“What the hell is happening with that fancy system of yours? The market is going to shit and I’m getting panicked calls from the SEC. You got any answers?” Stern didn’t wait for an answer. He straightened up and glanced around the office, then asked as an afterthought, “Where is that boss of yours?”

Carl Andretti saw a light come on. Here was the perfect opportunity to unload the blame for the losses, the snafu in the system. “Mark, I wish I knew where he was. We’re over fifty million in the hole already by following his orders.”

“You’re what?” Stern gasped. “You told me that this whole thing was foolproof. What are we going to do? How can we keep losses like this hidden?”

Andretti managed a smile as he answered, but he avoided eye contact with the moneyman anyway. “Mark, calm down. I think I have a plan. All we have to do is set the accounts up so that Smythe takes the fall. We don’t show up anywhere. Anybody gets wise to our little operation, they’ll find a trail to our flaming friend and nobody else.”

Stern collapsed onto the settee at the rear of the office. He stared for a moment at a spot on the wall a foot above Andretti’s head. The CTO strained to hear his words when he spoke. “Get it done. Hear me? Get it done. If you screw this up…”

The powerful financier seemed to run out of air before he could finish his threat.

Hector Gonzales pulled back on the control stick, and the ASDV eased up from the depths of the icy fjord. According to the navigation plot, they were right outside the Polyarnyy Basin. They could run right on in, but it was advisable to take a look around before trying to sneak in any farther. It would not be a good idea to run into unexpected trouble now. Not this close to their objective. Besides, this would be their last chance to survey the territory until they were well inside.

The little black submarine came up until it rested just a couple of feet below the oily smooth surface.

“Okay, Sam, raise the periscope,” Gonzales told Sam Donlan, his copilot.

Donlan reached up and flipped one among the myriad of toggle switches in the overhead between the two. A faint hum started from somewhere a few feet aft of their command cockpit. A little red light flashed on the center control console. It read SCOPE DEPLOYED. Unlike the periscopes on board the Toledo or other big subs, this one didn’t penetrate through the submarine’s hull. There wasn’t an eyepiece to stare through, either. It was all electronic. When not in use, the scope hinged down into a stowage locker that faired into the sub’s starboard side. When they needed to see out, a small electric motor rotated it up.