Neither of them spoke, except as necessary for navigation.

Finally, Paul slowed the craft. They’d dropped from the Navy helicopter, descended into the far end of the canyon, and wound their way back toward the platforms.

“We’re at two hundred feet and holding,” Paul said. “If the inertial system is right, the platforms are less than a mile away.” Gamay was already activating Rapunzel ’s program. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Detaching umbilical,” she said.

She felt herself sweating once again despite the cold. And then she felt Paul’s hand on her shoulder, massaging it softly.

Another series of explosions rumbled through the depths, these far bigger, closer, and more menacing than any that had come before.

“Do you think that was one of ours?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Don’t think about it. Just do what you have to do.” She tried to block it out, even as another, smaller boom reached them, but there was nothing to see through her visor except darkness.

Seconds passed.

“How far?” she asked.

“You should be almost there,” Paul said.

Something was wrong. “She’s not moving,” Gamay said.

“What?”

Gamay studied the data feed from the little robot. “Her motor is operating, but she’s not moving. She’s stuck.” “How is that possible?” Paul asked.

Gamay, with a flip of her right hand, switched on Rapunzel’s exterior light. The answer to Paul’s question came through instantly.

“She’s stuck in a net.”

Gamay put Rapunzel in reverse and pulled her back a few yards. The net was no fluke; it was draped from above.

“Antitorpedo nets,” Paul said. “We must be right beside the platform.” Gamay switched on Rapunzel’s cutting tool. “I’m cutting through it.”

THE MEMPHIS had broken the surface but was taking on water fast. The order to abandon ship was given, and men were scrambling from the hatches and into boats or just into the sea itself.

But the survivors were well inside the Event Horizon line. If their enemy wanted to, he could fry them all with a single burst from his weapon.

ON THE ONYX, Kurt noticed the lighting returning to normal. He was thankful that the bow thrusters hadn’t come back to life. He hoped that meant the high voltage was still out and the Fulcrum array was still off-line.

He moved back to where Katarina sat in the hall. “Ready for one more run?” he asked.

“I don’t think I can,” she said.

He studied her hand. The blood flow had slowed, the wound was finally clotting.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re a champion. Prove it to me.” She looked into his eyes and clenched her jaw. He helped her up, and they began to move.

“Do you still want to get to the coolant room?” she asked.

He nodded. “They’ll get this power back on soon enough. We have to permanently disable this thing.” “I know another way to get there,” she said. “They’ll never expect us to use it.” She led him forward until they came to another hatch. This one was sealed tight.

Kurt dropped beside it and grabbed the wheel.

After two full rotations it spun easily. He opened it to see a ladder dropping down through a shaft. Dim red lights lit the rungs, and glacial air wafted up toward him. Kurt suddenly thought of Dante’s Inferno, which depicted some of Hell’s outer layers as frigid, Arctic-like zones.

“What’s down there?” he asked.

“The accelerator tunnels,” she said.

That didn’t sound like a safe place to be, but the sound of feet pounding on the metal deck above changed his mind.

He helped her onto the ladder, climbed down behind her, and shut the hatch. At the bottom they dropped into a tunnel.

It reminded Kurt of standing on a subway platform, like the Washington Metro, only narrower. The familiar high-voltage lines and liquid nitrogen conduits raced down each wall and also along the ceiling and floor. Rows of the shiny gray rectangles that Kurt knew to be the superconducting magnets traveled off into the distance, curving slightly at the limit of his vision.

Kurt exhaled a cloud of ice crystals. He was already chilled to the bone. It reminded him of the Fulcrum’s compartment only colder.

“If we go this way,” she said, “we can pop up through the rear access hatch. One level down from the coolant room.” Kurt began walking, with Katarina leaning heavily on his shoulder. It was a great plan. The crew would never search for them down there, he was sure of it.

“What if they turn this thing on?” he asked.

“Then we’ll be dead before we even know what’s happened.” “All the more reason to hurry,” he said.

61

BY NOW DJEMMA GARAND could feel the danger clawing at his own throat. Washington, D.C., stood untouched by his weapon. Andras would not answer and the crew of the Onyx reported commandos aboard.

Swirling around him, the American military showed no signs of backing off, no matter how hard he pounded them.

“Where’s Andras?” he demanded into the radio.

“He is looking for the American,” came the reply.

“What about the array?”

“It’s still down. We have no power.” The crewman from the Onyx sounded panicked, though he could not be facing what Djemma was facing.

He put the headset down. It would end in failure. He could see that now.

He looked out over the waves. One of their submarines had been destroyed and forced to surface. The other continued to fight, firing from deeper waters.

Through a pair of huge binoculars, he saw the crew of the American submarine bobbing in their orange life rafts.

“Target their position,” he said calmly.

Cochrane hesitated.

“We are going to die, Mr. Cochrane,” he said. “All we can do now is take as many of them with us as possible.” Cochrane stood back from the controls. “Forget it,” he said. “You want to go down in flames, that’s your business. I’m not dying here.” Djemma had been waiting for this moment. He pulled out his old sidearm and blasted three holes in Cochrane.

Cochrane fell back in an unmoving heap. Djemma fired a few more shots into his worthless hide just for the sheer pleasure of it.

“And you are proved wrong yet again, Mr. Cochrane,” he said.

He stepped to the controls, glaring at the engineers. “Target the life rafts and fire!”

GAMAY TROUT had finished cutting through the net and had eased Rapunzel and her harness of explosives through. Since then, she’d been looking for what the Truxton’s captain had described.

“Head two-nine-zero,” Paul said.

She turned Rapunzel onto the course and got her moving again. She considered shutting off the floodlight, but she didn’t want to run into any more obstacles. Besides, they were almost there — up ahead she could see the base of some large structure.

A large tube ran up to it, like a city’s oversized sewer pipe. She guessed this was part of the accelerator.

“That’s it,” she said. “It’s got to be.” “I think you’re right,” Paul said, excitedly. “Find the base where it connects to the seafloor.

Gamay looked around, shining Rapunzel’s light in the darkness. Then she directed her to the base of the huge pipe.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Wedge her in there between the bottom and the pipe where it starts to angle out of the water,” Paul said. “It’ll give the explosion more force.” Gamay did as he suggested. “That’s as far as she’ll go.” Paul grabbed the detonator, flipped the safety cap up.

“Do it,” Gamay said.

He pressed the switch.

“Good-bye, Rapunzel,” she said, thankful for the little machine and sorry to see her go.