The Storm - Cussler Clive - Страница 35

Marchetti sprayed the water back and forth and adjusted the nozzle to widen the pattern. The second hose was brought in by Marchetti’s crewmen. Attacking with the two jets of water, they fanned the blaze, adding waves of superheated steam to the cauldron.

“Can you see the source?” Marchetti asked.

“No,” Paul said, trying to peer through the smoke.

“In that case, we have to move forward.”

Until now, Marchetti had seemed weak to Paul, sort of a bumbler, but he admired the man’s guts in defending his island and fighting for his crewman’s life.

“Over here!” the lead man on the other hose shouted.

Paul turned to see them laying down a wave of suppressing water, clearing a path for Marchetti and him to move through.

Paul steeled himself and moved in unison with Marchetti as they pressed into the heart of the conflagration.

By now Paul could feel the heat from the deck like he was standing on top of glowing lava rocks. A new wave of fire spewed to the left of them, and a blast knocked Marchetti to the ground.

Paul pulled him back up. “This is no good!” Paul shouted. “We have to get back.”

“I told you, one of my men is down here!”

Another small explosion buffeted them, and a wall of flame rose up, only to be forced back by the water from the two hoses.

The engine room was three stories tall, four times that in length and filled with equipment pipes, hoses and catwalks. The flames were reaching the roof in places, everything was obscured. If they weren’t losing the battle, it was at least a stalemate.

“We have to flood the compartment,” Paul said. “It’s the only way.”

“We tried,” Marchetti said. “The fire-suppression system is not responding. It should have kicked on at one hundred and seventy-five degrees but didn’t. We tried to trigger it from the bridge but nothing happened.”

“There has to be an override,” Paul said, “a manual trigger down here somewhere.”

Marchetti began looking around. “There are four,” he said. “The closest should be that way. By the generator stack.”

“We need to activate it.”

Marchetti hesitated. “The doors will auto-seal as soon as we trigger it,” he explained. “Whoever does it will be trapped inside.”

“How long?”

“Until the fire goes out and the temperature drops.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time.”

Marchetti looked back down the mangled path that led to the possible safe haven of the office. The walkway was twisted and bent as if an explosion had gone off halfway across. Flames and smoke and boiling water dropping from above made it obvious: there was no way they were going to fight through that.

“Okay,” he shouted, turning toward the far wall. “This way.”

CHAPTER 28

GAMAY FOUND A STATE OF CHAOS IN THE CONTROL ROOM. Two of Marchetti’s men were working the computers with all due haste, trying to bring the robots or the firefighting system back online.

The chief, a short but burly Greek man, was monitoring the fire. In the background Gamay could hear the radio conversations between the two firefighting teams. It didn’t sound like they were winning.

“How bad is it?” she asked, thinking it hadn’t seemed quite as overwhelming down below.

“It’s grown quickly,” the chief said. “The whole engine room is burning. Fuel leak of some kind. Has to be.”

“Is it spreading?” Gamay asked, fearful that Paul would end up trapped.

“Not yet,” the chief said.

As Gamay tried not to focus on the words Not yet, Leilani came in looking scared and bewildered.

“What’s happening?”

“Engine room fire,” Gamay said. “One of the crew is trapped inside. And the automatic systems are down.”

Leilani sat down and began to shake. It seemed like she might break down, but Gamay couldn’t worry about that right now.

“What if it does spread?” Gamay asked. “My husband and Marchetti and your other men will be cut off.”

“Not if they contain it first,” the chief said. “They have to beat it back.”

“You need more men down there.” The words came from Leilani.

Gamay and the chief looked over.

“If the robots aren’t working, you need to send more men,” she repeated.

“She’s right,” Gamay realized, surprised by her suddenly strong stand.

“We’re trying to get the robots back online,” the chief insisted.

“Forget the damn robots,” Gamay said. “Four men can’t fight this fire.”

“We have only twenty crewmen on board,” the chief said.

That had always seemed like a mistake to Gamay, suddenly she saw why. “Anyone trained to fight fires should be down there,” she urged, “or Paul and the others should pull back.”

The chief looked over at the two men working on the computers. “Anything?”

They shook their heads. “It’s a looped code. Every time we break through the outer layer, it resets and we have to start over.”

Gamay didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it sounded like there wasn’t much point in continuing.

The chief exhaled. “The robots are down for the count,” he said, admitting the obvious. “Go,” he said to the men at the computer terminals. “I’ll have the others meet you at the engine room.”

The two men at the computer stations headed for the door.

“Thank you,” Gamay said, glad to know backup was headed Paul’s way.

Marchetti’s voice came over the radio: “Any luck, chief?”

“Negative,” the chief said into a microphone. “We’re locked out, sending you help.”

“Understood,” Marchetti said. “We’re going for the override.”

“What does that mean?” Gamay asked.

“They’re going to flood the compartment with Halon,” the chief said. “It’ll suppress the fire and put it out.”

“What’s the drawback?”

“Halon’s toxic. And it requires a closed room to be effective. Once they activate it, the doors will shut and lock automatically. They’ll be trapped in there until the sensors determine that the fire is out and the room temperature has dropped below the reignition point.”

Gamay felt sick. She knew what that meant.

“It shouldn’t be a big problem,” the chief said. “Once the compartment is flooded, the fire should burn out in thirty seconds. The temp in there is two hundred and fifty-five now. By my calculations the cooldown time should take about ten minutes if everything goes according to plan.”

Ten minutes with Paul sitting behind a locked door in a cauldron of heat. She could barely stand the thought. But another thought was worse.

“If everything goes according to plan,” she repeated. “The way things are going, that’s an awfully big assumption. What if the doors don’t shut? Worse yet, what if they don’t open?”

The chief said nothing, but she guessed from his body language that he had already thought of that.

DOWN IN THE ENGINE ROOM, Paul and Marchetti had begun fighting toward the far wall. It seemed to take forever to cross the cavernous space. In one section debris and burning fuel blocked their path. In another, steam was blasting from a broken waterline.

With Marchetti’s crewmen at their backs to keep them from getting cut off, they forged onward one yard at a time, beating the fire back as they went. Eventually they saw a path through.

“Hold the line,” Marchetti said. “Keep the fire back while I run through. I’ll signal you when I get there.”

Paul slid forward and grabbed the nozzle. “Okay, go!”

Marchetti let go, and it took all of Paul’s strength to keep the hose on target. As Marchetti lumbered forward, Paul washed down the flames to the left and then back to the right on a wide-pattern setting, drenching Marchetti purposefully in the process.

He watched as Marchetti made it through the first wave of flame and continued forward only to be suddenly obscured by a sideways blast of fire and smoke. Paul directed the hose into the blast and forced the flames back, but he still couldn’t see through.