Deep Rising (An Outside the Lines Novel) (Entangled Select) (8 page)

“Yes. We made NASA perform a survey using all twenty-eight global satellites, and every military bird we could redirect. We’re covering any and all potential US attack zones. There are nine additional sites in the South Pacific that could be attacked, but they aren’t a threat to us.”

“Let the other guys worry about it, huh?”

Gordon made a sound resembling laughter. “Yes.”

“We’ll begin scoping the area tonight. Do I have full access?”

“Yes. FYI, a Navy SEAL team nearly intercepted The Wolf in Valjevo.”

“He’s one slippery son of a bitch, that’s for sure. Did they manage to tail him?”

“Yes. Tyler Houston and his team are in pursuit. Keep your fingers crossed.”

Jared snickered. Luck had nothing to do with it. And the name Houston, it rang a bell. Back in the teams, Tyler had earned a nickname for his uncanny ability to get the jobs done. Houston’s Madmen. Fitting, he supposed, for that group of SEALs and the mad-dog missions they managed to pull off.

“Is there anything else?” Gordon asked.

“I need a boat. Three rebreathers. Searchlights. Dive suits for each of us. Oh, and a fallback location prepped and ready for immediate occupation.”

“Done. You can upload into our database for anything further or communicate with Katherine for something specific.”

“I’m interested in topographic maps of the area.”

“I’ll have them sent to your encrypted e-mail. Check in again by 0600.”

Something else bothered Jared, and he figured he might as well mention it. “Sir, I meant what I said about getting out.”

“This is hardly the time…”

“I have two orphaned nieces and a nephew to consider,” he said.

“I’m aware of your sister’s death.”

“If I make it through this mission, I’m going to have to find a job conducive to helping my mother raise my sister’s kids. If I don’t make it, then the money I’m promised should suffice to see them raised right. When this is over you can either kill me or set me free.”

“Didn’t your momma warn you about burning bridges?”

“Sir, I don’t burn bridges. I blow ’em up.”

Gordon’s booming laughter rang in Jared’s ear. “I’ll consider this your two-week notice.”

Chapter Ten

September 9 - 8:52 pm

Gilbert Islands

Slouching on a stack of discarded crates and pallets, Sergei gazed into the bonfire. The natives regularly burned the wood left behind from the cruise lines that owned these islands. When the cruising ebbed, the natives burned their garbage. Prime cruising season accounted for the pleasant wood-burning smell as opposed to roasting refuse.

Here in the Republic of Kiribati, the soothing ebb of the waves kissed the shore. Too many stars to count flickered overhead. For an instant, he considered turning his back on the plans and promises and staying here, where the ocean air washed over him like God’s very breath. But the drums dragged him from his thoughts.

The villagers danced around the fire. The tune and rhythms owed nothing to Russian music or the traditions of the Western world.

The melody continued to pound, older and primal.

The drums transported him to another time and place where he had existed as a young man and the woman he loved had worked as a shadow dancer in an upscale discotheque.

The substantial club had seemed like a factory, with its high black ceilings and sealed windows. Rows of lights and anchored ropes had hung from the rafters. The dancers had taken turns swinging from them. The walls had held alcoves, illuminated with strobe lights and screens of silk. The women there had been the stars of the night, manifesting every man’s dream and waking fantasy.

His Masia had loved to dance. She’d been born to it.

Their child, he knew, would have been a supreme ballerina.

But, no, the insatiable greed and arrogance of America had annihilated Masia and the innocent child in her womb. His mother had died in the explosion, alongside his beloved wife. Masia’s right foot had turned up a hundred yards from their apartment. Had it not been for the tiny butterfly tattoo on her ankle, he might not have found her at all.

They were gone now. His love, his child, the beautiful life they would have cherished together. His eyes misted, and he didn’t bother to check the tears as they crested.

Sergei experienced an irresistible compulsion to charge through the flames and purge himself with fire, but he refrained. Soon, soon he would avenge his family’s murder. And the Americans, with their hypocrisy, pollution, and endless narcissism, they would pay.

God knew. He understood. He foretold the coming of The End. It was necessary, inevitable, the only way for the righteous to rise up from the waters and into the light. The foul, the tainted, the undeserving would sink to the depths, and once he restored the land to purity, then and only then would the benevolent inherit the earth.

This remained his mission. Sergei recognized his calling.

He had been subjected to unfathomable suffering to awaken him to The Word—just as all the great disciples and prophets before him. God had meticulously selected him to prepare this world for the new age of man. He was not the Antichrist, but rather one of the Chosen.

His destiny lingered within his grasp. His sister had shown him the way, and The Wolf provided the means. Indeed, God had prepared the road for him.

“As it was in the beginning it is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen.”

He repeated the words, staring past the fire to tiny flutters of ash and cinder as they ascended toward the heavens like individual souls. He heard voices calling to him, the voices of the damned left to wallow, until Christ returned to pass judgment on the living and the dead. The earth needed to be cleansed. How could his family rise into heaven without the world first preparing for the coming of the Savior?

