“The Sea Lamprey isn't the prettiest craft in the sea,” Zavala said with a shrug. “I sacrificed form for function in designing her.”

“To the contrary,” Becker said. “She's beautiful”

The captain shook his head in wonderment. “How on earth did you get this equipment here so quickly? You were twelve hundred miles away when the rescue call went out.”

“We remembered that the Russians like to do things in a big way,” Austin said. “They jumped at the chance to show the world they're still a first-rate nation.”

“But that helicopter couldn't have carried it all that way in such a short time. You gentlemen must be magicians.”

“It took a lot of work to pull this rabbit out of a hat,” Austin said, as he watched the helicopter maneuver. “The Mi-26 picked up the submersible at sea and transferred it to a land base, where two Antonov N-124 heavy-duty transport planes were waiting. The Sea Lamprey went on one plane. The big chopper and the NUMA heli- copter were loaded on the other. It was a two-hour flight to the NATO base in the Faroes. While they unloaded the submersible and got it ready to fly, we came out here to prepare the way.”

The powerful turboshaft engines drowned out the captain's reply as the aircraft moved closer and hovered. The eight rotor blades and five-bladed tail rotor threshed the air, and the downdraft they cre- ated scooped a vast watery crater out of the sea. The submersible was released a few feet above the roiling water, and the helicopter moved off. The Sea Lamprey had been fitted out with large air-filled pontoons. It sank beneath the waves, but quickly bobbed back to the surface.

Austin suggested that the captain ready the sick bay to treat ex- treme hypothermia. Then the boat crew ferried them out to the sub- mersible. The launch crew detached the pontoons. The submersible blew air from its ballast tanks and sank below the blue-black surface.

The Sea Lamprey hovered, kept at an even keel by its thrusters. Austin and Zavala sat in the snug cockpit, their faces washed by the blue light from the instrument panel, and ran down the dive check- list. Then Zavala pushed the control stick forward, angled the blunt prow down and blew ballast. He steered the submersible in a de- scending spiral as casually as if he were taking the family out on a Sunday drive.

Austin peered into the gauzy bluish blackness beyond the range of the lights. “I didn't have time to ask you before we came aboard,” he said, almost in afterthought. “Is this thing safe?”

“As a former president once said, 'Depends on your definition ofis/”

Austin groaned. “Let me rephrase my question. Are the leaks and the pump fixed?”

“I think I stopped up the leaks, and the ballast pump works well under ideal conditions.”