Clive Cussler - Dragon

Pitt relaxed and stretched out his legs. “I take it you have a plan.”

“The best brains in the business have put in a lot of last-minute homework on this one.”

“That’s obvious by this aircraft and Big Ben arriving here with less than twenty-four hours’ notice.”

“How much did Ingram and Meeker tell you?” Sandecker asked.

“They enlightened us on the secret history of the B-Twenty-nine resting on the seabed,” Pitt answered, “and gave a brief lecture on the geology and seismic fault system around Soseki. Meeker also claimed that by detonating the atomic bomb still inside the aircraft, the shock waves could cause the island to sink beneath the sea.”

Giordino pulled out a cigar he’d already stolen from Admiral Sandecker by sleight-of-hand and lit it up. “A cockamamie idea if I ever heard one.”

Pitt nodded in agreement. “Then Mel Penner ordered Al and me to enjoy a holiday on the sandy beaches of Wake Island while he and the rest of the team flew off into the blue for the States. When I demanded to know why we were being left behind, he clammed up, revealing only that you were on your way and would explain everything.”

“Penner didn’t fill in the cracks,” said Sandecker, “because he didn’t know them. Nor were Ingram and Meeker briefed on all the updated details of ‘Arizona.’ “

“Arizona?” Pitt asked curiously.

“The code name of our operation.”

“Our operation?” Giordino questioned guardedly.

“It wouldn’t, of course,” Pitt said sarcastically, “have anything to do with Big Ben, or the fact that Arizona is the name of a state, or more precisely the name of a battleship at Pearl Harbor.”

“It’s as good as any. Code names never make any sense anyway.”

Sandecker stared at his friends closely. A day’s rest had helped, but they looked dead tired and worn out. He felt a gnawing sense of guilt. It was his fault they had already endured so much. And now once more he had recommended their services to Jordan and the President, knowing full well that no other two men alive could match their skills and talents in a deep-ocean environment. How terribly unfair to throw them into another deadly maelstrom so quickly. But there was no one else on God’s earth he could turn to. Sandecker could taste the remorse in his mouth. And he felt guilt at knowing Pitt and Giordino would never refuse to attempt what he asked of them.

“All right, I won’t hand you a lot of crap or sing ‘America the Beautiful.’ I’ll be as straightforward as I can.” He broke off and laid a geological chart on the desk that showed the seafloor for fifty kilometers around Soseki Island. “You two are the best qualified to make a last-ditch effort to finish off the Dragon Center. No one else has as much hands-on experience with a Deep Sea Mining Vehicle.”

“It’s nice to feel needed,” Giordino said wearily.

“What did you say?”

“AI was wondering what exactly it is we’re supposed to do.” Pitt leaned over the chart and stared down at the cross marking the location of Dennings’ Demons . “Our assignment is to use the DMSV to blow up the bomb, I assume.’

“You assume correctly,” said Sandecker. “When we reach the target site, you and Big Ben will exit the plane and drop into the water by parachute.”

“I hate that word,” Giordino said, holding his head in his hands. “The mere thought of it gives me a rash.”

Sandecker gave him a curt look and continued. “After landing in the sea, you’ll settle to the bottom, still using the chutes to slow your descent. Once you are mobile, you drive to the B-Twenty-nine, remove the atomic bomb from inside its fuselage, carry it to a designated area, and detonate it.”

Giordino went as rigid as a man seeing a ghost. “Oh, God, it’s far worse than I thought.”

Pitt gave Sandecker a glacial stare. “Don’t you think you’re asking a bit much?”

“Over fifty scientists and engineers in universities, government, and high-tech industries joined together on a crash program to develop Arizona, and take my word for it, they’ve created a perfect diagram for success.”

“How can they be so sure?” said Giordino. “No one has ever dumped a thirty-five-ton deep-sea vehicle out of an aircraft and into the ocean before.”

“Every factor was calculated and evaluated until all probability of failure was worked out,” said Sandecker, eyeing his expensive cigar in Giordino’s mouth. “You should hit the water as lightly as a falling leaf on a sleeping cat.”

“I’d feel more comfortable jumping from a diving board into a dish rag,” grumbled Giordino.

Sandecker gazed at him with forbearance. “I am aware of the dangers, and I sympathize with your misgivings, but we can do without your Cassandran attitude.”

Giordino looked at Pitt questioningly. “What attitude?”

“Someone who predicts misfortune,” explained Pitt.

Giordino shrugged moodily. “I was only trying to express honest feelings.”

“Too bad we can’t ease Big Ben down a ramp off a ship and let it drift to the bottom with variable pressure tanks, as we did with Big John over Soggy Acres.”

Sandecker said indulgently, “We can’t afford the two weeks it took to get your DSMV here by sea.”

“May I ask just who the hell is going to instruct us how to remove an atomic bomb from tangled wreckage and detonate it?” demanded Pitt.

Sandecker handed them both folders holding forty pages of photos, diagrams, and instructions. “It’s all in here. You’ll have plenty of time to study and practice procedures between now and when we reach the drop zone.”

“The bomb has been under water inside a mangled aircraft for fifty years. How can anyone be certain it’s still in any condition to be detonated?”

“The photos from the Pyramider imaging system show the fuselage of the B-Twenty-nine to be intact, indicating the bomb was undamaged during the crash. Mother’s Breath was designed to be jettisoned in water and recovered. The armored components of its ballistic casing were precision cast with machine finishing and fit together with tolerances that were guaranteed to keep the interior waterproof. The men still living who built it swear it could remain on the bottom of the sea and be detonated five hundred years from now.”

Giordino wore a very sour look. “The explosion will be set with a timer, I hope.”

“You’ll have an hour before detonation,” Sandecker answered. “Big Ben’s top speed has been increased over Big John’s. You should be well away from any effects of the blast.”

“What’s well away?” Pitt pursued.

“Twelve kilometers.”

“What is the end result?” Pitt put to Sandecker.

“The concept is to induce a submarine earthquake with the old atomic bomb and cause a set of circumstances similar to the one that destroyed Soggy Acres.”

“A totally different situation. The explosion on the surface may have caused a sub-bottom quake, but our habitat was wiped out by a resulting avalanche combined with thousands of kilograms of water pressure. Those forces don’t apply on ground above the surface.”

“The water pressure, no. The avalanche, yes.” Sandecker tapped his finger on the chart. “Soseki Island was formed millions of years ago by a long extinct volcano that erupted just off the coast of Japan and spewed a river of lava far out into the sea. At one time this immense lava bed was an arm of the Japanese mainland, rising above the water to a height of two hundred meters. It rested, however, on soft layers of ancient sediment. Gradually, gravity forced it down into the softer silt until it fell beneath the water surface with only its lighter and less massive tip remaining above sea level.”