‘Any of you guys got what I’m getting?’
One technician turned round, looking grave. ‘We’re seeing it too.’
Stan looked at her again. ‘The ship is sinking.’ He said this so quietly that she wasn’t sure she had heard him properly.
‘Stan?’ When he didn’t respond she searched the faces round the room. In all, eleven technicians worked at SeaTek Research. Most were at their desks, crowded around banks of computers, communications and radar equipment.
She drew a sharp breath. ‘Stan, how do you know that?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Because they just sent a distress signal on their emergency frequency which was relayed by the AWACs. We’ve just received it.’ Stan clicked on the screen and his printer leapt into life.
Her stomach suddenly felt hollow. ‘Let me see it.’
Stan handed her the slip.
MGRS [40N EN 00000 73749] EST 19:21:40
Mosquito taking on water. Abandoning ship. All aid required.
Natasha read the note quickly. ‘Is there anything we can we do to help them?’
‘Yes, yes’ Stan muttered distractedly. Natasha shook him by the shoulder. She faced him directly and spoke slowly to ensure the message was getting through.
‘Stan, what can we do to help?’
‘We have to follow procedure, that’s what we have to do’. Stan turned back to his desk. He reached for a file on a nearby shelf and scanned the index. Then, flipping to the correct page he began dialling the numbers listed. First he spoke to the project director, then to the Dept of Defence — the government agency that was sponsoring the project.
While Stan was on the phone the rest of the team gathered round his desk. As soon as finished he turned round in the chair to address them. ‘That’s it, I’m afraid’ he said.
‘What about the supply ships?’ asked one of the team.
‘The distress signal didn’t mention any of the supply ships so I think they must be going to the rescue. Tribune’s radio isn’t powerful enough to be heard more than a few miles away’ said Stan. ‘But I guess that the AWAC will already be in touch with the DOD.’
‘How many were on board Stan?’ asked one of the technicians.
‘Fifty seven, including the Captain and crew’. Stan’s voice was almost a whisper.
The phone rang and everyone waited while Stan spoke. He wasn’t long.
‘That was the DOD. They’re organising a flight from Vieques in Puerto Rico. The nearest ship is 350 miles north east — she picked up the same message we got so they are already on their way. ETA is seven to eight hours, by which time it will be dawn.’
‘The Arabesque or Tribune should be there much more quickly’ pointed out Natasha.
‘Do we know what happened?’ enquired the technician.
Stan shrugged. This was by far the most puzzling part. ‘The seas were reasonably calm and the winds moderate. The only thing I can think of is a collision, possibly with one of the supply ships — but we’ve not had any information from them, just the Mosquito’s message relayed by AWACS.’
There was a break while everyone digested the news.
‘There is nothing else we can do’ said Stan. ‘I’ve alerted everyone I can think of.’
Natasha voiced the thoughts of the team. ‘I just hope everyone managed to get to the lifeboats in time.’
At last Stan managed to patch a comms link to the flotilla. The Arabesque’s signal was temporarily routed through AWACS, from there to the Defence’s Security Cooperation Agency in Arlington, and then to the base at SeaTek Research near the Naval Undersea Warfare Centre on Rhode Island. The speakers crackled and a background hiss could be heard.
Stan picked up a desk mike. ‘SeaTek to Arabesque, what is your position?’
‘Arabesque to SeaTek, we can see survivors in the water. Can’t count the number of lifeboats but there are several. Changing course to intercept.’
Natasha jolted upright. ‘Wait’ she shouted across to Stan.
The team turned to look at her. Even Stan turned around this time.
‘Nat, what’s the matter?’
‘Just a minute, let me think’. Natasha messaged her temples. ‘Something isn’t right here. I don’t know what it is but it just doesn’t feel right.’
The speakers crackled into life. ‘SeaTek, we’re over the area where Mosquito sank. We can see four lifeboats in the water. Preparing to..’.
The broadcast from the Arabesque died in mid sentence. There was a confused jumble of noise and Natasha could make out a seaman in the background asking anxiously what was happening. The humming grew louder and the voices more distant. After a minute it reached a crescendo, then stopped altogether. Only the hiss of static could be heard from the speakers.
The Arabesque was off the air.
Stan and two other technicians continued to try raising the Arabesque but after ten minutes they realised it was hopeless. The loudspeaker blared.
‘AWACS to SeaTek.’
Stan switched on the mike. ‘SeaTek, go ahead.’
‘We’ve lost radar trace for Arabesque. Conditions are worsening. We’ve also lost Arabesque on visual.’
There was a stunned silence in the room.
Stan thumbed the mike. ‘AWACS, run a search pattern over the area.’
‘Understood SeaTek, will do. But without a radar signal their chances are slim to nothing.’
‘Thank you AWACS. We have to try.’
Stan switched off the mike and addressed the room, choosing his next words carefully. ‘Look, right now there is nothing more any of us can do. You’ve all had a long day. I suggest you go home, get some sleep and we’ll pick this up again tomorrow. If there’s any news in the meantime I’ll call you.’
Natasha could see no-one wanted to leave. But Stan was right and there was nothing any of them could do right now. A night’s rest would do them all good.
‘One last thing’. Stan surveyed the team.
‘We don’t know for sure what has happened. But whatever it is, I want you to keep it to yourselves. You all know how secret this project is and I shouldn’t have to remind you about that. But some of you know people out there and I don’t want you to talk to any of their relatives or friends. If you receive a call from the media just refer them to me.’
The speakers blared again and the technicians leapt with the tension.
‘AWACS to SeaTek. We’ve lost Tribune on radar. We’ll continue to run the search pattern but it now looks like all ships are lost.’
Chapter 8
Natasha’s clock read 4:37 am as she switched on the bed-side light. She heard her mobile ring again and picked it up from the bed side table.
‘Hi Nat. No news yet. AWACS completed a full sweep.’ Stan was obviously tired.
‘Didn’t they find anything at all?’
Stan cleared his throat. ‘Nothing really. No sign at all of the flotilla but it picked up a distress signal from a lifeboat.’
‘Couldn’t it rescue them?’
‘Sorry Nat, the aircraft isn’t designed to do that. But it did drop off supplies, including some communication packs and a marker buoy. I’ll be keeping a watch on those frequencies.’
‘Any news about Arabesque or the Tribune?’
‘No, none I’m afraid.’
‘How long until the air rescue arrives?’
‘It’s due in about half an hour but I’m not expecting anything new. The weather is deteriorating rapidly so the rescue will be touch and go.’
‘I’m coming in Stan — wait for me.’ Natasha felt she would rather to go to work than be left to left on her own.
‘No — no need Nat. You get back to bed.’
‘I’m already up Stan, it’s not a problem.’
‘You can come in the morning if you like and take over from me. I’m bushed.’