Protocol 15

Chapter 8

8

THE CALM OF THE AEGEAN

French research vessel Marion Dufresne II, the Aegean Sea. Three nautical miles north-northwest of the Isle of Kia. August 29th.

“Come right bearing two two five, Mr. Cameron.”

“Oui, capitaine.”

“The seas are finally calm enough,” the captain said from his leather seat inside the bridge. He propped his feet up. “It’s about time. Any more weather delays and we’d all have been about out of a job again.”

“Was it that bad, Captain?” Jean-Paul Cameron, the steersman, said.

“Was it that bad? You should hear the ship’s owners complaining. Do you know what it costs to run a ship this size?”

“No, sir. Sir? Aren’t we just about on top of the coordinates of the resting place of the HMHS Britannic? The one that hit a mine back in the First World War and sank?”

“Yes, Jean-Paul, yes. We are very close now.”

“Is that where we are going, sir? Are we going to deploy the deep submergence vehicle, the DSV mini-submarine, to the ocean bottom to study the wreckage?”

“No, my young sailor, no. The university has no such appetites. No, this time our ship is filled to the brim with scientists. Oceanographers and geologists. They are interested in studying the minor geologic fault lines that run in between Kea and the Greek mainland. They say our mini-sub will submerge from our decks, then attempt to locate and map them.”

“Sir? Each vessel at sea has a name, no? What is the name of our little sub?

“The DSV Nautile.” The captain smiled. “So many questions.”

“We have a full boat then, sir?”

“Yes, Jean-Paul, a full boat indeed. Full of people smarter than you or me.”

“Hmm. I wonder what our chef, Rémi, will cook for us tonight. He studied at the Sorbonne, you know—”

A booming rumble that sounded like a muffled explosion rattled through the bridge. An emergency water-sensor alarm pulsed overhead, indicating that the hull had been breached.

“Merde,” the captain said as he launched from his chair and grabbed a microphone. “All hands, all hands. This is the capitaine. Situation report. All stations, report in.”

Four more explosive rumbles shuddered through the ship’s superstructure at perfect one-second intervals. New alarms sounded on the control panel, indicating flooding in all four water-tight compartments.

“Capitaine! What’s happening?” Jean-Paul stammered. “Did we hit something?”

“No, those were explosions of some kind. Besides, there’s nothing out here to hit. It’s a crystal-clear day. We must have had a catastrophic mechanical failure. The control panel indicates flooding below decks. How do we have flooding? Where are my status reports?” He punched three numbers into the phone keypad. “Engine room? Engine room?” he was yelling. “Pierre? Bastien? Is that you? I can barely hear you. What happened?” The captain concentrated on the screaming man’s reply. “A what? Sabotaged? What do you mean we’ve been sabotaged? Can you—”

A final explosive rumble, this one clearly audible in the phone, shook the bridge. The phone line went dead.

“My God,” the captain mumbled. He looked at Jean-Paul. “Everyone in the engine room was yelling. I couldn’t understand, but they were saying something about a bomb, that we’ve been sabotaged. I don’t understand. We are a research vessel. Why would anyone bomb a research vessel?”

“Sir!” stammered Jean-Paul. “What do we do?”

“The whole engine room is flooding. I think they’re all dead. Send out an SOS. Do it now, son. Hurry. We’re sinking and we’ve got to get everyone off.” He punched more numbers into the keypad activating the overhead speaker system throughout all compartments of the ship. “This is the captain speaking. Abandon ship. Abandon ship. This is not a drill. All passengers and crew, abandon ship. This is not a drill. Move to the nearest life-boat station as calmly and quickly as possible. Abandon ship. All crew, all crew, man the life boats . . .”