Erik J. Kreffel by Jaunt

Author:Jaunt [Jaunt]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-12-20T12:38:39+00:00

Foregoing the common sense of a sane man, he put his hands on the ladder and descended into the black, accompanied only by the trickling seawater.

“Nicolenko!”

Krasnowsky and his crewmen bolted into the bridge to find the lieutenant recovering from his spill on the deck floor. Thrown against the far wall, Nicolenko groaned. Balling his fists, he strained to push himself onto his forearms and chest. His hands patted down his holster, only to find it empty.

The captain produced a revolver from the waist of his pants and held it at arm’s length, squarely at the rising Nicolenko.

Nicolenko rubbed his forehead, eyeing Krasnowsky for the first time. “What the hell is this?!”

“I’ve been a patient man, much too patient.” Krasnowsky nodded to his two crewmen. “Get him off my bridge.”

Nicolenko grimaced as the pair grabbed each of his arms. “Don’t be stupid, Krasnowsky. Do you really wish to test the NKVD?”

Krasnowsky walked past the fallen lieutenant. “I’m tired of your talk, and of Moscow’s promises. Both mean nothing to me anymore.”

Forced to rise by his new captors, Nicolenko seethed under their treatment.

Regaining his footing, he took the chance to scan the floor for his lost sidearm, his eye catching a glint just a third-of-a-meter to the right of him. Feigning a limp in his right leg, Nicolenko wrested his right arm and elbowed the inexperienced fisherman in his abdomen, then punched the other man at his left, fully freeing himself.

Krasnowsky heard the commotion behind him. Pulling his revolver, he swiveled on his feet to see his two crewmen tumble to the floor.

Nicolenko dove to the floor, sliding into the wall head first, but managed to grab his revolver and cock it, holding it forward to the astonished Krasnowsky.

The men stood at each other, gun barrels frozen in place, waiting for the other to move first.

Toggling a hanging switch, Gilmour illuminated the cargo hold, allowing his eyes to glimpse the haphazard mountains of metal debris deposited on the floor, as if a mining operation had ceased halfway. The profuse stench almost gagged him, but he willed himself forward, forcing his soaked feet towards the glinting material. Wading through the foamy seawater, which rose perceptibly every few seconds, he stepped over to a small mound of the metal, which Gilmour in no time recognized: the same type of debris that had littered the crash sites in Nepal and Yakutia.

He gasped at the sheer volume of the material, which, if the ratio was similar to the two previous sites, was capable of yielding possibly dozens or more of the jewels.

“My God….” Gilmour’s mind maddened at the thought of the Confederation possessing this many jewels; there would be no future to go home to.

But there was no time to collect nearly any of the jewels; his sample bag was aboard the Amiliji now, and the rising level of seawater in the lower depths meant the Marinochka was sinking fast. Damn, if there was a way to save the jewels, he’d have to transfer the cargo

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