Devil's Gate

He neared the end of the hall and despite the pain and fatigue spotted a reason to smile and keep going. At the door to the conference room he saw Gamay Trout. It troubled him that she was alone.

They hugged, and he could feel that much of her usual self-assurance was missing.

“You don’t look so good, Kurt. How do you feel?”

“Never better,” he said.

She smiled.

“Paul?” he asked.

“He’s still unconscious,” she managed.

“I’m sorry.”

“His EEG is improving, and a CAT scan showed no damage, but I’m scared, Kurt.”

“He’ll come back,” Kurt said hopefully. “After all, look what he’s got waiting for him.”

She tried to smile, and then grabbed the door handle and pushed through.

Kurt followed her in and sat protectively beside her. Joe arrived a moment later and sat on her other side. Dirk Pitt, Hiram Yaeger, and some brass from the Navy held positions down the table from them. At the head of the table, a suit from the NSA took center stage.

Dirk Pitt stood and explained. “I know you’ve all been through a lot, but we’re here because the situation has gone from bad to worse.”

He waved toward the man in the suit. “This is Cameron Brinks from the NSA. He and Rear Admiral Farnsworth are spearheading the response to what we believe is a very present threat to international peace.”

Cameron Brinks stood up. “We have to thank you men for discovering and bringing this threat to our attention. Like you, we believe a well-financed or even nationally backed group has developed a directed-energy weapon of incredible power. If the extrapolations from the data are correct, this weapon could undermine the current world socio-military balance.”

Kurt wasn’t sure what exactly the term socio-military balance meant, but it sounded like a politician’s made-up parlance, and he guessed Brinks was more a politician than a man of action. That meant they were in for a long speech. Great.

Brinks continued. “After consulting with Mr. Yaeger, and also ru

Kurt considered what Brinks was saying, and he allowed some of his aggravation to dissipate. At least these men seemed to grasp the danger.

“To make matters worse,” Brinks said, “the kidnapped scientists are precisely the kind of people one would need to improve on whatever these terrorists are already in possession of.”

“Do we have any idea who they are?” Kurt asked.

Brinks nodded. “In addition to the individual you identified, we’ve two pieces of credible evidence suggesting their base of operations is in Africa.”

“Africa?” Gamay said.

“Yes, Mrs. Trout,” Brinks replied. “Early this morning a body was recovered two miles south of the spot where Kurt and Joe were rescued.”

Brinks nodded to an aide, who brought photos out that were passed to Kurt and Joe.

“Recognize him?” Brinks asked.

The water had bloated the man’s face, but it wasn’t enough to hide his identity.

“Key master,” Joe whispered.

Kurt nodded. “This guy was with Andras,” he said. “What happened to him?”

“Twenty-two, Old West style,” Brinks said. “Right between the eyes. Any idea why?”

“He was alive when we went down,” Kurt said. He put the photo away. “Who is he?”

“He’s been identified as a citizen of Sierra Leone,” Brinks said. “A former major in their armed forces, perhaps even a bodyguard for the president, Djemma Garand.”

“Sierra Leone,” Kurt said. This was the second time that nation’s name had popped up.

Brinks nodded. “As odd as it sounds, the links are starting to point to a co

Kurt didn’t like hearing Andras referred to as his friend, however facetiously. Beyond that, something sounded odd about this assessment. “Sierra Leone is one of the poorest countries in the world. They can barely feed and clothe their people. You’re telling me they have the wherewithal to create a particle accelerator using advanced superconductors?”

“We have this man’s body to prove a link,” Brinks said, not looking particularly thrilled to have questions coming at him. “We have other intelligence suggesting there may be a co

“Okay, so what are we doing about it?” Kurt asked, unable to take any more preamble.

Brinks retrained his gaze on Kurt. “To begin with, greater surveillance of the nation is begi

“What else?”

“Believe it or not,” Brinks said, “we still think your initial guess is correct. These people undoubtedly have to be operating from a submarine. Portuguese divers have been all over that rock tower and they’ve found hidden tu

Kurt felt a small amount of vindication, but he’d still been wrong in a highly costly ma

“And?” he asked.

“And the three of you are to be assigned to a Navy task force charged with finding this submarine,” Brinks said. “Mrs. Trout will work with the Navy acoustics team in trying to refine the signature left on the sonar tapes from the attack on the Grouper.”

“And what are we going to do?” Kurt asked, growing aggravated at what looked like a giant detour.

“Because of your experience in salvage operations and construction of submersibles, you two will be assigned to ASW teams that will be sent out looking for this sub.”

Kurt wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “Looking for it?” Kurt said. “You mean wandering around the ocean, listening to hydrophones and hoping to pick up something more than whales making out?”

Neither Brinks nor Admiral Farnsworth reacted.

“Are you kidding me?” Kurt continued. “There’s forty million square miles of ocean out there. And that’s if these idiots are still sailing around, waiting to get caught. More likely they’ve parked that thing under a shed somewhere and are on to the next step in their plan.”

“Our ASW teams are the best in the world, Mr. Austin,” the admiral said.

“I know they are, Admiral, but how many are you going to spare?”

“Seven frigates and twenty aircraft,” he said. “We’ll also be using both the SOSUS line and other listening stations in the South Atlantic.”

That was better than Kurt had expected, but paltry in comparison to the need. And unless Kurt had missed something, they didn’t even know what they were looking for yet.

“Did we pick up anything on the SOSUS during any of the incidents?” he asked.

“No,” the admiral admitted. “Nothing but the sounds of the Kinjara Maru breaking up on her way down and the explosions of the torpedoes during the attack on the Grouper.”

“So all we have is the garbled tape from the Matador,” Kurt said.

“Do you have a better idea, Mr. Austin?” Brinks asked pointedly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to track down Andras. And when I find him, that’ll lead us to whoever he’s working for.”

“CIA’s been looking for him for years,” Brinks said dismissively. “He never stays in one place long enough for anyone to get a line on him. What makes you think you’re going to succeed where they failed?”

“Because there are certain rocks they don’t like to turn over,” he said bluntly. “I have no such qualms.”

Brinks pursed his lips, looking disgusted. He turned back to NUMA’s Director. “Mr. Pitt, would you do something, please?”