Black Wind - Cussler Clive (книги полностью бесплатно txt) 📗
“Let me go with you,” Summer said. “You know that I can pilot anything under the sea.”
“It's just a two-seater, and Jack is the only one with experience in this thing. It's better that he and I go,” Dirk replied, nodding toward Dahlgren as he prepared the deep-probe submersible for launching. Grabbing his sister's hand, he looked deeply into her pearl gray eyes.
“Get ahold of Dad and tell him what happened. Tell him we need help right away.”
Giving his sister a quick embrace, he added quietly, “Make sure Burch keeps the Endeavor in a safe position even if something happens to us.”
“Be careful,” she said as he quickly climbed up and into the submersible, sealing the hatch behind him. Squirming into the pilot's seat beside Dahlgren, he saw that the submersible was fully powered up and ready to go.
“Thirty knots?” Dirk asked with skepticism.
“That's what the owner's manual states,” Jack Dahlgren replied, then turned and gave a thumbs-up signal through the view port window. On the stern of the Deep Endeavor, a crane operator nodded in reply and lifted the bright red submersible off the ship's deck and over the side, dropping it hurriedly into the ocean. The two men caught a quick glimpse of Summer waving to them on the deck before they were engulfed in the green water. With the NUMA ship's bow pointed toward the platform, the submersible was effectively blocked from view by the Deep Endeavor's superstructure and they were deployed without being seen. A diver in the water released the cable hook, then gave a rap on the side to signal they were free.
“Let's see what she'll deliver,” Dirk said, activating the six thrusters and pushing the throttles to their stops.
The cigar-shaped submarine surged rather than leaped forward, amid a whine of electric motors and rushing water. Dirk adjusted a pair of diving planes slightly until they were at a submerged depth of twenty feet, then followed a compass-directed path toward the wreck of the Narwhal.
Through his hands, the ride felt like driving a vacuum cleaner. The submersible bobbed and weaved through the current and maneuvered like they were in a bowl of molasses. But with the buzzing of the thrusters in his ears, there was no denying she was a speed demon. Even without a relative speed gauge inside the submersible, Dirk could tell from the water rushing past the view port that they were moving at a rapid clip.
“I told you she was a thoroughbred,” Dahlgren grinned as he monitored an elapsed time clock on the console. Turning serious, he added, “We should be approaching Narwhal's position in about sixty seconds.” Dirk gradually eased off the throttles a minute later, throwing the motors into idle as the Badger's forward momentum waned. Floating to the surface, Dahlgren adjusted the ballast tanks to keep them low in the water in order to remain as covert as possible. With his expert touch, the submersible just barely broke the surface, showing less than a foot of its topside surfaces above the water.
A few yards in front of them, they could see the demolished hull of the smoldering Narwhal, her stern raised high in the air at an awkward angle. Dirk and Dahlgren barely had a chance to gaze at the hulk before her stern tipped upward even higher, then the entire remnant slipped quietly under the waves. Scattered about was a handful of floating debris, some smoldering but none larger than a doormat. Dirk guided the Badger in a small circle around the wreckage, but there was no sign of life in the water. Dahlgren solemnly radioed Aimes on the Deep Endeavor and reported that all appeared lost in the explosion.
“Captain Burch asks that we return to the Deep Endeavor at once,” Dahlgren added.
Dirk acted as if he didn't hear the comment and guided the submersible closer to the platform. From their vantage point low in the water, there was little on the platform deck they could see beyond the top half of the Zenit and the upper portion of the hangar. But suddenly he halted the Badger and pointed a finger past the rocket.
“Look, up there.”
Dahlgren peered past the rocket but just saw the roof of the hangar and an empty helipad. Squinting harder, he gazed down slightly. Then it struck him. The large digital launch clock that read 00:52:00, fifty-two minutes.
“That thing is going to fire off in less than an hour!” he exclaimed, watching the seconds tick down lower.
“We've got to stop it,” Dirk said, a tinge of anger in his voice.
“We'll have to get aboard and quick. Though I don't know about you, pardner, but I don't know a thing about missiles or platform launches.”
“Can't be anything more than a little rocket science,” Dirk replied with a grimace, then jammed the submersible's throttles forward, surging the Badger toward the platform.
The metallic red submersible surfaced again near the stern of the platform almost directly beneath the launch tower and Zenit rocket. Dirk and Dahlgren peered up at a large set of panels that protruded from the underside of the platform just below the base of the rocket. The flame deflector was designed to divert and dampen the rocket's fiery thrust, directing the launch tempest through the platform to the ocean below. Thousands of gallons of fresh water were released seconds before launch into the trench to help cool the exposed portions of the platform during the blazing inferno during the rocket's slow rise off the pad.
“Remind me not to park here when that torch goes off,” Dahlgren said, trying to visualize the conflagration that would surround them if the rocket was ignited.
“You don't have to ask twice,” Dirk replied.
Their attention turned to the platform's thick support columns,
searching for a way up to the main deck. Dahlgren was the first to spot the Koguryo's tender, tied up at the opposite side of the platform.
“I think I see a stairwell on that forward column where the boat's tied up,” he said.
Dirk took a quick bearing, then submerged the Badger and quickly ran her between the Odyssey's sunken pontoons to the bow end of the platform. Bobbing to the surface, they rose just astern of the white tender, where they floated cautiously eyeing the other craft.
“I don't think anyone is home,” Dirk said, satisfied the boat was empty. “Care to tie us off?”
Before he could get an answer, Dahlgren had already opened the submersible's top hatch and climbed out. Dirk purged the Badger's tanks of all seawater to attain maximum buoyancy, then nudged the submersible forward till he tapped the stern of the tender. Dahlgren immediately hopped from the sub to the boat, then from the boat to the platform, tightly clutching a mooring line while he moved. Dirk quickly shut down the submersible's power systems and climbed onto the platform as Dahlgren tied off the mooring line.
“This way to the penthouse,” Dahlgren said in a gentlemanly tone as he motioned an arm toward the adjacent stairwell. Climbing onto the metal stairs, the two men moved rapidly, racing up the steps in a measured pace, while careful to minimize the clamor of their movements. Reaching the top flight of steps, they stopped for a moment and caught their breath, then stepped onto the exterior deck of the platform.
Standing on the forward corner of the platform, they came eye to eye with two enormous cigar-shaped fuel tanks that were encompassed by a maze of pipes and tubing. The massive white tanks stored the Zenit's flammable diet of kerosene and liquid oxygen. Beyond the tanks, at the rear of the platform, they saw the Zenit itself standing like a lonely monolith surrounded by open deck. They stood for a moment, mesmerized by the size and sheer power of the rocket with out even considering the lethality of its payload. Dirk then looked up at the hangar towering beside them, capped by a helipad at its forward edge.
“I'm pretty sure the bridge sits above the hangar. That's where we need to get to.”
