The Silent Sea (2010)

That sucked, Hanley proclaimed when the RHIB was winched inside the boat garage along the ship's side. Not only is it colder than a brass monkey's you know what out there, but that cemetery would creep out Stephen King. The headstones are all carved whale bones, and there's a fence around it made up of ribs as tall as me. The arched gate is built of skulls the size of Volkswagens.

Any problem recovering the remains?

Do you mean besides the eternal damnation of my soul for desecrating holy ground?

No.

In that case, everything went fine. The graves were only about a foot deep, and the men were laid to rest in canvas bags sewn from sails. I was surprised to find they had mostly decomposed.

The ground would have been too frozen to bury them in the winter, and in spring it's just warm enough for bacteria to do their thing.

So now what?

You get yourself warmed up. Mike Trono and his gang just took off back to the wreck. By the time they return and we get the Nomad prepped again, it'll be showtime.

Weather coming in?

Eric said it's going to be a bitch out there come dawn.

It isn't exactly skittles and beer now.

As the saying goes, 'yYou ain't seen nothing yet.'

The Silent Sea

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

MAJOR ESPINOZA LAID THE WEATHER REPORT BACK ON Luis Laretta's desk. The small office, with its obligatory picture of Generalissimo Ernesto Coraz+|n on one wall and a poster of a scantily clad girl on the other, was thick with their cigar smoke.

This storm would be perfect cover for an American Special Force strike. They'll be expecting us to sit down here all snug in our bunks while they sneak around and place explosives all over the camp. He brooded for a moment. I'm going to push out the perimeter patrols another couple of miles. If they're here, they would have parachuted in well back from the coast and would need to come overland.

Surely you don't think they'll attack, Laretta said, waving his Cohiba airily.

Espinoza stared at him flatly. I am paid to be prepared, if they do. I don't have the luxury of opining.

We each have our jobs, the facility director replied, thinking it was better the soldiers freeze out there than his people.

There came a knock on the door.

Come, Laretta bellowed.

In walked Lee Fong, the head of the Chinese search team. He was gri

Fong, how are you? Luis greeted.

Most excellent. We found the Silent Sea.

The director came halfway out of his chair. So soon? That's wonderful. Here, have one of my cigars. When he sat back down, he retrieved a bottle of brandy and some paper cups from his bottom drawer.

I don't normally smoke, the soft-spoken engineer said, but under the circumstances . . .

Are you sure about your find?

Lee pulled out his PDA and clicked through to a picture. He handed the small device to Espinoza. After we got a solid sonar return, I sent down a camera. I admit the resolution is poor, but you are looking at the stern of one of the biggest junks ever built.

To Jorge, the picture just looked like a dark blur. I'll have to take your word for it.

Trust me. It's the Silent Sea. Tomorrow we will dive on the wreck and bring back irrefutable proof. I tried to report this when we were out there and have you send a boat with divers right away, but we couldn't seem to transmit. He accepted a drink from Laretta.

Espinoza declined. I'm on duty.

Your loss. The director saluted him, then toasted Lee Fong. Congratulations. From this moment, there can be no questioning our rights to this land and the riches off her coast. I've got to be honest with you guys. Ever since we started construction, I've always been afraid our operation would be discovered and we'd be booted out. Well, no more. We are here to stay.

Have you contacted you superiors? Espinoza asked Lee.

Yes, just now. They are most pleased, he beamed. My immediate boss says I will be awarded a medal and that our company will be guaranteed a lifetime of government contracts.

Hold out for a big raise, Laretta told him, pouring more brandy into his glass. Make them know you're worth it.

I might just do that. Oh, I forgot. The ship on the beach.

What about it, Espinoza asked sharply. He'd been suspicious about that boat, and even seeing with his own eyes that she was a derelict didn't allay his concerns.

She's off the beach and starting to float away.

You didn't see any engine smoke?

Oh, no. And she's leaning heavily to one side. I think she will flip over soon.

Espinoza was regretting his moment of earlier charity. He should have let Sergeant Lugones lay some charges and blow her to pieces. It wasn't too late. He could ask the captain of the Guillermo Brown to sink the old scow with a missile, but he could think of no valid reason why the Navy would waste such expensive munitions on his paranoia. With any luck, the storm would either sink her or blow her so far away that he wouldn't have to worry about her presence any longer.

Mr. Laretta, might I have some more of your brandy?

It would be my pleasure, Luis slopped some more into Lee's paper cup.

The Major stood abruptly. Something wasn't right. It wasn't instinct but the cold tickling of premonition that was setting his nerves on edge. The Americans would come. Tonight or tomorrow, when the storm picked up, and they would lay waste to what these two men were so smugly proud of.

Gentlemen, I needn't remind you that until the world formally recognizes the Antarctic Peninsula as sovereign Argentine territory, we are at risk.

Come, come, my dear Major. Laretta had no head for alcohol. He was already slurring his words. There is no harm in celebrating our success.

Maybe so, but I believe you are being a little premature. Get word to your workers that curfew tonight starts in one hour, and there will be no exceptions. My men are going to be on patrol with orders to shoot. Do you understand?

That sobered him up. Laretta nodded. Curfew, one hour. Yes, Major.

Espinoza turned on his heel and left the office. He'd been pushing his soldiers hard since their arrival and tonight he'd push them harder still. By the time he and Raul had them all deployed, there wouldn't be one inch of uncovered space around the oil terminal, and, knowing the American proclivity for coming to the rescue of others, he would double the guard on their captives.

JUAN PULLED THE STRAIGHT RAZOR from his neck and swirled it in the copper basin of his sink. The Oregon's steep list forced him to brace himself with his other hand. He made one more pass, rinsed the blade, and dried it very carefully on the towel. His grandfather had been a barber and had taught him that the secret of keeping a razor sharp was never to put it away wet.

He pressed the plunger to drain the sink and splashed his face with palmfuls of water. He looked himself in the eye in the mirror over the vanity. He wasn't sure what he saw. He was proud of the decision he had made, yet he also thought they should have cut and run and headed for South Africa, where five million a week for the next three weeks was guaranteed for doing nothing more than babysitting a head of state who had no enemies.

He dried his face with a towel and pulled on a T-shirt. They had turned up the heat somewhat, but his arms and chest were covered in goose pimples.

He hopped across to his walk-in closet and selected a leg for the day's mission among the five artificial limbs he owned. They were lined up on the floor like a bunch of left-only cowboy boots. A few minutes later, he was finished dressing and on his way to the moon pool. He knew he should eat something, but his stomach was too knotted.

The underwater operations center was a hive of activity, with teams of technicians working on the Nomad 1000 that had just returned with Trono and his group. Mike reported that the charges were planted and ready to go. His team had been drilling into the underside of the glacier, hanging over the bay and packing the holes with enough explosives to calve off a hundred thousand tons of ice.