decade.
'God damn,' Admiral Sandecker had thundered. 'I'd give up a year's salary if I could join you men.'
A figure of speech, Giordino reflected. Next to Sandecker, Ebenezer Scrooge spent money like a drunken sailor. Giordino relaxed in a deep leather sofa and tuned into the admiral's briefing, while idly blowing smoke rings between puffs on a giant cigar, lifted from a box on Sandecker's immense desk when everyone's attention was focused on a wall map of the Atlantic Ocean.
'Well, there she is.' Sandecker rapped the pointer loudly on the map for the second time. 'The Lorelei Current. She's born off the western tip of Africa, follows the mid-Atlantic ridge north, then curves easterly between Baffin Island and Greenland, and then dies in the Labrador Sea.'
Giordino said 'I don't hold a degree in oceanography, Admiral, but it would seem that the Lorelei converges with the Gulf Stream.'
'Not hardly. The Gulf Stream is surface water. The Lorelei is the coldest, heaviest water in the world's oceans, averaging fourteen thousand feet in depth.'
'Then the Lorelei crosses under the Gulf Stream,' Spencer said softly. It was the first time in the briefing he had spoken.
'That seems reasonable.' Sandecker paused, smiled benevolently, then continued 'The ocean is basically made up of two layers-a surface or upper layer, heated by the sun and thoroughly churned by winds, and a cold, very dense layer consisting of intermediate, deep and bottom water. And the two never mix.'
'Sounds very dull and forbidding,' Munk said. 'The mere fact that some character with a black sense of humor named the current after a Rhine nymph who lured sailors onto the rocks makes it the last place I'd want to visit.'
A grim smile crawled slowly over Sandecker's griffin face. 'Get used to the name, gentlemen, because deep in the Lorelei's gut is where we're going to spend fifty days. Where you're going to spend fifty days.'
'Doing what?' Woodson asked defiantly.
'The Lorelei Current Drift Expedition is exactly what it sounds like. You men will descend in a deepwater submersible five hundred miles northwest of the coast of Dakar and begin a submerged cruise in the current. Your main job will be to monitor and test the sub and its equipment. If there are no malfunctions that would necessitate cutting short the mission, you should surface around the middle of September in the approximate center of the Labrador Sea.'
Merker cleared his throat softly. 'No submersible has stayed that long that deep.'
'You want to back out, Sam?'
'Well . . . no.'
'This is a volunteer expedition. Nobody is twisting your arm to go.'
'Why us, Admiral?' Ben Drummer uncoiled his lean frame from the floor where he had been comfortably stretched. 'Ah'm a marine engineer. Spencer here is an equipment engineer. And Merker is a systems expert. Ah can't see where we fit in.'
'You're all professionals in your respective capacities. Woodson is also a photographer. The Sappho I will be carrying a number of photographic systems. Munk is the best instrument-component man in the agency. And, you'll all be under the command of Rudi Gunn, who has captained, at one time or another, every research ship in NUMA.
'That leaves me,' Giordino said.
Sandecker glared at the cigar jutting from Giordino's mouth, recognized it as one from his private brand, and gave him a withering look that was completely ignored. 'As assistant projects director for the agency, you'll be in overall charge of the mission. You can also make yourself useful by piloting the craft.'
Giordino smiled devilishly and stared back. 'My pilot's license authorizes me to fly airplanes not submarines.'
The admiral stiffened ever so slightly. 'You'll just have to trust my judgment, won't you?' Sandecker said coldly. 'Besides, what matters most is that you're the best crew I've got on hand at the moment. You all worked together on the Beaufort Sea Expedition. You are men with heavy experience and records of ability and ingenuity. You can operate every instrument, every piece of oceanographic equipment yet invented-we'll let the scientists analyze the data you bring back-and, as I mentioned, naturally you're all volunteers.'
'Naturally,' Giordino echoed, his face deadpan.
Sandecker went back behind his desk. 'You will assemble and begin procedure training at our Key West port facility the day after tomorrow. The Pelholme Aircraft Company has already run extensive diving tests on the submersible, so you need only concern yourselves with familiarization of the equipment and instruction on the experiments you'll conduct during the expedition.'
Spencer whistled through his teeth. 'An aircraft company? Holy God, what do they know about designing a deep-sea submersible?'
'For your peace of mind,' Sandecker said patiently, 'Pelholme turned its aerospace technology toward the sea ten years ago. Since then, they've constructed four underwater environmental laboratories and two extremely successful submersibles for the Navy.'
'They'd best have built this one good,' Merker said. 'I'd be most distressed to find that it leaked at fourteen thousand feet.'
'Scared shitless, you mean,' Giordino mumbled.
Munk rubbed his eyes, then stared at the floor, as though he saw the bottom of the sea in the carpet. When he spoke, his words came very slowly 'Is this trip really necessary, Admiral?'
Sandecker nodded solemnly. 'It is. Oceanographers need a picture of the structure of the Lorelei's flow pattern to improve their knowledge of deep-ocean circulation. Believe me, this mission is as important as the first manned orbit around the earth. Besides testing the world's most advanced submersible, you'll be visually recording and mapping an area never before seen by man. Forget your doubts. The Sappho I has every safety feature built into her hull that science can devise. You have my personal guarantee of a safe and comfortable voyage.'
That's easy for him to say, Giordino thought idly. He won't be there.
24
Henry Munk shifted his muscular frame to a different position on a long vinyl pad, stifled a yawn, and continued to stare out the Sappho I's aft viewport. The flat, unending sediment was about as interesting as a book without printed pages, but Munk took delight in the knowledge that every tiny mound, every rock or occasional denizen of the deep that passed beneath the thick plexiglas had never before been seen by man. It was a small but satisfying reward for the long, boring hours he'd spent scanning an array of detection instruments mounted on both sides above the pad.
Reluctantly, he forced his eyes from the viewport and focused them on the instruments the S-T-SV-D sensor had been operating constantly during the mission, measuring the outside salinity, temperature, sound velocity, and depth pressure on a magnetic tape; the sub-bottom profiler that acoustically determined the depth of the top sediments and provided indications of the underlying structure of the sea floor's surface; the gravimeter that ticked off the gravity readings every quarter mile; the current sensor that kept its sensitive eye on the speed of the Lorelei Current and direction; and the magnetometer, a sensor for measuring and recording the bottom's magnetic field, including any deviations caused by localized metal deposits.
Munk almost missed it. The movement of the stylus on the magnetometer's graph was so slight, barely a tiny millimeter of a squibble, that he would have missed it completely if his eyes hadn't locked on the recording mark at exactly the right moment. Quickly, he threw his face against the viewport and peered at the sea floor. Then he turned and yelled at Giordino, who sat at the pilot's console only ten feet away. 'All stop!'
Giordino spun around and stared aft. All he could see were Munk's legs; the rest of him was buried among the instruments. 'What do you read?'
'We just passed over something that's metallic. Back her up for a closer look.'
'Easing her back,' Giordino said loudly so Munk could hear.
He engaged the two motors mounted on each side of the hull amidships, and set them at half-speed in reverse. For ten seconds, the Sappho I caught in the two-knot force of the current hung suspended, reluctant to move on her own. Then she began to forge backward very slowly against the relentless flow. Gunn and the others crowded around Munk's instrument tunnel.
'Make out anything?' Gunn asked.
