The look on the captain’s face suggested he didn’t like where this was headed. “And…”
“High-grade kerosene is twenty-five percent lighter than seawater,” Joe said. “If we fill the other bladders with kerosene and secure them to the bottom deck inside the flooded compartments, they’ll force the water out while lightening our load at the same time. And as an added benefit, you haven’t increased the weight of the ship at all, just moved fuel from one place to another.”
The captain frowned. “You want me to fill an entire compartment of my ship with an explosive liquid?”
“Two compartments actually.”
The captain shook his head, even though he accepted the idea. “I suppose if we blow ourselves up instead of sinking, at least we go out with a bang.”
“We should be fine, liquid kerosene is not explosive,” Joe said. “Only the vapors are. They have a flash point around a hundred forty degrees. With the seawater inside that compartment hovering around the freezing point there’s little risk of evaporation or vapors building up.”
The captain rubbed the stubble on his face, looking thoughtful but also weary. “You and Kurt have been right so far. Check with the chief engineer. If he says it’s okay, then you have my blessing. Just don’t blow up my ship.”
It would take four hours, some ingenuity with the fuel pumps, and multiple dives to complete the task. When the job was finished, the opening partially sealed, the bulkhead was reenforced and theLyrawas riding high enough that the tops of the original lifting bags could be seen above the water. It was a remarkable transition.
With some trepidation, the original lifting bags were deflated and hauled back on board. The ship got underway, making a respectable eight knots. By nightfall she was approaching the nearest port. A small fishing village named Kaldfjord, which was dwarfed by the cliffs of the Tromsø fjord surrounding it.
The village had a population of about five thousand people. It had once been much smaller, but after oil was discovered nearby, one of Norway’s large energy companies had come in and built out the harbor, installing large modern docks and a breakwater. The docks were barely used now, as a pipeline had replaced most of the ship traffic in and out of the fjord.
Inching its way down the fjord, theLyraeased through the placidwaters toward the lighted quay, with Kurt, Joe, and the captain standing on the bridgewing triumphantly.
Spotting a large, red-hulled ship moored directly across the harbor from where they would berth took most of the joy out of the moment. TheLyrahad made for the nearest port in the storm. It just happened to be Tromsø. But the Chinese had obviously rushed here and beat them to it.
“What do you suppose they’re doing here?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said. “But something tells me we’d better find out.”
—
From the communications suite, Kurt put a call into Washington. After a brief delay he was connected with Rudi Gunn. He looked tanned and well rested.
“Glad to see you returned safely from the epic dangers of wine country,” Kurt joked.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rudi replied. “If you mistake a Pinot Grigio for a Gavi, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Wish I had your problems,” Kurt said. “We’ve made it to Tromsø. We’re docking now.”
Rudi knew that already. He’d been watching every inch of their progress on a computer screen. “Glad you’re all safe. I read the captain’s report. All four of you are in for commendations. In your case, you may have invented a new industry: preemptive salvage. The Navy is thinking about installing inflation bags on their fleet. It might cost millions, but if it saves one ship, it’s worth it.”
“Great,” Kurt said. “Any chance I’ll get some royalties?”
“Better,” Rudi said. “You’ll get credit on Wikipedia.”
Kurt laughed. “I guess it will have to do. In the meantime, wehave a job to finish. I figured limping into port was going to put us out of the action. Funny thing, the Chinese beat us to it. They’re docked on the other side of the harbor. Any idea why?”
“New information has come to light,” Rudi said. “A couple of fishermen claimed they heard a large, invisible aircraft crossing over the fjord at low altitude the night the EAGL disappeared.”
“Invisible?”
“They couldn’t see it in the dark of night,” Rudi explained, “but they could hear it. Assuming the aircraft was real and was traveling in a blacked-out mode without lights, it makes sense.”
“Which way did it go?”
“Seems to be some disagreement on that,” Rudi said. “But considering the sound would echo off the walls of the fjord, that’s understandable. Considering their differing locations, it seems likely that the aircraft was traveling southeast, that is, directly down the mouth of the fjord.”
Kurt found himself mildly irritated. “How long have you been sitting on this?”
“A couple of hours,” Rudi said. “We knew you were headed to Tromsø already. We didn’t want you busting the seals on that ship trying to get there a little quicker. Besides, it gave us time to arrange another satellite pass.”
