Two more divers appeared in the shot. They moved towards the spinning propeller, then when they were in place, joined their thumbs and index fingers together, making the sign for “Okay”.
Brian also moved forwards until he was touching the back of the ship, a little to the left of the churning and dangerous propeller. His DPV was nowhere to be seen, but Jake knew it was following along by itself, programmed to remain at a fixed depth and distance from the Lance.
Quite without warning the image suddenly became very clear, as the camera came up out of the water. Jake looked to the left-hand monitor. He could just make out Brian, and some of the others, scaling the sheer stern of the ship.
“Bloody hell.” He broke the silence in the room. “I was sceptical of those suction cups working, but look at them go!”
Martin smiled smugly. “We use something similar for getting under the Arcadia for checks and repairs. I had total confidence.”
“You never said, when we were going over the plan.”
“I was enjoying watching you squirm.”
“Shh!” Amanda Jackson hushed them. She sat on the edge of her seat leaning forwards, studying the screens. “One of those bad guys is getting too damn close.”
Ralf had seen it too, because his voice once again broke through the speaker, as calm as before. “Be advised: OD headed afterends.”
There was a muffled booming sound as Brian tapped his microphone with a finger, indicating he had received the message. All the divers paused, stuck to the stern of the Lance like flies on a window. The red blot changed direction, moving towards the bows again.
“Clear,” Ralf chirped.
The men were on the move instantly, and within seconds Brian was climbing over the lip of the hull and onto the deck. The others were right behind. The thermal image showed six new red spots on at the rear of the ship, but these spots were different. On top of each was superimposed a green blinking dot.
“We see six aboard. Transponders operational,” Ralf reported.
Two of the green dots started climbing up the gantry that supported the helipad.
“Blue Team: Red Team is in place. Proceed with caution.”
The screens didn’t give any indication as to what was happening, but Jake knew the plan by heart. It had been covered in detail, refined and honed. When he’d tried to sleep, early in the evening, in preparation for this moment, he had turned it over again and again in his head. Right now, two divers were feeding thick rope into the Lance’s propeller, choking it up completely. The engine would protest as it tried to spin the shaft without success. Jake hadn’t been on any kind of scientific vessel before, but he knew ships, and he knew that right about now, a series of warning lights and alarms would be going off in the engine room and on the bridge.
Movement on the thermal image caught his attention. Then, through Brian’s open microphone, he heard shouting in a language he didn’t recognise. Someone on the bridge was barking orders at the men down on the deck.
Just as they had planned it.
Two red blobs sprinted to the rear of the Lance, sent to look overboard and see what was fouling the propeller. They were met by members of the Red Team armed with Taser X3s they had extracted from waterproof equipment pouches. On the middle screen Jake saw the scuffle, and he heard the crackle of electricity as fifty thousand volts were blasted into the necks of the enemy men, who crumpled to the ground almost silently.
“Two down. Both targets Asian in appearance, and in uniform. Both armed. If these men are polar scientists, I’m a fried-egg salesman—” Brian whispered into his microphone. He was interrupted by the sound of someone shouting. They were swiftly cut off with another blast of electricity. “Make that three. You didn’t tell us about that one.”
“Didn’t have eyes on. Must have come from the dark side,” Ralf said, with no hint of remorse or emotion in his voice.
With the immediate rear guard taken care of, the divers began to work their way forwards, edging along the deck. Two of them took the far side, out of sight of the Ambush’s sensor array. Brian stayed on the starboard side, relying on Ralf’s aid. At the same time, the second wave of divers, Blue Team, began to haul themselves out of the water and onto the ship. They took the same route, climbing the stern, out of sight of the bridge and any remaining lookout.
“Red One: OD ten metres ahead of you, another ten metres after. That’s all I see.”
There was no confirming tap on the microphone; Brian was too busy concentrating on his task. He had his back against the wall. The lifeboat suspended over his head meant he was in shadow. A set of steps leading up to the bridge partially blocked the line of sight. It was a good place for an ambush. He pushed himself as far back as he could, then let out a whistle. Jake watched as the image on the left-hand screen zoomed in closer. With the lights glaring out from the Lance it was difficult to see much, but he caught a movement to the right of Brian. The thermal image confirmed that one of the lookouts was moving towards him.
“Red One: OD headed your way.”
As the guard rounded the steps, Brian’s hand shot out and grabbed him, pulling him into the darkness. He was dispatched with a dose of current, and folded away beneath the stairway.
The last guard made no move to follow. Brian tried whistling again, but he must not have been heard over the noise of the engine straining to overcome the bindings around the propeller. Very slowly, he edged out of his hiding place and crabbed along the deck, keeping his back to the wall.
He almost made it, but the guard was more alert than anyone had really expected, and he must have heard Brian’s approach because he whirled around, gun raised, and shouted something that nobody understood.
Brian, like the other divers, was armed only with a Taser and a knife. Close-combat weapons; discreet, silent. They hadn’t come to kill, only to take control of the Lance and find out what was really going on there. He had no means to defend himself against the man standing ten metres from him. Jumping overboard would be too risky; the guard could easily get off a shot or two before he hit the water. Instead, he raised his hands above his head.
“Red One in trouble. If anyone is nearby, assistance is required at the mid-section, starboard side.” Ralf remained as calm and detached as always, relaying the information to the other divers.
Jake could barely bring himself to watch, so looked away, choosing to regard the thermal scan rather than the terrifying view from Brian’s shoulder cam: the image of a man pointing a gun directly at him. He couldn’t block out the sound though, and the sound was of the guard shouting incoherently. He was raising hell, and now their cover was well and truly blown.
Several things then happened at once. A face appeared at the starboard-side bridge window, looked down at Brian and the guard holding him at gunpoint, then disappeared just as quickly. A siren blared out across the Lance. Jake could hear it outside without the aid of the video links.
At the same instant, on the thermal image screen a red blob with a flashing green dot popped into view, coming round the mid-section of the ship. Jake’s eyes flicked back to the middle screen and he saw the submariner approach the gun-toting guard from the rear. As he raised his Taser to the guard’s neck, Brian dived to the ground. A second later and he would have been comprehensively perforated by the spray of bullets that erupted from the weapon as the man’s muscles contracted around the trigger, a side effect of the intense electric shock.
That wasn’t the only gun to fire. Windows behind the bridge had been thrown open and gun barrels were poked through, firing indiscriminately towards the deck. The middle screen in the situation room flickered then went black, the images replaced with the words: “No Signal”.