“Commander Lawton,” Langford said, changing the subject. Neely became slightly more erect in her chair next to Will and Alison, the latter still with wet hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“Just as expected, sir. The plants have the same replication characteristics and suspension of telomere growth. And unlike the Chinese bacterium, it is proving more stable.”
“So the plants are more valuable than the bacteria?” Miller asked.
“Correct.” Neely glanced at Borger next to her, then to Alison sitting to his left. Both nodded subtly at Neely. “And, sir,” she said slowly, “there’s something else.”
“Of course there is,” replied Langford, with tired eyes. “We obviously don’t have enough problems.”
Neely shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure I would characterize this as a problem. I would say it’s more of a development.”
Langford grinned at her tact. “Okay, Commander. What is our development?”
“It’s the engineering team, sir. They’ve been spending quite a bit of time in the water. Beneath the surface. Studying the alien ship.”
“I should hope so.”
Neely glanced at the others again. “Sir, the men are displaying measurable signs of physical… alteration.”
“Alteration?”
“Changes, sir.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Subtle changes. The elements we found in South Africa are also present here. In the water. The dive teams are being exposed to it. And even a much smaller dosage appears to be affecting them.”
“For example?”
“Some of their gray hair is turning back to its original color. Eyesight is improving, plus a few other things.”
“You’re kidding me?”
Neely shook her head onscreen. “No, sir. This is what I meant about a more organic effect. It’s slower than what we saw with the Chinese bacteria.”
“Are you telling me,” Langford said. “That those guys are getting younger?!”
“I’m not sure about younger, but certainly stronger,” Neely acknowledged.
“And what about this overheating brain problem?”
“So far the team is showing no symptoms indicating that. Though to be honest, if they were, I’m not sure we would be able to detect it yet. Not until the problem is much more acute. But I don’t think it’s happening.”
“How do we know?” Miller pressed.
“For starters, the men’s sleep cycles are getting longer, not shorter.”
Langford considered her words, thoughtfully. “Okay. So how many of these plants do we have underwater?”
Neely paused, slightly unsure of his question. It was Borger who answered.
“Too many to hide, Admiral.”
“Naturally,” the admiral nodded. “And how about our ship?”
“The new drill is ready, sir. We should be able to have it in the water in a few hours.”
“Good. Let’s hope it tells us something new. I should probably also tell you that we’re running out of time, sooner than we hoped. Our story about the Valant’s mechanical problems is beginning to garner a lot of attention from construction companies offering to ‘help’ the government out.”
Borger grinned. “For a very high hourly rate, I would guess.”
“You’d be right. Unfortunately, the more attention we get, the more cracks begin to appear in our story. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about both those plants and the ship.”
The three grimaced almost in unison. Coming up with a solution was going to be a Herculean task. It wasn’t as though either could simply be hidden, or moved. And if they couldn’t hide it, it was simply a matter of time before someone else figured it out. And came looking.
72
Captain Zhirov stood motionlessly in the control room with his legs apart and both hands behind his back. Moderately lit, the room was lined by monitors and manned by some of the finest men Russia had to offer. Overhead, a mechanical ceiling of countless gray piping and instruments snaked above them.
They were now only fifteen kilometers away, and Zhirov had just given the order to slow the Russian Ghost sub down to a crawl.
The American science vessel still had sonar so if their captain was worth anything at all, he’d be constantly monitoring for anyone or anything trying to get close. And the Russian sub was quietest under five knots.
According to the information given to Zhirov, the American captain’s name was Emerson — a man who had served most of his career skippering larger Navy warships, no doubt honing his skills and intuition. The fact that he chose to spend his sunset command on the open sea told Zhirov everything he needed to know about where Emerson felt most comfortable.
This captain was a man who lived and breathed the ocean, and the military. There was little doubt in Zhirov’s mind that he was seasoned. And given what Emerson was now hiding on behalf of his country, he would likely be ready for anything.
The battle instinct in Zhirov caused his lips to part into a thin grin. He relished the thrill of combat in any form but none more than warfare at sea. The entire journey gave him an intense sense of satisfaction — from the slow, quiet stalking through the dark and cold foreboding waters, to the uncertainty of the victor until the final moments.
Zhirov’s grin promptly faded when he felt the trembling in his hand again, still hidden behind his back. If the older Belov was right about what was aboard that science ship, it could save him from a future that would be as inevitable as it was torturous.
If he was right.
Yet one thing that still puzzled Zhirov was Belov himself. The man was already in control of a vast fortune and now, thanks to Zhirov, free from the tyrannical clutches of their ruthless government.
He could have found any one of a dozen ways out of Russia long ago. It made no sense for him to stay. Unless he was hoping to position himself inside what was left of the Russian government when it finally collapsed.
To Zhirov, it was a foolish gamble. The risks were far too great, as Belov himself had found out rather abruptly. No, there was something else in the man’s pursuit of the American’s discovery. Something even more than what he had confessed to Zhirov. A hidden agenda that the Russian captain could sense but not yet discern.
Deep down, Dima Belov was an enigma.
Zhirov reached around with his other hand and checked his watch, fighting to keep his excitement in check.
Just a few hours left.
Sergeant Popov looked at the four men on his left. Each one exhibited a muscular build and wore the same look of grim determination.
“Go.”
Junior Sergeant Levin spoke up without the slightest inflection in his voice. “Reach and secure the first platform. Wait for mark at nineteen-thirty. Ascend and secure each level to control room. Disable communications. Any signs of aggression to be eliminated. Beginning on your mark from the ship, we take all levels, including the pad.”
Popov nodded. Levin’s summary sounded almost trite. But the truth was that it wouldn’t be easy. Once Levin and his men located and confined all members of the oil rig, each would then have to secure a level, ensuring a clear path to the top. There, the aircraft would land to receive their cargo. Given how little time Popov and his own men would have to take the science ship itself and make it back, their path to the top of the rig had to be clear — because the backup plan for both of their teams had a much lower chance of success and survivability.