The water was cold, but after a few seconds, the sensation died. The sub was twenty yards in front of him, but Polodka had slipped off on the opposite side, and he angled to the right, to pass around the bow.
His clothing was immediately water-logged, and he fought their weight as well as the eight-foot high waves. He had to pause a moment and toe his shoes off. The sub appeared and disappeared as he rose and fell in the troughs, struggling his way up to a crest, then falling over it. The rain peppered the surface, and his mouth filled with water when he breathed. He spat it out and concentrated on making his strokes as powerful as possible.
It took him three minutes to reach the DepthFinder, and he swam clear of the bow, twenty feet away, so as not to be smashed up against it.
On the other side, he found an empty, tempestuous sea.
Mayberry was up in the sail now, and he yelled, “Over there, Dane! She went down there!”
Brande aimed for the spot where Mayberry was pointing. A wave rolled over him, shoving him toward the sub.
He kicked hard, pulling water with his hands, fighting for a clear breath. Forty feet took forever to traverse.
“There! There!”
Brande filled his lungs, ducked his head under, rolled his legs up, and dove.
Without a mask, his vision was blurry. The overcast day didn’t allow much light to penetrate.
He kept kicking, driving himself downward, looking to his left and right.
She wasn’t there.
Driving downward.
Svet. Come to me, sweetheart.
Down.
And at last, he had to reverse direction. He bobbed to the surface, gulping air.
Then dove again.
He went as deep as he could go ten times, but he never saw her again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Okey Dokey had deployed their second Sneaky Pete from the Orion in the search for Svetlana Polodka, but the results were negative. It took too much time to retrieve the cable attached to the first Sneaky Pete. Or which had been attached. The first ROV was gone, cleanly amputated from the cable, and most likely mangled in the propeller housing of the AquaGeo submersible.
No one on board the Orion had worried about AquaGeo’s vehicle. It had slipped off their sonar, headed for the bottom of the ocean.
In the rough seas, it had taken them over two hours to recover both DepthFinder and Sarscan, utilizing every available hand.
Brande was worried about both Thomas and Emry. Rae wouldn’t admit it, but he thought she was suffering from some degree of shock. He had ordered her to bed — orders that she didn’t accept very well, but she went up to the cabin after a short argument. He doubted that she slept much. With his own adrenaline levels, he hadn’t slept at all.
Emry was blaming himself — he should have done this, he should have done that. Brande’s and Dokey’s consolations and rationales didn’t seem to help him at all.
A long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothing had taken care of Brande’s immediate physical needs — the bone-deep cold to which he had subjected himself, but he too felt extreme anguish over Polodka’s loss.
And he couldn’t help but blame AquaGeo.
As well as himself. He should have exerted his macho side and not let the women make the dive.
God, he could have lost Rae.
The more he stewed over it, the higher the rage built. Brande was not quick-tempered, or even one to harbor anger for lengthy periods, but occasionally some inequity or injustice caused him to build a slow head of steam. He didn’t normally share his ire with anyone else. At the moment, he wished that Bull Kontas would move a little faster.
Most of the crew and mission members had spent the night evaluating the damage to DepthFinder, which had been wheeled inside the lab and which dominated the space available.
Brande had spent the night in the wardroom’s first booth, utilizing Emry’s computer terminal to compose reports and angry letters to the Maritime Commission, the United States Department of State, the Coast Guard, and the Australian government. He had been about to ship them off when he re-read them and decided they were first drafts.
He grabbed the phone off the bulkhead.
“Suarez.”
“Paco, get hold of Hampstead for me.”
“Si, jefe.”
When Hampstead came on the line, he said, “You’re damned lucky I came into the office early, Dane.”
“Not so lucky, Avery.”
“Yes. That’s why I came in early. Didn’t sleep too well, either, as a matter of fact. What more have you learned about the collision?”
Brande recounted the events of the previous day.
“Jesus Christ! She’s dead?”
“We haven’t recovered the body.”
“Oh, shit! What about the other sub?”
“We haven’t looked for it. And I’m not going to look for it.”
“It’s evidence, Dane. It’s evidence.”
“To hell with it. I’m going back to that subsurface station and….”
“Ease up, Dane. Tell me what happened again. On the bottom.”
Brande took a deep breath and recalled what Thomas had told him. She had been shaky, and it had taken a while to get it all from her.
“Rae had the command. She was approaching what we’re calling Site Number Eight, the November 17th detonation. They had already recorded heavy traces of radiation, and Rae had both a floor crawler and the other sub on the sonar. Two hundred yards from the site, the AquaGeo sub turned toward them. Larry tried to raise it on the acoustic phone, but didn’t get a response.”
“None?”
“Not verbal. The sub nosed around a little. They looked at each other with the video cameras.”
“Did Kaylene see them? The operators?” Hampstead asked.
“Vaguely, through their ports. Two males, she thought, but she didn’t have a clear view.”
“And then what?”
“The AquaGeo sub went after the tow cable. Rae wasn’t sure what was going on, but she felt the jolt when it hit, and she turned back hard, trying to put slack in the cable. The AquaGeo sub turned into her and slammed into the right side of DepthFinder. Rae immediately dropped the weights and began the ascent.”
“Damn.”
“They tried to stop her, Avery. Chased her most of the way up.”
“You’re sure?”
Brande told him how they had used Sneaky Pete to stop the pursuit.
“We’ve got evidence, Avery. We’ve got the video tape recorded from Sneaky Pete.”
“Which shows that you attacked their sub, right?”
“It also shows that they were in pursuit,” Brande insisted.
“Maybe. For the time being, just keep that tape to yourself, will you?”
“For what reason?”
“I want to check with some of the others involved.”
“Svetlana’s dead, Avery.”
“Christ, Dane, I know that! I’ll get on the horn and get somebody in gear. What else are you doing?”
“I wrote some letters.”
Hampstead was silent for a few minutes, then said, “Hold off on the letters, too. File your required reports about a death at sea with the appropriate agencies. Send me a copy I can give to the task force.”
“I can’t be objective about this, Avery.”
“Try, please. Give me a chance to work out something on this end.”