He smiled warmly. His voice filled with the insouciance of a rich tourist, happy to just be where he was. “Take all the time you need.”
She nodded and made her way quickly across the icy deck and down the first ladder. She picked up the metal hammer that was left on the forward hold, the same one she’d been using to chip away at the ice. From there, she made her way to the aft section of the hull, where she found another trapdoor. It didn’t take long to break through the ice and open the hatch.
This one led to the bottom of the Vostok’s hold, where the bilge was dry. No water had made its way into this part of the ship, and as such, despite the freezing conditions, there was little ice. Svetlana switched on the flashlight. She shined it across the bilge. The hull was made of thick steel, designed to protect against icebergs in the Arctic Sea above Russia.
Several thick steel pipes penetrated the hull. These were called seacocks, with an oversized lever like the handle of a tap and were designed to release bilge water when the ship was in dry dock. They were larger than they needed to be, but that was because they served a secondary purpose.
In the event of being captured or boarded, the seacocks could be opened fully, causing the hull to flood within minutes, sending all they had to hide to the bottom of the sea.
Svetlana didn’t hesitate. She reached the first seacock closest to the bow and opened its lever. Seawater gushed into the bilge hold with the pressure of a fire hydrant. She made her way quickly toward the stern, opening each one, before quickly climbing the ladder to the main living quarters deck.
She shined her flashlight into the hatch and was pleased to see that the water was rising fast. Much faster than she expected. For an instant, she wondered if she’d gone too far opening all the seacocks and the Vostok was about to sink while she was still below decks.
Svetlana put the thought out of her mind. She would have done it anyway, even if it killed her. The information on board, particularly about whatever strange material her captain had purchased which ultimately froze the ship, would have been enough to incriminate her government. No, she would have sunk the ship anyway.
She started to run, racing across the icy passageway, and climbed up the deck.
Behind her, seawater had already reached the hatchway and was now flooding the passageway. She grabbed the ladder and started to climb.
Before she reached the top, a hand reached down to grab her.
It was Sam’s. She took it, and he pulled her up.
“Quick!” he said. “The Vostok’s about to go under!”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Svetlana ran across the icy deck. The Vostok was sitting much lower in the water, and its fishing deck was already at the same level as the sea, with the gentle crest of the ocean’s swell lapping along the icy deck.
Next to it, the bow of the pleasure cruiser, which was previously much lower than the Vostok’s deck, was now above it, meaning that they would need to climb to reach it.
She felt the Vostok sink beneath her as she jumped to reach the bow.
Another stranger grabbed her and pulled her up over the railing onto the pleasure cruiser. Behind her, Sam made the large jump, gripped the railing and pulled himself up and over, onto the expensive teak deck of the pleasure cruiser.
The pilot of the Matilda didn’t wait for introductions, but instead threw the yacht into gear, and powered the engines.
It took seconds for them to break away from the stricken Vostok.
Svetlana took in a deep breath, reveling in the warmth of the tropics as she watched Russia’s most technologically advanced intelligence gathering vessel slip beneath the waves, and disappear into the depths of the South Pacific Ocean.
She exhaled. She had pulled it off.
Sam Reilly turned to face her, his piercing blue eyes fixed on hers, as though he could read her thoughts.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He grinned as though it had nothing to do with him.
“What is it?” she persisted.
“Do you want to tell me why you just opened the seacocks and intentionally sank your vessel?”
Chapter Forty
Sam studied her response.
Her full lips formed a coy smile that he was almost certain was well practiced, rather than natural. She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Excuse me?”
A wry smile formed on his lips and his eyes narrowed. “Did you just open the seacocks?”
Conflict twisted her face into a grimace of indecision. For a moment Sam thought she was going to lie, but instead, thinking better of it. She answered with the truth or a very near version of it. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“We’re a scouting trawler. Some of the places we go aren’t strictly legal for international fishing, and some of the locations and in-depth fishing analysis are the company’s intellectual property. I figured the best thing I could do was to sink the ship. It’s not like it was going to be repaired. Besides, it would have served as a dangerous hazard to any other would-be rescuers.”
Sam knew she was lying, but that suited him fine. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time, don’t open all the seacocks, or your vessel might drag you under before you get a chance to get free.”
She put her palms upward in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. I’ll remember that. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Sam stood up, recalling his manners, he said, “You’d better come down below and get warm. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Well, we’d better find something for you to eat, too.”
Sam stepped onto the flybridge.
He said, “Tom, meet Svetlana, the only survivor from the trawler.”
Tom had taken the Matilda back to an idle and cut the engine. The swell was calm, and there was no point heading anywhere until he knew where they were heading. Tom glanced at Svetlana, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tom. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge there. Sam will grab you some warm blankets. Let me know if I can do anything for you. You’ve no doubt been through a lot.”
“Thank you,” she replied, taking a seat and wrapping a warm blanket around her.
Sam opened the fridge. It was stocked with fresh seafood and a variety of sandwiches with fresh meats. “Hope you’re not allergic to seafood, that’s all we appear to have stocked. Wait… it looks like we have premade sandwiches too.”
“I’ll take the sandwiches, thanks.” She took a large swig of water from the cup.
Sam put out a plate of seafood and one with sandwiches. “Help yourself to whatever you like.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”
“Not a problem.” Sam said, “We have a satellite phone on board. Do you want to use it to call someone?”
Svetlana finished drinking her cup of water. “Soon. There’s a lot of people to call. I’m not really sure who protocol dictates I should contact first. This is the first time I’ve been on a ship that’s sunk.”
“I bet you’re the only person who’s been on a ship that froze in the tropics,” Sam said. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what’s caused the accident?”
“Not a clue. I work in the dark hull, beneath the waterline. My expertise is in bathymetric imaging, which normally refers to sonar-generated 3D mapping of the seafloor, but I was employed on the Vostok to study fish life and their environments.”
“Interesting,” Sam said, impressed by how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. “And you have no idea how that whole crazy freezing thing happened?”