“You started all this the moment we met,” Sophia told him malevolently. “It’s only fitting that you should be here at the end as well.” Behind her, Komosa and the nuclear technician entered the hold, carrying the bomb between them. She pointed to one side of the room, well away from Chase. “Over there.”

The two men carefully set the heavy device down. Komosa had something over his shoulder on a strap; at first Chase thought it was a weapon, until he saw that it was actually a bolt gun, six-inch steel shafts loaded into an open magazine protruding from its top. There were three holes spaced equidistantly around the bomb’s metal base. Komosa placed the end of the gun into the first hole and pulled the trigger. A sharp crack of compressed gas, and a bolt was blasted through the deck with a piercing clang. Two more clangs, and the bomb was immovably secured. Komosa put down the bolt gun beside it.

Sophia went to the bomb, taking the arming key from a pocket. She inserted it, then with a dismissive glance back at Chase turned it. The screen lit up, still showing the time of detonation: 0845. A push of a button, and the display changed to a countdown.

Seven hours, two minutes, seventeen seconds.

Sixteen.

Fifteen…

She pulled out the key, but the display remained lit, the seconds flicking away. “I think I’ll pop up to the deck and throw this into the sea,” she taunted, holding up the key as she headed back to the door. The two men followed her. “By the way, Eddie, the timer has an anti-tamper mechanism. If anyone attempts to stop it without the key, the bomb will explode. I just thought you should know.”

“Good-bye, Chase,” said Komosa, grinning his diamond smile. “Enjoy the afterlife.”

The door closed behind them with a decisive thud.

Chase pulled and kicked at the pipe again, with no more success than before. Then he drew back his arms so that the chain of the handcuffs was around the metal and hauled on it with all his strength. Blood oozed from his wrists as the steel cut into his flesh, but the cuffs were too tightly fastened for him to slip his hands through.

But he kept trying. He had no choice.

“We’re almost there,” Trulli said above the constant shrill of the engines. “I think.”

Nina, stiff and sore from being stuck in her cramped position for more than two hours, twisted to look up at him. “What do you mean, you think?”

“The inertial navigation system isn’t as accurate as GPS. Especially when the ride’s this bumpy-it throws it off. Worst-case scenario, we could be nearly ten kilometers from where we think we are.”

Nina touched her pendant. “Let’s hope for the best-case scenario, then. So what happens now?”

Trulli examined the instruments. “Well, first, I’ve got to bring us out of supercavitation drive without squashing us like a cane toad under a road-train!”

Nina’s eyes opened wide. “Wait, what, squashing? You didn’t say anything about squashing!”

“I’ve never been this fast before!” Trulli explained. “I can’t just stop the engines, ’cause when the supercav shock wave collapses it’d be like running the sub into a brick wall. I’ve got to ease it down, get us to a safe speed before shutting off the steam.” He made adjustments to several controls, then took hold of the throttle. “Okay. Let’s give this a crack…”

Nina took hold of the seat and braced herself.

Trulli pulled the throttle back slightly. The noise of the engines didn’t alter as far as Nina could tell, but the Wobblebug’s vibration changed, a snaking sideways motion slowly building up.

“Is that bad?” Nina asked.

“I hope not!” Trulli moved the throttle again. This time, the shriek from the engines lowered slightly in pitch. But the oscillation continued, the weaving sensation worsening. “We’re down to three hundred knots. It’s working!”

“What about that shaking?” The sub’s movement was making Nina seasick, but she couldn’t help thinking that nausea was the least of her problems.

“I dunno why it’s doing that-just have to hope it goes away on its own!” Another push of the lever. “Two-eighty, two-seventy… Come on, you bugger! Two-fifty-”

The back end of the submarine suddenly slammed sideways as if kicked, only to hit something that flung it back the way it had come.

Another impact, and another-

Nina clung desperately to the seat as she was thrown about. Trulli fought with the controls, the submarine’s stern swinging violently like the clapper inside a bell. “Tail slap!” he screamed.

“What?”

“The back end of the sub’s bouncing off the inside of the shock wave! If I don’t get us under control, it’ll collapse!”

Trulli struggled to bring the Wobblebug back in line. The submarine lurched sickeningly, bashing against the edge of the swirling vortex surrounding it a few more times before its motion began to dampen down.

He reduced the throttle further. “I think that’s got-”

Skrench!

Something ripped loose from the bow and screeched back along the sub’s length before being lost in the water behind them.

“What the hell was that?” Nina cried.

“We lost a fin!” The steering yoke bucked in Trulli’s hands. “I’m gonna have to risk backwash braking-whatever you do, don’t let go!”

She had no idea what he meant, but his voice warned her that it was almost as dangerous as letting the shock wave collapse. She hugged herself against the seat as Trulli shoved a lever-

The louvres on the seawater intakes slammed closed.

For a moment, the shriek of the engines dropped almost to nothing as the flow of water to the red-hot heating elements was cut off. The last of the superheated steam was blown out of the engine nozzles-then a surge of frothing bubbles from within the shock wave was sucked into the nozzles as the pressure inside them plummeted.

Without water to carry away the excess heat, the temperature of the steam elements had already shot up. The froth hit the searing metal, instantly exploding into superheated vapor-

Trulli pulled the lever again.

The intake louvres snapped open just as the expanding steam erupted through them, blasting twin jets through the supercavitation wave created by the submarine’s blunt nose. The disrupted shock wave instantly collapsed, but the Wobblebug plowed through it into the swirling mass of turbulence beyond, a buffer zone slowing the vessel rather than smashing it to an abrupt halt.

But it passed through the zone in barely a second…

Even with his seat belt fastened, Trulli was slammed against the steering yoke as the sub hit dense seawater. If Nina hadn’t been clinging to his seat with the strength of every sinew in her arms she would have been flung headfirst against the forward bulkhead. Something on the cabin wall broke loose and smashed into the instrument panel. The lights flickered, broken metal beating at the hull…

The submarine slowed.

Trulli gasped in pain as he tried to lift his hand to the throttle control. “Ah, shit!” he wheezed. “Nina, help me, quick!”

Arms aching, Nina dragged herself upright. “What’s wrong?”

The Australian’s face contorted. “I think I’ve busted a rib! I can’t reach the throttle-pull it back, shut off the elements!”

She hurriedly did as she was told. The hissing of steam from the engines died away, as did the last vibrations. The Wobblebug fell silent.

“Thanks,” Trulli gasped. “Well, we stopped, and we’re still in one piece, more or less. Guess that’s something.” He examined the damaged instruments through pain-narrowed eyes. “Don’t think the sub’s going to be going much farther, though. Both the intakes are wrecked, and we’re almost out of power.”

“How badly are you hurt?” Nina asked.

He grimaced. “Won’t be playing tennis for a while. I need to check where we are, get a GPS fix. See that lever up there?” He pointed at a particular lever on the cabin ceiling. Nina nodded. “Pull it. It’ll blow the ballast tanks, take us to the surface.”