Part 49 (1/2)
As he pa.s.sed just north of the Royal Geographical Society Islands, Captain Stenseth slowed the Narwhal as they entered the first of Pitt's search grids. A floating transponder was dropped off the stern, then the s.h.i.+p raced to the opposite corner of the grid where a second buoy was released. Keyed to the orbiting GPS satellites, the transponders provided underwater navigation reference points for the roving AUVs to keep on course.
On the stern of the s.h.i.+p, Pitt helped Giordino and Dahlgren download the search plan into the first AUV's processor, then watched as a crane hoisted the large yellow fish over the side. With its small propeller spinning, the AUV was released from its cradle. The device shot forward and quickly dived beneath the dark, rolling waters. Guided by the bobbing transponders, the AUV scooted to its starting point, then began weaving back and forth, scanning the bottom with its electronic eyes.
With the first vehicle safely released, Stenseth piloted the s.h.i.+p north to the second grid area and repeated the process. A biting wind cut through the men on the deck as they released the second AUV, and they hurried to the warmth of the nearby operations center. A seated technician already had both search grids displayed on an overhead screen, with visual representations of both AUVs and the transponders. Pitt slipped out of his parka as he eyed several columns of numbers quickly being updated on the side of the screen.
”Both AUVs are at depth and running true,” he said. ”Nice work, gentlemen.”
”They're out of our hands now,” Giordino replied. ”Looks like it will take about twelve hours for the fish to run their course before surfacing.”
”Once we get them back aboard, it won't take long to download the data and swap batteries, then we can set 'em loose again on the next two grids,” Dahlgren noted.
Giordino raised his brows while Pitt shot him a withering look.
”What did I say?” he asked in a bewildered tone.
”On this s.h.i.+p,” Pitt replied, a razor-sharp grin crossing his face, ”the first time's the charm.”
58
SIXTY MILES TO THE WEST, THE OTOK CHURNED through the wind-whipped waters on a direct path to the Royal Geographical Society Islands. In the wheelhouse, Zak studied a satellite image of the islands through a magnifying gla.s.s. Two large islands dominated the chain, West Island separated by a thin channel from the smaller East Island. The Mid-America mining operation was located on the southern coast of the West Island, facing Queen Maud Gulf. Zak could make out two buildings and a long pier in the photograph, as well as evidence of an open-pit mine nearby.
”A message came in for you.”
The Otok's unshaven captain approached and handed Zak a slip of paper. Opening it up, Zak read the contents:
Pitt arrived Tuktoyaktuk from D.C. early Sat.u.r.day. Boarded NUMA research vessel Narwhal. Departed 1600, presumed destination Alaska. M.G.
”Alaska,” he said aloud. ”They can't very well go anywhere else now, can they?” he added with a smile.
”Everything all right?”
”Yes, just a tardy effort by the compet.i.tion.”
”What's our approach to the islands?” the captain asked, peering over Zak's shoulder.
”The south coast of West Island. We'll make for the mining operation first. Let's run right up to the pier and see if anyone is home. It's early in the season, so they may not have opened up summer operations yet.”
”Might be a good place to dump our captives.”
Zak gazed out the aft window, watching the barge that was tailing behind wallow in the turbulent seas.
”No,” he replied after contemplation. ”They should be quite comfortable where they are.”
COMFORTABLE WAS HARDLY THE sentiment that came to Rick Roman's mind. But under the circ.u.mstances, he had to admit they had made the best of things.