Sea of Greed

“I loaded everything this morning,” Joe said. “We’ve got all the new stuff.”

“New stuff?”

“Advanced designs I’ve been working on,” Joe said. “I think you’ll like them.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what Joe had been up to, but he was looking forward to finding out. “You can tell me about them on the way.”

They pushed the boat out into the water, climbed in and fired the engine up.

As they pulled away, a shout reached them from the top deck. “Don’t mean to bother you gentlemen, but what should I do while you’re gone?”

“Keep in touch with us by radio,” Kurt said. “And see what else you can learn about Millard, Tessa and the Monarch. I’d like to know where that plane has been and compare its travels with the map of the dying oil wells.”

“Sounds like a make-work job to me,” Priya said, “but I’ll do my best.”

“I expect nothing less,” Kurt said.

Joe pushed the throttle and the Pavati surged forward, accelerating away from the yacht. While Joe drove, Kurt moved to the bow and traded in the binoculars for a night vision scope. “They’ve got about a mile on us.”

“Want me to close the gap?”

Kurt shook his head. “Save the power for later. They seem to be taking their time.”

“You’re no fun,” Joe said as he eased off the throttle.

“Something tells me you’ll get your chance to work that throttle before the night is over. For now, back us off and turn a little to the east, in case they’re watching for a tail.”

Joe angled slightly away from the fishing boat, which continued moving toward the mouth of the Great Sound. “Nothing but the Atlantic if they keep going that way.”

The fishing boat held its course until it passed Spanish Point — the western end of the main body of land that made up Bermuda. From there, it turned northeast and ran parallel with Bermuda’s north shore.

Joe followed suit.

“They’re drifting wide,” Kurt said. “Getting farther out.”

“I’ll keep us in the shallows,” Joe said. “It’ll make us harder to see.”

Kurt nodded and sat back. For a moment, it seemed like a pleasure cruise. The island’s long, low coastline, off to their right, was dotted with lights from homes, hotels and cars. Meanwhile, the fishing boat was easy to track against the pitch-darkness that loomed out to sea. At least until its lights suddenly went out.

“They’ve gone into stealth mode,” Joe said.

Kurt sat up, put the scope to his eye and scanned for the telltale white foam at the aft end of the boat. He found it and followed it for a few seconds before it, too, vanished.

“That’s odd.”

“What happened?”

“The wake just ended,” Kurt said. “It didn’t peter out, it just stopped.”

Widening the field of view, Kurt found the reason it had disappeared so abruptly. “They went behind a ship. A freighter, sitting out there, darkened to the world.”

Putting the scope down, Kurt picked up the radio and called back to the yacht. “Priya, this is Kurt, do you read?”

“Go ahead, Kurt.”

“I need you to pull up the AIS tracking service we use. Our friends have linked up with a midsized freighter anchored north of the island. I want to know what ship it is and who owns it.”

“Stand by,” she said. “Sorry, but there’s no AIS signal in your area. Whoever they are, they’re operating without broadcasting an ID.”

“No surprise there,” Joe said.

Kurt continued to study the freighter through the night vision scope. The fishing boat remained hidden behind it. “Find us a spot to anchor,” he said. “Time to put these special dive suits of yours to the test.”

33

WITH THE PAVATI anchored in the shallows, Joe opened the storage lockers and pulled out two wetsuits, a pair of rebreathers and two helmets.

“The new stuff,” Kurt said. “You weren’t kidding.”

None of the equipment looked like standard gear. The wetsuits were ribbed, with pads in the thighs, hips and calf areas, and battery packs instead of weight belts.

The rebreathers were slim and compact, flat enough that one could wear a windbreaker over them and no one would notice. The helmets had strange protrusions sticking out either side that reminded Kurt of the mirrors on a small car.

Kurt picked up the wetsuit first. “It looks like superhero body armor.”

“You’ll swim like a superhero with this,” Joe said. “The ribs and padded areas are power-assisted modules and artificial muscle.”

“Artificial muscle?”

Joe nodded. “Those robotic assemblies we dealt with last year gave me the idea. I figured, instead of a bulky propulsion unit with a propeller, why not just enhance the diver’s swimming motion? To make it work, I embedded a material in the neoprene that expands and contracts like muscle when an electrical current is applied. Once you turn it on, the suit will kick for itself, all you have to do is set the pace on the small touch screen on your forearm.”

“How fast will this make us?”