A sharp pain exploded behind his eyes, and he welcomed it. The pain thrilled him. It reminded him.

It meant she would come unto him.

He prayed for rain, for the tsunamis he would initiate.

In his heartfelt prayers, Sergei called on his wife, and begged Masia to help him, to suffuse his body and mind with the strength to set the world back to rights.

The wind kicked. The wooden beams of the bonfire collapsed, sending sparks of tinder upward. The natives withdrew from the circle. Sergei entered it.

The ocean roared against the shore. Smoke and cedar wafted over him. The drums pounded, tolling, droning into a climax of sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Yes, my sweet,” Sergei muttered to the ghost of his wife.

He could hear her voice, as cleansing as rain, calling to him. She sang of unfathomable injustice and sorrow, begging him to bring her back to life. He listened to her instructions, her voice, an angel’s whisper, in his ear.

“I will,” he promised her spirit. “It has already begun.”

9:06 pm

Kohala, Hawaii

Jared unrolled the maps and pointed to the topographical arenas NASA scientists had selected as “hot” zones. Lana considered the locations.

“Here,” she said, tapping a finger against the first zone, “isn’t going to have any impact.”

“Don’t mind me for asking, but is there really a chance of a mega-tsunami being generated naturally? I can’t fathom it.”

“Realistically speaking, no,” Lana replied. “There’s been a lot of propaganda and hype surrounding islands like La Palma, but there isn’t any evidence. A crack exists along the flank, but is it deep enough or wide enough for the flank of that island to suddenly slip into the ocean? No, it isn’t. I’m not suggesting it’s impossible. Anything is possible, but it’s highly improbable.”

“What about those 188-day earthquake cycles?”

“More hype. I’ve been looking for a link between earthquake frequency and shifting magma—that’s what sent me to Guatemala—but research is slow going and it is very hard to find definitive patterns.”

Fair enough. “What about that Spanish island, El Hierro? My intel shows an active volcano.”

Lana nodded. “El Hierro’s been brewing for a long while. Magma’s shifting right beneath the island. They were hit with earthquake swarms—”

“Huh?”

“Hundreds of earthquakes over a short period of time. But so far, no eruption.” She shrugged. “Modern governments can do many things, but not even the US of A can hold back a volcano.”

Jared mulled that one over. Natural disasters, the Mother Nature and acts of God variety, weren’t in his wheelhouse.

They sat close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed. He’d been especially mindful of the space between them. Sure as the day was long, the woman was sexy. When she slipped into her scientist mode, he found her even more appealing. He leaned a little closer, so his forearm pressed against hers. She didn’t shy away from the contact, didn’t pull away from the clichéd little jolt that surely wasn’t traveling up only his arm. The pulse sped up in her neck, and while his every instinct told him he made her nervous, she kept her arm touching his.

Getting excited over rubbin’ elbows. My, how the mighty have fallen
.

He sat back and considered the data again. “Has there ever been an Atlantic- or Pacific-based ocean-wide tsunami?”

“Not in recorded time. That’s what got me thinking about human intervention on an unstable stratovolcano, such as the one we see here.” She pointed on the map. “La Palma. Without human intervention, this type of cataclysm isn’t likely.”

“Why a stratovolcano?”

“The structure. Stratovolcanoes possess steep sides and high projections. The height and steepness of the sides make them prime candidates. If a portion of the stratovolcano is sheared off, and the material is able to plunge into an adjacent water basin, a tsunami is likely to occur.”

Jared silently digested this information. CIA intel had detailed the differences among regular tsunamis, rogue waves, and the mega-destructive forces that would be unleashed when enough displacement occurred for a wave to pass through an entire ocean. La Palma was a prime spot for problems of the mega-tsunami variety. Right now though, he was more concerned with the Pacific. Lana’s lovely brother had tipped them off to trouble there. “What about this spot?” he asked, indicating a sixty-mile crack along the Big Island.

“Hmm. That’s the Hilina Slump. It’s a giant hinge in the Kau district where the island is slipping. It moves a couple of inches every year.”

“My boss mentioned the Hilina site. Two teams are in place and we have satellite monitoring systems along the trench.”

“Good.”

“How about here?” Jared asked.

Lana leaned over to consider the position. “No. It won’t work. If you look at the existing shape of the island and the way the coast fans out at this point, an explosion here would initiate a wave, but it wouldn’t shear enough land fast enough to generate a mega-tsunami.”

“What about beneath the water?”

Lana shrugged. “Most of the lava tubes are collapsed or solidified with lava capping them. There are hollow passages, but they won’t be easy to find. I dove Makaha Caverns, Twin Lava Tubes, and the Land of Oz.”

“Are they feasible catalyst points?”

“They could be, I suppose. But I’m no expert on explosives, physics, or underwater lava tubes. I’d have to calculate the force and mass of the water column to determine the possible wave velocity. Standard tsunamis derived from earthquakes—especially when they originate underwater—cause a wave velocity proportionate to the depth from which the wave originated.”

