Clive Cussler - Fire Ice

"You forgot one thing," Austin said.

Zavala looked behind him. "Cover your ass?”

"CYA is always a good idea. But what I was thinking was this: We're not Mission Impossible. We're not the Suicide Squadron. We're simply a couple of nosy guys who want to come back, preferably with our skin in one piece."

"That suits me fine," Zavala said. "I'm very attached to my skin."

Austin winced at Zavala's joke and gave the captain the thumb's-up sign. He held on to his mask and chest pack so they wouldn't fly up, and jumped fins first into the dark blue sea, sinking several feet before his automatic buoyancy control lifted him back to the surface. Zavala bobbed up a few feet away. As they floated in the mild swell, they made sure their regulators were working, then Austin signaled Kemal.

The captain lowered the bright yellow Torpedo 2000s down to the water. The crewmen were setting trawls on the land side. From shore, the Turgut looked like any other fishing boat harvesting the sea. Austin reminded Kemal to keep his radio on and to leave quickly at the first sign of trouble. He didn't want more funerals in the captain's family.

Kemal gave him a smile that showed he had no intention of following Austin's advice and wished them good luck in Turkish and in English. Austin bit down on his regulator mouthpiece, folded his body in a surface dive and with a flip of his fins disappeared below the surface. Zavala was only a moment behind. At twenty feet, they hovered and tested their voice-activated Divelink wireless underwater communications systems.

"Ready to invade Russia?" Austin asked.

"Can't wait!" Zavala said, sounding like Donald Duck in Austin's earphones. "Russia has some of the most beautiful women in the world. Green eyes, high cheekbones, lush lips- ”

"Keep a lid on your raging libido, Jose. This isn't Club Med we're going to. When we get home, you can order a Russian bride over the Internet."

"Thanks for dashing cold water on my lustful thoughts."

"Speaking of cold water, we've got about a mile of the stuff ahead of us, so I suggest we get moving." Austin checked his wrist compass and jerked his thumb toward shore. They flicked on the switches of their propulsion vehicles, the battery-powered motors hummed into life, and the Torpedo 2000s surged ahead, smoothly pulling the divers through the pale green water. Their approach sent schools of fish flying off to either side, making it evident why Kemal and his fellow fishermen had risked their necks to work these waters.

Near the surf line, the water became turbid from floating particles of vegetation kicked up by the crashing waves. Austin angled the Torpedo 2000 down to the sandy sea bottom, with Zavala a few feet behind him.

"Any idea what we're looking for?" Zavala said, squinting toward the gravelly banking that rose sharply from the sea floor to meet the beach.

"A neon sign saying THIS IS IT would help. But I'll settle for something that looks like a big garage door."

Zavala switched on his powerful Phantom dive light and played the bull's-eye across the slope.

"I don't even see a doorknob."

"We're wasting our time here. They wouldn't build on the beach. They'd want solid rock over their heads. Let's check out the cliffs. I'll take the one to the right."

Zavala waved, and with the ease of a natural pilot he put his propulsion vehicle in a graceful turn and shot off, quickly disappearing into the murk. Austin headed in the opposite direction. A moment later, the voice of a singing duck filled Austin's earphones as Zavala rendered an off-tune version of "Guantanamera."

Austin moved parallel to the undersea embankment until the sand and gravel gave over to solid rock. Zavala's quacking became fainter as they expanded their range. Austin was grateful for this development, but he didn't want too much space separating them. He saw nothing that resembled an entrance, and was about to tell Zavala to head back, but Joe broke off his serenade with a loud "Whoa!"

"Say again?"

"Got something, Kurt," he said excitedly.

Austin wheeled the Torpedo 2000 around in a tight arc. He glided past the beach and homed in on a silvery pinpoint that blinked like a firefly on a summer night. Zavala was hovering at midwater and flashing his light as a homing beacon. When Austin got closer, Zavala adjusted his light to flood pattern and pointed the beam toward the face of the undersea wall that rose to become the chin of Imam's Point.

Austin was looking at a huge pile of rubble that resembled a landslide one might see in a mountain valley. The sea bottom below the slide was littered with hundreds of chunks of rock and concrete obviously flung there with great force, most likely by an explosion.

"Not exactly what I'd call a welcome mat," Austin said. With short fluttering fin strokes, he swam up the face of the rubble pile. If this was the entrance to the pen, no submarines would be using it soon. He swam back and forth searching for an opening, but the blockage was complete.

Zavala floated up beside him. "So much for my dreams of beautiful Russian women."

Austin scanned the rubble, then swam over to a slab about six feet tall and half as wide that stood like a giant l gravestone in a more or less vertical position. A pair of steel rods protruded from the top, like antennae on an insect.

"If we could topple this slab, maybe we could start a slide that would open up this mess."

"Not a bad idea. Too bad we forgot to pack dynamite."

"We may not need it. Remember what Archimedes said?"

"Sure, he's the guy who runs the Greek restaurant down the street, He said 'Eat here or to go?' "

"I'm talking about the other Archimedes."

"Oh, that one, He said, 'Eureka!' "

"He also said, 'Give me a place to stand and I will move the earth.' "

Zavala stared at the steel rods. "Archimedes was into levers and fulcrums, as I recall."

"Eureka," Austin said, swimming up the rock slide until he was above the slab. He squeezed in between the concrete and the cliff, braced his back against the wall and placed his feet on one of the rods. Zavala took a position beside Austin with his feet on the other rod.

"Let's see if we can move a smaIl piece of the world," Austin said, "On three."

They pushed against the rods and the slab tilted a few inches before settling back into place. The air tanks got in the way, so they adjusted them and tried again. The slab tipped precariously this time. For a moment, it seemed as if the block would go over, but despite their shoving and grunting, it rocked back into place.

Zavala suggested that they push higher for more leverage. They slid their feet to the ends of the rods, planted their backs and tried again. This time the slab went over so fast that they almost tumbled down with it. It crashed in slow motion off a big boulder, breaking in half, then bounced a few more times before landing in a muddy cloud. Several other chunks followed it down in a secondary landslide.

"Crude but effective," Austin said, as he drifted down the face of the pile and stopped in front of a newly created opening in the rubble. He probed the hole with his light, then tried to squeeze through only to have his air tanks get in the way again. He removed the tanks. Keeping the regulator in his mouth, he backed into the opening feet first and pulled his tanks in after him. Zavala followed using the same procedure.

They were wedged in a tight space between the pile of boulders and two massive steel blast doors. The armored doors were sealed, but near the top of one was a shadow where the force of the explosion had peeled back a comer like a page in a book. The gap was big enough for them and their tanks. They slipped through the hole and flashed their lights around. The beams faded into nothingness except for a grayish reflection over their heads. They swam up several feet until their tanks scraped against concrete. Swimming a few feet below the ceiling, they proceeded through the murky water.