Sean removed his fins and left them on the dry ledge, unhooked his harness and tank, and set the gear bag down. He unzipped the latter as silently as possible and removed his weapons, tucking one into the utility belt that wrapped around his waist. Along with two extra magazines of rounds for each gun, Sean had accepted Dothan's hunting knife as an additional weapon for close-quarter combat. The seven-inch long blade was strapped to his hip in its sheath.
He looked up to the left and saw that the steps led to a path that wrapped around the rear of the cavern, all the way to where a metal catwalk had been erected, jutting out from the wall. He noticed a similar catwalk hovering over a landing next to the submarine, a rickety-looking construction that three of McClain's men occupied. Two stood on the end, probably placed there to watch the cavern entrance, except that their heads were facing toward the front of the sub. The other guy was at the far end, staring down at the work being done. An antique gasoline generator muttered a steady roll on the rock landing under the two men at the end. It had to be what was powering the old lights. Sean was amazed the thing still worked. Next to it was a pile of wet suits, tanks, regulators, and other dive equipment, including several black underwater scooters similar to the one Sean had used to get inside the cave. A spare gasoline canister sat upright next to the generator with a watertight lid screwed into place on its top. They must have done reconnaissance before setting up shop and secured the things they needed to bring inside.
He strained to see if he could hear what was going on just beyond the submarine, but it was hard to tell over the constant lull of the generator. Occasionally, he could hear voices shouting orders, but who was giving them, he wasn't sure. He assumed it was McClain.
Sean assessed his plan of attack. The only way to get over to the other side was to go up and around via the rocky path. There, he could climb up the supports of the catwalk and tuck in behind some old wooden boxes that were stacked against the railing. A guard was pacing back and forth on that particular catwalk, but if he timed it right, Sean would be able to make it up there unseen, at least by that guy anyway. Whether or not one of the others on the other catwalk would see him would be something he'd have to leave up to chance. He'd noted that every guard was equipped with Heckler & Koch submachine guns slung over their shoulders.
With only one clear path to take, Sean crept up the rocky path, keeping low and against the wall as he moved silently in the cavern's shadows. He kept his eyes on the nearest guard, making sure that his movements didn't arouse any suspicion. It took Sean less than a minute to arrive at the thin metal rods holding up the metal grating above. Now that he was closer, he could see there was a gap of about two feet between the end of the catwalk and the boxes he'd noticed from below. He hated to rely on lucky things like that, but sometimes it was better to have a little luck on your side than to just be good.
The guard above hadn't seen Sean's approach, as he was monotonously strolling to the far end of the catwalk and back. Sean ducked behind a protruding rock formation and remained there until he could hear the tapping of the guard's boots on the metal grate above, signaling he had looped back to this side. Sean stared up through the steel patchwork as the guard spun around, loosely carrying his weapon against his hip, and headed back in the direction he'd come.
Sean wasted no time. He popped out of his hiding place and began to climb. He gripped the support rods tight as he climbed, careful to make sure his wet shoes didn't slip on the slick surface. He reached the top railing and crawled through just as the guard pivoted around at the other end and started back again. Sean ducked behind the two-high stack of crates and remained hidden. He pulled the knife from its sheath, careful not to make a sound. A quick plan formulated in Sean's head as he listened for the footsteps. Once again, the man's boots belied his approach.
The tapping grew louder and louder until it stopped. Sean knew the man was spinning around to head back the other way. It was the split-second window he needed. Sean deftly crept out from behind the boxes and wrapped his forearm around the man's face, closing off his mouth tightly. The other hand brought the hunting knife up quickly through the back of the guard's neck at the base of his skull, killing him instantly. The body tensed for a second and then went limp. Sean withdrew the blade and let the man crumple to the catwalk. Sean wasted no time. He grabbed the submachine gun from the dead man's arm and wrapped the sling around his biceps. He wiped the blood off the knife on the back of the man's shirt before placing it back in its sheath.
Keeping low, Sean inched his way across the scaffolding, pressing against the wall to stay as much out of sight as possible. When he reached the other end, he was able to see what he couldn't from the other side of the cavern.
Admiral McClain was standing next to a woman. She had short dark hair that stopped at the tops of her ears. Her skin was pale and her nose pointed, matching her sharp chin. Two more armed guards stood behind her with weapons ready, hanging at belt level.
Sean's instincts caused him to inventory the situation rapidly. Three guards on the catwalk across the way, two down below, along with McClain, and the woman he assumed to be Dr. Ott. Even as a plan of attack began to formulate in his mind, he couldn't help but be distracted by the object Dr. Ott was examining: an eight-foot-tall and six-foot-wide metal object in the shape of an enormous bell with various cords running from connecting points to odd-looking batteries on the floor.
They'd found die Glocke.
20
Sean's eyes moved deliberately from the three men on the other catwalk to those on the ground. There was no clear path now. Any move he made would risk putting him out in the open. He was close enough to maybe take out the two guards near Ott. But by the time he did, assuming he didn't miss, the three on the other catwalk would fire on his position, and he would be a sitting duck with no cover. The other possibility was that he could accidentally hit Dr. Ott. Too many cons overruled the pros, and he abandoned the idea of a frontal assault. His attention shifted to the nose of the submarine and trailed over to the tower, just beyond the huge cannon on the deck.
If he could make it across the deck to the tower, he would have a clear line of sight to the other catwalk, and the position would effectively turn the docking area where McClain and the others were into a kill box. There were several other crates lying around that the men below could use for cover, but at least he would have the high ground.
The trick would be getting over there without being noticed. And then there was the problem of the guard atop the tower. As long as he didn't look in his direction, Sean would be fine.
He looped his arm through the Heckler & Koch's sling and let it dangle from his shoulder. As quietly as possible, he pressed low to the metal grating and belly crawled over to the edge, letting his feet go over first and then slowly lowering himself down until he was hanging a few feet above the U-boat's nose. There wasn't a second to reconsider. He was committed now. Sean let go of the catwalk's edge and dropped the remaining distance to the submarine's stern. His shoes made a low thud when they hit the metal, and Sean instantly pressed himself down, inching his way out of the line of sight of the main group of guards. The groan of the generator had muted his landing, and no one appeared to notice as he slid into the shadow of the lights on the far side of the submarine.
A quick glance to his right revealed that the guard atop the tower was still staring down at the bell and whatever it was that McClain was forcing Dr. Ott to do. He'd not been spotted. Not yet anyway. If he delayed, however, that could change.