More sexy science talk. Damn, if his body didn’t twitch. For his own peace of mind, he made sure to talk in layman’s terms. “Deeper origins would move more water.”

“Exactly,” Lana agreed. “But like I said, not my forte. It’s a job for a geophysicist.”

“What? You’re frowning.”

Lana stared at him. “Scientists are debating the dynamics of tsunami origins. A lot of geologists question the amount of energy required to trigger an event.”

“And?”

“Some scientists believe a minuscule change or disturbance on the seafloor can catalyze a wave.”

“A baby earthquake? All right. I’ll bite.”

“Over hundreds of miles,” Lana explained, “what starts as a tiny disturbance can magnify. The wave, when it finally reaches shallow waters or coastal areas, manifests into a full-blown tsunami.”

“That isn’t good.”

“No. I wouldn’t have considered it, but when we started discussing wave origins I began to think about the buoy system used to detect them. The buoys operate on a two-way transmission arrangement. It allows the scientists to monitor any event, even if the amplitude isn’t necessarily strong enough to trigger the threshold and instigate an all-out warning.”

“That sounds like good news, but you’re getting me nervous with all the talk about small anomalies. If something occurs—be it big or small—is the warning system secure enough to actually pick it up?”

“Yes…theoretically. Deep water—I’m talking twelve thousand feet or deeper—isn’t affected by waves or wind or tide. Any pressure changes, no matter how diminutive, can immediately be detected, especially if the warning centers are encouraged to watch for them.”

“I catch your drift. What about in shallow water?”

“We’re screwed.”

Jared sighed.

“Don’t misunderstand. Seismologists would register the event. It isn’t as though the disruption would go undetected. But like I said, it’s the lead time that concerns me when we’re talking about a shallow-water or land-based disturbance.” She pointed to an area on the map. “That’s Ewa Beach.”

“And why is it significant?”

“It’s the main tsunami warning center. It covers the entire Pacific Basin.”

“Then if an earthquake occurs here at least we know they’ll detect it immediately and get on the horn.”

“Uh-oh,” she whispered.

Jared rubbed his temples. “Now what?”

“I just thought of something when you mentioned horns.”

“Spit it out, darlin’.”

He hadn’t meant to say the endearment, but she didn’t seem to react to it, so he wouldn’t call his slipup to her attention. “Well, um, when the system of sirens starts blaring, it warns everyone within hearing range to head for higher ground.”

“The system failed once?” he ventured.

“Not exactly. Radio, television, local law enforcement agencies—everyone and every means is switched into gear in the event of an emergency. But back in 1993 when a small earthquake occurred off the coast of Hokkaido, Japan, the warning wasn’t sufficient. There wasn’t enough time. Hundreds of people died.”

“And you’re worried the same thing could happen here?”

“Yes. A tsunami wave can travel up to one thousand kilometers per hour in open water. It would spell disaster for people within the immediate vicinity of the initial wave. We’re faced with two potentially lethal problems: a wave originating too close to shore
and,
consequently, insufficient time constraints for evacuating people to higher ground. There are thousands of elderly people, schoolchildren, hospital patients…”

“I see where you’re headed.” He pressed his palms against his temples. “We need to stop that wave from starting.”

Lana nodded. “Yes.” She traced the points on the map that indicated the underwater tubes. “These could penetrate deep enough beneath the island…”

Jared considered the logistics. A tube bored into the land. Inaccessible to public scrutiny. Coupled with the water pressure, the right kinds of explosives could wreak unimaginable damage. They needed to search those tubes—and they needed to do so undetected, lest they tip off this madman before they could intercept him. Dropping his hands, he met her eyes. “We’ll have a boat at our disposal by midnight. Are you up for a night dive?”

Lana didn’t respond right away.

“Lana, can you handle a night dive? If you’re claustrophobic or nyctophobic tell me now.”

“Nyctophobic?”

“It’s a fancy way of saying afraid of the dark.”

“Er, no, not that I know of. I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Can you get a ROV?”

“What’s that?”

“A remote operated vehicle. We can launch it from the boat. It’ll allow us to cover far greater distances, and it won’t be limited to dive times or oxygen supply like we are.”

CIA analysts, NASA think tanks, and NOAA specialists had been called in to examine Lana’s thesis—and to determine any other possible target areas. The government was using every scrap of technology at their disposal, but Lana didn’t need to know that. Nor did she need to know that US SEAL teams were likely investigating each location as they spoke. Maybe she wanted to use a ROV so she could keep her sweet little ass out of the ocean at night. Maybe she wanted a ROV so he wouldn’t be able to see or intercept the attack strategy from underwater. He was more inclined to think her apprehension came from diving at night—a risky endeavor for even highly trained personnel like him—so he played it light. “I can put in the request for your underwater bot, but I doubt it’ll fly in time.”