The Lost Key

Every man on the sub had known he was going to die, so they’d locked themselves in this chamber, all of them together in their final moments.

Nicholas slowly swung his torch around the space, and saw something glittering on the far wall. He swam closer, rubbed his gloved hand along the shiny spot. It was a single gold bar. He wiped away more silt. He saw not only one gold bar, he saw a wall of them, stacked from floor to ceiling, maybe six bars deep, shining faintly in the torch beam. He hung in the water, perfectly still, waiting for the water to clear, staring at the unbelievable sight. There was a king’s ransom of gold on this sub. Of course Havelock had known about the kaiser’s gold, but he’d been so focused on finding the key he hadn’t even noticed.

Nicholas swam toward the bow through several more compartments—a small mess hall, rusted pans, ceramic bowls and plates, still whole, and through sleeping quarters with only the wire and steel frames left, open rusted metal lockers.

He saw that the hatch to the bow compartment was smaller than the rest, with some sort of thick corroded rubber gasket around the edges. This hatch was closed.

He spun the wheel, and slowly pulled the hatch open.

Nicholas flashed his torch around the small room, no more than eight by ten feet. He saw a bunk in the corner, blankets floating off in the water, lanterns hanging over it, and a small table, all still intact.

He felt a punch of shock. On the bed was a body, floating inches above the disintegrating mattress, in much better shape than the skeletons scattered in the black waters behind him.

76

He realized this small compartment must have been completely sealed and airtight, dry for a hundred years, until Havelock had forced the hatch open. The body was mummified, almost perfectly preserved, wearing the uniform of a German naval Kapitänleutnant, the uniform cloth still a deep pure black.

But there was no mistaking the long, flowing hair. A woman. No woman should be aboard a sub, impossible, so what did this mean?

Her mummified body would soon be reduced to bones like the rest of the small crew. She hadn’t drowned, he realized, she’d starved to death, trapped in the ship’s womb, unable to get help for herself or her shipmates.

The names Alex Shepherd had said—Josef and Ansonia.

Had he found the Ansonia from Pearce’s files?

And suddenly, the bits and pieces from the Highest Order’s files started to make sense.

He floated in the water, staring at her, her body slowly rising, nearly to his outstretched hand now. He saw that her left hand was missing. Nicholas realized that as she lay dying, she’d held the key and Curie’s book in that hand and Havelock had snapped it right off.

He heard a tapping noise. It was Halpern. He looked down at his dive computer. Halpern was warning him. He’d started with sixty minutes of air and pla

He swam slowly and carefully so as not to stir up more of the blinding silt, past the skulls, as he emerged out the enlarged torpedo hole. He felt suddenly like he’d been released from hell itself, and breathed deeply. He looked up, searching for fins and bubbles, but he didn’t see Halpern. Instead, he saw a white flash of metal, bearing down on him, four lights shining in his eyes, the water churning around it.

It was Havelock’s submersible. It looked straight out of a science fiction movie, like a giant metal bug, with three large portholes like eyes along the bottom.

Nicholas grabbed up his propulsion device to get away, but it was no match for Havelock’s submersible.

He saw the submersible had stopped. Had Havelock decided it wasn’t worth the time to try to run him down?

He prayed Halpern had escaped and he was already on his way to the surface to warn Mike. Nicholas knew he couldn’t get to Havelock down here, he had to get back up top. Suddenly the submersible shot past him, clipping his foot as it passed, knocking him around in a lazy circle.

Havelock had changed his mind. The submersible was turning to come at him again. He had to get to the surface now, but he couldn’t move. The submersible had shot off a net, trapping his legs.

He pulled his dive knife out of the sheath on his thigh and began sawing at the ropes. He sensed movement out of the corner of his mask, looked up to see a diver bearing down on him, a knife in his hand.

As the man swam closer, Nicholas saw through the face mask a scar bisecting the man’s eye and cheek, and a rictus of a smile around the regulator in his mouth. It wasn’t Havelock.

This must be the man März.

Had he come off the submersible? Yes, that was why Havelock had backed off for a moment. Nicholas swam backward and up, still sawing on the ropes.

Nicholas realized März didn’t want to get into a knife fight, he wanted to cut Nicholas’s air hose.

The submersible was backing away, its lights growing dimmer. Nicholas hoped März hadn’t killed Halpern.

Nicholas used his DPD as a shield as März came at him and kept cutting away the net on his legs. Finally, he kicked free of the netting as März swam over him, knife ready to slice through the tubing on Nicholas’s back. Nicholas corkscrewed in the water and thrust his own knife at März’s thigh as he swam past.

He missed.

März grabbed Nicholas’s tank and got his arm around his neck. He cut through the air hose to Nicholas’s regulator, sending a cloud of bubbles bursting upward. Nicholas twisted, felt März’s knife slash through his dry suit and into his arm, then his knee struck Nicholas’s hand and he dropped his knife. Nicholas managed to jerk free and swing his DPD around, hitting März in the face, shoving him backward.

There was a sudden whooshing sound and Nicholas could swear he saw a torpedo shoot through the water not six feet away.

He couldn’t begin to understand what was happening. He was ru

There was a loud boom. The concussion tumbled both men backward, grappling for a hold on each other.

Nicholas heard the screech of metal, but he knew Havelock hadn’t sent a torpedo into the sub, otherwise the concussion of the blast would have killed them.

So who had fired at what?

Nicholas’s arm was bleeding, he was getting light-headed but knew if he passed out, he’d be dead. He grabbed März’s foot, and jerked him backward, until he was able to flip him around. März struggled even as the stirred-up silt blinded him. He got his thumbs into März’s eyes again and squeezed. A moment later, he felt something give way.

März jerked and danced in his hands, ribbons of blood curling around their heads. Nicholas ripped the regulator from März’s mouth, and sucked in air. Then he held März’s body between his legs and twisted his neck until he heard the crack of bone. He shoved his secondary air in his mouth, took a huge breath, and let go of März. He was facing Nicholas as he fell away, his eyes black holes, his head now dangling sideways. Nicholas watched his body hang limp in the water before slowly, slowly gliding downward.

Nicholas checked his air tank. His air was low, too low, but he hoped there was enough to make a decompression stop on the way up.

He started a slow ascent, carefully breathing in and out. Mike suddenly appeared in his brain, arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot. Was she calling him a lamebrain? A set of fins came into view. It was Halpern, he was alive and waiting for him. He’d never been happier to see someone in his life.