Welcome, welcome.” She reached across and grasped them both on the arm or leg, wherever she could reach. She seemed genuinely pleased to see them both. Cate smiled back, the woman’s good humor was infectious even though nerves were still fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

  “Where are we headed?” Jack asked.

  “To a helicopter in San Diego, and then to our support ship, just a mile or so off Baja California.”

  “Mexico; the Middle America Trench?”

  “Yes, the ship, the Anastasia, houses the Nautilus.”

  Jack laughed. “His submersible launches from sea? Very James Bond.”

  “Yes, the Anastasia is our command, refueling base, and workshop,” Sonya replied without humor.

  Cate checked her wristwatch. “Flight, chopper, boat, then submarine. The people on the ocean bottom will be dead by the time we get there.”

  “The flight, even though supersonic, will take a little over three hours,” Sonya said. “The chopper will be only a few minutes more, and once we’re offshore and in deeper water, the Nautilus will launch. It can travel at far greater speeds than any other craft on or below water.” She smiled sympathetically.

  Cate’s eyes glinted. “By my reckoning, the Alvin has just over ten hours of oxygen left … and we’ve still got to cross the country before we even get to the water.”

  Sonya’s smile never wavered. “Valery will provide more details, but our expectations are that we will be entering the trench in four hours and twenty minutes, and then hopefully locating and rescuing the Alvin submersible crew within one hour from then.”

  Cate nodded, but still felt the impatience grind at her. “Cutting it fine, but there’s no alternative, I guess.”

  “No, there’s no alternative,” Sonya agreed.

  Jack looked out of the window as the jet sped over the country’s interior. It was black below as they passed over farmland with little or no lights.

  “Does Valery have a good crew?”

  “Yes, he does. But I know he would welcome your piloting assistance; the same as you provided once before, in the Prusalka. He tells me you saved a lot of lives.” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, well, that was an old tank, and what we’re diving in is supposed to be the sports model.” Jack smiled. “Can’t wait to try it out.”

  “And Valery is looking forward to trialing the Nautilus at depths.” Sonya grinned in return.

  “Wait, what?” Cate’s jaw dropped. “He’s never taken the submersible down?”

  “The Nautilus has had many test runs, but never been trialed in abyssal water. It should be interesting.” Sonya mouth curved back into a smile.

  “I’ll bet.” Jack scoffed. “I’m glad he was so ready to go.”

  “We were always going to go now. If we didn’t, the Nautilus was going to be dry-docked for an unknown amount of time.” She sighed. “This was one time the military demanded its pound of flesh. They let Valery share some of their technology, the laboratories and their scientists, but in return anything he developed was to be shared with them.”

  “I thought he said he could sell it?” Jack straightened.

  “He would be well compensated,” she replied.

  “But the bottom line was they were taking it.” Cate half smiled.

  “For trial and analysis,” Sonya added.

  “Yeah, whether you like it or not?” Jack asked.

  “You might say that. For all Valery’s financial, political and persuasive power, it became a rock and a hard place scenario. The military sent in a specialist scientist, a Mr. Walter Grey, for an initial review of Valery’s progress. He didn’t come alone. Some clandestine outfit under the control of a Colonel Jack Hammerson also sent along some sort of Special Forces operative to chaperone him.”

  “He had a bodyguard.” Jack chuckled.

  “An understatement.” Sonya smiled, her eyes far away for a moment as if recalling the moment. “Two of Valery’s bodyguards, both extremely formidable, made the mistake of trying to force this military scientist back when he and his shadow got a little too close to Valery.” She sighed. “They’re both still in hospital. Hunter, Grey called his shadow.” Her smile fell away, but she still had the faraway look in her eyes. “I’ve never seen an operative as clinical and powerful like this before – here or in Russia.” She looked up, smiling again. “One way or the other, they were getting a look at the Nautilus, so we go now, or not at all. They demonstrated that there would be no room for any argument.”

  “Okay, that must be the quid pro quo bit you mentioned before, huh?” Jack sat back.

  In another few moments the jet dropped, and in no time they found themselves seated in a swift helicopter, moving bullet-fast to a large, sleek boat a few miles offshore. As they dropped down to its deck, Cate could see several of the crew moving about purposefully, and immediately spotted the slim authoritative figure of Valery.

  Cate saw Sonya’s smile widen and the woman waved enthusiastically as the chopper’s skids touched the deck and then applied weight. In seconds, the door was pulled open and crewmembers grabbed their bags and spirited them away. Then Valery came down the steps from the upper deck’s bridge, and held up a hand.

  “Fast and furious, I know, and I apologize for the haste.”

  “It’s not a problem. Sonya explained the military pressure, and besides, every second we lose now is one more second of precious air that Samantha and her crew do without.”

