98
To Levin, still scouting the Valant oil rig, the sudden silence in the distance was not a good sign. The gunfire aboard the Pathfinder had stopped too abruptly. Even once in the water, Popov’s team would have to continue returning fire until they were far enough away to re-submerge. Which meant they either got under quickly or not at all.
He continued clearing the area on the top platform, including its wide landing pad. They had found no one at all aboard the rig, leaving him both curious and concerned.
They knew the crew on the Valant was not large, but what were the chances of the entire group being aboard the Pathfinder at the start of the attack? It was possible but highly unlikely.
Finding the top level also empty, he descended again to the crew’s living quarters. The rig was old but clearly still functional, as evidenced by the multitude of lights and partially stocked kitchen.
Down another hallway, Levin entered what appeared to be a large office. A metal desk sat near the far wall with two old-style monitors on top and a larger computer underneath. Piles of papers and photographs, along with a keyboard and mouse, littered the rest of the desk. Levin turned to examine an air conditioner on the outside wall, still running and accompanied by a noisy hum.
He returned and watched one of his men shake his head, indicating the rooms were empty. Levin called to the other two team members downstairs over the headset hidden behind his ear.
“Find anyone?”
“No one.”
Levin moved back out through the door, where he peered curiously across the water to the Pathfinder. Something wasn’t right.
Levin’s instinct was correct.
Les Gorski was less than twenty feet away, hiding inside the Valant’s broken elevator. With legs spread wide, balancing atop ledges on either side of the shaft, Gorski’s right hand clung to the crossbar behind the doors. His left tightly gripped a rifle.
99
Admiral Langford looked up when his office door opened to see Merl Miller rush in, swiftly reaching back and shutting the door.
Miller remained standing, dressed in a dark blue suit and spotted gold tie. His thin gray hair was neatly combed as always. “Emerson has repelled the attack and currently maintains control of the ship. But his crew has taken heavy losses.”
Langford exhaled heavily. He stared at his desk, thinking. “And the team?”
“Most of the team is alive.” Miller paused before finally adding, “but Alison Shaw is missing.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“She was below the surface when the torpedo struck. As were two of Emerson’s men, Tay and Lightfoot. They’re organizing a search team now.”
Langford nodded solemnly.
“Unfortunately, it’s not over. Emerson has lost contact with the Valant oil rig. They think it’s been seized.”
At this, Langford raised his heavy brow. “Is there anything on that rig?”
“Nothing of material importance.”
“What about the sub?”
“We’ve lost it on sonar. Emerson and Lawton think it either sank or escaped.”
Langford rose from his chair and leaned forward onto his desk. “Then if the Valant has been taken, those bastards are trapped.”
“Maybe,” Miller replied. “The Valant has a landing pad.”
Admiral Langford considered it. “You don’t think the sub was their way out?”
“Their sub may be largely invisible, but it’s still slow. This team hit the Pathfinder to get the bacteria, which means they’d want the fastest exit possible. A sub gives us days to find it.”
“You think they’ll try to fly it out?”
“It’s what we would do.”
Langford nodded. He reached for his phone and pressed a button.
After a moment, his secretary’s voice could be heard through the speaker. “Yes, Admiral.”
“Get me Admiral Collier at Naval Operations.”
“Yes, sir. One moment.”
It took only seconds for the line to be picked up. “This is Collier.”
“Admiral, this is Langford. I have Miller here with me. I understand Captain Emerson still has control of his boat.”
“That is correct, sir. We are ready to call off the air strike.”
Langford nodded and began to speak, when he suddenly paused.
“Hello?”
He peered up from his desk at Miller before speaking again into the microphone. “One second.” He pressed the handset against his shoulder.
Miller raised an eyebrow, expectantly.
“Get Captain Emerson on the phone.”
An exhausted and bleeding Popov reached the first pillar of the oil rig and after several deep breaths, managed to pull himself up onto the metal platform. He laid there for a full minute before finally rolling over and examining his wound. He was more fortunate than he expected, finding that the bullet had passed clean through his right side. Muscle damage primarily. His breathing was short, more from the pain of inhaling than internal damage. He had suffered worse.
Popov peered up at the underside of the rig, dark and out of the full moon’s reach. He then looked at the glowing numbers on his watch and rolled back onto his stomach, pushing himself up.
He examined the control box mounted on the inside of the pillar wall and punched the down button. Overhead and with a clank followed by a loud hum, the utility elevator began its descent.
Popov tried his headset, pressing the tiny button just inside his ear and calling to Levin. There was only silence. He tried again. Still nothing. He pulled the device out and angrily threw it into the water behind him.
Not until Popov reached the lower maintenance level did he dare to remove the pack from inside his wetsuit. It was still there and still sealed, which was all that mattered.
The rest of his men were gone. Popov’s only mission now was to reach the landing pad atop the Valant before the Yak arrived. He hoped Levin had done his job and cleared the rig.
The sound of thumping rotors returned and the fearsome silhouette of the Sea King helicopter came into view, rounding the right side of the Valant.
Levin and one of his men instinctively ducked back behind two steel beams and watched it pass by before disappearing again. The Americans were doing reconnaissance.
A loudspeaker echoed through the metal halls behind them. “Valant, this is Pathfinder. Do you copy? Valant, this is Pathfinder. Please respond.”
The broadcast was not a problem for Levin. But the message was. Whoever was calling was clearly expecting someone to respond, which meant the oil rig either was not supposed to be empty… or it wasn’t.
Both men jumped when they heard Popov’s voice calling out, just one level below them. Levin signaled his man to remain near the hallway opening while he ran for the stairwell and descended.
Not far from him, under the faint glow of an overhead fluorescent bulb, stood Alexander Popov. Both men scanned the open areas behind one another. Tired and cautious, Popov approached.
“Where are the others?” Levin asked.
“It’s just me.”
Levin’s eyes showed surprise but that was all he needed to know. “Did you get the samples?”
“Yes,” Popov held up the pack. “What did you find here?”
“No one. It appears empty. But I think some may be hiding.”