“Wonder how long til E.T. heads home?” Dane said.
Bones shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. I’m more of an ALF guy.”
Far below them, the ROV had ceased its pursuit and now circled Liberty Bell 7.
Dane eased up on the throttle and leveled the submersible. After a last look below, he dumped the some of the sub’s ballast and they began to rise faster. He eyed the compass and gave the thrusters a burst to set them on a course toward their support vessel.
Bones softly pounded his fist into his hand. “I can’t believe I dropped the freaking thing. Now I’ve got to sit here for two and a half hours and think about it.”
“Things happen.” Dane shared Bones’ frustration. Had he made the right decision? Could they have gotten away with firing on the ROV? Should they have taken one more crack at the nuke before ascending?
A call came through, rocking him out of his dark thoughts.
“Research vessel Ocean Explorer to fishing vessel Atlantic Pride: We require your assistance. Do you copy?”
Dane made eye contact with Bones before picking up the radio transmitter. Did they know what was happening? “Ocean Explorer, this is Atlantic Pride, we copy, over.”
“Roger that, Atlantic Pride. Can you do us a quick favor and tell me if you see any ships off your port bow? You’re blocking our view a little bit, and our radar’s been a bit wonky today.”
Dane talked off-air to Bones. “They want to know if there’s a ship on the other side of us they can’t see that might have deployed a mini-sub.”
“Tell ‘em we saw one but it’s gone now. Throw ‘em off the trail a little.” He grinned mischievously.
Dane raised his eyebrows and spoke into the mic. “Sure thing. There is a vessel maintaining position off our bow but maybe a little bit to port.” Dane mouthed the words treasure hunters to Bones.
“Roger that, Atlantic Pride, we see them. Anybody else, farther away than that?”
“Negative. Not right now. About an hour ago we saw a ship to port but haven’t seen it in a while.” Bones gave him a thumbs up.
“Copy that, thank you, signing off.”
Dane and Bones completed their uneventful return to the surface in silence. When Dane spotted the glimmer of their vessel’s moon pool, he slowed their ascent and they surfaced inside the watery opening.
Bones opened the dome hatch and was about to exit the submersible when they heard the sound of a single person clapping, followed by a deep voice emanating from somewhere within the shadows of the moon pool area.
“Congratulations, you found it!”
Chapter 7
Dane’s first instinct was to reach for his SEAL-issue Beretta M9, but although he and Bones had one on board the trawler, all the way up in the cockpit, he had foreseen no need for guns aboard the tiny submersible. He watched Bones’ frame go rigid as the Indian no doubt experienced a similar regret. Dane did have his dive knife on a sheath attached to his calf, but as they searched the shadows the figure of a man stepped into the light out from behind the crane.
He pointed a compact submachine gun Dane recognized as a TEC-9 in Dane and Bones’ direction, sweeping the muzzle back and forth between the two SEALs.
“Hands in the air! Both of you. Tall guy, don’t take another step. Sub pilot, you can stay put with your hands where I can see them.”
Dane and Bones complied. Dane made a mental note never to be without his sidearm again while out on a mission. Not that he would have had a chance to use it so far, with the intruders’ shocking element of surprise, but still. He’d feel a hundred percent better if he had it on him.
“What’s the problem?” Dane asked.
“You from that Science Channel expedition?” Bones followed up.
It was either that or the treasure hunters, since they’d seen no other craft.
“Don’t worry about it.” The man paused, his eyes taking in Bones’ full height and breadth of shoulder. “You are, without a doubt, the biggest damn Indian I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m big in a lot of ways. Ask your old lady.”
The man chuckled.
“Who are you?” Dane kept his voice level.
“You can call me Streib.” He gestured with the TEC-9 to Bones. “Here’s what I want you to do, Tonto. Use the crane to lift the sub out of the water.”
Bones moved his eyes without turning his head to look at Dane. He wasn’t much for following orders in any situation, and now, even with a gun trained on him, the idea of executing an operation involving the sub without an okay from its pilot seemed to run counter to the big man’s instincts.
“Do it,” Dane said.
“Slowly,” Streib cautioned.
Bones reached out to the button that would raise the crane arm. He pressed it and a mechanical hum filled the air as the submersible was pulled from the moon pool, water cascading from its hull.
“Stay where you are. Both of you.” Streib approached the sub, his finger still firm on the trigger of the TEC-9. He strode up to the edge of the pool.
Dane could see now that Streib was a beanpole of a man with pale skin and wispy black hair fashioned into a bad comb-over. He wore a leather jacket over jeans with a pair of rubber work boots, and a small utility belt with a holster for the Tec-9, and several smaller pouches that Dane supposed might contain things like a knife, flashlight, perhaps a radio or satellite phone.
Streib crouched and stared intently at the area of the sub that housed the grab arms and sample collection bays. He swept his weapon at Bones, to make sure he remained compliant, and then back to Dane, where the barrel lingered.
“Extend the manipulator arms.”
“That’s my department,” Bones interjected, earning another wave of the gun.
“You may tell him how to do it if he does not know how. Otherwise, just stand there and keep quiet.”
Dane reached across the cockpit to the co-pilot area and pressed a button in full view of the attacker. They heard the revving of servo-motors and then a long shaft of steel protruded from the spherical craft, its metal grasping claws clutching nothing.
“Show me the other arm.”
Dane extended the smaller manipulator appendage. The box stuck to the magnetic plate on the end of it captivated the trespasser’s attention.
“So you found them!” Streib asserted loudly, his face contorting into a mask of disbelief.
“Found what?” Bones asked.
“Bring me the box.” Streib shook the TEC-9 in Bones' direction.
Dane brought his right hand, still resting on the manipulator controls, down and slightly to the left where he deftly flipped open a plastic switch cover.
Bones moved to the grab arm and plucked the metal box from its magnetic plate. They heard objects rattling around inside.
“Open it and bring the coins to me.”
“Let's see if you're right,” Bones said. He opened the box, the hinges creaking as he raised the lid, and looked inside. “Well I'll be…”
“I said bring them to me!”