“That?” Dirk pointed at a reflection in the corner.
“Yes.”
Summer froze the frame and enlarged the image. Dirk and Littleton stared at it and nodded. There was no mistaking the small object that glimmered on the floor.
It was a bar of solid gold.
27
With a large plastic crate of explosives secured to the submersible’s prow, Mansfield could barely see through the forward viewport. Only by raising his head and sitting forward in the pilot’s seat could he see past the crate to the stern of the Tavda.
He glanced to the right of the cockpit, where a technician completed a predive checklist.
“Clear to proceed?” Mansfield asked.
“Yes, all systems are operational.”
Mansfield radioed the deck crew to initiate launch. The large white submersible was hoisted over the ship’s moon pool and lowered into the water. Mansfield flooded the ballast tanks and activated a forward-looking sonar system. Before the submersible reached the seafloor, he had a directional bead on the shipwreck.
He approached the Canterbury from the stern, then elevated the submersible past one of the ship’s massive bronze propellers, which were embedded in the seafloor. Reaching the stern rail, he moved forward along the portside deck. Due to his limited visibility, he kept the submersible well outboard of the ship.
As he passed a gun turret amidships, he discerned the rising shadow of the cruiser’s high superstructure. Ascending to the bridge, he inspected it briefly, then eased the submersible down a level. As gently as he could, he parked the vessel on the corroded steel supports of what had been a teakwood deck. A row of four cabins stretched in front of them.
Mansfield nodded to the technician. “Release the explosives here.”
Kromer, the Moscow researcher, had provided him a crude plan of the ship and concluded Sir Leigh Hunt most likely would have berthed among the officers’ cabins beneath the bridge.
Using an articulated robotic arm, the technician released a strap securing the explosives, then pushed the plastic crate off a forward-mounted skid plate. Mansfield assisted by backing the submersible away from the bulkhead. As the crate slid away, stirring a small cloud of silt, Mansfield noticed a faint light near the top of the bridge.
The technician strained to see through the murk. “It’s away, and positioned against the bulkhead.”
Mansfield looked for himself, then immediately elevated the submersible. Ascending past the top of the bridge, he was met by the lights of another submersible.
The two crafts faced each other nose to nose, their LED exterior lights blinding each other’s pilot. Mansfield made out the blue lettering NUMA on the opposing vessel’s stern. In the opposing cockpit, he spotted two men and a woman wearing turquoise jumpsuits.
The two submersibles operated on different communication frequencies, so they could not talk to each other. Mansfield called his support ship to relay a message to the Odin. A response came seconds later.
“The NUMA ship reports its submersible left something on the wreck that it needs to retrieve. They will leave the site shortly.”
Mansfield shook his head. “I think not,” he said to his copilot.
As the NUMA submersible turned and descended on the starboard side of the superstructure, its occupants gave Mansfield a friendly wave. The Russian watched it disappear, then guided his submersible down a parallel path on the port side of the bridge. Returning to the crate of explosives, he eased close and hovered over it. “Activate the timer.”
The technician extended the manipulator arm and opened a small compartment door. Mansfield edged close so that they could look down into the opening, where a timer clock sat next to a large toggle switch.
The technician glanced at Mansfield for confirmation, then reached in with the manipulator and flipped the switch. The LED timer illuminated with a preset time of twenty minutes, which began counting down. “Detonation timer activated,” he said.
Mansfield nodded and activated the thrusters. Backing away from the Canterbury, he purged the ballast tanks and they began ascending toward the surface. Rising above the wreck, he spotted the lights of the NUMA submersible on the opposite side of the Canterbury’s bridge. He watched with satisfaction as he distanced himself from the opposing submersible—and the explosives-laden wreck.
28
“Get me a little closer,” Summer urged.
Dirk had maneuvered the submersible to the doorway of the first starboard cabin, where Summer extended the manipulator to its full reach. The gold bar, under a thin coating of silt, lay just beyond Summer’s grasp.
“I can’t get much closer without knocking down a bulkhead or two.” Dirk elevated the submersible and pivoted it slightly before bringing the nose against the doorway a second time, then dropping to the deck. A fresh cloud of silt rolled through the cabin, forcing Summer to wait for the water to clear.
Through the easing murk, she extended the manipulator once more and again fell short.