Sam asked, “How’s she riding out the swell?”
“She’s holding together.” Matthew kept his eyes focused on the upcoming wave. “I’d rather not keep her here a minute longer than I have to. Any news about when Tom and Genevieve are going to be finished?”
“No.”
“They’re taking their time,” his eyebrows narrowed a touch. “Do you think they realize what the weather’s like up here?”
Sam nodded. “I know. I just checked with Veyron. They’re having some problem with the cradle.”
“Right.” Matthew adjusted the wheel to take a giant wave on at a slight angle. “You might want to tell Tom if he doesn’t have it sorted soon we might need to drop the cable and wait until the weather eases.”
Sam pursed his lips slightly. “You know we can’t do that.”
Matthew sighed. “And we can’t stay here being bombarded by the waves indefinitely, either.”
Sam said, “Just a little while longer. There’s too much at stake to give up now, and you know as well as I do that it might be a number of weeks until the sea gives anyone any respite.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Sam slipped into his wet weather gear again and returned downstairs. He stepped outside and faced the aft deck once again. The series of cables riding over the end of the crane was taut. His heart raced, and he found himself holding his breath for a brief moment. Had Tom and Genevieve managed to get the cradle fitted and attached to the lift cable? He stared at the cable, and a moment later he heard the whine of the electric winch start to turn — and the lift cable started to move.
On the side wall at the back of the pilothouse the ship-to-ship phone rang.
He picked it up on the first ring. “Tell me the news?”
“We’re in business,” Veyron confirmed.
“I’ll let Matthew know.”
Sam flicked the ship-to-ship call to the bridge. “Matthew, we’re finally bringing her up.”
“Great. I’ll reduce throttle and try and keep her steady in position, but you’ll have to let me know if I start to drag backward.”
“Okay, I’m on it.”
Sam watched as the wet cable retreated from the sea and ran across the long arm of the crane and smoothly through a series of pulleys and neatly around its holding drum. He breathed easily. The hardest part of the job was now complete. Any second now the massive aft tail of the Boeing 747 Dreamlifter would open, and then Tom would make short work of locating the aircraft’s black box.
The phone at the wall behind him started to ring. Not the ship-to-ship one, but the satellite phone that could send and receive information anywhere in the world. Sam let it keep ringing. He had a fair idea who wanted to reach him and what it was about. He took a deep breath and sighed. The secretary of defense would have to wait until he had answers to give her.
She would just have to wait.
The phone kept ringing.
Elise opened the door. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s a gentleman from Phoenix Shipping after you,” she said.
He could barely hear her through the external noise of the electric cable motor and the cantankerous seas.
“Who?” Sam asked.
“Gene Cutting,” she shouted above the roar of the wind and sea.
Sam glanced at her. He searched his memory for the name but came up empty.
Elise sighed. “Says he works for a shipping company… but not in shipping though. Something about insurance.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
She persisted. “Says he needs you to go over a recent shipping accident. Something about an expert opinion for the insurance companies?”
Sam had been called in as an expert to give his opinion to various maritime disasters and events in the past. He didn’t mind when the information gathered was used to improve the safety of the industry and all those at sea, but in most cases, it became a field trip into bureaucracies and the idiosyncrasies of technical language. In the end, it was the lawyers who won, as they went head-to-head in the court. Sam knew exactly why this man from the insurance company wanted to talk to him, and he wasn’t interested.
He made a dramatic sigh. “Get rid of him for me, will you?”
Elise nodded. “Sure thing.”
Thirty seconds later, the cable winch stopped turning. It hummed louder for a few moments. Sam’s gaze quickly swept the end of the crane’s arm. The pulleys were intact, and the cable appeared taut. The pitch of the electric motor suddenly increased, and the winch began to turn again.
Sam swore loudly because the cable had come loose — and they had lost purchase of their haul.
The blue phone rang. This one used a communications cable along the lift cable — allowing ship-to-diver communications.
He picked it up before it finished its first ring. “What the hell are you doing down there, Tom?” Sam asked. “Are you trying to break my lines?”
“No, boss. The tail appears to be a hell of a lot heavier than we gave her credit for.”
“Can you do it?”
“Sure we can. We’re just going to need a much larger cable…”
“You want me to bring you up?” Sam asked.
“No. Genevieve and I will stay longer.”
“You’ll overstay your decompression times.”
“I know. Tell Elise to warm up the hyperbaric chamber.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s safer than waiting around for another go at this.”
“Agreed.”
“Oh, and we’ll need another cradle.”
“Ah Christ, I’m going to have to come down there, aren’t I?”
Chapter Two
Sam checked his full-face dive mask, regulator lines, and tank one last time before climbing into his infrared-heated thermal undersuit, followed by a thick dry suit. He was diving with a single air tank. There was no need for elaborate dive gas mixtures at such a shallow depth, and he didn’t intend to stay down very long. The Dreamlifter wasn’t particularly deep at 100 feet, but the topside conditions were horrendous, and the Barents Sea was not known for its hospitality, above or below the surface.
The Maria Helena bucked and rolled as Sam discussed the plan with Veyron on the intercom, whilst he was suiting up. Veyron had just returned from the deck after spooling the heaviest cable the Maria Helena could hoist on to the crane drum, with the largest cradle on board attached. Considering the conditions, he was nothing short of a magician — a master of his craft.
Sam stood behind the door and gripped the handle with his right hand. In his left, he held his fins and mask. Beads of water raced down the small window on the door, and he peeked out across the deck. He turned to face Elise, who was barely visible beneath her cord-closed hood and life jacket ensemble. He smiled at her. “You ready?”
“You bet,” came her muffled reply.
Sam pushed the door out into the howling wind and spray. As he and Elise scrambled out on to the aft deck, the elements assaulted them. Dark clouds had closed in while Sam had made ready, and rain now joined the sea water that strafed them as they crossed the slippery, rolling deck surface toward Veyron and the crane box.
There was just enough room for the three to squeeze into the control room and close the door. Veyron sat at the crane controls, relaxed as ever. Sam and Elise were saturated from the brief exposure to the deck and tried not to get water over everything as they finalized the ad-hoc plan for the dive. With Tom and Genevieve waiting below, time was not their ally if they wanted to get it done today.