He fought past a group of men lined up to board a lifeboat, then ran along the explosives barge, still secured to the ship. Just beyond the barge, he found the dark bay where the auxiliary cutter was housed. Only partial power had been restored to the ship, and Pitt feared the machine would be dead. Locating a control station at the edge of the bay, he found that wasn’t the case. A row of lights illuminated the control panel, showing the auxiliary cutter still had full power.
Pitt fidgeted with the controls, decoding the machine’s drive mechanism and activating its forward lights and camera. A separate overhead hydraulic lift was used to lower the cutter over the side. Searching for its controls, he stopped as several men rushed into the bay.
“There he is,” a voice cried out.
It was Díaz and a guard, both leveling assault rifles.
As he dove to the ground, Pitt punched the winch activation button and slapped the auxiliary cutter’s forward control lever. A seam of bullets ripped into the control panel an instant later, showering him with plastic debris. Although the bay was dimly lit, he was still in view of the gunmen and he rolled to the side as more shots followed.
The back of the hangar proved darker, and Pitt scrambled behind the rear of the cutter. The big machine was surging forward, its steel treads clattering against the wood decking. With its cutter head barely ten feet from the rail, the vehicle was well on its way to marching over the side.
Díaz yelled to one of his men on the right, so Pitt crawled along the cutter’s left side. A hail of gunfire sounded through the bay, but it wasn’t directed at Pitt. Someone was aiming high, the bullets hitting the ceiling.
The auxiliary cutter ground to a halt as something struck the deck with a thump just in front of Pitt. It was the cutter’s overhead power cable, deliberately severed by the gunshots to disable the machine. Sparks flew from the end of the cable, which began spooling loosely about the deck as its supply winch continued to turn.
Pitt heard a noise in front of him. A guard had hopped onto the cutter machine’s front frame and was lining up a shot on him.
Pitt lunged forward, grabbing the severed cable lead and jamming it against the steel frame. The gunman screamed as a fatal surge of high-voltage power coursed through the cutter.
Pitt pulled away the cable and stepped to the front of the cutter, intent on grabbing the dead man’s weapon. He hesitated at hearing a shuffle on the deck. Díaz was charging around the left side of the cutter, while two others approached from the back.
Thinking fast, Pitt snake-whipped the power cable toward the side rail, watching as its sparking tip slipped over the side. Pitt then backed around the right side of the cutter and raised his arms over his head.
The two soldiers converged on him first and held him at gunpoint until Díaz approached.
Díaz saw the dead guard beneath the auxiliary cutter’s frame and stared at Pitt with his eyes aglow. “I’m afraid you won’t be going to Havana after all. It ends now.”
He raised his rifle and aimed at Pitt’s chest. As he reached for the trigger, a whooshing sound erupted behind him. Then he disappeared in a maelstrom of fire.
When Pitt had thrown the live power cable aside, he hadn’t just tossed it over the rail. He had tossed it into the adjacent barge. The unraveling cable snaked around its interior, igniting the scatterings of ANFO that littered the deck. It was only a matter of time before a smoldering pile ignited one of the crates of TNT, detonating the barge’s entire contents of explosives.
The barge blew apart in a thunderous blast that sent a thick white cloud heaving into the night sky. It shook the entire length of the Sea Raker, shattering her superstructure. The vessel lurched to the side, jettisoning the auxiliary cutter and other loose equipment near the rail, before settling sharply by the bow. The stern rose out of the water a minute later, and the ship glided under the surface on a collision course with the seafloor.
A circle of foam and bubbles rippled the surface in the ship’s wake. Then only silence draped the waves for the remaining survivors left floating on a dark sea.
76
The auxiliary cutter saved Pitt’s life twice. Standing beside its huge mass, he was shielded from the direct force of the blast while those around him were incinerated. Still, he was knocked off his feet by the concussion, then nearly crushed by one of the steel treads when the cutter began sliding toward the rail.
Choking through the blinding smoke, Pitt heaved himself onto the topsides of the open tread and grabbed an upper brace. He hung on as the cutter slid through the Sea Raker’s side rail and toppled over the edge. The cutter tried to carry him to the bottom, but he pushed away and swam to the surface. He stroked away from the Sea Raker to avoid its suction, then turned and watched as the last frightened crewmen jumped overboard before the ship slipped under.
