“That one wasn’t so bad — maybe a bicycle?” said Alexis. “Definitely smaller than a refrigerator.”
Vitaly just grumbled in response as a low bridge loomed ahead. A quiet hiss of air sounded from the ballast tanks as he adjusted the trim. The Scorpion wallowed a few inches deeper into the flood tide, her sinking almost imperceptible. Jonah reached, letting his fingertips brush against the rusting steel beams of the overpass. The support members trembled as a single car passed over them, unaware of the submarine lurking below. The Scorpion’s retracted periscope and snorkel slipped inches below the beams, but not the antenna — the long metal whip hit the bridge and began to bend, straining until it snapped at the base and hung limply, dragging in the canal waters.
“I suppose you’ll be asking me to fix that?” said Alexis, crossing her arms in irritation.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Jonah. “I’ll just take the replacement cost out of Vitaly’s wages.”
“Wages?” Vitaly said. “Ha! I laugh. You give Vitaly only two bullets, never money.”
Jonah paused as the Scorpion cleared the overpass, the stormy afternoon sky opening up above, heavy sheets of sleet drenching them once more.
“Alexis — make a note to double Vitaly’s salary at the soonest opportunity,” said Jonah. “Maybe a larger caliber this time? The first couple didn’t seem to take.”
Alexis ignored their banter. “I feel like I’m on a parade float,” she said, her eyes drifting once more to the darkened buildings and empty roads on either side of the canal. “It doesn’t even feel like we’re still on the water. What do we do if somebody sees us?”
She was right; the Scorpion was completely exposed. There wasn’t nearly enough room to turn around, and even the high floodwaters were far too shallow to fully submerge any portion of the submarine. They should have taken Dalmar’s suggestion and hijacked a car at the edge of the city. They’d be in real trouble if they couldn’t slip the Scorpion unseen along the entire three mile stretch of aqueduct to reach the open river harbor on the other side.
“If someone sees us, just give ’em the princess wave.” Jonah imitated the motion for effect, as though addressing onlookers to a royal procession. “I’ve heard it’s all in the wrist.”
Jonah tried to keep his optimism in check — they’d made it this far inland without attracting attention, but Dalmar was right; it was a stupid plan. Yes, they’d easily slipped past the gathering Japanese fleet outside Tokyo, all but invisible beneath the massive scale of the mobilization. The whole place was in chaos. The Japanese would soon set sail for North Korean waters, demanding a response to the destruction of their carrier group and daring the hermit kingdom to confront them. Hell, they probably could have snuck a three-ring circus past the disorganized, troop-laden convoy if they’d wanted. The Scorpion’s single, inconspicuous periscope was a cakewalk by comparison. But Jonah knew his options would be vanishingly limited if they were discovered and cornered.
“You hear that?” said Alexis, pointing towards a faint light in the distant sky. “I think it’s a helicopter.”
“Gutsy, flying in these conditions.” He could hear it now, too, a faint whop-whop-whop all but lost to the rain and thunder, blinking blue running lights barely visible. Lightning flashed again, the blinding electrical arc connecting with a tall antenna atop a darkened skyscraper. Jonah shielded his eyes as the helicopter disappeared from view, made invisible by the sudden percussion of light and sound. He supposed it didn’t matter — there was virtually no way even an experienced pilot could have spotted the Scorpion through the heavy winter storm.
The canal opened up, allowing the submarine to slide out of the walled river and into an open, shallow harbor. The concrete-ringed waterway was within an inner-city industrial district, not much more than a dirty portage of five docks surrounded by rusting warehouses and dozens of empty fishing vessels, a few of which had been hoisted from the waters and wheeled into run-down shipyards. All of the boats rocked and jostled against the outflowing storm surge from the rain-soaked city around them.
Vitaly re-set the submarine’s trim, slowly lowering the open deck beneath the surface until just the last eight feet of conning tower rose above the waters, gently splitting the waves as they crept forward towards a crumbling seawall.
“You know where we are?” asked Alexis, glancing around at the inlet.
“Yeah,” said Jonah. He swiveled Vitaly’s laptop towards himself, tilting the screen at Alexis so she could see. “We came in through this unpronounceable canal.” He traced his finger along the screen. “Now we’re in this unpronounceable portage. I just hope Marissa gave us the right coordinates.”
Another long, low rumble shuddered from underneath the submarine, louder than any previous.
“Now that was definitely a car,” said Alexis. “You better not screw up my prop shaft with debris.”
“It was maybe small car.” Vitaly smacked the side of his laptop, irritated that the depth sounder hadn’t warned him of the obstruction. “Only hatchback or coupe. No problem, da? We hit bus or big truck, then maybe you complain to Vitaly.”
A sound of shuffling plastic drifted up from the open hatch at Jonah’s feet as Marissa emerged onto the rain-drenched conning tower platform, her hair wrapped in a grocery bag secured by several fraying rubber bands. She reached back into the hatch and pulled up a bulky black duffel bag after her, throwing the strap around her shoulder.
“You look like old babushka,” observed Vitaly. “Why you have bag head?”
Marissa adjusted the strap. “Do you have any idea what this humidity is doing to my hair?” she demanded, pointing to her improvised plastic hat.
“Do you know where we’re going or not?” asked Jonah.
“That’s where the yakuza want to meet,” said Marissa, pointing to a slumping warehouse on the other end of the inlet. “I’ve been there a half dozen times on past deals.”
“Good place for trap, da?” noted Vitaly.
“No argument there,” said Jonah. “Do you think you can moor her against the closest pier?”
“Is no problem. Vitaly put Scorpion through eye of needle if captain says.”
The submarine was near the warehouse now, close enough to make out details in the rusting corrugated tin roof and the decaying concrete of the seawalls. Errant waves splashed over the bulwarks, but the flood tide itself remained at bay. Vitaly adjusted their speed and headed for the final approach, saddling the bulky submarine against the long, sagging pier. The bow vibrated slightly as the Scorpion came to a rest. One of the creaking dock posts shifted abruptly against the sudden weight, snapping without warning. A ten-foot section of the dock abruptly collapsed, one post snapping after another like slow-motion falling dominos until a full forty feet of dock had disappeared into the waters. Everyone on the conning tower winced as Jonah silently willed the destruction to stop. It felt like an eternity before the last section of weakened pier withstood total collapse. Less than a third of the original length was still intact.
“Goddamn it, Vitaly!” whispered Jonah, as though yelling would somehow trigger the remaining pier. “I said to moor us, not knock down the entire fucking dock!”