Jake grabbed the device, checked the channel, and held it to his mouth. He looked out to sea again, and opened his mouth to speak.
“Too late,” he said quietly. “It’s too late.”
The two men stared at the hostile submarine. With barely a sound, something long and slender had shot out of the front.
Jake’s mouth fell open. He watched in disbelief as, just below the surface of the water, the torpedo sped towards the Spirit of Arcadia.
Thirty-Three
JAKE STARED AT the torpedo, his brain denying the image his eyes were relaying. The implication was just too huge. The submarine, off to his left, was diving again. To his right, blissfully unaware of the fate it was about to meet, was the Spirit of Arcadia. His workplace. His home. His family. His world. Speeding between the two, the weapon that would bring about its demise.
Not all hands would be lost. Not immediately anyway. The Arcadia still had some life rafts left. She was a big ship; she would take time to go down. Some might escape. Some might even make it to the Lance. And what then? The little research vessel couldn’t sustain life indefinitely. To escape the cruise ship would only serve to delay death.
“Jesus,” was all Daniel managed to say, before he threw up.
For Jake, time slowed down. His mind had processed the information to hand, and was going into overdrive, trying to find a solution. He felt as though he was waking up for the first time in his life, every sense on high alert. He discovered a clarity of thought the likes of which he had never before experienced.
From nowhere, he knew exactly what to do.
He strode quickly but calmly back along the deck.
“Daniel! With me,” he ordered. The young sailor, still dumbstruck, did as he was told, falling in line behind his captain.
Jake stopped and examined the rack of harpoons. His hand ran along them, fingers brushing against their slim metal bodies until they stopped on one with an explosives warning label.
“You don’t think…” Daniel began.
Jake ignored him and pulled the harpoon free. “Load this up,” he said.
Daniel took the device and stared at it.
“Quickly!”
While the weapon was being loaded, Jake positioned himself at the rear of the cannon once more.
Daniel stood aside and Jake searched the sea for the torpedo. He traced the straight line between where the submarine had disappeared below the water on their port side, and the cruise ship off the starboard side. There was no tell-tale trail of bubbles, no obvious wake, no disturbance of the water that gave any clues as to its whereabouts.
“There!” Daniel pointed at a shadow moving quickly. It was almost directly in front of the bow of the Lance.
“Move!”
Jake swung the harpoon cannon around to his left. It wouldn’t turn far enough; a safety precaution. It was impossible to fire across the Lance’s own deck. His eyes never left the dark patch of water speeding towards its target. The cannon held fast, his fingers curled around the trigger. He emptied his lungs and held his breath. His mind was clear and focussed. He had absolute confidence in what he was doing.
The torpedo cleared the bow; it was almost directly lined up with the launcher.
“Now,” Jake whispered. He squeezed the trigger.
It would have been the perfect shot. His timing was impeccable. The harpoon would have caught the torpedo dead centre. But nothing happened.
There was no launch. The explosive arrow stayed exactly where it was.
His mind, so clear and focussed, was filled with a thousand questions. Daniel usefully boiled them all down to just one: “What the fuck?”
Jake squeezed again. And again. On the fourth attempt the harpoon exploded out of the launcher and was away. But he hadn’t followed the torpedo, hadn’t tracked his target and moved the cannon. The harpoon arced out over the sea, and plopped harmlessly into the water where the deadly payload had been moments before. It didn’t even explode.
Jake roared with frustration, but it was a brief moment of anger. Just as quickly, he got himself under control. He hadn’t lost the torpedo. It was closing fast on the Arcadia, but there were still a few precious seconds left.
“Another!”
“On it,” Daniel cried. He was pulling out the only other explosive harpoon. It was loaded into the launcher, and the sailor jumped back out of the way.
Jake swung the grey tube around. He was now facing directly towards his own ship.
The shot was a difficult one. The torpedo was tracking away from him at an angle. He breathed out once more, all the time judging the speed and trajectory of the enemy weapon. He could almost hear Lucya whispering in his ear, guiding him, encouraging him. Still moving the launcher, still tracking, he squeezed the trigger.
Nothing.
He never blinked. He breathed in then out, kept the cannon rotating gently the whole time, following, stalking. He squeezed a second time.
The cannon recoiled very slightly as the harpoon rocketed out of the launch tube.
“Yes!” Daniel’s hands were thrown into the air.
Jake said nothing. He stood up straight and watched the little piece of metal soar through the sky. The torpedo was almost upon the ship. Sixty metres away. Fifty meters away.
The harpoon descended in a graceful curve.
Forty metres.
The arrow head dipped below the water, out of sight.
The world seemed to go black. Jake saw only a tiny patch of water, the shadow barely visible in the distance. It was out of his hands now.
• • •
“Close your eyes, Erica,” Lucya said. She kept her own eyes open, staring at the leader, showing she wasn’t afraid.
The metal table leg swung towards her.
At that precise moment, there was a huge explosion. Not like the previous explosion. This was bigger. Closer. It was followed almost immediately by a second explosion, further away.
Three things happened at once:
The lights all went out.
The ship rolled violently to the starboard side.
The metal pole struck Lucya.
It missed her head, instead catching her full in the side. She felt her ribs crack as it connected. It could have been worse. As she was already tumbling, rolling with the ship, the blow lost some of its force.
Erica was suddenly beneath her, screaming. In the dark, with the ship churning so violently, it was hard to know which way was up. Lucya was reminded of having had the same problem in the pipe. She remembered to use gravity to orient herself. The feeling was returning to her arms and she pushed herself up, freeing the girl.
Around them, there was shouting as the Koreans panicked, not knowing if they had been attacked by their own submarine, or if the whole thing was a ploy by the security team to take the classroom. Their voices were joined by a chorus of screams from the terrified children.
The lights flickered once, twice, then came back on. The ship was rolling back the other way.
Some of the men were in a heap at one end of the room. Partially paralysed, they could do nothing to help themselves.
The leader was back on his feet. He was reaching for the gun that had ended up on the floor in the commotion.
It was Erica who stopped him. She was alert, and her limbs reacted faster than those of Lucya. The girl sprang forwards and charged at him.
“Erica! No!” Lucya cried out, but she was too far away, and too late.
Her head down, Erica rammed the leader in the groin. It may not have been elegant, but it was mightily effective. The man went down heavily on his knees, which cracked as they hit the ground. His hands were still free though, and he reached for the weapon. Lucya was there. A blow to his arm knocked it free the very second he touched it. She raised her fist again, but one of the other men grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. She shrieked in pain. Erica leapt onto the man’s back, but he bucked and threw her off. She staggered backwards and was caught by some of the other children.