“Amy,” he said as he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist.
She stared ahead, her chin starting to drop into the water. Her eyes were closing.
“Hold your breath,” he ordered before taking her under.
She fought him but it was a half-hearted attempt. He held onto her, pulling her behind him through the door and then up. They both broke the surface, sputtering. They were between two frames in the overhead.
They’d have to swim underwater again to reach the ladder to the bridge, where he’d left Brody at the open hatch. He took her face in his hand.
“Amy!”
Her eyes flickered open, but she was slipping away.
“Take another deep breath. Do you hear me? Do it now!”
Pulling her down, McCann kicked hard to move the two of them. His lungs burned. Amy was limp as a rag doll in his grip.
He pushed up past the periscope tower and found the ladder. Driving himself with the last of his strength, he pulled them both up into the trunk to where the water ended. He was able to take his first gulp of air and looked at her. She wasn’t breathing.
He pressed her back against the side of the trunk, expelling water from her stomach and lungs. Wedging her body, he tipped her head back and sealed her mouth with his. He breathed air into her lungs.
“Please Amy,” he told her when he stopped for air. “Don’t give up now.”
He repeated the action, over and over. Nothing. Then suddenly, she sputtered and coughed. She was breathing.
McCann had never felt relief of this magnitude. She continued to cough. She was still not totally conscious, but he was happy to have her breathing.
“We’re getting you out of here,” he whispered in her ear.
Using his good arm, he held her against his side. He tried to manage the ladder with the other one. He looked upward toward the opening at the top.
“Dammit.” Brody’s foot had been visible when McCann went back for Amy. It was gone.
Just as McCann was debating what to do, a shadow moved over the hatch. He looked up.
“Let me give you a hand with her, Commander.”
McCann had never been so happy to see a Navy SEAL.
“Be very careful with her,” he ordered as he lifted Amy up.
Chapter 52
The only place Sarah wanted to be right now was on a helicopter heading toward Long Island Sound, where they were in the process of rescuing any survivors on the damaged sub. She hoped and prayed that Darius had made it through alive.
The last communication with Hartford had been through the message that Darius had sent. He’d mentioned a deep sea rescue vehicle that he thought had been used to spirit the hijackers away from the sub. Right now, she and Dunn had to collect and analyze all the new data flooding in, in addition to overseeing the teams of investigators that were being sent to every inlet, every boat, every rickety dock along the coastline of Connecticut and New York that could harbor such a vehicle.
The map grids that sectioned off the coast were being studied and analyzed. The federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies had been called and assigned to search specific locations. Satellite photos of the area were continuously being piped to the command center at the Pentagon. The movement of all non-military vessels, be they ships or boats or trucks along the coast roads, continued to be restricted and monitored. Every government and research facility on the East Coast that had possession of a submersible vessel was contacted for its status.
She wanted to be there at the site. More than anything they could find on shore, Sarah believed the forensic evidence gathered from Hartford would provide the keys to the identities of the hijackers.
First thing, the submarine had to be kept afloat and eventually towed ashore. She didn’t know when that would be happening.
Bruce got off the phone, and Sarah went to him. Admiral Meisner entered the conference room and joined them.
“Did you get word of the action?” the admiral asked Bruce.
“Just now,” he replied, turning to Sarah. “Four torpedoes were fired at Hartford by USS Pittsburgh. Immediately after launching the weapons, they received a communication from McCann via a SLOT buoy that he and two others were still aboard and that the hijackers had escaped. We received the same information. The C.O. of Pittsburgh immediately began electronic detonation efforts on the torpedoes. Three of them were successfully destroyed before they made contact. McCann initiated emergency blow procedures in an effort to escape the torpedoes. The last one hit Hartford beneath the torpedo racks in the forward compartment, breaching the hull just as the submarine reached the surface.”
“We don’t know yet what caused the last explosion,” Meisner said to her.
“I was just talking to Captain Whiting, aboard Pittsburgh,” Dunn cut in.
“What did he say?” Sarah asked.
“He says the SEALs just boarding Hartford have communicated to them that the explosive may have been triggered by a timed device left by the hijackers. The rescue crews are about to go in, but the forward end is flooded, so the going is slow. And there’s the additional concern that there may be more explosives planted on board.”
“Any sign of survivors?” she asked.
Bruce shook his head. “Not yet, but they’re not giving up hope.”
“How is the sub staying afloat?” she asked.
Meisner answered. “Pittsburgh reported that they believe the forward and aft ballast tanks, as well as the engine room and the reactor compartment are still intact. The air inside them is keeping the vessel afloat, though it’s riding very low in the water.”
Bruce concurred. “Whiting says that from what he can tell, the breech in the hull is by the forward escape truck, where the DSRV — or whatever it was they used — must have hooked up. His guess is that the explosive was planted to make sure nothing would remain of the control room.”
“Or anyone aboard,” Sarah added.
“If McCann hadn’t gotten that sub to the surface,” the admiral said grimly, “Hartford would have taken the blast at six hundred feet below the surface.”
“With the added pressure down there, the sub would have broke in two and sunk to the bottom.”
“So much for collecting any evidence,” Sarah said.
“Well, we might still be able to gather evidence now. They may have left something down there that they didn’t think we’d get our hands on,” Meisner said. “I don’t believe they ever counted on McCann being able to pull off what he did.”
Sarah was greatly relieved that Admiral Meisner was referring to Darius as a hero and not as the one who engineered the hijacking. She hoped this sentiment was held throughout the Pentagon. If he could now just pull himself through this last hurdle… and survive.
Bruce turned to Meisner. “To bring you up to date on what we spoke about before, I’ve already sent a plane to bring Captain Barnhardt back from his trip. Two operatives have gone to Johns Hopkins to speak to Captain Erensen.”
“Good. We need to follow up on every avenue.” The admiral nodded. “When you talked to Captain Whiting, did you discuss possible perpetrators?”
“I did, sir.”
“And?”
“His initial remarks were, and I quote, ‘no fucking foreign terrorist could have pulled a job like this.’”