Mick opened up his computer tablet. “Here’s the schematics of the Big Dipper. Our tunnel draws directly below the subterranean pyramid — about ten feet below. For our blasting to cause that type of damage between the two structures, there would have to be an opening somewhere already.”
“Perhaps the Mayans maintained a storeroom underneath the pyramid that we would be able to see?” Mick asked.
“It’s highly possible,” Sam accepted. “So, you were considering sending in a team of miners, who would be willing to take the risk of entering the mine and blasting the roof in from about 50 feet below the pyramid?”
“Yes.”
“Mick, you pointed out that the risk would be high, and failure would result in the flooding of your entire mine.” Sam saw Mick nod in agreement and then, pointing to the diagram of the pyramid, asked, “What if we blocked the entrance to the pyramid here, and here?”
“Then, the pyramid would remain lost forever?” Mick asked.
“No, then your team could go in and seal the mine from below, losing no more than 50 feet of your long wall. Once that was complete, we would remain with a team of archeologists to remove the blocked entrance and explore the Mayan tomb.”
“How soon can you do it?” Mick asked, his eyes wide with respect.
Tom looked at his engineer, “Veyron — what do you think?”
“I need to build the steel framework and then pump the concrete. Ideally, I’ll need about three days, given the location.”
Sam looked back at Mick to see if that would meet his new friend’s approval.
It looked like Mick hadn’t heard it. Instead he was speaking on his cell phone, his body tense with anxiety. “I understand. Do what you can — pull everyone out.”
“What’s happened?” Sam asked.
“That was my underground manager. The water’s just burst through the tunnel.”
“Shit. Okay, at least you got your workers out…”
“That’s just it though… my underground manager just told me he pulled them from the Big Dipper, and moved them to Mine Shaft Four. He thought it would be safe there, because of the twenty miles between the two shafts. But that amount of water will fill that distance quick.”
“Okay, how long do we have?”
“Maybe an hour, at best.”
“Can’t he just pull them out now?”
“No, the entrance is blocked by the oncoming water. They’re trapped literally below the torrent of water.”
“He thought he’d move them to safety, by mining below the water line?” Sam said, with no attempt to hide the contempt from his voice.
“Mining is expensive. He was just trying to maintain production.” Michael spoke honestly, and without shame. It was obvious that mining was a hard man’s game. “Now, what are we able to do about it?”
Sam looked at Veyron again.
“It will break my heart, Sam, but we could use the Sea Witch to block the entrance to the pyramid. Her solid steel hull would plug the entrance.”
“Do it.” Sam said, without another thought for the destruction of his 5-million-dollar machine.
Tom climbed down the reinforced steel hatch, and into Sea Witch’s cockpit.
In the pilot seat, Sam sat, already commencing the startup procedure. Behind him, Veyron was going over a final check of the submarine. Next to Veyron rested a single piece of scrap paper — on top of which, a number of algorithms and mathematical equations were scribbled in careless handwriting.
Ordinarily, he would trust the man’s calculations with the confidence that came by working with an expert, but on a complex dive like this, they might usually have weeks of preparation. Today’s mission was determined out of necessity, after discovering they had less than an hour to save the lives of more than 1000 people.
The cable and hooks were attached to the submarine, ready for launch. Tom felt the sub shift as he strapped himself into the copilot seat.
“Well gentlemen, I guess that’s my cue,” Veyron said. “This is where I get off.”
“Thanks, Veyron,” Sam said without looking up from the instruments he was checking.
“Hey Veyron.” Tom stopped him, for a second.
“Yeah?”
“How confident are you that this crazy scheme's going to work?”
“That the Sea Witch will block the entrance to the pyramid?” Veyron frowned, narrowed his eyes and glanced up and to the left. He appeared to be performing mental arithmetic. “I’d say, at least 95 %.”
“That’s sounds all right.”
“But that the structure of the Sea Witch will maintain its ability to withhold the pressure, and you aren’t crushed to death? I’d say, definitely better than 50:50.” Without waiting for Tom’s response, he then climbed the last rungs of the ladder, and said, “Best of luck, gentlemen.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Tom replied.
Sam grinned. “Those odds aren’t too bad. Tom and I have survived worse.
Above, Veyron closed the first hatch. The ratcheting, grinding sound of the mechanical locking mechanism being engaged echoed in Sam’s ears as its twelve hydraulic locks slid into place. The first red flashing light turned to green.
Tom started work on his safety check sheet. As the submarine shifted under the crane’s steel wire, swinging mildly, he lurched but didn’t let the movement distract him.
Above, the second light switched green — confirming that the airlock and outer hatch were both sealed.
“Maria Helena, this is Sea Witch, ready for launch.” Sam’s voice was slow and confident, as though he were on any other mission.
“Sea Witch, we’re commencing lowering now.” Tom could hear the concern in Matthew’s otherwise controlled voice. He was glad that Sam had left Matthew in charge of the mission room — not that he was in a position to help them if something went wrong.
The motorized winch crank could be heard gently running out the cable until the Sea Witch reached the moon pool’s surface. The left porthole disappeared under the splashing water, and then the Sea Witch started to float.
Sam turned on each of the propellers, confirming that she was ready to maneuver herself, and then said, “Maria Helena, we’re ready to disengage.”
“Copy, Sea Witch, disengaging now.”
They took one last glance topside through the small porthole, which allowed the submarine’s occupants to observe the attachment of the crane’s cables. Tom saw Veyron, thumbs up, giving the all clear sign.
“Sea Witch, you’re clear. Best of luck.”
Sam arched an eyebrow. “You ready, Tom?”
“Yep, let’s do this.”
Sam flooded the main diving chambers. Immediately the Sea Witch began sinking.
Tom looked at Sam, who was now whistling, as the submarine dived, and said, “So, 50:50 chance we don’t get crushed to death before we exit the escape hatch, hey? How do you feel about those odds?”
Sam grinned and Tom shook his head. Sam was giving him that damn demonic smile, the smile of a madman about to do something stupid and try to get away with it. But in Sam’s case, he usually did.
“Listen here, Tom, and I’ll tell you exactly how we’re going to pull this off.”
Michael answered the phone.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Rodriguez, the water has reached mine shaft number two and it’s already starting to overflow into three!” His underground manager sounded out of breath. “Once it reaches number four, there’s nothing we can do for the men below.”
“Reilly’s in the water. They should have the hole blocked within the next 45 minutes…”
“And if they don’t succeed in the next thirty, about 1000 miners are going to die.”
“Understood, Roberto.”