“I will,” she says, nodding. “But you’ll stop him. I know it.”
I smile and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. Then I pick up the bags and drop them on the back seat, walk around the hood and open the driver’s door.
“Is this really a submarine?” she asks, skeptically.
“Apparently,” I reply.
“Huh…”
I climb inside and start the engine. I look at her one last time then drive off toward the pier.
23
My phone rings. It’s Josh. I put the earpiece in and answer the call.
“Where are you up to, Bossman?” he asks as I pick up.
“I’m a few minutes away from the docks,” I reply. “I’ve hit some traffic.”
“That’s to be expected, I guess, what with everything going on over there.”
“How are things with you?”
“This place is mental! I think the Secret Service is starting to take our concerns seriously, but aren’t being very cooperative in terms of allowing the FBI access to the ship. Agent Chambers is shouting a lot on the phone. I think she’s intending setting off for the Jeremiah with Agent Wallis any minute.”
“Unbelievable…They’ll be cooperative when they get blown to shit, and the FBI says I told you so.”
“If only people would listen to us, eh? Anyway, go do your thing, Bossman. I’ve got your back here.”
Instead of hanging up, Josh starts playing music down the line. I smile as the opening guitar riff from Smoke On The Water drifts into my ears.
I focus on the road and steadily navigate my way through the traffic, which is getting heavier the closer I get to the docks. As I hit The Embarcadero, vehicles are almost at a standstill. Cops are standing in the middle of the road, directing cars in different directions. I lean out the window and look ahead. The sun’s slowly turning orange as it begins its descent, and is casting a subtle glow on the never-ending line of traffic ahead of me.
Goddamnit!
I check the clock in the car. According to that news report I saw, the service aboard the Jeremiah is due to start at eight p.m. I’m running out of time and I’m probably ten minutes away from where I need to be right now.
The music fades away, and Josh comes back on the line.
“Still with us?” he asks.
“Just about,” I reply. “Although, I’m going to start shooting people if this traffic doesn’t clear up soon.”
He laughs. “Hang on a second… Right, I’m tracking you via the GPS in your phone. You still have a way to go before you reach Pier 33, and the traffic’s only going to get worse the further along you go, but you can turn off early onto Pier 29 and drive along there — it might save you some time.”
“Excellent, I can see the turn just ahead. So, here’s a question for you… have you ever driven an underwater car before?”
He laughs again. “Can’t say I have,” he replies.
“But you’re familiar with them?”
“More than you are, yeah.”
“So, what am I meant to do when I reach the end of the pier, exactly?”
“You’ve got to drive off the end!”
“Josh, I’m being serious here.”
“Adrian, so am I! How else do you expect to get underwater?”
“So, I just… drive off? Will I not drown in the car? This sounds like one of those things I really need to get right first time, y’know.”
“Have you got a lever at the side of you?”
I take a look. “I’ve got two.”
“Right, well one’s the handbrake. The other, you need to pull as soon as you’re airborne but before you hit the water.”
“What will it do?”
“It’s make sure the roof and windows and everything else is shut tight and sealed to make them waterproof. It will also disengage the main electric engine and switch on to the secondary supply, which is used to power the water-based part of the vehicle.”
“Christ, this is some real life James Bond shit, isn’t it! How do I steer the damn thing?”
“You’ll be able to push and pull the wheel as well as turn it — this will control your depth. Forward for down, backward for up.”
“Huh… Well, this should be entertaining.”
“Assuming you manage it, our comms will be down until you re-surface, so you’re on your own until you reach Alcatraz.”
I see a gap in the traffic and take it, accelerating quickly, and stopping again. The turn for Pier 29 is just ahead on my right.
“Fair enough. Tell Agent Chambers good luck from me.”
“I will…” He falls silent.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Josh, I can hear you smiling down the phone. What?”
He laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry — did you think all the awkward, uncomfortable flirting you two have been doing wasn’t visible to the rest of us?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“‘Uh-huh…”
“Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“I have absolutely no issue with shooting you, you know that, right?”
He laughs again. “Whatever you say, Bossman.”
“Anyway, I’m just about to turn onto the Pier now. I’ll call you once I get to The Rock.”
I hang up and take the turn, slowing to a stop at the beginning of the pier. There’s a parking lot which is half-full, with spaces on the left along the side of a building. Luckily, there aren’t many people around. I set off again slowly toward the end of the pier.
I must admit, I’m not completely confident with driving into the water and pulling a lever so that I don’t drown. I get that technology is amazing and useful nowadays, but it doesn’t mean I trust it. I just want to make sure I know what I’m doing. No use going to all this trouble if I die before I even make it to Pellaggio.
I stop at an angle as I reach the edge of the pier and get out of the car. I look around and come across the first of what I suspect will be many roadblocks I encounter before all this is over — the pier is fenced off, so I can’t drive off the edge.
Great. Now what do I do?
I look around, but there’s no one this far down the pier. I walk over to the barriers. They’re interlinked metal gates, maybe three feet high and five feet wide, welded into place. If I drove at them full speed, I’d probably write the car off and injure myself. They’re too high to start trying to build a ramp either.
Shit.
Hang on…
I walk quickly back to the car, opening up the black sports bag on the back seat that doesn’t contain the grappling gun. Inside is a Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun — my personal favorite — resting on top of a pile of spare magazines. Lining the bottom of the bag next to it is a selection of grenades. Smoke, flashbangs, white phosphorous and…
Frags.
I pick one up and look at it in my hand. There’s no one around… this would almost certainly blow at least one section of barrier off, which would leave a space wide enough to drive through.
I turn to walk back to the barrier when something inside the bag catches my eye. I reach inside and retrieve a back holster, identical to the one I used to wear. Resting in it are two brand new, custom Berettas. My eyes widen like a kid on Christmas morning who’s just opened a present and found the one thing he wanted more than anything in his life. They’re not the A1 model that I’d loved and lost, but the more prominent FS variation. I take one out and hold it in the palm of my hand, feeling the weight. I look at it and smile. On the butt, where I’d had the Sigil of Baphomet engraved on my A1s is an intricately detailed image of a smiling Devil’s face. Every aspect of the gun is jet black, but the engraving is blood red.