Dangerous Ground

can even identify the type of reactor they came from.”

She held up the printout. “This gamma-ray spectrum analysis doesn’t show any of the elements that we’d expect from any type of nuclear fuel, spent or otherwise. It’s remarkably uniform, too uniform. Emily, have you double-checked the results?”

“I triple-checked it, Doctor. There was no trace of fission products, activation products, uranium or any of the other plutonium isotopes. The readings are consistent with essentially pure plutonium-239-weapons-grade plutonium-239.”

Jerry’s mind raced as Emily delivered the stark conclusion of her analysis. Pu-239 is one of many plutonium isotopes that typically showed up in small amounts in spent nuclear fuel, particularly fuel that had a lot of Uranium-238 in it. They had found trace amounts of Pu-239, along with five other isotopes, on the seabed at many of the sites they had surveyed. But it was impossible for concentrated Pu-239 to exist in spent fuel. It had to be extracted and purified, and this took human effort. He watched Captain Hardy go through the same thought process and saw his expression become a mixture of caution and concern. “What’s the chance of a false reading?”

Patterson answered. “None. The tests are based. ”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He looked around, then asked the group, “Can anyone think of a good reason, no matter how bizarre, for weapons-grade nuclear material to be on a sunken barge in the Kara Sea?” He turned to face Bair. “XO?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons, but none of them are good.” Bair smiled as he said it, but it was a worried smile.

Patterson was pale, but spoke firmly. “Captain, we have to go back and find out every scrap of information about that barge. When it was scuttled, exactly what is in the hold, what’s in those cases. ”

Hardy cut her off. “I agree. I don’t like it. In fact, I hate it, but I agree. Mr. Mitchell, get the Manta back here ASAP Use maximum speed. XO, as soon as the Manta’s recovered, head Memphis toward the barge. Work with Mr. O’Connell to find the closest spot on the forty-fathom curve to the barge’s location. I want a fast approach and a clear exit path.”

Hardy stopped to look at Jerry. “Mister, what are you still doing here?” Jerry took that as a dismissal. As he left, he heard Hardy say, “And get me the COB!”

As soon as the Manta was stowed, Memphis began working her way toward the barge and into shallow water. As nervous as Hardy was about shallow water, the divers would need as short a swim as possible. It would also reduce the time that Memphis was vulnerable, with men outside her hull.

The XO led a hasty planning meeting in the wardroom. Jerry immediately volunteered to be one of the divers, but Bair killed the idea. “We’ll need you here to drive the Manta, Jerry. You are going to carry the swimmers over to the barge and bring them back.”

He turned to Reynolds. “COB, how fast can the Manta go with you and Harris hanging on?” ET2 Harris was the third ship’s diver. “The Manta can do up to twenty.”

The COB smiled and said, “Anything over five knots will require a harness. If we rig harnesses to the attachment points and it tows us, maybe ten knots. But I’d want to work up to that speed slowly,” he added quickly.

One of the quartermasters hurriedly knocked on the wardroom door and leaned in. “XO, the Captain says we’ll be on station in twenty-five minutes.”

The XO looked at Davis. “You’ll need to launch one of the ROVs first. We’ll need its camera and lights for the COB and Harris so they can rig the Manta and attach themselves to it.”

“They can only do that after I’ve launched it,” Jerry reminded him. “The docking skirt is too close to the tie- down points. They’re the same ones they use to hoist the Manta off the boat.”

“Understood,” answered the XO, “just hold it steady for them.”

Reynolds didn’t look happy. “XO, sir, this is a really complicated dive. We’re moving too fast. I can’t build a proper dive plan. What if we leave a tool behind on the sub? What if the Russians show up again? What about the crates?”

Bair nodded. “I agree with you, COB, but the Captain wants this done ASAP. I’m beginning to agree with him that the Bear was no accident. We’re on borrowed time. We do this quickly, then we leave the neighborhood forthwith.”

