The foreman called them in, and each placed new padded earmuffs over their head, these ones with two-way radio built in. The foreman checked the line of connections and switches on the panel, like a DJ about to play a dance party’s favorite tunes. He turned to Cate and gave her a thumbs-up, and then lifted a microphone to his mouth.

“Area is clear and secure, charges are set, and we are good to go.” He took one last look around; satisfied he clicked on the speaker again. “Ready on ten-nine-eight-seven…”

Cate adjusted her earmuffs, and instinctively grabbed Jack Monroe’s arm gripping it tightly.

“Four-three-two-one… fire in the hole.”

The explosions were almost an anticlimax, as the red lights on the charges turned green, there was a muffled line of thumps accompanied by puffs of smoke from each tiny hole. What happened next wasn’t.

Like a monstrous granite coin, the entire circular floor of the pit just fell away. It dropped silently and smoothly, as though an elevator travelling to the lower floors. The strong lights set up around the perimeter of the pit followed it for a few dozen feet, before it vanished in the blackness.

“Holy shit.” Cate pulled off her earmuffs, straining forward until Jack grabbed and held her. No sound came back up for what seemed like ages, until there was the distant whump of one heavy surface striking another.

“Dr Granger, you now have your hole.” The foreman dipped his hard hat to her, and then turned to the tent’s entrance.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Got to check in with the boss.” He waved and left.

“I thought you were the boss,” Jack said, with an expression that was quizzically amused.

“Far from it.” Cate watched the foreman go. The man’s job was done and done well. Next would come the drop crew, who needed to first rig up the huge crane they would need to lower them all to the water’s surface, over a thousand feet below.

That’d probably be done before they even had a working submarine that, at this moment, was still somewhere back on the wind-scoured cliff tops of Barnoff Island.

Jack grunted. “Well, that was the easy part. So now let’s go and see how Greg and his new Russian comrades are getting on.”

“Da, comrade.” She grinned and followed.

*   *   *

Greg shook hands with the two men, introducing them both to Abby and vice versa. Dmitry Torshin was a born submariner, an engineer, and would also be their navigator.  The man was of average height, broad Slavic features, with a distinctive gap between his front teeth. He never stopped smiling, and Greg liked him immediately.