It was not until Admiral Whitsun's fingers closed around the gun on the table that Sam realized what he was planning to do. Instinctively he reached forward to protest, but halfway through the gesture he checked himself. Beside him, Nina did the same. Admiral Whitsun's mind was clearly made up. It's his choice, Sam thought. He's a grown man, and if that's how he wants to deal with his grief and guilt, it's not for us to stop him. Let him make his exit with dignity.
The last they saw of Admiral Whitsun was the old man framed by the door lintel, a gun in one hand and a bottle in the other, retiring to his private quarters.
"Hand me the wrench!" Alexandr yelled. Nina obliged, while Sam busied himself trying to help Jefferson Daniels appease Professor Matlock.
"This is lunacy," Matlock was ranting. "Look at it!" He gesticulated wildly at the U-boat. "Look! It's been sitting here since who knows when, 1945 at least, and you people think we're just going to get it working and sail out of here!"
Jefferson followed him as he strode up and down the dock, making all the right noises about how they had to try. But Sam could see that Matlock was afraid, and he was sure that this anger was his way of attempting to cope with it. He could also see that it was starting to wear Jefferson down and was upsetting Fatima. Unfortunately, Sam had spent too much of the expedition winding Matlock up to be much help when it came to calming him down. In reality, all he was doing was trying to convince himself that he was being helpful and useful. Anything to prevent himself from thinking about the gunshots, and the blood, and anything that connected the day's events to that day in his past.
"These vessels are intended for a forty-five-man crew!" Matlock was blustering. "A crew which, I might add, would have been properly trained! You can't sail a U-boat on a wing and a prayer, it's preposterous."
"We don't have to get far." Purdue was leaning against a wall, watching Alexandr's comings and goings with interest. "Or navigate, really. No one is proposing that we sail home in this. All we need to do is get as far as the surface. I have a charter boat stationed at Deception Island that was to take us back to Ushuaia when we were ready, but once we reach the surface I should be able to summon it."
"Oh?" Professor Matlock's tones were icier than the water lapping in the empty pens. "How?"
"You wouldn't ask a magician to reveal his techniques." In any other person's voice it might have been a question, but in Purdue's flat monotone it was a simple statement of fact.
"Oh, well that settles everything, doesn't it?" Matlock rounded on Purdue, his mouth open for a barrage of sarcastic insults, when suddenly Jefferson's fist connected with Matlock's jaw. The academic reeled and fell to his knees.
"Shut up, will you?" Jefferson yelled. "Just shut the fuck up! I can't listen to you for a second longer!" He lurched forward. His foot swung back. Sam, never usually the physical type, threw his arms around Jefferson and tackled him to the ground. Jefferson recovered in an instant and rolled, coming up on top of Sam. His hand balled into a fist. Sam screwed his eyes shut in anticipation of the blow.
It never came. Instead he felt Jefferson's weight being lifted off of him as Ziv Blomstein stepped in. As they scrambled to their feet Sam, Matlock, and Daniels glared at one another, then silently scattered to different parts of the room. Only Purdue was unperturbed — at least, until he heard the sound of the U-boat's diesel engine sputtering to life.
"Alexandr! You genius!" Purdue shouted above the engine's roar. Moments later Alexandr's head appeared through the trapdoor, beaming triumphantly. "All aboard!" Purdue cried.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Matlock called. He pointed at the sluice gates that kept the pen dry. "What is the point if you can't get it out of here?"
For the briefest of moments, Alexandr looked thrown. Then he climbed swiftly down from the deck and jumped lightly onto the dock. The lever that controlled the pen was located at the far end of the dock, so it took him only a few steps to reach it. Theatrically, he threw it.
Nothing happened. Alexandr tried the lever again, listening carefully to it. Nothing happened. "Its gears are damaged," he muttered, then strode out of the room, back toward their quarters, leaving everyone to stare in silence. Within seconds there were angry yells from Jefferson, from Matlock, and a stifled sob from Fatima, but all the frightened noises were abruptly cut off by Alexandr's sudden return.
He rushed to the end of the dock, down by the sluice gates, and glanced around wildly. "I need a box," he said, pulling a small black carton from his pocket and tapping it impatiently. "Nina, I believe you had a pack of these as well? Give it to me, please. Sam! Where is the box that contained the vials? Is it still in the refectory? Go and get it, at once!"
Sam asked no questions but set off immediately, running up the stairs to grab the box, then dashing back down as quickly as he could. By the time he got back, Alexandr was cross-legged on the ground, whittling away at something with his knife. As Sam put the box down beside him he saw what it was.
"He's lost his mind," said Matlock. "Completely. We need to get through that gate and all he can think of to do is carve up some playing cards."
"Ssssh," Purdue raised a finger to his lips. "I think I know what Mr. Arichenkov is doing. I want to know whether I am right."
One by one, Alexandr flipped over the cards. If the card was black he discarded it, tossing it to one side. If it was red, he would carefully slice off the pips and place them in the box. His hands moved at frantic speed. Finally, when he had reached the last card and removed its three diamond-shaped pips, he got to his feet. "Stand back," he instructed the group.
Purdue clapped his hands. "Ah, it is what I thought! Excellent! I have always wanted to try this."
"What is it?" Sam whispered, watching intently as Alexandr crouched by the vacated pen and scooped freezing water with his hands, dumping it into the wooden box.
"Nitrocellulose," Purdue replied. "This is how William Kogut nearly escaped from his cell in San Quentin in the 1930s — a most remarkable man."
"Nearly escaped?"
"Well, he may have overdone things a little. He inadvertently blew himself up as he tried to blast his way out, but the theory was flawless." Purdue reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. "Alexandr! You'll need heat! Try this." He dashed forward as Alexandr was closing the box and shaking it up. He held the flame underneath. As the box caught fire, Alexandr threw it toward the sluice gate and the two men turned and ran.
"Everybody down!" yelled Alexandr They barely had time to cooperate before the explosion happened.
When Sam looked up there was a gaping hole where the sluice gate had once been, and water was flooding in from the icy ocean. The group scrambled up the ladder and down through the trapdoor into the U-boat, closing the hatch just as the ocean water began to swell and carry the submarine out of its moorings. Alexandr seized the wheel that controlled the rudder, and their desperate journey began.
Chapter 25
At the top of the stairs, Admiral Whitsun took a left turn along the dark corridor that led to the surface. Slowly but steadily, he made his way up the slope until he reached the door by which they had initially entered. It took all the strength he had to turn the wheel that opened it, but after a certain amount of groaning and wheezing he managed it.
He stepped outside, into the frozen landscape, and looked up at the clear white sky. From his coat pocket he pulled the small satellite phone that he had discreetly taken from the corpse of Major Alfsson, flipped it open and dialed.
"I'm ready," he said. "Send the transport."
"You're kidding, right? Tell me you are kidding."