Уильям Мейкл - Operation - North Sea

“I’ve seen this fucking trick before,” Wiggo said. “Let’s hope it ends better this time.”

The dinghy bucked and yawed but the seaman knew what he was about, tacking into the biggest waves and sliding down the far side before tacking again. On one of the rises, Wiggo caught sight of the sub lying offshore like a sleek black whale riding low in the water. He mentally measured its size against the beast he’d seen the night before.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat,” he muttered.

Despite its size, the interior of the sub felt cramped and claustrophobic and Wiggo immediately felt the urge to smoke now that he knew he couldn’t. They were shown to three cabins in the bowels of the vessel; the cap got one to himself and Wiggo was to share with Seton. They stowed their kit and then were directed forward to the bridge.

It, too, felt cramped and overcrowded, especially when the squad and Seton joined the crew already there. The sub’s captain, Michael Green as he introduced himself, was a mousy, dour man in his fifties who didn’t seem especially pleased to see them.

“But orders are orders,” he said, “and I’m to look after you and take your advice, however daft it sounds. So advise away; I’m all ears.”

“First things first,” Captain Banks said, “do we know where it is?”

Green nodded towards the radar screens.

“We had a fix on it when it left Aberdeen this morning but we lost it out at sea somewhere. It disappeared as if it just blinked off the map.”

“Beam me up, Scotty,” Wiggo whispered, then went quiet when it earned him a stern glance from his captain.

Green continued.

“Just before you came on board, we got another blip, fairly close by, but this thing is damned hard to track, whatever it is.”

Seton spoke up.

“There’s no sense us sweeping the whole North Sea looking for it. We should try to get it to come to us.”

“Sorry,” Green said, looking at the older man as if he was something nasty he’d trodden in. “And you are?”

Wiggo spoke up.

“He’s an expert. He’s one of us.”

Seton mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and continued.

“We can’t do anything until we know where it is. Bringing it to us would accomplish that.”

“It might also get us killed,” Green said.

“I have a plan to avoid that contingency,” Seton replied. “But first I need to know if there’s a way for you to broadcast a constant, rhythmic sound underwater, one that will carry for distance?”

“Certainly. We have seismic survey equipment that does that very thing but…”

Seton didn’t give him time to finish.

“We’re close to Dunnottar Castle. I suggest we hang just offshore from there and start up the beacon, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Why there?” Green asked.

“Because it’s an old stomping ground of the beast’s,” Seton answered. “We lure it in to somewhere it knows then we do our thing.”

“And what thing might that be?”

Seton ignored that and Wiggo thought that was for the best; explaining to a man like Captain Green about ancient chants, sea serpents from the great beyond, and a beastie that could be both natural and supernatural simultaneously would take a wee bit more time than they had available to them. Instead, Captain Banks spoke up.

“Before we start throwing nukes around the North Sea, I think we should give Seton’s idea a chance. If it goes tits up, I’ll take full responsibility. You heard the man,” he said to Green. “Take us to Dunnottar.”

It only took ten minutes to turn the sub and head two miles down the coast. They held position a mile offshore at periscope depth. A series of screens showed the view out over to the castle where it perched on its rocky outcrop. Wiggo had seen pictures of the old castle over the years and had always promised himself a visit, although he’d never got ‘round to it. It always looked staunch and imposing in the photos, but it looked even more impressive when viewed from out here at sea, the high crumbling sandstone cliffs topped with an array of fortifications that, from their periscope’s low angle in the water, showed as dark silhouettes on the skyline.

“Let it rip whenever you’re ready, Captain,” Seton said. “If I’m right, it’ll bring the beast right to us.”

Green looked to Banks for confirmation.

“This is all okay by you, is it?”

Banks nodded.

“Experts, remember?”

Green sighed, gave the order, an operator got to work, and seconds later they were being treated to a rhythmic, high-pitched ping that echoed around them every five seconds.

“What’s the range?” Wiggo asked.

“It’s been shown in experiments that it can be picked up as far away as Norway,” Green replied.

“The beastie might be farther away than that,” Wiggo answered and turned away from the question he knew would be coming. He was now facing Seton.

“What now?” he asked.

“Now we wait,” the small red-haired man said but even before he’d finished speaking another operator shouted out.

“We’ve got incoming. Twenty miles out and closing fast. It’s big.”

“It’s not just big, it’s fucking enormous,” Wiggo added, but by then nobody was listening to him.

All eyes were on the radar screens.

Seton spoke up.

“When it gets within a mile of us, switch off the beacon.”

“Why?” Green asked, and Banks knew it was high time he put down some ground rules.

“Because he said so,” he said to Green. “You have your orders, kindly follow them. We don’t have time to explain every action we’re going to need to take in the next few minutes and things will go a lot more smoothly if you let us get on with it. The auld man knows what he’s doing. Expert, remember?”

Banks wasn’t at all sure that was entirely true… but he wasn’t about to tell Green that.

He was glad to see Green back down and when the blip showed that the beast was within a mile, the sub captain gave the order to turn off the beacon.

Relative silence fell over the sub.

“Five hundred yards,” the radar operator said. “Four hundred.”

“It’s going to hit us,” Green said. “Prepare for impact.”

“No, it’s heading for the castle,” Seton said. “Look.”

The sub seemed to rise and fall as if taken by a swell then it became clear on looking at the screens that Seton was right—the broad silvery back of the beast showed clearly between them and the castle ruin. It came up out of the water, beaching itself in the curved, cliff-lined, bay to the north of the castle rock and settling into a coil that almost filled all the space available to it. The great head rested on the edge of the cliffs, almost level with the highest point of the ruins.

“Arm the Spearfish,” Green said.

“No,” Seton replied almost immediately. “We can’t fire here. We’re too close to the town. I told you, I have a plan. Can we broadcast by air as well as by sea?”

Green looked like he might argue but Banks gave him the cold stare, and the sub captain once again backed down.

“Yes, we can do that,” he said, grudgingly.

Seton held up his phone.

“I have an audio file on this that I need to be broadcast on a continuous loop.”

Green motioned towards the operators.

“One of my men will help with that,” he said, and pointedly turned his back on Seton, as if washing his hands of the matter.

“You’re up, wee man,” Banks said. “I hope you’re right.”

“You and me both, Cap,” Seton replied and stepped over to the operator’s desk.

In the meantime, Banks kept an eye on the screen. The beast was showing every sign of settling down in position, as if it had found a comfortable spot.