“Is there any question?”
Kepinsky shook his head emphatically. “None at all; our own equipment was the first to detect the leak. They are working to repair it very efficiently; they have no desire to have a disaster in their own community. If they fail they will all die and so will many others all around here.”
“You are taking a chance, are you not?”
“Yes, but it is my duty. You can read the meter for yourself.”
The security man was satisfied. As he turned his vehicle around he reflected on the fact that it was his good fortune that he was not a nuclear expert. If Kepinsky lived through it the rot might still be buried deep in the marrow of his bones and there was a good chance that he would never sire any more children. He left the area at a steady pace and was grateful that the security headquarters lay on the other side of a low hill.
With the day crew no longer in evidence, the night settled down to stillness and waiting. A truck arrived from the cafeteria and set up a chow line of sorts to feed the men who were working inside the ship. When the word was passed they came up in small groups, ate hastily, and then went back below again. They showed the strain of their work on their faces and Kepinsky did not envy them. He kept no count of the number that ate, but it would not have helped him if he had because he did not know the exact number of men who were working down inside the pressure hull. He therefore was unaware that one man chose not to show himself. This man’s features were somewhat distinctive and his smaller build was in contrast to some of the others’. Because there was a slight element of risk, he chose to go hungry.
The commander had left together with his omnipresent shadow, the overseer, who followed him even when he went to the latrine. A small handful of guards remained on duty, but they were relaxing as much as they dared. The depressive effect of the inert night was thick in the air. A small truck came with a relief gun crew which took over the heavy fieldpiece on the extreme end of the pier, exercised it briefly, and then settled in to maintain watch for the next several hours.
On the side of the hull of the submarine two light taps followed after a pause by a third drew a prompt reaction from the man who was stationed to listen for that signal. He reported at once to the exec. “Sir, the Seals report ready to come aboard.” He did not elaborate; to do so would have been unnecessary. The word was passed to the con and to the captain that Seal recovery was under way.
From the starboard sail door a thin line was tossed into the water. When the man who had thrown it felt a pull on the other end he carefully scanned the visible area and saw no evidence of any observers. He gave a quick tug and then watched as a man in SCUBA gear appeared almost silently out of the water. When he was safely inside the procedure was repeated. The lead diver was the last to come up, his flippers also leaving froglike marks on the otherwise dry decking.
At almost the same moment a crew of two men came up from the rear hatch, activated a hose, and began to wash down the above-water part of the decking. Kepinsky silently approved of that; decontamination washing had been going on off and on since shortly after the men from Mare Island had arrived. Three minutes later there was no sign whatever that anyone had made use of the sail door or left footprints of any kind.
Inside the con the lead diver was making his report. “The screw is clear; the chain that was fouling it was equipped with an electrical circuit, but I shorted it out. Before we came back on board we made a full inspection of the hull to the best of our ability. Everything looked all right.”
“That’s fine, Hank,” the captain said. “You know the importance of what you did. When you’ve changed and your hair is dry, you’ll find some chow up on the pier.”
“We can use that, sir. How’s everything else coming?”
“So far, on schedule. But we don’t know what they may do at any time.”
“Is the diversion all set?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to use it except as a last resort; it’s too risky for the personnel involved. Pass the word I said ‘well done.’ ” “Ay, ay, sir.”
Some twenty minutes later Kepinsky decided that it was time for him to make another inspection. Once more he had to go through the business of getting into a decontamination suit; by the time he was ready to go below the necessary preparations for his visit had been made. The light-up was well advanced, but as much as possible had been done to mask that fact; Kepinsky would have to be alert indeed to detect what was actually going on. If he did, then he would have to meet with an incapacitating accident almost at once — a dangerous procedure, but under the given circumstances there would be no choice.
Fortunately that drastic procedure did not prove necessary; the enemy nuclear specialist spent only sixteen minutes below this time, and it was his extreme good fortune to meet the chief of the night security force just as he was returning to the pier. At first the security chief did not recognize Kepinsky, but when he pulled off his headpiece and came up to him, it was proof positive that he had been diligently on the job. The security man had a brief visit with him and then left rather quickly, particularly since Kepinsky had said something about stray radiation sticking to his garments. The security chief confirmed the report of his man who had been down on the dock previously that Kepinsky was letting nothing get by him and that the nuclear trouble was very real. He was also convinced that the men at work were doing their utmost best to prevent a catastrophe and that they would in all probability succeed. He fervently hoped so, because he had only recently arrived in this new land where there were so many highly attractive girls, and as yet he had not had an opportunity to go to bed with even one of them.
The few security personnel stationed on the pier were relieved and replaced; a few more men from the submarine came up and ate. After that the food was taken away and the night was still. Kepinsky was grateful that it was not colder; as it was he felt a decided chill and knew that it would be much worse before morning. He had not dressed for this sort of thing and his native pride would not allow’him to borrow anything other than the essential decontamination suit from the subjugated personnel.
But he did not go away. He remained stubbornly on duty because he had not been relieved and no one had told him that his job was finished.
Below decks his continuing presence forced a firm decision. “If he shows again,” Morrison said, “we’ll have to pull the emergency isotope to chase him out of here, and that will make things a lot harder all around. If we can’t do that, then we have no other choice than to take him out of the picture.”
The exec agreed. “I can’t see it any other way — in fact I’d save the isotope for a last-resort stand. He’s the enemy and I know it, although he’s individually a decent enough guy.”
“When it hits the fan they’ll shoot him anyway, so it doesn’t make much difference.”
“True.” The exec looked again at his watch and made a decision. “Things are getting too close now for us to play any more games. If he wants to come down, do everything that you can to discourage him short of giving the show away. If he won’t be persuaded, then we’ll simply have to take the only way out.”
Morrison agreed. “I’ll set it up. We have a plan ready.”
“It’s in your hands.”
At three-thirty in the morning the night security chief decided to have another look, not because he wanted to, but because he knew that he might be criticized if he didn’t. He took a Jeep and went back to the pier where Kepinsky was still visible in the near darkness. The floodlight had been turned off shortly after midnight in accordance with the usual procedure since the graveyard shift had been shut down. The few security guards were silent and still, on duty but not within earshot. “Any changes?” he asked.