Fatal Dive by Peter F. Stevens

Author:Peter F. Stevens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regnery Publishing
Published: 2012-06-27T04:00:00+00:00

In the early afternoon, as Garcia started the first pass above the northern slope, the waters on the surface calmed. He leaned toward the intercom in front of the helm. “Richard, how fast are the currents at 3,000 feet?”

From the shack came the navigator’s voice: “Not that bad, surprisingly.”

Garcia suggested that Graham pull the towfish up to 3,000 feet. “It’s worth a shot to see if we get lucky and pull the sonar right over where Seiichi last saw the sub. No more than three knots.”

“Go for it,” Graham said.

An hour went by, and Garcia was nearing the crucial point on the map, but the pings were still soft. Mike Kelly leaned in close to the target monitor in the chart room, studying every contour of the underwater slope.

Suddenly, a louder ping echoed from the chart room up to the wheelhouse, followed by another.

“Hold her steady, Kale,” Kelly called up. “Richard?” The pings grew louder.

“Hearing it, too,” Graham replied. “I’m at 3,600 feet. Do you see that shelf at about 3,200? Let’s take a look.”

The pings intensified, pealing through the intercom to every corner of the Aquila. Anj, Tanner, and Kenzie materialized in the chart room. Gromeko rolled from his bunk in the bow’s sleeping quarters and raced up to join them.

As Wright’s fingers softly drummed on the back of Kelly’s chair, Pete Lowney flipped on his video cam and trained it on Kelly and the monitors. The entire team, except for Graham and Lee who were hunkered down in the shack guiding the submersible, crowded the chart room.

“We’re at 3,300,” Graham intoned, the pings coming faster as the still-grainy outlines of a flattened slope danced in the screens.

No one said a word, the only sounds their quickened breathing, the muted thrum of the engines, and the insistent pings.

Graham announced, “3,200 feet.”

On the computer screens in the chart room and the shack, a long, tubular silhouette began to emerge as the sonar signal reached a crescendo. Graham pulled the towfish to a virtual stop above the shelf where the object rested. The pictures sharpened.

He said, “Target is sitting upright on the shelf. Looks to be about 280 feet long, 27 wide.” He paused. “That looks like a sub.”

Wright peered at the target. “The width’s right, but the Grunion was 312 feet long ...”

Graham shouted: “There’s the conning tower and the periscope–that’s a sub!”

Cheers and high-fives erupted in the chart room. Kelly grinned and shook his head. “The exact spot where Seiichi said she’d be.”

In a solemn voice, Graham said, “There are seventy men down there...”

Quiet filled the wheelhouse again. Then Wright pronounced, “We’ve got a lot more passes to make over her. We need a look at what’s left of the bow.”

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