‘Let’s find out,’ said Hansen. The revs climbed and the capsule vibrated slightly.
Backing off the throttles, Hansen sighed. ‘We’re in mud, but I think we have damage to the rear prop.’
Aaron made a squawking sound. ‘Try again. Please.’
‘He will, Aaron,’ said Gallen. ‘Let’s do it his way, okay?’
The revs climbed again, this time to an ear-splitting pitch.
Hansen clicked his teeth. ‘Perhaps you two can rock, when I say so?’
‘Rock?’ said Aaron, the fear coming out in a low screech. ‘You want us to rock this fucking thing?’
‘Sure,’ said Hansen. ‘I need you both out of the harnesses, and leaning on the starboard side.’
Fumbling at the five-point harness in the dimness of the panel’s glow, Gallen got himself free and rose first, grabbing Aaron by the collar and hauling him up. ‘We’re getting out of here, Aaron, okay?’ he whispered. ‘I won’t let you die.’
Hearing the gulp and the rasped okay, Gallen pushed Aaron against the starboard bulkhead and then positioned himself with his hands against the pipes and cables that lined the vessel.
‘On my three,’ said Hansen, and counted them in.
On three, Gallen and Aaron heaved against the bulkhead; back and forth as the revs rose to a screech. Slowly the sub started rocking and then they were falling in a heap over the backs of their seats as the Sea Otter burst from the mud like a cork and went into a wild spin.
‘Okay,’ said Hansen as he brought down the revs. ‘We’re out but the main prop is buckled.’
‘That bad?’ said Gallen.
Hansen tapped on a small sonar screen. ‘It means we’re slower than the other sub, and lack power.’
The sonar glowed green, showing a small shape behind them.
‘Can we get lights on?’ said Aaron. ‘Shit, it’s dark.’
Gallen peered into the black. ‘We need the element of surprise.’
‘You think they haven’t seen us? I mean, we can see them, can’t we?’ spat Aaron.
‘Only because we know they’re there,’ said Hansen. ‘Unless you’re looking for us, we could be a seal or a whale.’
Swinging around, they watched the nose of the Sea Otter line up with the blinking green shape on the screen. ‘About seventy metres away,’ said Hansen.
After a minute of the whining electric motor pulling them through the dark, Aaron saw the lights. ‘There!’
The lights got brighter as they closed, Hansen pulling back on the throttles and positioning the Sea Otter above and behind the white sub.
Hovering in the dark, peering into the other sub’s lights, was like looking into an opera stage that you’d run across in the middle of space. It was eerie, isolated and made every nerve in Gallen’s body scream.
‘They still have the reactor,’ said Gallen.
‘Not for long — look!’
As the white sub inched forward, the reactor held aloft in the mechanical arms, the lights revealed what they were moving towards. Beyond the sub was the wide lip of a concrete cylinder, its thick sides standing twenty feet high and disappearing into the mud.
‘That’s the caisson,’ said Hansen. ‘One of three that were going to be finished in the next month.’
‘This is the one that drops a hundred feet?’ said Gallen.
‘They all do,’ said Hansen.
The white sub edged the reactor closer to the lip and Gallen gulped down the fear. He knew Aaron wanted to turn tail and phone it in, and he had no right to put Hansen in the kind of danger he wanted to expose him to. But he couldn’t do nothing. It just wasn’t an option.
‘They can’t drop that thing,’ said Gallen. ‘Let’s go.’
‘And do what?’ said Hansen.
‘Yeah, Gerry,’ said Aaron, a little too whiny. ‘What are we doing here? This is a job for the Navy SEALs or the clearance divers—’
‘There might be Navy guys on the surface by now, Aaron. But this won’t wait.’
In front of them the reactor was rising to a point where it could slide across the top of the caisson.
‘Okay, but what are you going to do, Gerry? ‘
‘Something more than nothing,’ said Gallen. ‘Take her in, Hansen.’
The nose dropped slightly as they accelerated towards the white sub.
‘What do these do?’ said Gallen, realising there were hand grips in front of his seat.
‘They operate the mechanical arms. Up, down, with a forward movement of the grip,’ said Hansen. ‘The trigger makes the hands close and open.’
The arms made a loud whirring sound as Gallen tested them. They were responsive and surprisingly articulate.
‘Are they strong enough to out-muscle the other sub?’ said Gallen.
‘Yes,’ said Hansen. ‘But we have to be careful. These rigs run on two twelve-volt battery sets. You use more power from one minute of using the arms than you do from an hour of normal operation.’
‘So how long do we have with the arms?’
‘Start with forty-five seconds and I’ll let you know,’ Hansen said, tapping at the voltage gauge on the dashboard. ‘We’ll need enough power to make the surface again.’
‘Any ideas what I should do with them? ‘ said Gallen.
‘Grab the nearest arm and pull?’ said Aaron. ‘If we can keep the reactor out of that hole we at least have a chance of retrieving it.’
Hansen brought the Sea Otter downwards from the side of the white sub, and at the last second pulled up in a hover over the right arm and turned the Sea Otter to the glass plate of the white sub.
‘Hello, friends,’ said the Swede with a ridiculous lilt, and he hit the Sea Otter lights, bathing the cockpit of the white sub in a wall of intense light. ‘Now,’ he said.
The lights illuminated the Mossad agent they knew as Raffa, and Florita, both of whom flung their arms up to protect their retinas. It looked to Gallen like there was just the two of them — so where was the technician?
Pushing the Sea Otter mechanical arms down, Gallen tried to use the grip to secure a hold on the other sub’s arms, to wrench the reactor clear. The first attempt failed. He couldn’t see very well and asked Hansen to back up slightly. As Hansen pulled the Sea Otter back, the white sub backed up too, trying to retreat from the situation.
‘Get me closer,’ said Gallen, as the grips of the mechanical arms came up short.
Electrical engines whining, Hansen surged towards the reversing white sub, its pale blue cargo glinting in the floodlights. The white sub went backwards quickly and its hull hit the mud, throwing up silt into the space between the two craft.
‘Shit,’ said Gallen. ‘Can’t see a thing.’
‘Down there!’ Aaron yelled. ‘The reactor’s underneath us.’
Pushing the arms downwards, Gallen realised he couldn’t make them curve back far enough. ‘Back up, Hansen. I need room.’
‘You’ve got thirty seconds,’ said Hansen, as he reversed enough for Gallen to train the arms on the reactor.
Bringing the arms down to the right arm of the white sub, he depressed the triggers and watched the articulated jaws close on an arm gripping the reactor, like a massive Meccano set. The left jaw missed but the right one found its mark and the motors squealed and protested as the jaw gripped tight and held.
‘Okay,’ said Gallen. ‘Now what? ‘
The white sub surged forward, taking the Sea Otter with it, thanks to the solid attachment. They moved at speed, and Gallen watched in horror as they bore down on the caisson edge.
‘Do something!’ he shouted.
‘We don’t have the power,’ said Hansen, trying to use reverse thrust to pull the arm off the reactor. ‘Let go.’
‘How?’ said Gallen as the caisson loomed to their right.