  “All too true,” Valery responded, turning and leading them inside to the cabin area. Jack marveled at the magnificent fittings, running a hand over cedar banisters, and polished brass fittings.

  “Beautiful ship,” he said.

  “The Anastasia is both beautiful and functional. She’s named after my dear, departed mother, and she is a true mother to us all. She’s 300 feet from bow to stern, and has the most sophisticated technology that my money can buy.”

  “And she can launch a submarine as well,” Cate said.

  “Yes, when I designed her that was her primary objective. To sea-launch my Nautilus.” He turned. “You’ll be seeing her soon enough. But first, my crew will show you two to your cabin so you can get freshened up. There
is a change of clothing for comfort. Then please come and meet me back here; unfortunately, we’ll be rushing everything we do – as you said, time is our adversary now.”

  Cate and Jack were shown to a door. Before going through, Cate looked back to see Sonya put an arm around Valery’s neck and then kiss him deeply.

  They were both shown to small cabins right next to each other. “Hope we have adjoining doors.” Jack winked at her and entered his cabin. Cate grinned and pushed into hers.

  Inside she found her bag was on the bunk bed, and beside it folded clothing. She held them up; they were in the form of a type of coverall, but softer, and with cargo-style pockets on the legs and thighs.

  “Nice.” It actually looked a little like a uniform. Why not? she thought as she held them up, noting they seemed exactly the right size. After the flights she felt greasy and quickly washed. She was feeling refreshed, and still standing in her underwear, when there came a knock on the door.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.

  “Captain Kirk,” came Jack’s reply.

  She sniggered and opened the door to see Jack standing in his Nautilus coveralls. Her smile broadened; he was right, he did look like he belonged on a starship. Jack Monroe filled the doorway, and his chest and arms bulged from his muscles – she liked it, and pulled him in.

  “Hey, I only wanted to see if you approved.” He grinned as she pulled his top off.

  “Well, I do.” She pulled his pants down and stared. “And obviously you do too.”

  He lifted her, and put one hand down the back of her panties, and grabbed a buttock.

  “Oh yeah, I approve,” he said as her hand found him, and squeezed.

  He slid her panties down, and Cate had never in her life felt so hungry for love – no, not just love, but physical contact with Jack. Whether it was the coming danger, the fear, or a sense of taking the chance while they could, she wanted him. For a few minutes, she wanted to forget everything else.

  She fixed her mouth to his, her tongue probing and dancing in his mouth, and let him lift her and lay her on the bed. She was ready for him already.

  CHAPTER 26

  Saison Restaurant, Townsend Street, San Francisco

  Olander Blomgren, head of the environmental group Earthpeace, sat at the exclusive corner table in Saison, the most expensive restaurant in California. He wore his favorite blue blazer with the gold buttons, and the group’s crest on his breast pocket – an angry penguin flexing a bicep.

  With him were two guests – one a hedge fund manager worth over two billion dollars, and the other a traditional banker in the wholesale sector. He smiled, wondering why it was that the people who moved in and around the most capitalist aspects of the western system seemed to loathe it the most. Guilt, he guessed.

  The waiter materialized and poured just a sip of golden wine into his glass, and stood waiting. Blomgren lifted it and held it aloft, admiring the deep hues of the liquid for a moment before sniffing it. He sipped – heaven, and so it should be; the Marcassin chardonnay was over $400 a bottle and extremely hard to find. It was one of his favorites.

  He nodded to the waiter who then poured the trio a glass. Blomgren was a large man, with a ruddy complexion from years on the water, plus a neatly trimmed white beard and sea blue eyes. To the crew of any of his ships he was a cross between a living god, and the father many of them always wanted; a man who desired nothing more than to save the world. And if these bankers wanted to greenwash their souls, it mattered not to him … so long as they poured buckets of money into his movement.

  Blomgren’s entrée of green leaf salad and wafer-thin abalone arrived, and he looked down at the magnificent work of art. He lifted one eyebrow; as always, it looked too pretty to eat. And he also knew that, for someone of his size, he might as well have been eating thin air for all the sustenance he would gain from it.

  The bill was on him today – he smiled – and on his guests tomorrow. He had asked for a ten million dollar contribution, from each of them. And they hadn’t hesitated for a second, which immediately made him wish he’d asked for more.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it free and angled it below the tabletop so he could peruse the details – it was from Peter Cain. He excused himself and read the entire message.

  The Anastasia, one of Valery Konstantin Mironov’s ships, was finally preparing to put to sea. And a helicopter had recently touched down on deck. Olander’s lips compressed into a line; that Russian creature was going on another hunting expedition.

  Where Mironov went, endangered species vanished. He’d tried to stop him once before, and failed. But this time, he’d had years to prepare. When Olander first heard that Mironov was working on a boat, and secretively constructing something inside it, he had been intrigued. He had employed divers to photograph its hull. When he’d seen the outline of bomb-bay doors he had been even more determined to winkle out its secrets.

