“What do you mean?” Ana asked.
“The submersible has a robotic arm mounted to its base,” Pitt said. “If Al can find it some power, we can shove against the Kerch and push ourselves over.”
The interior of the submersible had grown cold and the air noticeably stale when Giordino pronounced electrical success a few minutes later. “We drained a good piece of our emergency reserves with the ballast pumps,” he said. “You might not have much to work with.”
“One push is all we need,” Pitt said. He leaned against the inverted pilot’s seat, reached up to a joystick on the console, and activated the controls. Pitt extended the manipulator from beneath the submersible’s prow and extended it laterally until its articulated grip scraped against the Kerch’s hull. Ana and Giordino took up positions on the port side and held their breath.
Applying full power to the robotic arm, Pitt did the same. A faint murmur sounded from the hydraulics as the red interior light dimmed from the increased electrical draw. Then a creak came from somewhere on the submersible’s frame and the vessel began to tilt. Pitt continued to push with the manipulator, and the submersible leaned to the side until momentum took command. In a slow, easy roll, the submersible tipped onto its side as the occupants scrambled to regain their footing. Sloshing water splashed over the console, and the manipulator controls fell dead.
“I guess that does it for power,” Pitt said. “Perhaps it’s time we surface.”
He opened a floor panel, reached inside, and twisted a pair of T bolts. On the base of the submersible, two lead ballast weights dropped from their cradles and tumbled to the seabed.
Despite its partial flooding, the NUMA submersible tilted off the sand and began to ascend. Ana smiled as Pitt shined his flashlight out the viewport and they watched the Kerch fall away beneath them. The black water surrounding them soon gained color, and Ana was relieved to see the return of the murky green soup that at first had frightened her.
The submersible broke the surface minutes later in a rocky sea doused by steady rain. Craning out the viewport, Ana spotted the Macedonia rising on the swells a half mile away. Giordino didn’t attempt to rewire the radio, seeing the ship turn in their direction and churn the water behind it in full acceleration.
Petar Ralin was pacing the aft deck when the submersible was hooked and lifted aboard. His face melted with relief as Ana climbed out of the hatch, followed by Pitt and Giordino.
Stenseth helped them to the deck. “A longer dive than scheduled,” the captain said. He motioned toward the submersible’s dented frame and mangled thruster mounts. “You run into a sea monster down there?”
“Well, something that did have some sharp claws.” Pitt scanned the gray clouds. “Our salvage friends took a personal in
terest in our submersible. Are they still about?”
“They steamed off an hour ago.”
Ralin stepped up and gave Ana a hug. “We were so worried about you.” He noticed a fresh bruise on her head. “What happened?”
“They grabbed us with their salvage claw, banged us against the Kerch, then flipped us over. I thought we were trapped, but cooler heads prevailed,” she said, nodding at Pitt and Giordino. “Petar, we need to find that salvage ship before they reach port.”
“Do they have the HEU?”
She looked at Pitt and he responded for her. “It would seem a pretty good reason to try and kill us.” He ran a hand across the dented submersible.
Ana turned to Stenseth. “Can we catch them? Or at least track where they went?”
“They’ve got a healthy jump on us, but we’ll certainly try. Unfortunately, this weather gives us no visibility, and lousy radar coverage.”
The group hustled up to the bridge, where Stenseth ordered the helm to bring the ship to top speed. He joined Pitt at the radarscope. “She moved off to the southwest when she left the site.”
Pitt adjusted the radar’s range to maximum and studied the screen. Large white blotches covered much of it, representing heavy rainfall. At the far edge of the screen, a faint dot pulsed sporadically.
“Could be them,” Pitt said, “on a heading of two-four-zero degrees.”
“Running for the Bosphorus.” Stenseth relayed a course adjustment to the helm.
“Ms. Belova? Mr. Ralin?” Pitt said. “Perhaps you could persuade the Turkish Coast Guard to make a temporary shutdown of the straits?”
“It’s Ana and Petar,” she said with a smile. “And, yes, we can do that. Thank you.”
Ralin made the call and relayed his success a few minutes later. “The Coast Guard has a vessel standing by near the Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge, monitoring all southbound traffic. They’ll pull her aside when she appears.”
“We’ll do our best to track her,” Stenseth said.
They were able to follow the radar target to the approach of the Bosphorus but lost it amid all the traffic entering and exiting the strait. Continuing heavy rainfall added to the confusion, as the many targets filling the radar screen vanished and reappeared amid the white fuzz of weather distortion. The NUMA crew eventually tracked two southbound targets entering the strait and tried to draw close.
The rain lightened as the vessels reduced speed in the strait, expanding the range of visibility. As the Macedonia pushed the imposed speed limit of ten knots, the first target came into view, a Russian-flagged bulk carrier. The Macedonia slipped past the slower ship to try to catch a glimpse of the second vessel.