The ship was oddly quiet, the main deck deserted. Where were the other commandos — and Giordino?
Figuring Giordino would head for the bridge, he followed suit, heading down the deck until he found the port stairwell — and stepped right into the barrel of a waiting pistol.
Too late, he saw the companionway was cramped with bodies. Captain Smith sat on the steps with a dazed seaman, nursing a bloodied shoulder and leg. Giordino, sporting a nasty gash on his head, stood with a pair of scientists under guard by two commandos.
Then came Calzado, the commando leader, who held his pistol at Dirk’s cheekbone. “Good of you to join us. I missed making your acquaintance aboard the Sea Raker.”
Dirk had no reply as another commando thundered down the steps, stopping at Calzado’s side.
“The bridge is secure, sir,” he reported. “We have complete control of the ship.”
45
Dirk and Giordino hoisted Smith to his feet and half carried, half dragged the wounded captain out of the stairwell. A trail of blood followed across the deck as Calzado marched them at gunpoint to the stern. They found the remaining scientists and crew being herded, under armed guard, into two of the ship’s labs. Calzado motioned for them to join the group being squeezed into the nearer wet lab. Inside, Dirk found the ship’s doctor and brought him to the captain.
“What are our casualties?” Smith asked in a weak voice as the doctor examined the shoulder wound. The captain looked like he would pass out at any moment.
The ship’s first officer, a gangly man named Barnes, responded first. He wore only his skivvies, having been rousted from his bunk at gunpoint. “Assistant Engineer Dyer was killed on deck, sir. We have at least four other serious injuries but none life-threatening.”
“Did the bridge get off an emergency call or beacon?”
Barnes shook his head. “No, sir. They stormed the bridge before anyone knew what was happening. The helmsman reported they were unable to issue any kind of emergency signal. The boarders are still holding Ross on the bridge.”
Captain Smith turned to Giordino. “Did you see any signs of Summer or Pitt?”
“We found the Starfish on board their ship, next to their seabed mining equipment. They must still be aboard.” He refused to consider a less positive outcome.
The captain wheezed. “Who in blazes are they?”
“The ship is named Sea Raker,” Giordino said. “It’s staffed like a destroyer, not a mining ship. Armed soldiers all over the place. They look to me like Cuban regulars.”
Confirmation came a moment later when the door to the lab burst open. Calzado stepped across the threshold and regarded the cramped bay with a surly glare.
“The Sargasso Sea has been seized for violating the territorial sovereignty of Cuba,” he said in clipped English. “You are now prisoners of the state.”
“We haven’t entered Cuban waters,” Barnes said.
Calzado looked at the first officer and gave a cold smile. “It is my duty to warn you that any attempt at escape or interference with the operation of the ship will be met with severe consequences. You will stay here and remain quiet.”
He turned on his heels and marched out. A pair of commandos slammed the door closed and locked it.
“That’s a load of bunk,” Barnes said. “We are positioned over five miles from Cuba’s territorial limit.”
The ship’s engines rumbled, and they could feel the vessel get under way.
“If we’re not in Cuban waters now,” Dirk said, “we will be shortly.”
Smith closed his eyes as if asleep, but he spoke in a firm voice. “Let’s not tempt fate. Headquarters can still track us and will be alerted when we don’t report in. There will be help headed our way in no time. I want everyone to stay put and do as the man says.”
For Giordino, the words fell on deaf ears. He was already pacing the lab like a caged tiger, calculating a way to pounce on his captors.
46
Pitt and Summer were detained in the office for half a day, until they heard several men enter the office complex. The newcomers convened in an adjacent executive office. With its thin walls and both doors left open, the two captives could hear every word.
“All right, Molina, what is the great emergency that required my presence today?”
Juan Díaz put his feet on a large mahogany desk and looked down his nose at the mining operations manager seated across from him. Despite his own time in the Revolutionary Army, Díaz had an open disdain for the military.
“Comandante, you always stated that the mining operation is to be conducted with absolute secrecy,” Lieutenant Silvio Molina said. Though Díaz no longer held military rank, the militia on-site addressed him in deference to his powerful family connections.
“Yes, of course,” Díaz said. “You and your men were handpicked to oversee the operation on account of your loyalty to the general.”
“During our excavations last night, we had an intrusion at the Domingo 1 site.”
Díaz glanced at an oversized map of the Florida Straits pinned to one wall. An irregular circle, drawn in green and denoted Domingo 1, was marked northeast of Havana. “Go on.”
“An American marine research ship named the Sargasso Sea arrived at dusk and moored near the wellhead site—”
“The Sargasso Sea?” Díaz said. “Wasn’t that the vessel that was nosing around after the drill ship was sunk?”
“Yes, it is a vessel of the National Underwater and Marine Agency. They were the ones that picked up the survivors of the Alta.”
“What are they doing back at the site?”
“I don’t know.” Molina shrugged. “Perhaps they are performing an inspection for the Norwegian owners of the ship. Or perhaps they are CIA.”
“The destruction of the drill ship was made to look like an accident,” Díaz said. “Those were your orders.”
“And it was so accomplished. But I warned you it could attract unwanted attention.”
“We’re on a schedule, and we needed more time to complete the excavation. If the late Minister Ortiz hadn’t given them that sector, of all places, to drill in, we would never have had a problem. We had no choice but to remove them from the site.” Díaz scowled. “I see that the barge is offloading a new shipment. What are our latest stockpile figures?”
“Including the current barge load, we estimate a total of two hundred and eighty tons in readied stockpile. The customer supply ship is arriving in the morning to collect the first half order of two hundred and fifty tons.”
Díaz stood and approached the wall map. In addition to the green circle, there were two red circles twenty and thirty miles farther north into the Florida Straits. He motioned toward them. “The thermal vents at Domingo 2 and Domingo 3 are each ten times the size of Domingo 1. They will easily provide the balance of our delivery, if our yield percentages are accurate.”
“Domingo 1 has proven better than anticipated,” Molina said. “We’ve seen uranium oxide content in excess of fifty percent, which far exceeds the highest known yields from any terra firma mines, even those in Athabasca, Canada.”
“The very reason we pursued the high-cost operations of undersea mining. When will the Sea Raker be finished at the current field?”
Molina looked at the floor. “That’s uncertain. They had completed eighty-five percent of the field operations but are standing by at the moment while repairing damage to the ship.”