“This is probably far enough out,” Jake said, coming out of his trance. “Bodil, you’ll have to tell these boys how to deploy your sonar kit.”

She nodded, and began directing them. One of them wheeled her out of the bridge so she could better show them how to get the equipment into the water.

While they waited, Daniel had more questions for Jake. “Do we know where they come from? I mean, are they Russians? Americans? Another Royal Navy sub? Who would attack us?”

Jake hesitated, but only briefly. He reminded himself that transparency in the community was paramount. There was nothing to be gained by holding back information. “We think they’re North Korean, or possibly Chinese. The men who captured this ship were North Korean. They’re the only other survivors we’ve seen. The submarine was probably tracking the Lance.”

“They’re a long way from home. I didn’t think they had that sort of technology.”

“No…neither did Vardy. In fact, he insisted it was impossible. Subsequent events have changed that point of view. Vardy said that the Chinese had a secret submarine development project. It’s possible, although unlikely, they involved the Koreans in that. It’s also possible the Koreans stole the technology.”

One of the other sailors poked his head through the door. “We’re almost ready. The sonar’s being lowered into the water. Bodil is in the control room. I assume you want to join her?”

Jake nodded. “Thank you. Daniel, you have the bridge. Keep us put for now. This is Bodil’s show. She’ll be giving the orders when it’s time to move.”

“Aye…Jake,” he said, and grinned once more.

• • •

“What is it? What happened?” Dan rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. Despite his best efforts to maintain a vigil, he had dozed off when Vicky had gone to sleep.

“I said I think my waters just broke.”

“What? But the contractions had stopped!”

She let out a long, long, rumbling moan.

Dan leapt up, fully awake now. “Okay, they started. I’m going to fetch help.” He moved towards the door, then turned back to her. “Will you be okay on your own for a bit? Perhaps I shouldn’t leave you here?”

“You could try the phone, you big idiot.” She smiled at him. The same smile that had captured his heart.

“Yes, telephone. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll ring medical.” He circled the bed, cut the corner too tight and tripped over the end of the duvet, landing with a heavy thump.

“Dan! Calm down. We’ve got plenty of timeeeeaaahhh!” The last word turned into a pained yowl.

Dan checked his watch. “Didn’t time it, bugger.” He pushed himself up and found the telephone. He searched his memory for the number for medical, then realised it was printed on the phone itself. He dialled, and waited, all the time staring anxiously at his wife. She had jettisoned the bed covers, hence his finding them with his feet. She was sweating profusely. Her hair, normally so straight and perfect, was stuck to her face in a matted, wet heap, like seaweed washed up on a beach. She caught him watching her, and pulled a face.

“You wouldn’t look so good yourself if you were about to give birth, Mr Mitchell,” she said, still managing to smile through the obvious pain.

“Actually, I was thinking how amazing you look. Shit, nobody’s answering the phone down there.” He hung on regardless.

“Perhaps you should go. They might be too busy. I’ll be okay. It won’t take you long to get down there and come back. Honestly, Dan. I’ll be fine.”

He hung up, looking at the phone as if it was personally to blame for the lack of a response. “This is an emergency! They should answer.”

“There might be other emergencies. Don’t forget, we didn’t give them much notice about this — about me — did we? They’d be quite within their rights to say ‘not our problem, deal with it yourselves’. We should count ourselves lucky.”

Dan thought about that. It was true, they had been expecting the worst. Any help was a bonus.

“Go! Before I have a baby.”

“Okay. You’re sure?”

She gave him one of her looks.

“Okay! I’m gone.” He got as far as the door, even put his hand on the handle, before turning back one more time.

“What now?”

He leaned over the bed and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he said quietly. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Nutter!”

They kissed again, and then he was gone.

Twenty-Eight

IT WAS WHEN she reached the incline that took the ventilation pipe up to deck two that Lucya had a brainwave. It came, as all the best ideas seemed to, quite accidentally. Her arms were going numb. Pulling herself forwards inches at a time was tiring beyond belief. Keeping them stretched out in front of her was limiting the blood circulation. She’d already gone through pins and needles and was starting to lose the feeling in her hands altogether. In an effort to get them down by her side, at least for a few minutes, she tried rolling onto her back. In the confined round space, the only way to do so was to twist her legs and try and pull herself round. The manoeuvre itself wasn’t tricky, but doing it quietly took some effort.

Once on her back, Lucya managed to squeeze her tightly folded arms over her face. The relief was immense; she could feel the arteries and veins open up and the blood flow freely into her muscles.

That was when she had the idea. Instead of pulling herself through the tube, she could push herself using just the lower half of her body. By raising her knees as high as the tunnel-like shaft would allow, she could then push off with her feet. Not only did this method of propulsion require far less effort than she had previously been expending, it was also a lot quieter. The rubber of the wetsuit around her back did catch a bit, but it only took a little shimmying of her shoulders to overcome that problem.

With her new method, and renewed optimism, Lucya slid up the pipe, and ever closer to the conference room, and her beloved Erica.

• • •

The sonar control room on the Lance was the opposite in every way of the bridge. Where the bridge was stark, uncomfortable, and bathed in light from the huge amounts of glass, the sonar room was well appointed and dark, lit as it was by subtle spots set into the black ceiling. The walls and floor were black, too, reminding Jake of a cinema, although a very tiny one. Two walls were fitted with an L-shaped console, inset with screens, keyboards, and dials.

“This looks like the inside of the Ambush,” Jake said as he walked in.

“I bet the Ambush doesn’t have carpet,” Bodil replied.

“Actually, it does. Coote told me it was to deaden the noise inside. It helps make them even less detectable.”

The scientist nodded gently. “Makes sense.” She tapped some commands into a keyboard, and watched the screen directly in front of her for a response.

Jake came and sat down next to her. Two of the sailors were outside, managing a complex winch system that had lowered the sonar pod into the water. The other two were in the sonar control room, wheeling Bodil from screen to screen as she required.

“Is the sonar on? Sending out noise?”

“I’m just about to light it up now. One more test to run and then we’re off to the races, as you English like to say, yes?”

“Your grasp of our language is impressive.”

“My husband is from Yorkshire.”

“God’s own county.”

“So he tells me.”

“Were there many Solems in Yorkshire?”

“Funny.” She gave an exaggerated, obviously false laugh. “I kept my name. There.” She tapped another button. “Tests complete. Now, we go for it.”

Jake moved to the edge of his seat. “This is where we find out if they want to sink us, as well as the Ambush.”