He sighed. “Dr. Patterson’s rigging a sample container that will be radiation-proof. We’re hoping that whatever’s in those crates will fit inside. You’ll have cameras to take photographs. Dr Davis will monitor the radiation with the ROV and will flash the danger sign if the reading is too high. And the instant you get that signal, you drop everything and hop the Manta for a fast ride home. We’ll stand by with a decontamination team ready, just in case.”

The meeting ended as quickly as it had been held. Davis went to help Patterson and Jerry went aft to help the COB and Harris with their preparations.

Sometimes it is necessary for men to go topside when a submarine is underway. Because of the low freeboard and the chance of being washed over the side, subs carry safety harnesses. Similar to a parachute rig, they could be attached to a special track in the hull. It was simple to adapt two so they could use the lift points on the Manta. What wasn’t simple was fitting the harnesses to Reynolds and Harris on top of all their diving gear.

By the time they arranged the straps so they didn’t interfere with the tanks or tools or the ability to move, Hardy was calling for Jerry to launch the Manta.

“I don’t have a camera, but the passive sonar should pick up taps on the hull,” Jerry reminded them.

“Yessir,” answered the COB. “Just keep the active sonar off while we are in front of the Manta. I hate getting pinged. It feels like someone is hitting you with a two-by-four.” At close range, the pressure wave generated by an active sonar could stun a diver.

Jerry grinned reassuringly. “I’ll pull the breaker and red-tag the switch.” Then more seriously, he added, “I wish I was going with you, Master Chief.”

“In a sense, you will be, since you’ll be flying that UUV that we’ll be riding — and that’s pretty important to Harris and me.” Reynolds then reached over and grasped Jerry by the shoulder. “Actually, I’m glad you’ll be on the boat.” Jerry’s puzzled expression caused Reynolds to grin. “Mr. Mitchell, you’re damn good with that Manta. Not to put you under any undue pressure, mind you, but I’m expecting you to bring us home.”

Reynolds extended his hand; Jerry grasped it firmly and said, “Count on it, COB. Good luck and be safe.”

“Always, sir,” said Reynolds, winking.

Jerry turned and left them by the forward escape trunk with two enlisted men. Between the COB and Harris and net full- of tools, it would take two cycles to get them all outside.

By the time he reached the torpedo room, Emily already had Huey out and trained on the Manta hangar. Jerry started the launch sequence and realized that although he’d watched films of the prototype Manta being launched, he’d actually never seen the launch from Memphis.

The hangar was a raised rectangle halfway back the hull, about where it started narrowing toward the screw at the stern. The Manta nestled in a cutout, half-buried to reduce drag and flow noise when Memphis was underway. As Jerry released the latches, the Manta, slightly buoyant, slowly floated up and away.

The standard launch sequence automatically positioned the Manta five hundred yards off the sub’s port or starboard beam. This was out of the question, so instead Jerry overrode the sequence and just did his best to hold the UUV stationary over the aft hull. He resisted the temptation to bring the Manta forward to the divers. They’d discussed it in the wardroom, but even with the ROV’s camera to help him see, it wasn’t built for close-in maneuvering. He couldn’t guarantee that the Manta wouldn’t strike the sub — or God forbid, one of the divers.

Memphis floated, dead in the water and neutrally buoyant, in forty fathoms of water. Although Hardy would have preferred hugging the bottom, he’d brought her shallow, to a keel depth of eighty feet. Since Memphis stood sixty feet from her keel to the top of the sail, that left precious little water above them, but it made the divers’ job a lot easier. At sixty feet, they had almost an hour to get to the barge, enter, open a crate, retrieve a sample, and then return. At a depth of ninety feet, they would have had only thirty minutes.

It was hard to trim the Manta to neutral buoyancy. Jerry found he had to use a little motion to keep the slightly buoyant UUV from rising. He concentrated on keeping the nose down and moving as slowly as possible. He