“Don’t start up with that spooky crap again, Jakob,” countered Jon Huslid.
“The Hydro is just another wreck, like the dozens of others we have searched out and salvaged from all over Norway.”
The black-haired Lapp shook his head to the contrary.
“I beg to differ with you, Jon. Don’t tell me that you’ve already forgotten the twenty-six poor souls who went down with the doomed ferry when the saboteur’s charges blew its bow off. The spirits of this lake have veiled the wreck to protect their final resting place.
That’s why no one else has ever succeeded in locating the Hydro” “And NUEX is going to change all that,” said the photographer confidently.
“Besides, we’re not interested in disturbing the wreck itself. All we want to do is find the Hydro’s main cargo.”
“It’s all part of the same,” said Jakob with a sigh.
Jon Huslid turned away from the monitor screen to argue otherwise, when Knut’s excited voice redirected his attention.
“We’ve got something! Right there, on the upper right hand portion of the screen. It looks like it’s part of a boat’s superstructure.”
As he moved the ROV in to have a closer look, the monitor filled with a jumbled mass of twisted, rust-covered steel. Careful to keep the ROV and its umbilical free from this obstacle, Knut expertly guided it forward.
Soon pieces of rotted plank could be seen, along with an elongated tubular structure that Arne Lundstrom eagerly identified.
“It’s one of the Hydro’s dual smokestacks, just like we saw in the old photographs!”
“I believe you’re right, Arne,” said Jon Huslid.
“That means that we’ve done it, lads. After forty-seven years, we’re the first to actually find the wreckage of the Hydro! Now if we can only extract a suitable piece of salvage to document our find.”
Knut nodded.
“You don’t have to say any more, Jon.
When the ferry originally went down, eyewitness reports indicated that before she disappeared from sight, the railroad flatcars that Hydro was carrying broke loose, rolled off the deck, and then sunk straight down. That would put them somewhere close by
As Knut utilized the joystick to initiate an organized sweep of the surrounding seabed, Jon looked up at his dark-haired associate.
“So much for the spirits of the lake, Jakob.”
The Lapp’s scowl magically turned into a broad grin as he stepped forward to offer the group’s photographer his handshake.
“Congratulations, Jon. Some events are just destined to happen, and this discovery is one of them. So once again, NUEX has made the history books.”
“That we have, my friend,” replied the smiling photographer.
“No other human has laid eyes on the Hydro since that February morning back in 1944, when her cracked hull slid beneath these very waters. Now if the fates are still with us, perhaps we can locate that all-important portion of the Hydro’s cargo that precipitated this disaster.”
“I think I saw something, Knut,” interrupted the voice of Arne Lundstrom.
“In the foreground, in the center of the screen.”
All eyes immediately returned to the video monitor as the ROV was sent in to investigate this sighting. Its dual mercury vapor lights cut into the blackness. And when a faint distant glint momentarily flashed onto the screen, Knut needed no prompting to open the throttle wide and cause the ROV to surge forward in a sudden burst of speed.
Seconds later, the screen filled with a image that caused gasps of wonder from the four men. Illuminated by the spotlights was a large steel canister, like the sort industrial chemicals were stored in. It sat upright on a relatively flat subterranean ledge. Cautiously, the ROV closed in, and soon the four awestruck observers spotted a label that had long ago been stenciled on the cannister’s rust-streaked side.
“It’s in English,” said jon
“And it reads, ‘potash lye.”
” “Then it’s not the heavy water after all,” said Arne, a hint of disappointment flavoring his tone.
“Like hell it isn’t,” retorted the excited photographer.
“Forty-seven years ago, when the last of the heavy water was removed from the Norsk Hydro plant for the trip to Germany, it was stored in cannisters marked, ‘potash lye’. We’ve done it, friends! NUEX has found the greatest treasure to be hidden in Norwegian waters since the days of the Vikings!”
A round of shouts and applause was followed by the ever practical voice of Knut Haugen.
“Shall we get on with the actual salvage attempt, gentlemen?”
Though Jon Huslid was more in the mood to break open one of the bottles of aquavit that sat in the adjoining galley, he resisted temptation.
“You may proceed, Knut. Just make certain that the collar is snuggly fitted around the cannister’s base before we inflate it.”
“Come off it, Jon,” replied the straight-faced engineer.
“Do you think I’m an amateur? Don’t forget who it was that perfected this salvage technique.”
The photographer apologetically shook his head and smiled.
“I’m sorry, Knut. It’s just that now that we’re so close to realizing our dream, I don’t want anything to happen to spoil it.”
Knut merely grunted, and went to work utilizing the ROV’s articulated manipulator arm to place a deflated plastic collar around the cannister’s base. Once this device was properly positioned, a pump would be activated topside. Air would be sent rushing down the umbilical, inflating the collar and causing the cannister to attain a state of positive buoyancy, which would send it floating to the surface like a cork.
Confident that Knut could do the job, Jon turned toward Jakob Helgeson.
“How about joining me on deck with your wet suit? You’ll have to go over the side to attach the winch cable.”
“Some fresh air sounds like a good idea,” said the Lapp, who turned and led the way up a narrow wooden ladder.
Both divers arrived topside, where a bright blue, cloudless sky greeted them. The air was brisk and hinted at the long, cold winter that would soon be upon them.
There was a light wind blowing in from the southwest, and the boat that they had rented for the week bobbed up and down in a gentle swell.
With a photographer’s practiced eye, Jon Huslid surveyed the encircling countryside. Lake Tinnsjo was an elongated, sausage-shaped body of fresh water that was over thirty kilometers long and barely three kilometers wide. Situated on the southeastern corner of central Norway’s Hardanger plateau, the lake was set in a deep valley. From its boulder-strewn shores, the surrounding hills rose dramatically upward, to a ridge some thousand meters above sea level. Sturdy pines hugged rocky soil that would never see a farmer’s plow.
They were currently positioned over some of the lake’s deepest waters, approximately one kilometer from the shoreline. Jon knew very well that the saboteurs had planned all along for the ferry to sink in this portion of the lake, for in this manner, the Hydro’s precious cargo would sink to depths that were, at that time, totally un salvageable
He briefly looked to the northwest, where a small spur of the lake extended to the town ofMael. This had been the spot where the rail cars holding the heavy water had been loaded onto the ferry for the short trip to Tinnoset.
Nearby was the village ofRjukan, where the cargo originated at the infamous Norsk Hydro plant. This facility still existed, though its days of manufacturing heavy water were long over. Today it merely generated enough hydroelectric power to feed a plant whose main product was fertilizer.