John Avery - Black Cobra

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Aaron shouted through the deafening spray, and at last they headed out of the Aft Torpedo Room.

Aaron swung the watertight hatch cover closed, sealing them off from the massive flow of water, but the Electric Motor Room was flooding as well now. Sparks arced and spit from the huge motors and control panels, and Aaron was concerned that they would all be electrocuted.

They moved on, passing through the Engine Room and Machinery Control Room before climbing the short stairway into Compartment Four, where they were out of the deepest water for a moment. Boxes of rice and other food items floated in the water near the Galley, as they moved along the tilted corridor.

They stepped through the watertight hatch into Compartment Three, and Aaron closed and sealed that hatch as well.

For a moment he just stood there, looking around the Control Room, casting desperately about for an idea — any idea. There had to be a way out of this. The air was thick and heavy, smelling of diesel oil and burnt wiring, becoming more and more difficult to breathe.

He looked up into the conning tower, but he knew that with the weight of half the bay sitting on top of it, he’d never be able to get the fin hatch open without first flooding the submarine to equalize the pressure.

Just then the boat shuddered as its bow rose slightly. The stern was filling with water, leaving an air pocket toward the bow. Aaron knew they would have air as long as they kept moving toward the front of the ship.

He saw a coil of rope hanging near the chart table, and suddenly an idea came to him. It was crazy, and extremely risky, but it was all he had.

He steeled himself and grabbed the rope, draping it over his shoulder. Then he looked at the shivering girls.

“I think I have a plan,” he said, sounding as confident as he could. “Are you guys ready to get out of here?”

There was a light in Aaron’s eyes they hadn’t seen in a while, and they nodded hopefully.

“All right,” he said. “Follow me.”

The second their flight touched down at San Diego International, Harness placed a call to Naval Command in Point Loma.

“Who did you say this was?” the receptionist asked, her tone arrogant and patronizing.

“I’m Detective James Harness,” he repeated, slower this time. “I work in a small precinct on the East Coast.”

“And what’s this regarding?” she said.

“I’d rather speak to someone higher up. This is a matter of national security.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t transfer you till I know what this is regarding.”

“It’s about a possible assassination attempt on the President,” Harness said impatiently. “We’re wasting precious time here. It’s happening as we speak!”

“Hold please,” the receptionist said, and she was gone.

Harness waited for what felt like an hour. He was just about to hang up when the receptionist returned to the line, sounding like a digital recording. Harness could not get a word in edgewise.

“We appreciate your concern,” she said. “However, I’ve been instructed to assure you that sufficient security has been arranged for the President’s visit. If you have any further questions or concerns you may try our website at…” She gave Harness a complicated website address and hung up.

“ Damn it ,” Harness mumbled to himself. “I’m an officer of the law… and they couldn’t care less.”

He briefly considered calling the SDPD, but he knew that dealing with another bureaucracy and another patronizing receptionist would cost him valuable time. And he’d lost too much time already.

Darkness had settled on the city when Harness and Holt took a cab from the airport to the Maritime Museum of San Diego, and when they jumped out and ran down to where b-39 should have been, they were surprised to see nothing but a huge, white plastic tarp.

“What the hell is this all about?” Harness said.

They crossed the wooden gangplank, and when they pulled back the flap they discovered that the entire submarine was missing .

Very clever , Harness thought, admiring the ingenuity. Enclose the sub in a weathertight shelter, and no one will ever know you’re gone.

He spotted the Zodiac tied up to the dock and threw a glance at Holt.

Holt gave him a look that said, No way, Detective. I’m not going out on that huge bay in the dark in that thing!

“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears,” Harness said.

Holt didn’t.

“After you,” Harness said.

They stepped into the Zodiac and headed off across the black waters of San Diego Bay.

The ship continued to tilt upward and to the side, and as Aaron, Ashley, and Katya moved toward the bow they faced a steep, awkward incline. The sub was almost totally flooded now, and it seemed that no matter how high they climbed they were always waist deep in seawater.

At last they reached the bow of the ship, and the hatch leading to Compartment One, the Forward Torpedo Room. They ducked inside and Aaron cranked the hatch cover closed.

The water was only knee deep there, and at first Aaron thought it wasn’t rising, but he was wrong. It was rising faster than ever.

Aaron found it harder to breathe in there, as well, as if all of the bad air from the entire submarine had been compressed into the small space they were in. He tried to breath only through his mouth, but it didn’t work. We’re running out of oxygen , he thought, panic teasing his insides.

He looked around and found the Submerged Escape Apparatus hanging where he and Uri had seen it earlier. He removed it from its hook and turned to the girls.

“Here’s the plan,” he said. “This is a rescue breather — a lung for breathing underwater. We’re going to use it to swim out through the torpedo tube.”

The girls looked at him as if he’d gone completely insane.

“Can we do that? ” Ashley asked.

“To be honest, I’m not really sure,” Aaron said quickly. “All I know is, I read about a guy who did it once and lived to talk about it.”

The freezing seawater had risen to waist deep, and the girls huddled together in a vain attempt to keep warm.

The lights continued to flicker dangerously, threatening to cut out once and for all. Aaron knew that if he and the girls were plunged into total darkness before he was ready, they were done for.

He checked the lung; the gauge indicated that it still had a small amount of oxygen in it. “This lung is very old, and won’t be very effective,” he said. “So we’ll have to move fast.”

“Th-that’s the only one?” Katya said, shivering uncontrollably now.

“Yes,” Aaron said. “You two will have to share.”

“But what about you?” Ashley said.

“I’ll be fine,” Aaron said quickly, and he could only pray that that was true.

He gave the girls a quick demonstration on the use of the lung. “Just breathe into this mouthpiece. The air will come automatically.”

The girls looked at the device doubtfully.

“And no matter what happens,” he said, “don’t follow me into the tube until I signal you, okay?”

The girls nodded.

Aaron showed Katya the button that would open the torpedo tube’s outer door. “Remember, don’t open the door until the seawater level reaches the top of the tube,” he said. “We have to fill this compartment enough to flood the entire tube, if we’re going to have any chance of equalizing the pressure.”