"Good morning, Dr. Gould," Gary, the pilot, smiled, as the small lady's posh bop cut became disheveled by the gusts of the rotors. Her clothing whipped up from the upturn of the machine's gale but she attempted a smile, "Good morning. I'm sorry I am a bit tardy — overslept."
"No problem, ma'am. I needed a coffee break anyway," the friendly pilot winked.
His kind demeanor made her feel better. For a minute she forgot that she was unhappy about getting into the helicopter, but Gary was one of those people who could make a paranoid agoraphobic feel at ease if he had to. After loading her bag into the Robbie he helped her in.
"Everything okay? No worries, ma'am, I have been a pilot for twenty years and I have a smashing good record," he assured her, and then realized his choice of words were rather unfit for the passenger's comfort. Nina raised an eyebrow to the remark and the poor man smiled sheepishly.
"I am a bit uncomfortable in cramped spaces, that's all," she winced politely, so that he would understand any strange reactions from her.
"Ah!" he nodded as he closed the door. The sound of the rotating blades above Nina's head reminded her of a carnivorous ceiling fan that was sucking her up into it. From the inside of the helicopter the chopping thuds pulsed into her gut, an awfully peculiar sensation she had never had before. Gary got in and showed her how to strap in. He was always reluctant to buckle up women, because it was uncomfortable and dangerous. One slip and he'd be sued for sexual harassment. Nina did not usually mind flying, but now that she was again in some form of hovercraft, just like her trip to Wolfenstein, she was inadvertently thrown a slideshow of memories to the expedition from which she thought she'd never escape alive.
It was perhaps a good thing that she jumped at the sudden lift of the Robbie. It saved her from remembering the particularly heinous things about Wolfenstein that she still had nightmares about on occasion. Her tummy tingled from the positive Gs she pulled as the craft ascended higher and higher in the mild wind, which rocked it gently. Gary smiled at the lady's sudden grip on the seat as they bunted forward, snout tilted forward.
He knew enough about people skills to read when someone did not want to talk during the flight. She seemed to be one of those, so the pilot kept quiet and hoped that the scenery would impress Dr. Gould. But Dr. Gould thought of other things than the majestic panorama. After Purdue briefed her she had plowed into her books and data disks about Nazi treasure and the U-boats that were supposed to transport it to various locations around the world. It was a fascinating, although generally unfounded, theory.
With her research Nina had discovered that a few U-boats went missing during the latter part of the Second World War, unaccounted for and never registered. Registered submarines from numerous countries that were using the XXI class were all accounted for, regardless of how and where their fate had finally led them. Three that she knew of never made it to their destinations after trying to reach a German ally, Japan, with supposed art treasures. It was a well-known fact that a lot of those treasures had never been recovered. The thought of maybe having found one of them excited her to no end. Not only would it finally initiate her success to open academic doors, but on a personal level, as a lover of history, the thought was undeniably exhilarating.
On the other hand, she could not find anything good about seeing Sam again. Her mother always told her that holding grudges only made life heavier, "like dragging an anvil strapped to your ankle." She gave it some thought and decided that Sam Cleave's betrayal was worth a bit of weight training on her part. Before she knew it, her flight had grown much shorter, speeding by with some good old contemplation.
"There is Deep Sea One, ma'am," Gary motioned with his head to his right, as the mighty structure came into sight. "Your new temporary home." Gary winked at her, hoping that the quiet passenger at least harbored a sense of humor.
"Gee, thanks," she said, keeping her tone lighter than her heart to appease the playful pilot. Besides, she enjoyed being addressed as "ma'am" instead of "doctor," for a change. It made her realize just how terrible and nonexistent her capacity as woman had become. She was far from the sexy carefree chick she used to be when she started studying. Now she was just a brain in a hot body that was never flaunted, a sexless drone with too many books. Gone was her flirtatious side, her passion and her whimsy. And funny thing was, she had not noticed until being addressed by her gender just then.
"It is huge! It looks like the death star or a city of mangled iron!" she exclaimed in awe, hoping that the isolation of the place would be kinder than the tent in the ice. There was as much chance of this group of people stranded on a desolate surface to turn on one another the same way the others had. "Is it actively running oil lines?"
"Yep," Gary said, "Built in 1986 and still going strong."
Nina's eyes took in all the intricate angles and beams, perfectly woven for functionality, but what scared her was the size of the drills and the cranes that silently lurched over the platform teeming with sea spray every time the giant ocean shifted under its blue grey blanket. As the Robbie slowly descended on the giant circle marked "H," Nina combed the area for Sam Cleave, but there were only four men standing under a corrugated metal roof. She recognized Purdue among them, nursing a huge mug of something he was using to warm his hands.
"How was your trip?" Purdue asked, when she stumbled along the platform in the wild water, which seemed to come from all sides.
"It was okay. Your pilot is nice," she shouted in the thunderous pattering, as he led her to the deck landing and down some stairs.
"Yea, he's Canadian. It is built in. Would you like a hot beverage while we wait?" he asked, as he closed the door, locking out the wild waves.
"Yes, please. I'm soaked. What are we waiting for?" she asked, and as her words left her mouth she knew the answer.
"Sam should be arriving soon, I think, and then we can have a look at the footage. Nina, you have to see this vessel. It is perfectly intact. Just some water corrosion, but otherwise it looks easily accessible. I must admit I have not been sleeping much since I first saw it on the minisub's camera footage," Purdue spilled.
"Oh, I know what that's like," Nina replied, quite curious to see the vessel. "Can we have a look?"
"I have to wait for Mr. Cleave, my dear. Is my charming company not enough?" he purred, and Nina suddenly remembered why she hated hearing his name. Hoping to break Purdue's advances, she threw in a question which had been plaguing her, "Why would you want to get a journalist in on your secret discovery, Mr. Purdue? Is that not directly counterproductive?"
"To document the findings, why else?" he said nonchalantly.
"And if he runs off and purges his knowledge for a price? After all, is it not his profession to inform and report about things other people wish to keep secret?" Nina almost shrieked. She failed miserably at hiding her defensiveness. It appeared that Sam Cleave was more of a sore spot for her than Purdue initially thought.
"Now, now, Nina, you know he was an invaluable member of the previous venture. If I recall correctly, he was your choice of companionship for most of the time. Can't you just tuck away that hostility?" Purdue coaxed, but Nina felt that he rather had the ability to provoke her rage.