He had been treading water only a few minutes when the Gold Digger burst on the scene with a throaty roar from its motors. It stopped near one of the Sea Raker’s lifeboats as a searchlight on its stern scanned the waters. Desperate to get to Summer, Pitt swam to the yacht and took his place with the Sea Raker’s survivors clamoring to get aboard.
Ramsey was on deck leading the rescue. He flashed a relieved look when Pitt staggered aboard. “I was worried about you when we saw that second explosion.”
Pitt could only nod. His ears were ringing, his body ached, and he was out of breath. More than that, he knew he had failed Summer, who was trapped on the seafloor beneath them.
“Sorry about the ship,” he finally muttered.
“You… you did it?” Ramsey gave Pitt a chagrined look. “Your friendship is really beginning to cost me.”
Pitt shook off the remark. “Did you contact the Navy’s undersea rescue unit? How soon can they get here?”
Ramsey shook his head. “I did better than that. I hooked up with a much closer vessel that you might be familiar with.” He pointed off the starboard rail.
For the first time, Pitt noticed the lights of an approaching vessel. Its illuminated profile had a familiar look, and as it drew near, he could make out a hint of its turquoise-colored hull in the darkness. “The Sargasso Sea?”
“Yes. They responded over the radio. It seems they were searching for the Sea Raker—looking for you and your daughter.”
“Who’s in command?”
“A fellow named Gunn. He seemed surprised when I mentioned your name.”
Ramsey motioned to one of his crewmen, then turned back to Pitt. “I’ll get a Zodiac in the water so you can get to her right away.”
A tired smile crossed Pitt’s face. He reached out and shook Ramsey’s hand.
“Mark, you’re a good man. And if it’s any consolation, I’ll make you a guarantee.”
“What’s that?” Ramsey said.
“I promise you’ll never lose to me on the track again.”
77
Pitt gunned the Zodiac’s motor, racing to the Sargasso Sea as it slowed to a drift near the luxury yacht. Dirk, Gunn, and Giordino were all waiting at the rail and helped Pitt aboard.
Giordino eyed Pitt’s singed and waterlogged clothes. “You look like you took a nap in a rock crusher,” he said.
“I needed the sleep.”
“Where’s Summer?” Dirk asked. “The Gold Digger said you had a deepwater emergency.”
“She’s stuck on the bottom in the Starfish,” he said. “While I’m glad to see the ship, that was the Sargasso Sea’s only submersible. We need some outside help — and quick.”
“Actually, we don’t.” Gunn extended an arm like a waiter. “If you’ll be kind enough to follow me…”
Gunn quickly escorted the group aft with Pitt in a frantic rush to save Summer. At the stern deck, they found Jack Dahlgren inspecting the submersible Gunn had borrowed from the Caroline. Named the Bullet, it was a hybrid that mated a submersible’s cabin to a powerboat’s hull. With both conventional and electric motors, the sleek craft was able to skim the surface at high speed.
Pitt was familiar with the vessel, having piloted it in Turkey a few years earlier. “Where’d this come from?” he asked.
“Jack and I needed something fast and stealthy to get aboard the Sargasso Sea. She was operating out of Bimini on the Caroline, so we brought the ship in close and piloted her the rest of the way.”
Dahlgren looked up at Pitt and nodded. “Good to see you, boss. Heard you need a fast ride downstairs.”
“Summer’s life depends on it.”
“She’s good to go,” Dahlgren said, patting the submersible. “Hop in and we’ll get you over the side.”
Pitt turned to Gunn as he made his way to the Bullet’s hatch. “Ramsey’s going to need some help with the survivors.”
Gunn nodded. “We’ll lend a hand, once you’re off.”
Giordino joined Pitt in the submersible and they were quickly lowered over the side. Pitt took a bead on Ramsey’s yacht and barreled along the surface, descending just as they neared the Gold Digger.
The submersible would normally descend by gravity alone, but they lacked the luxury of time. After flooding the ballast tanks, Pitt pushed the nose of the Bullet forward and applied full propulsion. The vehicle shot downward. At seven hundred feet, Pitt eased back on the thrusters, and leveled off a minute later as the seafloor loomed beneath them.
The Bullet wasn’t equipped with sonar, so they had to locate Summer visually. Giordino marked their position as Pitt propelled the submersible in a wide arc.
