‘I wanna park this tank,’ Van Lee laughed. ‘Then I want a shower, and a meal. Then I’m off duty and you’ll see me go thata way —’ he jerked his thumb towards the road behind the bus ‘— and the nearest bar. Been in this fucking crate all day.’
The guard chuckled, saluted, stepped down to the road and paced back to his cabin. Van Lee drove on.
Two and half minutes later, the bus was drawing up on the dock. Six men jumped out; Van Lee parked then ran back to join the others. No one paid any of them the slightest attention as they ascended the stern boarding ramp onto a small ship.
They knew the layout of the vessel down to the last rivet. Fanning out in pairs, they followed three separate routes along the corridors and down through the decks, converging with precision timing at the end of Corridor F, Deck 3C, close to the bow. Van Lee stood at a locked door, ‘Storage Area 45’ written at head height. Using a forged magnetic pass card, he opened it and they piled in, the last man pulling the door shut.
The space was smaller than the tiny apartment in Richmond and they each knew that now they were here, they would have to sit quietly in the ship’s hold for twenty-six hours, give or take five minutes. Soon Derham and the marine biologists would be walking the decks above them, unaware of the danger beneath their feet.
34
The eastern sky had only just begun to lighten as USS Armstrong left Norfolk Naval Base and slipped out into the open waters of the eastern seaboard.
The ship was abuzz with activity, the crew of twelve working together like a well-oiled machine. Lou and Kate had nothing to do but prepare mentally for their second trip down to the wreck of the Titanic.
At 16.00 hours the mess hall was empty except for the ship’s cook, a stocky man with a white apron over his naval uniform. Kate and Lou pulled up a couple of chairs at a table. The chef brought over two cups of strong coffee and was about to start chatting to them when Captain Derham appeared, asked for a coffee for himself and settled at the same table as the two scientists.
‘You seen the news?’ he said, nodding towards a TV on a shelf high up on the opposite wall. Neither of them had noticed it. It was switched on but the sound was muted. Derham picked up a remote lying on a neighbouring table and flicked on the sound.
‘What’s up?’ Lou asked.
‘Watch.’
They could see a blue band stretched across the bottom of the monitor and the words ‘CHINESE FURY: EMERGENCY UN SECURITY MEETING’. It was CNN; a reporter was standing in a studio. Behind her a vast image of Chinese warships cutting through fierce waves was projected onto the wall. Along the side of the picture ran a set of stats.
‘… but the position of the People’s Republic of China is clear,’ the presenter said. ‘In its statement to the UN, it demanded the immediate withdrawal of NATO forces and the removal of the Exclusion Zone at REZ375. This has been categorically refused, thus prompting this extraordinary Security Council meeting.’ She turned to the image behind her and the ships started to move. ‘The Chinese navy, known as the People’s Liberation Army Navy, or PLAN, is a formidable force which includes ten nuclear subs armed with ballistic missiles. It also has a newly built aircraft carrier, Qu Yuan, currently in the South China Sea.’
‘It was inevitable, I guess,’ Kate said as Derham pushed the mute button.
‘What they didn’t say, though,’ the captain replied, ‘was something no one outside the military knows. There are already two Chinese subs heading at top speed towards the Exclusion Zone. They will reach it within sixteen hours.’
‘Oh…’ Lou grimaced.
‘And NATO has launched three nuclear subs that should get there about the same time.’
‘And this UN meeting?’
‘Typical panic diplomacy,’ Derham said. ‘They’re in session right now.’
‘And it will probably reach a typical Security Council stalemate.’ Kate looked from Lou to Derham, her jaw set hard. ‘The Brits and Americans on one side, the Russians and the Chinese on the other and the French sitting on the fence.’
‘Possibly.’ Derham nodded towards the silent TV. ‘Whatever happens, I want us to be in and out of there before the shooting starts.’
‘You really think it’ll come to that?’ Lou looked startled.
‘I would like to think it won’t, Lou. But you can understand why the Chinese are annoyed, can’t you? It’s quite possible the Russians are on their way too. There’ll also be a lot of satellite activity. The latest spy probes can be moved out of their orbits to get a better view.’
‘We’re due at the edge of the Exclusion Zone at 19.00 hours, is that right?’ Kate asked.
‘All being well. I suggest you get some rest. There’s nothing for you to do aboard ship and you’ll be starting a very tough shift from 21.30 when we run final checks on JV1. Meanwhile, we have a meeting at 17.00.’
At 16.58 they found the JV1 pilot, Commander Jane Milford, already seated with notebooks and her iPad in front of her on a small conference table. She was dressed in a submarine pilot’s jumpsuit and navy cap, wisps of short auburn hair just visible beneath the edge. She rose and saluted Derham before shaking hands with Kate and Lou.
The captain seated himself next to Milford and across from the two scientists.
‘So, sir, we have your resident geek to thank for this second trip down,’ Milford said, turning to Derham.
‘Kevin Grant? An arrogant sonofabitch, but a smart kid.’
‘Sure is… And you guys.’ She looked from Kate to Lou. ‘You OK about going down again?’
‘You kidding?’ Lou responded immediately. ‘Just get me in the fat suit and I’m there!’
‘OK then… down to business,’ Derham said seriously. ‘This trip is a little different to your first. As you know, of course, the Titanic snapped in two as it sank. The two chunks dropped in opposite directions, which resulted in them ending up some 700 yards apart on the ocean floor. The bow section is at coordinates 49º 56' 49" W, 41º 43' 57" N; the stern is at 49º 56' 54" W, 41º 43' 35" N. The tangled piece of ship that contains cargo hold 4 lies to the north-east of the bow section at 49º 56' 47" W, 41º 43' 66" N, about 300 yards from where we landed on our earlier trip.’
‘It should actually be easier to get to than Fortescue’s cabin, though, right?’ Kate asked. ‘We won’t have to get into the ship and negotiate the hazards.’
‘You’d have thought so,’ Milford replied. ‘Trouble is, the ocean floor around where the cargo hold is positioned is pretty unstable. You won’t have the problems you had before with the risk of the ship crumbling around you, but the seabed itself is a mess. Annoyingly, cargo hold 4 landed on a nasty cracked-up patch.’
‘That’s bad luck,’ Lou commented.
‘The job is still doable, though,’ Derham responded. ‘But it will be a very dangerous mission, especially because of the suits.’
‘What about the suits?’ Lou asked.
‘We haven’t been able to get the integrity up,’ Milford said. ‘And because of seismic instability, we can’t land the JV as close to the hold as we would like. That means the timeline for an EVA will be tight. We’ll have to park the JV some distance from the target and walk at least a couple of hundred yards, get into the hold, find the materials, and get back to the JV within sixty-two minutes plus small change.’
‘Well, that’s what we have to do then, isn’t it?’ Lou said and swept his gaze around the table.
Milford stood up and walked over to a Smart Board at the end of the room close to a porthole. She clicked a remote and a detailed image of the ocean floor appeared. It showed an area of about three square miles. In the centre lay the two main chunks of the wrecked ship. The larger piece, the bow section, which they had entered on the last mission, was positioned north-east of the stern portion.