Devil's Gate

The captain and Joe seemed to like the plan. Pitt remained silent.

“Director?” the captain said.

“Sounds like a huge risk,” Dirk said. “Easier to get some ASW patrols from shore-based aircraft.”

“All that’ll do is scare them off,” Kurt said. “This way, we find out who they are and where they’re from.”

“And how do you plan on getting out there without tipping your hand?” Pitt asked. “They’ll expect something the moment you leave port.”

Kurt smiled and glanced at Joe. “We’ll take the Barracuda,” he said.

32

Santa Maria Island, Vila do Porto, June 24

AFTER CONCLUDING THEIR PLANNING SESSION in the conference room, Kurt, Joe, and the captain broke away to handle different tasks. Joe went to the Argo’s machine shop to get working on a transmitter that would be powerful enough to hang onto the back of a submarine making 25 knots and also small enough to go unnoticed. He promised a miracle within the hour.

The captain ordered the Argo darkened to a normal state and then made contact with the Vila do Porto police. He requested two cars be sent out and parked at the dockside with their lights flashing. He assumed that would help keep any trouble away and also distract anyone who was watching while the Barracuda was quietly slipped into the water.

Meanwhile, Kurt walked Katarina to the end of the dock, waiting for a car to arrive.

“Your chaperone,” he said, avoiding the word handler.

“I’m not a spy,” she insisted, “but it seems all my life I’ve had someone watching me.” “How do you deal with it?” Kurt asked.

“I’m used to it,” she said. “But you can’t imagine how hard it was to go on a date in Torino.” He had to laugh. “And this guy?”

“Sergei,” she said. “Major Sergei Komarov.” Sounded like a good strong KGB/FSB enforcer. For the first time in his life Kurt felt glad about that.

“Stay close to Sergei,” he said. “Keep your doors locked. I’m pretty sure these people have bigger fish to fry right now, but you never know. They know you’ve seen them, even if it was from a distance and in low light.” “I will,” she said.

“Want to tell me why you were diving on that Constellation?” She smiled, shook her head. “The major might not like that.” “Well, maybe tomorrow or the next day,” he said.

The sad look returned to her eyes. “If I’m right, we’ll be leaving in the morning. I might not see you again.” “Don’t count on that,” Kurt said. “I’ve always wanted to see Russia as a tourist. Maybe even come in the winter and get one of those giant fur hats.” “Come see me,” she said, “I promise you won’t need a hat to keep you warm.” The car arrived.

Sergei got out and stood by the door. Katarina gave Kurt a long kiss and then climbed in.

Thirty minutes later it was all a memory as Kurt and Joe raced through the ink-black Atlantic waters in the Barracuda, making their way to the tower of magnetic rock. They reached it in just under two hours, approaching the area with caution.

“I’m not hearing anything on the sonar array,” Joe said.

“If they were on-site already, it would probably sound like a working gravel pit,” Kurt said. “At least if they’re planning on getting any large amount of material out.” “We should be in visual range,” Kurt said. “Flip on the lights.” Joe switched them on, and the long, thin beams of yellowish light sprayed out over the underwater landscape. Once again, Kurt marveled at the sight of ship carcasses littering the seafloor. He’d once been fortunate enough to dive on Truk Lagoon, site of a World War II battle where the U.S. Navy had sunk sixty Japanese ships and downed over two hundred aircraft. The wrecks were more spread out than this Devil’s Gate, but it was the closest thing he could think of to what he was seeing now.

“Let’s set down beside the wreck of that old Liberty ship,” Joe said. “From there we’ll be almost invisible.” Kurt looked down at the diagram of where the wrecks lay. With an expert hand he glided the Barracuda to a spot of sand right beside the great ship. Putting down, he had the odd feeling of being a guppy in a fish tank, settling in beside the ubiquitous sunken ship with a great hole in the side.

“Cut the lights,” he said.

Joe hit a few switches, and the Barracuda went instantly and absolutely dark.

Kurt held up his hand to test the old adage about not being able to see your hand in front of your face. Down here, at least, with daylight yet to break, it was true.

“How much air do we have?” he asked.

“Just under ten hours,” Joe said.

“Well,” Kurt said, trying to get comfortable, “nothing to do now but wait.”

FOUR HOURS LATER Kurt felt a tap on the shoulder from Joe. They’d decided to sleep in two-hour shifts. Kurt hoped Joe’s tap meant their guests had arrived.

“Something happening?” he asked, straightening and banging his head on the canopy and then his knee on the panel in front of him.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “The sun’s coming up.”

Kurt looked up. A smidgen of light could be seen filtering in from above. And while it was still dark enough down below that the only light he could see came from the glowing phosphors on his dive watch, he noticed the time was almost seven a.m. It had to be plenty bright up top.

He tried to stretch again, but it was no use. “Next time you design a sub, try including a little headroom.” “Absolutely,” Joe said.

“This is worse than an economy flight to Australia.” “At least they serve food on those,” Joe said, “even if it’s just peanuts.” “Yeah,” Kurt said, thinking they could have planned better. Honestly, he hadn’t thought they’d need to. His biggest fear was that they would have arrived and found the killers already at work, which would have made their job either a lot harder or impossible.

“I don’t get this,” he said. “I would have thought they’d use every minute to mine what they could. You hear anything on the hydrophones?” “Nope,” Joe said.

“You sure?”

“I’ve had these headphones on so long, I think they’ve melded with my brain,” Joe said. “But nothing’s going on out there except a few fish swimming around and mating.” “You can actually hear them mating?” Kurt asked.

“Just the groovy music in the background,” Joe said, “but I know what they’re doing.” Too much time sitting alone, listening to the sounds of the sea, had obviously warped his friend’s brain. He rubbed his eyes and blinked repeatedly. Too much time, he thought.

“They’re not coming,” he said. “Turn on the lights.” “You sure?”

“At this point they’d barely have time to mine anything before they’d have to move out,” he said. “So much for my big idea.” Joe started with the running lights and the low-level dash illumination.

Once their eyes adjusted to the presence of the minor lights, Joe flicked on the main exterior lights, and the area right around them lit up in the familiar yellow-green.

“Nothing’s changed,” Kurt said, half expecting the tower of magnetic rock to have disappeared out from under their noses. It still loomed in the distance like a monolith.

Kurt looked to the right, gazing at the dark shadow of the Liberty ship they’d sidled up to. A gaping wound below the waterline seemed to have been the fatal blow to this particular vessel. For a second he wondered if it