“Too many people might recognize me coming in the front door,” Pitt said, peering at the mining ship and adjacent barge. “I’ll have to try the back door. Can you position yourself off Sea Raker’s port bow and shield your launch from the ship when you deploy it?”
“Not a problem.” Ramsey relayed the request to the yacht’s captain, then gave Pitt a handheld marine radio. “You’re on your own, I’m afraid. We’ll loiter about the area a few miles away until we hear from you.”
“Thanks, Mark.” Pitt shook the Canadian’s hand.
“Watch yourself. And good luck.”
The Gold Digger turned away from the Sea Raker as its launch was lowered off the stern. Ramsey and his hefty bodyguard sat on the forward bench as the pilot engaged the outboard and sped toward the mining ship.
On the Sea Raker’s opposite deck, Díaz and his crew were engaged in their own launching exercise, deploying the bulk cutter. Dangling at its side like an ornament on a Christmas tree was the Starfish, suspended by the cutter’s manipulator. Both machines were quickly swallowed by the sea as the ship’s drum winch released a steady stream of support cable. Díaz watched them submerge into the black water, then stepped to the opposite side of the ship to greet Ramsey.
The Gold Digger’s launch sailed along the ship’s port rail to its lowered ladder. Ramsey and his bodyguard leaped onto the ladder and up the steps to the Sea Raker’s deck. Díaz was there waiting with several armed soldiers standing loosely behind him.
“Mr. Ramsey, a pleasant surprise.” Díaz’s tone was anything but pleasant.
“Hello, Juan. I was on my way to New Orleans when my captain spotted you.”
“I’m glad you can visit. Come, let’s have a drink.”
Díaz led him forward to the ship’s wardroom, where an attendant fixed them drinks.
“What are you doing in Cuba?” Ramsey said. “You’re supposed to be working off Nicaragua.”
“The site proved to be a disappointment. We decided to redeploy here for some test excavations that looked promising from an earlier seismic survey.”
“Do you have authorization to dig here?” Ramsey asked.
“The approvals have been made through the necessary channels.”
“I admire your efficiency. How is the ship working out?”
“She’s been outstanding. We had a learning curve on managing the excavation equipment, but now we are operating at high efficiency.”
“Yes, that’s why I would have preferred you use my crew.”
Díaz ignored the comment. “I’m sorry you didn’t come at a more opportune moment. We are just deploying one of the cutters for a test run.”
“Could I see your seismic survey data? I’ve been studying a lot of undersea terrain in this region lately. Perhaps I could be of help.”
“I’m afraid the data isn’t aboard ship.”
Ramsey saw through the lie. “Have you completed an environmental impact assessment for this area?”
“Our scientists have determined there is no impact.”
“Even with blasting?”
“Blasting?” Díaz replied with a wary look. “We are not conducting any blasting.”
“Our charter specifies full environmental impact assessments and minimally invasive operations in the course of any mining activity. I’ve built a lifetime’s reputation on safe and friendly mining techniques. I must insist that the contract stipulations be followed.”
“Of course. I’ll have the reports sent to you next week.”
Díaz drained his drink and rose to his feet. “It was nice of you to stop by, Mr. Ramsey. I hope you have a pleasant journey to New Orleans.”
Ramsey slowly finished his drink. With a sick feeling, he realized that everything Pitt had told him about Díaz was true. He had signed away his ship to mercenaries under the protection of the Cuban government — and they were about to unleash a vast environmental disaster. The situation left him with little recourse.
“It is later than I thought,” Ramsey said. “Thank you for the drink, Juan. I best get going.”
They exited the wardroom and returned to the deck. Walking past the bulk cutter hangar, Ramsey noticed a crewman in a hazmat suit sweeping up some seafloor residue. It made him think of Pitt and he glanced over the rail at the barge tied alongside.
Bidding Díaz good-bye, he climbed down to his waiting launch and cast off toward his yacht. As the illuminated outline of the Sea Raker receded behind him, Ramsey kicked at a loose tarp on the floorboard and muttered to the breeze, “Good luck, Dirk Pitt. You’re going to need it.”
67
Crouched behind a pallet of explosives on the barge, Pitt watched Ramsey’s launch sail away as his mind returned to his daughter. The discovery that Díaz was aboard the Sea Raker changed everything. It gave him hope that Summer might be aboard, but it also changed his strategy. He’d planned to sneak aboard and somehow disable the mining equipment. But if Summer was aboard, he would have to find her first.
With Ramsey’s help, he’d made it this far. Covered by a tarp, he’d hid on the floor of the launch as Ramsey visited the Sea Raker. While the Canadian met with Díaz, the launch’s pilot idled the boat off the mining ship’s side and let it drift astern. When a few nosy ship hands at the rail grew bored and wandered off, the pilot eased alongside the barge and signaled Pitt. With a quick leap, he boarded unseen.
He crossed the barge, moving quickly from crate to crate. A heavy white powder littered the deck, which he knew was the ANFO from some spilled bags. The barge was only half full of crated explosives, indicating a large portion had already been deployed on one of the thermal vents. The delivery means was in service a few yards ahead of the barge: a steel-grated platform suspended by a thick drop cable. Pitt watched as several crewmen loaded a long, coiled tube onto the platform and lowered it over the side.
He made his way to the rear of the barge and climbed aboard the Sea Raker when he spotted no one about. The ship was otherwise alive with activity. He could only assume the crew was preparing to blow the thermal vent. An uneasy feeling began to creep over him. He might be too late to prevent it.
He shook his doubts aside, knowing his top priority was to find Summer.
He crept forward, holding to the shadows, but progressed only a short distance when a work crew came up behind him, lugging a replacement cutter head for the auxiliary mining machine. One man tripped under the burden, twisting his ankle and dropping his end of the weight. A supervisor, straining under the load on the opposite side, noticed Pitt standing nearby.
“You, over there. Come give us a hand.”
Pitt was trapped. If he assisted the men, the bright deck lights would reveal he wasn’t part of the crew. If he ignored the supervisor, he would create an undue suspicion.
Spotting a door to a nearby prefabricated structure, he took a chance. Shrugging at the supervisor, he motioned toward the door, stepped over, and turned the handle. His luck held and the door opened. He ducked inside as the supervisor shouted a curse in his direction.
Pitt had expected to walk into an equipment locker but found himself at the back of the mining control room. Multiple video images illuminated the big screen while chatter from computer station operators rattled off the steel walls. Pitt eased into a dark corner when he saw Díaz directing the operation from his armchair down front.