He gave her a kiss and let her go. As Gamay made her way down to the aft deck, Paul took a long look around. He saw nothing but the peaceful sea in all directions. Hoping it would stay that way, he stepped inside.
With Scarab One ready to be hoisted, Gamay climbed in and took a seat on the right-hand side. To her left sat Elena Vasquez, the submersible’s pilot. Elena was petite, with short black hair and a mocha-colored complexion. A former Navy diver, she was a recent addition to NUMA.
While Elena drove the sub, Gamay would handle the undersea communications and operate the mechanical arms, which were outfitted with cutting tools, including acetylene torches and a circular saw with a diamond-tipped carbon steel blade. It could cut through two-inch armor plate with ease. Attached to the other arm was a small hydraulic wedge, something like the Jaws of Life that paramedics used to pry open mangled cars on the highway.
The plan was simple: Cut open the side of the hull, send a remote “swimming” camera into the ship, and look for the bodies.
Gamay put on a headset and ran through her checklist. Elena did the same from her command seat.
“My board is green,” Elena said.
“Mine too,” Gamay replied. She spoke into the headset’s microphone. “Scarab One ready to go. Put us in the water.”
The hydraulics of the crane went into action and the eightton craft was lifted from the deck and carried over the side of the Condor. With careful precision, it was lowered into the waiting sea.
A loud clanking sound and the feeling of the craft settling told them the submersible had been released.
“Scarab One, you’re clear of the boom. Turning you over to control.”
With that, Paul’s voice came on the radio. “You’re clear to dive.”
Seconds later, Duke’s voice came over the headset with mock indignation. “You’re cutting in line, Scarab One. I was supposed to go first.”
“You snooze, you lose,” Gamay replied. Elena chuckled. “Girls rule, boys drool,” she added over the radio. “Deploying communications beacon. See you on the bottom.”
With a calm hand, Elena flicked through a series of switches. Air began to vent from the sub’s ballast tanks, and the green seawater swirled up around the clear cockpit, soon engulfing them.
Elena engaged the thrusters. With incredible smoothness, the orange vehicle began the long dive. It would be nearly thirty minutes before the bottom would be visible.
Gamay switched the exterior lights on as they passed two hundred feet. At a depth of almost eight hundred feet, the seafloor came into view.
“ Scarab One on the floor,” Gamay said. Her radio call was transmitted up a fiber-optic cable no thicker than a monofilament fishing line to a small buoy at the surface. The buoy had an antenna that relayed the signal to the Condor. “Proceeding to the wreck site.”
Moments later, the wreck came into view. The Ethernet was sitting on its keel in the silt, almost perfectly upright. There was some crushing damage near the bow as she’d clearly hit nosefirst, but little else seemed damaged.
“We have her in sight,” Gamay replied. “Front end looks like an accordion, topside external structures seem fine. Radar mast and antennas are missing. But, other than that, she looks like she’s on display at a boat show.”
As they circled around the port side of the Ethernet, Gamay caught sight of lights dropping down through the black water on the starboard side. “Duke, is that you? Or are we being visited by UFOs?”
“You can all relax,” he replied. “The Duke is on the job.” Gamay rolled her eyes. “Glad you could join us. We’ll work the port side, you work the starboard. That way, we keep our comm lines from getting tangled.”
“Roger that,” Duke replied.
Elena turned to Gamay. “Where do you want to start?” “Let’s go in up top,” Gamay said. “That’s where Westgate said his wife and kids were waiting. It’s also where Kurt may or may not have seen them.”
Elena nodded and rotated the thrusters. The Scarab rose up along the side of the hull, moving slowly toward the shattered windows of the bridge.
“We could put the camera in through the window,” Elena suggested.
“I don’t like the look of all that glass,” Gamay said. “If it cuts the wire, we’ll lose the swimmer. Let’s pull the door off.”
Elena nodded and operated the control column and thrust lever with the skill of a fighter pilot.
She focused one of the spotlights on the hatch. It was slightly ajar. When Elena brought the Scarab in close enough, Gamay was able to grasp it with one of the sub’s claws. A few pulls told her it was stuck.
“We’re going to have to cut it loose,” she said.
The sub began drifting back.