Fire Ice by Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos Read Free Book Online
Authors: Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos
said.
Preoccupied with the task at hand, Logan was only half listening. "Pardon me, Doctor. What did you say?"
"I said we're not going to the surface."
Logan spun his chair around, an amused expression on his face. "I hope you didn't take my bragging about the ability to stay down for a month at face value. We only brought enough food for a few days."
Pulaski slipped a hand under his windbreaker and pulled out a Tokarev TT-33 pistol. Speaking calmly, he said, "You will do as I say or I will shoot your pilot." He brought the weapon around and placed the muzzle against the pilot's head.
Logan's eyes focused on the gun, then darted to Pulaski's face. There was no hint of mercy in the rock-hard features.
"Who are you?" Logan said.
"It makes no difference who I am. I will repeat this only one more time. You will follow my orders."
"All right," Logan said, his voice hoarse with tension. "What do you want me to do?"
"First, switch off all communications with your support ship." Pulaski watched carefully as Logan clicked all the radio switches off. "Thank you," he said, checking his watch. "Next, inform the rest of the crew that the sub has been hijacked. Warn them that anyone who comes forward without permission will be shot."
The captain glared at Pulaski as he got on the internal communications system. "This is the captain. There is a man with a gun in the control area. The sub is now under his command. We will do what he says. Stay out of the control area. This is not a joke. Repeat: This is not a joke. Remain at your posts. Anyone coming forward will be shot."
Startled voices could be heard coming from the aft section, and the captain issued the warning a second time to make sure his men knew he was serious.
"Very good," Pulaski said. "Now you will bring the sub up to the five-hundred-foot level."
"You heard him," Logan said to the pilot, as if reluctant to give the direct order.
The pilot had been frozen in his chair. At Logan's command, he reached for the controls and pumped water from the variable ballast tanks. Working the planes, he elevated the sub's nose and moved the NR-1 upward with short bursts of the main propulsion. At five hundred feet, he leveled the sub off.
"Okay," Logan said. "Now what?" His eyes blazed with anger.
Pulaski glanced at his watch like a man worrying over a late train. "Now we wait." He shifted the gun away from the pilot, but kept it leveled and at ready.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Logan's patience was wearing thin. "If you don't mind, could you tell me what we're waiting for?"
Pulaski put his finger to his lips. "You'll see," he said with a mysterious smile.
Several more minutes passed. The tension was suffocating. Logan stared at the sail cam monitor, wondering who this man was and what he wanted-and the answer was soon in coming. A huge shadow moved beyond the sharply pointed bow.
Logan leaned forward and peered at the screen. "What the hell is that?"
The shadow glided under the sub like a monstrous shark coming up for a belly bite. A horrendous metal clang reverberated from one end of the sub to the other as if the NR-1 had been slammed by a giant sledgehammer. The vessel shivered from the shock and rose several feet.
"We've been hit!" the pilot yelled, instinctively reaching f for the controls.
"Stay where you are!" Pulaski barked, bringing his gun to bear.
The pilot's hand froze in midair and his eyes stared at the overhead. Those in the sub could hear scraping and dragging as if big metal bugs were crawling on the hull.
Pulaski beamed with pleasure. "Our welcoming party has arrived to greet us."
The noise continued for several minutes before it stopped, to be replaced by the vibration of powerful engines. The speed dial on the control panel began to move even though no power had
Preoccupied with the task at hand, Logan was only half listening. "Pardon me, Doctor. What did you say?"
"I said we're not going to the surface."
Logan spun his chair around, an amused expression on his face. "I hope you didn't take my bragging about the ability to stay down for a month at face value. We only brought enough food for a few days."
Pulaski slipped a hand under his windbreaker and pulled out a Tokarev TT-33 pistol. Speaking calmly, he said, "You will do as I say or I will shoot your pilot." He brought the weapon around and placed the muzzle against the pilot's head.
Logan's eyes focused on the gun, then darted to Pulaski's face. There was no hint of mercy in the rock-hard features.
"Who are you?" Logan said.
"It makes no difference who I am. I will repeat this only one more time. You will follow my orders."
"All right," Logan said, his voice hoarse with tension. "What do you want me to do?"
"First, switch off all communications with your support ship." Pulaski watched carefully as Logan clicked all the radio switches off. "Thank you," he said, checking his watch. "Next, inform the rest of the crew that the sub has been hijacked. Warn them that anyone who comes forward without permission will be shot."
The captain glared at Pulaski as he got on the internal communications system. "This is the captain. There is a man with a gun in the control area. The sub is now under his command. We will do what he says. Stay out of the control area. This is not a joke. Repeat: This is not a joke. Remain at your posts. Anyone coming forward will be shot."
Startled voices could be heard coming from the aft section, and the captain issued the warning a second time to make sure his men knew he was serious.
"Very good," Pulaski said. "Now you will bring the sub up to the five-hundred-foot level."
"You heard him," Logan said to the pilot, as if reluctant to give the direct order.
The pilot had been frozen in his chair. At Logan's command, he reached for the controls and pumped water from the variable ballast tanks. Working the planes, he elevated the sub's nose and moved the NR-1 upward with short bursts of the main propulsion. At five hundred feet, he leveled the sub off.
"Okay," Logan said. "Now what?" His eyes blazed with anger.
Pulaski glanced at his watch like a man worrying over a late train. "Now we wait." He shifted the gun away from the pilot, but kept it leveled and at ready.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Logan's patience was wearing thin. "If you don't mind, could you tell me what we're waiting for?"
Pulaski put his finger to his lips. "You'll see," he said with a mysterious smile.
Several more minutes passed. The tension was suffocating. Logan stared at the sail cam monitor, wondering who this man was and what he wanted-and the answer was soon in coming. A huge shadow moved beyond the sharply pointed bow.
Logan leaned forward and peered at the screen. "What the hell is that?"
The shadow glided under the sub like a monstrous shark coming up for a belly bite. A horrendous metal clang reverberated from one end of the sub to the other as if the NR-1 had been slammed by a giant sledgehammer. The vessel shivered from the shock and rose several feet.
"We've been hit!" the pilot yelled, instinctively reaching f for the controls.
"Stay where you are!" Pulaski barked, bringing his gun to bear.
The pilot's hand froze in midair and his eyes stared at the overhead. Those in the sub could hear scraping and dragging as if big metal bugs were crawling on the hull.
Pulaski beamed with pleasure. "Our welcoming party has arrived to greet us."
The noise continued for several minutes before it stopped, to be replaced by the vibration of powerful engines. The speed dial on the control panel began to move even though no power had
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