  It wasn’t that difficult to find out, as most doors in life were swung wide if the price was right. But what had taken more skill and patience had been getting someone on the inside – and that had taken him over a year. Enter Mr. Peter Cain.

  He grinned, putting his phone away, and spearing every single sliver of abalone onto his fork all at once. He held it up like King Neptune’s trident.

  “Gentlemen,” he bellowed, “to saving the world.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Here she is, my Nautilus. The first generation of submersibles to fly beneath the waves.” Valery Mironov

  Mironov turned to look as Cate and Jack returned to the main galley. They were wearing the Nautilus coveralls, as were he and Sonya. He nodded, noticing a rosiness in their cheeks.

  “You both look … refreshed.”

  Cate smiled. “Just needed to get the blood flowing again.” Beside her Jack laughed, tellingly.

  “Good, we’re already well underway,” Mironov said.

  Cate held out an arm. “Lead on.”

  Mironov headed to an elevator, pressed the button, and waited. “We’re over the edge of the shelf now. Means we can drop straight down into significant depths. We won’t be seen, and we can travel at speed.”

  “How fast can the Nautilus go?” Jack asked.

  “One of the top speeds attained by a submarine was from the K-222, a Soviet Red Banner submarine. She recorded a submerged speed of 44.7 knots, or 51.4 miles per hour. That’s extremely fast for moving the bulk of a submarine through water; agreed?”

  Cate and Jack nodded, and Mironov smiled. “In theory, a supercavitating vessel could reach the speed of sound underwater. And maybe one day we will. But for this voyage, we’ll be keeping it to about 460 knots, or around 500 miles per hour.”

  “Oh my god,” Jack said.

  “Oh my science, more like,” Mironov replied. “It’s all in the supercavitation and propulsion, Jack.”

  The door of the elevator opened and he led them in. Sonya placed a hand on his shoulder and he reached up to squeeze it as the doors closed. There were several levels – one above them for the bridge, this one, and then two below. Mironov pressed the button for the bottom level.

  “We’re headed down to the bay area. We’ll launch and then the Anastasia can follow behind. We’ll drop over the edge of the shelf and make our way to the Middle America Trench. Should only take us an hour, or less.”

  The elevator doors opened into the bowels of the ship, and the four of them stood at a railing looking down onto the Nautilus. Crewmembers moved about, climbing over, in and out of her. Valery beamed for a moment, and then turned to his guests.

  “Here she is, my Nautilus.” He waved an arm over the craft theatrically. “The first generation of submersibles to fly beneath the waves.”

  Cate and Jack stood with gaping mouths. The craft was a sleek, polished black work of beauty. The front was shovel-shaped and flattened, a little like a stingray. Adding to that appearance were two pectoral type fins on each side. Dark curved windows, like eyes, melded
perfectly into the body, giving it the appearance of a living creature.

  Jack looked along its length – the Nautilus ran for two thirds of the ship and it tapered to a point at the rear. “How long is it?”

  “It’s 192 feet, nose to tail.” Mironov leaned over the railing.

  “So beautiful,” Jack whispered.

  “Yes.” Valery smiled.

  “And so sleek, like a sea creature itself,” Cate said. “It reminds me of the skin of an orca whale.”

  “An apt description.” Mironov beamed. “Every now and then we get to design and build something that is both beautiful and functional. The Nautilus is one such craft. In a way, she is technology’s gift to us. The sleek design is because the functionality demands it. We will only inhabit the front third of the craft. The other two thirds are for the engine, storage and weapon chambers.”

  He headed for some stairs. “Let’s take a closer look before we board.”

  Cate and Jack followed like excited schoolchildren. The craft sat in a cradle, and they could just make out bomb-bay doors running beneath her.

  “That’s where you release?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, the chamber here is flooded, and the keel doors swing open so the Nautilus is able to float down. We have a strong pumping system to then flush out the seawater.”

  Valery stopped up near the bow. It seemed even bigger up close, more powerful and formidable. To some, perhaps, even a little frightening.

  “No wonder you launch into depths. This thing would scare the lunch right out of some deckhand if it passed underneath them.” Jack reached out a hand to the skin of the ship. His forehead creased. “It’s perforated.”

  “That’s right,” Valery said. “Thousands of perforations actually. This is where the air bubble is formed.”

  “How much air do you carry? I’m assuming it’s super compressed,” Cate said.

  Valery nodded. “We have significant reserves because our requirements are high. We’ve found that the deeper we go the more air is required to sustain a bubble at pressurized depths. We carry enough for forty-eight hours at a maximum depth of 3000 feet. We also have an extraction unit in the rear that can process seawater and separate the gasses should we need them. But it takes a little time and is exceptionally energy hungry. But it’s a good fail-safe.”