Sea of Greed

“Why not,” she told herself. “If Kurt can swim across the bay for a date, why can’t I do the same to advance our mission?”

She could accomplish the task using just her arms. But thanks to Joe, she didn’t have to do it on her own.

She set the camera on record, wrote an entry into her computer log and wheeled herself toward the yacht’s small elevator. A moment later, she was on the lower deck, retrieving one of the powered dive suits from the locker.

She disrobed and pulled the suit on, adjusting the fit until it was snug. That done, she pulled the top up over her shoulders, slid her arms in and zipped it up.

In comparison to getting the wetsuit situated, donning the rest of the gear was easy. She tested every item, double-checked the power pack and then pulled out one of the geotrackers.

With a rebreather in place, she scooted to the edge of the transom. With only the briefest of second thoughts, she pushed herself backward and plunged into the waters of Bermuda’s Great Sound.

She swam with her arms for a minute, setting her buoyancy to a slightly negative level, while she submerged and activated the suit.

Her right leg kicked and then her left. The artificial muscle contractions happened slowly and awkwardly at first. Using the controller on her forearm, she increased the pace until it became a natural rhythm.

Over the past few years, she’d had many dreams in which she was running and climbing, but far more where she was swimming. And while she couldn’t feel the squeezing sensation that Kurt and Joe felt, because the sensation could not pass the break in her spine, she felt the movement and the power in her hips and her lower back. The sensation of speed was incredible, euphoric. For just a moment, she felt as if she was flying.

36

WHILE PRIYA was swimming across the Great Sound, Kurt and Joe were descending through the open waters of the Atlantic.

Forced to avoid the divers who remained near the freighter, they’d swung wide around the ship’s bow before descending in the direction of the tanker-laden submersible.

Kurt was a few yards ahead, kicking smoothly, allowing the power suit to do most of the work. The submarine was up ahead, running with its high beams on, but slowly getting dimmer with the growing distance.

“What’s the max range on this sonar?” Kurt asked.

“About four hundred yards,” Joe said, “depending on the water conditions.”

Four hundred yards was much farther than one could see with even the brightest of lights.

Kurt switched the sonar system back on, dialing up the maximum range. The gray field of vision and the outline of the submersible appeared. It was leveling off and gliding across the top of a reef.

“Would you look at that,” Joe said.

The sonar system gave a three-dimensional appearance to the view, and the ship on the bottom seemed to lengthen as they approached it.

The angled bow was pointed toward them. Behind it, three huge, dome-shaped structures protruded from the main deck. Each dome was actually the upper half of a spherical container, known as a Moss tank. They were designed to hold liquid natural gas under extreme pressure. The lower halves of the spheres were hidden below deck.

“That’s a liquid natural gas carrier,” Kurt said.

“Big one, too,” Joe replied. “The question is, what’s she doing down here?”

“Tessa has a foundation that sinks ships to encourage reef building,” Kurt said. “Though, I have a feeling this vessel has a more sinister purpose.”

“Mother ship,” Joe suggested. “With this tanker coming in for a fill-up.”

“Exactly,” Kurt said. “I think we’ve found the source of infection.”

They followed the submarine down, closing the gap as the ungainly vessel navigated cautiously between a field of coral and the side of the ship.

It slowed to a stop, pivoted and — after stirring up a cloud of sediment — disappeared into a gaping hole in the side of the ship’s hull.

“That’s a surprise,” Joe said. “I figured they’d lock on, fill up and head back to the surface.”

“As did I,” Kurt said.

With the submarine gone, he could see a large section of hull plating moving back into position like a garage door closing.

“Let’s get through the door before they shut us out.”

Both men dived hard, swimming toward the rapidly shrinking gap and darting through the cloud of sediment and beneath the closing door.

They wound up inside the hull of the monstrous ship, listening to the audible clang of the hull plates shutting behind them.

The submersible floated ahead and above them, its lights illuminating the inner sanctum of the LNG carrier.

Kurt had been inside similar ships and one look told him the guts of the vessel had been torn out. Structural supports, machinery and entire portions of the inner hull had been cut away and removed. What remained was an open space, several hundred feet in length and a hundred and forty feet wide, with the lower halves of the spherical tanks hanging in place like the undersides of three great balloons.