He sensed something moving above them before he actually saw the other two men’s lamps. After so many years of diving, he’d developed a primitive proximity sense — a kind of early-warning system that something or someone was drifting near to him in the silent water. It was hard to describe, although Dex had tried on many occasions, and divers either knew instantly what he was talking about or they didn’t. Not exactly a “psychic” experience, but more than likely an ability that fell into the “ESP-lite” category.
Waving his own lamp, Dex gave them as much of a beacon as he could in the ultra-dim surroundings.
“Gotcha,” said Andy Mellow. “We see you guys…”
Dex watched Andy, then Kevin, as they drifted away from the safeline and floated mask-to-mask with him. “Ready to have a closer look?”
“Let’s do it,” said Kev.
They’d done this sort of diving before on known wrecks — sites where all the obvious dangers had been documented and plenty of warnings existed. Dex had made them practice the most cautious procedures just in case they ever did come across a previously unknown derelict.
And now he hoped all the practice and the drilling on safety would pay off.
Dividing up into two buddy-teams was the usual tactic, and everyone did this without being reminded. Since Mike and Dex were on tanks with the shortest air remaining, they stayed together and would make the ascent together. The final team of Tommy Chipiarelli and Doc Schissel would eventually spell them.
As they eased past the conning tower, Dex fanned his lamp-beam back and forth, watching for anything that could mean trouble. Fouled cables, anchor chains, spilled ammunition, netting… there was simply no way to know what they might find.
So Dex tried to expect the unexpected…
“Okay,” he said. “Everybody stay in contact. Keep giving your position and anything you see.”
“Moving down past the bridge and the con,” said Mike. “Looks clear.”
“I’m on the foredeck. It’s a long-assed way to the bow,” said Kevin. “What’s going on here? The Nazis didn’t have anything this big.”
“Or so we thought,” said Donnie, who’d been monitoring their progress through the conversation.
“In case anybody’s interested, I just reached the bow tubes — I count eight torpedo ports. This thing was nasty.” That was Kevin.
“Just reached the aft deck,” said Andy; his voice was lower, but not calm. “Something funny here…”
Dex felt a tightening in his gut like something was grabbing and twisting — a sensation he hated because it made him feel helpless and scared, and there was no place for that kind of thinking when this deep.
“What do you mean?” he said quickly. “Andy, you okay?”
“Fine. No problem. It’s just that—”
“What’s up, man?” said Kevin, who was floating some 200 feet away from the conning tower.
“The aft deck,” said Andy. “It’s like… different. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Hang on, Andy. Wave your lamp so we can see you,” said Dex. “Mike, come on. We’re coming down, okay?”
“Hey what’s going on down there?” said Don. He sounded distant and helpless way up there in the bridge. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” said Andy. “Wait till you see this. There’s no deck gun. Christ, there’s no deck, really…”
Dex was going to ask him what the hell he was talking about when he caught Andy’s torchlight beam oscillating back and forth. A few flipper-kicks and he was drifting over to his position.
That’s when he could see for himself.
Floating just beyond the trailing edge of the bridge and the con, Dex saw the deck of the U-boat beneath him. As he looked aft, the deck seemed to be swelling up, expanding into the general shape of a Quonset hut.
“See what I mean?” said Andy.
“Looks like a hump-backed whale,” said Mike.
“What does?” said Don. “What’re you guys talking about?”
“I’m coming back there.” That was Kevin, who sounded bored of hanging off the bow tubes and probably feeling isolated and more than a little useless.
Dex and the others began to drift back over the swollen hull of the sub, looking for anything that might give them a clue as to what they were actually looking at. It was definitely the oddest-looking WWII-vintage sub he’d ever seen. There didn’t appear to be any outward breaches. No sign of any kind of damage. If the sub had taken a hit, it had to have been in the section settled into the sand and mud of the Bay’s bottom. As they worked their way toward the boat’s tail fins, the large hump on its back gradually tapered down, following the lines of the hull.
“What’s it look like to you?” said Andy. “Is it a tanker?”
Dex exhaled, drew a breath. “I have no idea. If it is, it’s more than twice the size of the regular ‘milk-cows’ they used. The shape looks like it’s definitely part of the hull. Not just some weird add-on.”
“Strangest-looking sub I’ve ever seen,” said Mike. “Not that I’ve seen a lot of them — especially this close-up…”
“Hey Donnie, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m up here twisting in the wind. Would you guys mind telling me what’s going on? What’s so freaking weird?”
“In a minute,” said Dex. “But before I forget, make sure either Doc or Tommy brings down the videocam. Even though it’s murky, we’ll try to get a record of this, okay?”
“Gotcha,” said Don. “I’ll tell ’em. Now will somebody please—”
Mike started giving him details of what they were all looking at as Kevin joined them. Dex had just checked his SPG, his submersible pressure gauge; he was running low on air. He and Mike only had a few more minutes of safe time, and he tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the gauge.
Nodding, Mike held up his index finger. “Yeah, I just checked mine too. Hate to leave just when it’s getting good.”
“We’ll be back,” said Dex, sensing something drawing close to him from behind.
Turning slowly, he saw Kevin Cheever in his lime green dry-suit slowly gliding toward them, the beam of his lamp probing the dim water between them.
“Hey, guys, make room for Papa. It was lonely down at the other end…” He paused as he drifted up to Dex’s right shoulder, close enough at last to see what they’d found. “Holy shit… what the hell is this thing?”
“You know what I think it is,” said Andy. “I think it’s some kind of secret weapon… something we never knew about.”
“Sounds possible,” said Kevin. “The German’s had jet fighters near the end of the war.”
“Well,” said Mike, speaking in his slow, thoughtful-math-professor tones. “If they didn’t want anybody to know about it, I’d say they succeeded…”
“Okay, Mike and I’ve gotta get topside,” said Dex. “Remember the safety regs, okay guys? We don’t want any trouble down here. Don’t do anything risky. It’s going to take a little time to get familiar with what we’re dealing with, right?”
Kevin gave him a thumbs-up.
“And nobody gets any crazy ideas about going inside this thing — not yet, anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Andy, sounding impatient as ever.
Dex waved as he headed back to the safeline with Mike. After Dex pulled the right numbers from his Cochran, a tiny decompression computer, they began their slow ascent. Since they were just below the depths where excess nitrogen could build up in their bloodstreams, their ascent was not all that slow. As they did this, Dex considered the possibilities implied in their discovery.
If nothing else, they were in for a bit of adventure. But there could also be some notoriety, maybe a few minutes on the Discovery Channel, and maybe even a little money…