Клайв Касслер - Marauder

She pulled his mask off and put the phone in front of his face. The phone unlocked, and she quickly set it so it wouldn’t relock.

Even unconscious, Polk continued to scowl.

“That’s what you get for messing with my family,” she said.

She hopped to her feet and sprinted for the bridge.

SEVENTY-FOUR

Juan’s plan to get out of the citadel depended on the ship sinking because there was only one way to get up to the ventilation hatch thirty feet above them in the ceiling. The room would have to flood as the ship sank, buoying them up until they could open the hatch. The fireproof door on the main level of the citadel wasn’t designed to be waterproof as well, so that’s where the water would enter the room first.

The problem was the cable securing the citadel’s ceiling hatch to the wall. It was an inch thick, with a huge nut and bolt holding it tight. The eyebolt attaching it to the wall was halfway to the ceiling, far out of reach. The only thing tall enough to stand on were the food shelves, but they were on the other side of the room and bolted to the floor.

Juan wasn’t going to attempt to loosen the nut and bolt. That would take far too long while they were floating on the surface of water flooding into the chamber. Instead, he was going to blow it in half.

He, Eddie, and Raven had taken off their heavy body armor and dropped their weapons, even MacD’s crossbow.

“He’s never going to forgive me for this,” Raven said.

“I’ll buy him a better one,” Juan said.

The only thing he refused to give up was the duffel with the antidote vials inside. He had it slung over his shoulder.

Juan could tell the ship was already going down at the bow. All of them were standing at an angle, and the guns on the floor slid to the front of the room.

He bent down and pulled up his pant leg to expose his combat leg prosthesis. He opened the secret compartment holding his ceramic knife and .45 ACP Colt Defender. He left those in place and took out a packet smaller than a deck of cards and closed up the leg.

The packet contained a plug of C-4 plastic explosive and a remote detonator. The gray putty was moldable and could be formed into any shape. Juan hadn’t wasted the charge on the fireproof door because the detonation would have only put a hole in it, not opened it.

The panels of the door creaked and deformed until water began to gush through the seals, forced into the citadel by the outside pressure until it became a torrent.

The water level rose at what would be an alarming rate in any other circumstance, but in this case, Juan was frustrated at how slowly it was filling the room.

At last they were buoyant, impatiently treading water as the water covered the shelving units. Food packets, soda cans, and water bottles drifted around the room.

Then the lights went out and the room went silent. The water had shorted out the auxiliary generator.

The battery-powered emergency lighting kicked on, giving the room a ghostly feel.

The water level height was accelerating now. Juan wouldn’t have long to attach the C-4. As soon as he could reach the eyebolt, he slapped the plastique onto the cable fitting and mashed it in until it completely surrounded the metal. The final step was inserting the tiny detonator.

“Get ready,” he said to Eddie and Raven, who were treading water on the opposite side of the room.

Juan swam over to them and counted down.

“. . . three . . . two . . . one.”

They all took a breath and submerged, with Juan holding the remote detonator above the surface. He pressed the button, and a loud crack echoed through the chamber.

He surfaced to see the severed end of the cable dangling in the water.

“That’s our cue,” Juan said.

They swam over and grasped the cable, letting it guide them up as the water continued to flood in. The surface was now tilted at a crazy slant as the Centaurus settled by the bow.

When the water was three feet away from the ceiling, Juan kicked himself up and grabbed hold of the latch. He gave it a twist. It didn’t move.

The hatch was locked.

—

When Sylvia got up to the bridge, the first thing she saw in the dimly lit room was Eric looking at her with alert eyes. She went over to him and gently ran her fingers through his hair. He gave her a crooked smile.

He made a clicking sound, and Sylvia instantly recognized it as Morse code.

NICE TO C U.

She grinned at him, although all he could see was her eyes through the mask. “You, too.”

HEADSET.

Sylvia had completely forgotten about the headset she’d thrown off when she’d put on the gas mask. She went and retrieved it, stopping to bend over and assure Linc that she’d get them both off the sinking ship somehow. However, given that Linc weighed twice as much as she did, she had no idea how she was going to do it.

She fitted the headset over the gas mask and spoke loudly so that her muffled voice could be heard.

“Hello, this is Sylvia. Is anyone out there?”

A few seconds’ pause made her wonder if it still worked.

“This is Max. Your brother looks very relieved to hear you. Where are you?”

“The bridge of the Centaurus .” She went back to Eric and glanced out at the deck. Water had covered the front half of the ship and was now starting to pour into the first open hold like Niagara Falls.

“You need to get out of there. We’re less than two minutes to midnight. Can you stop the launch?”

“No,” Sylvia said.

“Where’s Polk?”

“Paralyzed. He didn’t have the key, and there’s no app on his phone to control the rockets. I checked on my way here.”

“Then just get off the ship,” Max said.

“I can’t move them both out of the bridge.”

“I’ll see if help is on the way.”

“Tell them not to come into the bridge. There still might be residual gas in the air.”

She got Eric under his shoulders and lifted. For a slim man, he was heavier than she expected. Linc would be impossible for her to budge.

As she lowered Eric to the floor so she could get a better grip to drag him, she heard Max calling for help.

“Come in, Juan. Come in. Juan, are you there?”

SEVENTY-FIVE

Juan heard Max say that Sylvia was up on the bridge with Eric and Linc. He just couldn’t respond. The water had reached the hatch, so he was fully submerged. No matter how hard he tried to turn the latch, it wouldn’t open.

He swam over to the small bubble of air that had formed in the corner of the tilted room where Eddie and Raven stayed above the surface.

“I can’t get it open,” Juan said. He shrugged off the duffel and handed it to Eddie. “This is too buoyant for what I’m about to try.”

“What are you going to do?” Eddie asked.

“Blow the lock apart.”

“It looks too thick for your forty-five to penetrate,” Raven said.

“That’s not what I’m using,” Juan said. “When you hear the blast, swim for the hatch.”

Juan took a breath and dived back under. He paddled over to the hatch and turned upside down.

The other weapon in his combat leg was a single shotgun slug in his heel. It was only for use in dire emergencies. This qualified.

Keeping himself inverted underwater was no small task. He had to keep clearing his nose with air so that he wouldn’t inhale the seawater. And his natural buoyancy meant he had to hold on to the steel girder beside the hatch to get his foot in the right position.

He made sure his heel was snug against the latch. His lungs were screaming at him, but he wouldn’t get another chance at this. He pulled the trigger.

The shell fired with a loud thump. Juan turned right side up and inspected the hatch in the low light.