Treasure of Khan

traveling when I left the Vereshchagin.'

'We'll never make it to Listvyanka,' Tatiana quietly assessed.

'The lake broadens at the southern end, which will dissipate the wave toward the west. The closer we get to Listvyanka, the smaller the wave we'll have to navigate.'

But standing on the deck of the leaky fishing boat, Pitt secretly had doubts whether they could navigate a puddle. The old boat seemed to ride lower in the water by the minute. Its engine sputtered and coughed as if it would die at any moment. Wood rot was evident everywhere, and that was just what was visible above decks. Pitt could only imagine the feeble state of the timbers hidden below.

'We better prepare for a wild ride. Life jackets on everyone. Anything you don't want lost over the side should be secured to the deck or gunwales.'

Roy and Wofford quickly tied down their survey equipment with Theresa lending a hand. Tatiana rummaged around in the wheelhouse a few minutes, then returned on deck with an armful of aged life preservers.

'There are only four life jackets aboard,' she announced. 'The captain refuses to wear one, but we are still short a jacket,' she said, eyeing Pitt as the odd man out.

'Not to worry, I brought my own,' Pitt replied. While the survey team fastened their life jackets, Pitt kicked off his shoes and outer clothes and immodestly slid into a neoprene dry suit he pulled from his duffel bag.

'What's that noise?' Theresa asked.

Almost imperceptibly, a distant rumble echoed lightly across the lake. To Pitt, it sounded like a freight train rounding a faraway mountain curve. The rumble held constant, however, and grew ever so slightly louder.

Pitt knew without looking that their reprieve was over. The wave must have increased speed—and, with it, power—as it raced toward them, bearing down earlier than Rudi had estimated.

'There it is!' Roy yelled, pointing up the lake.

'It's huge,' Theresa gasped, shocked at the sight.

The wave wasn't a cresting white-capped breaker of the kind that surfers relish but, rather, an oddly smooth cylinder of liquid that rolled from shore to shore like a giant rolling pin. Even from a distance of twenty miles, the men and women on the fishing boat could see that the wave was massive, standing nearly forty feet high. The surreal image of the moving wall of water accompanied by its odd rumble caused everyone to freeze and stare in awe. Everyone but Pitt.

'Tatiana, tell the captain to turn the bow into the wave,' he ordered. The crusty captain, his eyes the size of a pair of hubcaps, quickly swung the wheel over. Pitt knew the odds were stacked against the aged and waterlogged vessel. But as long as there was hope, he was determined to try to keep everyone alive.

The first challenge was to keep everyone aboard. Scanning the deck, Pitt zeroed in on an old fishing net coiled against the starboard side gunwale.

'Jim, give me a hand with that net,' he asked of Wofford.

Together, they dragged the coiled net across the deck and pushed it against the back bulkhead of the wheelhouse. As Wofford wrapped one end around the starboard railing, Pitt secured the opposite end to a port stanchion.

'What is that for?' Theresa asked.

'When the wave approaches, everyone lie down and grab a tight hold of the net. It will act as a cushion and hopefully keep everyone from taking an undesired swim in the lake.'

As the captain nosed the bow toward the approaching wave, the three men and two women took up positions in front of the net. Roy sided up to Pitt and whispered out of earshot of the others.

'A game effort, Mr. Pitt, though we both know this old derelict isn't going to make it.'

'Never say die,' Pitt whispered back with an odd look of confidence.

The rumbling bellow from the moving water grew louder as the wave approached within five miles.

There were just minutes to go before it would strike the boat. The occupants all braced for the worst, some praying silently while others contemplated death with grim determination. Against the roar of the water, nobody detected the sound of the approaching helicopter. The Kamov was barely a hundred yards off the port flank when Wofford looked up and blurted, 'What the heck?'

All eyes darted from the approaching wave to the helicopter and back and then did a double take.

Dangling beneath the chopper on a twenty-foot cable was a white cylindrical object that swayed just a few feet above the waves. The object was clearly taxing the lifting ability of the helicopter, and everyone but Pitt figured that the helicopter pilot had lost his mind. At this dire point in time, why would he be trying to transport some machinery to the fishing boat?

A broad grin spread over Pitt's face as he recognized the bulky object twisting beneath the helicopter.

He had nearly tripped over it while leaving the Vereshchagin just a short time ago. It was the research ship's decompression chamber, on board as a security measure in case of a diving accident. Giordino had hastily realized it could act as a submersible for the fishing boat's crew to take haven in. Jumping to his feet, Pitt waved at Giordino to lower the chamber to the boat's stern deck.

With the seiche wave bearing down on the boat, Giordino moved in rapidly, hovering high over the stern until the swaying chamber stabilized. With a sudden dip and a crunch, the one-ton chamber descended from the sky and collided with the deck. The four-person hyperbaric chamber took up the entire rear deck space and pushed the boat's stern down several inches deeper into the water.

Pitt quickly unhooked the attached cable then jumped to the side rail and waved a thumbs-up gesture toward the helicopter. Giordino immediately swung the helicopter up and away from the boat, settling in a hover a short distance away to observe the impact.

'Why did he dump that here?' Tatiana asked.

'That big ugly bobber is your ticket to safety,' Pitt replied. 'Everybody in, there's no time to lose.'

Glancing forward, Pitt could see that the fast-moving wave was just a mile away. He quickly unhinged the sealed lock and swung open the heavy circular door to the chamber. Theresa was the first to climb in, followed by Wofford and Roy. Tatiana hesitated, grabbing a leather satchel before stepping in behind Roy.

'Hurry up,' Pitt prompted. 'There's no time to check luggage.'

Even the brash captain, staring awestruck at the looming wall of water, abandoned the wheel and scrambled into the chamber after the others.

'Aren't you joining us?' Tatiana asked as Pitt began to close the door.

'It will be tight enough with five people in there. Besides, someone's got to seal the chamber,' he replied with a wink. 'There's blankets and padding in the rear. Use them to protect your heads and bodies.

Brace yourselves, it will be here quick.'

With a metallic clang, the door clapped shut and Pitt twisted the locking mechanism closed. A strange silence suddenly enveloped the occupants, but it lasted for less than a minute. Then the wave was upon them.

Theresa sat opposite a thick porthole window and looked out at the mysterious man who had arrived from nowhere to save them. She saw Pitt reach into his duffel bag and remove a dive faceplate and backpack with a small tank attached. Quickly strapping the equipment on, he stepped up onto the side gunwale before a deluge of water obscured the viewport.

The chartered fishing boat was still fifteen miles from Listvyanka and the western shoreline when the seiche wave hit. Those aboard had no way of knowing that they were struck by the leading force of the rolling wave, its peak cresting as high as a three-story building at impact.

From his perch two hundred feet in the air, Giordino looked on with a sickening helplessness as the wave piled into the black fishing boat. Its throttle was still set at full, and Giordino watched as the aged boat tried valiantly to climb up the vertical wall of water. But the rolling force of the water overpowered the rotted hull timbers and the old wooden boat seemed to melt away, disappearing completely under the tall wave.

Giordino desperately scanned the surface for signs of Pitt or the decompression chamber. But as the waters fell to a subtle calm again, only the bow section could be seen floating on the surface. The old fishing boat had split in two from the force of the wave and only the bow section had survived the initial onslaught. The stern deck, with the compression chamber, had vanished from sight. The black-hulled wreckage of the bow bobbed only momentarily, its masthead swaying across the sky before it, too, disappeared in a gurgle of bubbles to the bottom of the frigid lake.