Manny nodded, started to work his long legs into the hatch, then paused.
“You coming down?”
Erich had directed his attention beyond the dark, rubber-coated hull of the 5001. He was still trying to make sense of the strange installation they’d entered. The silence and absence of the Station’s staff was very troubling. He barely noticed Manny halfway through the hatch when he had spoken.
“What? No. Not for the moment. I want to… take this place in… I want to absorb it, to never forget how it is making me feel.”
His friend looked up at him “And how is that?”
“Small,” said Erich. “Very small.”
Chapter Fifteen
Leading the way, Dex led Tommy out of the Captain’s quarters, down the corridor and back into the deserted control deck. They ascended the ladder to the open bridge, carefully kicking clear of the conning tower array, and began their controlled ascent. Even though they’d been right around the 66-foot threshold for decompression, they paused as they watched through their bubbles for the approach of the Doc’s silver gray suit and Mike’s pale yellow.
“Just passing through,” said Doc as he came into view from the cloudy water above them.
“Kevin and Andy should be in the aft section,” said Dex. “I’m thinking you should use the rear hatch to hook up with them.”
“No problem,” said Doc. He and Mike gave the thumbs up as they continued their descent.
After staging their ascent, pausing to let any possible excess nitrogen leak from their bodies, Dex and Tommy broke the surface and climbed aboard the Sea Dog. The sun was climbing higher, burning off the early morning fog and haze, revealing a soft blue sky with only few scattered clouds. It was going to be a good day to be out on the Bay. Don, momentarily abandoning his post on the Divelink base station, was standing on the rear deck, waiting for them. He was sporting his usual lopsided smile as he helped Dex over the gunwale.
“Okay, so what do we have down there?” he said.
Dex pulled off his mask, sucked in another lungful of salty air. “Couple things I want to look at.” He reached into his collection bag, took out the steel box. “You have anything on the bench that will get this open?”
Don looked at it, grinned. “One way or another. Might get messy, though.”
“I’ll take it into the shed and see what gives,” said Dex. He followed Tommy across the open section of the boat to the equipment lockers and the dive salon amidships. They sat down, unharnessed their tanks and utility belts. Don eased past them, climbed back up to the bridge to keep an ear on the base unit.
“You want me to start recharging the tanks?” said Tommy.
“Yeah, good idea. But bring that stuff you found into the shed first.”
They went inside the small deckhouse where Don had built in a workbench, and storage for all the tools and equipment a well-rigged diveboat should have.
Opening his collection bag, Tommy laid out the items he’d found in the U-boat captain’s locker: some metal buttons, some clips and pins and several other pieces that had once been military medals. Dex picked up one of the two Iron Crosses on the bench, held it up to the light.
“The Knight’s Cross,” he said. “You had to be a real hero-type to get one of these.”
“Must’ve been pinned to something hangin’ in that closet, huh?” Tommy said. “Looks like our captain was good at his job.”
“He brought a super-sized sub right up the gut of the Chesapeake Bay. I’d say he was real good.” Dex placed the steel box on the bench in front of him, then looked over the array of tools to see what would get him inside with a minimum of difficulty. There was always the cold chisel and hammer approach, or an oxy-acetylene cutting torch, but Dex didn’t want to get that physical if it wasn’t necessary.
As Tommy left to re-fill the tanks, Dex finished his inventory of all the onboard tools and things that would pretty much destroy the steel box as well as open it. He nixed every one of them. Something as well-machined as this container just might be holding something very valuable or very fragile. He didn’t want to do anything too violent that might destroy the contents.
Reluctantly, he replaced everything to the sample bag, and re-connected it to his belt. Despite its weight and unwieldiness, he figured it was safest close to his person. Dex had gotten this far in life listening to his gut and his hunches, and something was telling him to be very careful with the box and the brick.
“Hey,” said Tommy as he re-entered the deckhouse. “You get it open?”
Dex explained why he had not.
Tommy shrugged. “You’ll figure somethin’ out, I gotta feelin’. But if you don’t, I got some stuff in the basement at my place. My uncle used to be a machinist at the Key Highway Ship Yard. Long time ago.”
“Really?” Dex looked up with renewed interest.
“Yeah, when he left me the house, a buncha his tools were down there. I never got around to doin’ anything with’em.”
“Good to know. Maybe we can take a look later tonight.”
“Yeah, no prob.”
“You get the tanks going?”
“Oh, yeah. All set.” Tommy walked over to the bench, hands in his pockets, head down. “Hey, listen… about yesterday, I—”
“You already apologized. Just don’t do anything stupid again… or your diving career with me is going to have been a very short one.”
Tommy leaned against the bench. “I know, I know. I just want you to know I was listenin’. You won’t have any trouble outta me. No more, I promise.”
Dex looked at him. His lean, dark features were set in an all-business expression. “Okay, but like I always told my Navy swabs — don’t make promises, just do what’s expected, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Dex. Exactly what I plan to do.”
“Okay, okay. Now, let’s get up to the bridge and see how things are going down there.”
When they reached the bridge, they found Don Jordan hunched over the Divelink base unit, his left hand holding the headset tightly to his ear, and his attention obviously locked on what he was listening to.
“Don?” said Dex.
Jordan gestured quickly to be quiet for a moment. “Hold it!” he whispered.
Dex felt the muscles in his jaws tighten. Something was wrong. Moving quickly, he flipped a toggle on the base unit and the sounds in Don’s headset were now coming through the speakers. The divers were all talking at once, their voices edged with panic and fear. Andy Mellow’s voice seemed to penetrate the noise most efficiently: “—and get ’im the fuck outta there!”
“What’s going on?” said Dex, trying to sound very calm, while his stomach had already started folding in on itself.
For Dex, time had slipped its gears for an instant, grinding to a stop. Something was very wrong. For sure, somebody’d gotten their ass in a crack.
Don Jordan’s face had lost a lot of color as he looked up at them. “Mike’s fouled up in a bunch of cables and wires. The aft torpedo section.”
The base unit’s speaker blabbered with everybody talking at once.
“All right, can it!” Dex yelled as he picked up the base mic. “Andy! Kevin! What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” said Kevin. “Mike squeezed his way into the last compartment. Doc tried to stop him, but Mike didn’t pay any attention.”
“What’s his status?”
“He’s stuck in some lines, it looks like. The light’s bad in there and—”
“I think I cut a hose…”
Mike Bielski’s voice cut through the transmission like a dull knife. He sounded dreamy, exhausted, resigned.