“There’s something on the right.” Giordino pointed out the submersible’s large acrylic viewport.
Pitt adjusted course toward a dark object at the fringe of their visibility. It was the auxiliary cutter, which had righted itself during its descent and landed upright on the bottom. Pitt circled around the large cutter head and paused at the gruesome sight. A man was impaled on the blades, his singed uniform indicating he’d been blasted onto them by the barge’s explosion.
“Say hello to Juan Díaz,” Pitt said, recognizing the figure. The face was twisted in a final death cry. “He was responsible for this operation.”
“I see you cut him up with your wit and charm,” Giordino said.
“That and a ton of explosives.”
Giordino marked their position as Pitt accelerated forward. Summer had to be within two or three hundred yards. He traveled that distance, then looped to his left. The bottom became rockier, rising with mounds and hills that showed occasional signs of marine life.
“Water temperature is up a few degrees,” Giordino said. “We must be in the neighborhood of the thermal vent.”
A few moments later, they came across some tread marks. Pitt followed them to the trench filled with explosives. The yellow Starfish was visibly perched on the far side. Pitt zoomed over, bringing the two submersibles nose to nose.
Summer was slumped over in the pilot’s seat. As the bright lights shone into the cockpit, she rolled her head back and opened her eyes. She blinked twice, then closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat.
“She looks to be suffering carbon monoxide poisoning,” Giordino said.
“We’ll have to find a way to get her up on our own.” Pitt backed the submersible away and slowly circled the Starfish.
“Hang on, partner,” Giordino said. “Take a look at the aft frame.”
Pitt followed Giordino’s lead and examined the base of the Starfish. Several strands of wire were wrapped around a side frame and extended underneath the submersible. Pitt pivoted around the Starfish, observing that the ends of the wires were secured on the opposite side. “It’s the secondary emergency ballast weight. They’ve wired it up so Summer can’t release it.”
“That explains why she’s stuck here,” Giordino said. “They probably spiked the ballast tank, too.”
“You up for some surgery?”
“With no waiting.”
Pitt brought the submersible as close as he could, holding it at an angled hover while Giordino went to work. Using his own small manipulator, Giordino grasped one of the wires, then rotated the mechanical claw. The wire easily snapped under the manipulator’s hydraulic power.
Giordino made quick work of the remaining wires. But the Starfish failed to ascend.
Pitt brought his submersible in slowly and gave it a firm nudge. Nothing happened.
“She might be stuck in the mud,” Giordino said.
“Then let’s pull her out.” He hovered above the Starfish, creeping across its top until Giordino could snare a lift ring with the manipulator.
“I got her,” he said, “though that mechanical arm isn’t made for hauling.”
Pitt nodded. He slowly purged his ballast tanks. The Bullet rose slightly and stopped as the manipulator reached its full extension.
Pitt kept on the ballast pumps, then tapped his thrusters. The submersible pulled forward, tilting the Starfish. Then the yellow submersible broke free of the mud’s suction — and started to ascend.
The two submersibles rose together, but the ascent was too slow for Pitt’s liking. He powered the thrusters and angled toward the surface. The rise was still agonizing for him. There were no lights on inside the Starfish, indicating Summer’s battery reserves had expired.
Giordino released the manipulator’s grip at fifty feet, and the two vessels broke the surface together. Pitt had Giordino bring them alongside as he opened the hatch and hopped out.
A searchlight from the Sargasso Sea illuminated them as Pitt leaped aboard the Starfish. He attacked the main hatch, releasing its safety latch and spinning it open. He quickly slithered into the interior, which had turned icy.
Summer wrapped her arms around her father as he picked her up. She shivered suddenly, breathing hard. “Dad.”
He carried her to the hatch, where Giordino stood, reaching down with his thick arms.
“Hand her up.” He pulled her out like a rag doll.
Pitt climbed out to see Summer open her eyes and force a smile.
Cradled by the two men atop the submersible, she inhaled deep breaths of night air. “I don’t feel quite as foggy,” she said, “but I’m getting a headache you wouldn’t believe.”
“You nearly slept for good,” Giordino said as the Sargasso Sea closed in to pick them up.
“I saw a bright light,” she said in a weak voice. “I thought it was an angel calling me, then I realized it was something else.”
“What’s that?” Pitt asked, leaning close.
“It was you,” she said, reaching up to her father’s face and stroking away a tear.