strewn with debris. Nina watched the approaching jagged shards with growing nervousness, before glancing back at the LIDAR. ‘Oh my God! One of them’s right on us!’
A smaller blip had closed to within fifty feet of the Sharkdozer’s stern. Eddie hurriedly moved the arm to bring it into the camera’s field of view. More lights shone in the darkness.
He recognised their pattern immediately. A deep suit, a halfway house between traditional scuba gear and full-body deep diving systems; the torso and bubble helmet were rigid, allowing the user to breathe ordinary air without risking the dangers of the bends, while the limbs were enclosed in standard neoprene drysuits. Eddie had used deep suits himself on several occasions, and knew their capabilities – which included high-speed movement with the aid of their built-in thrusters.
He also knew what the diver’s weapon could do.
Their opponent held an ASM-DT rifle, a Soviet-designed weapon for use both underwater and above. In air, it fired the same 5.45 millimetre ammunition as the Kalashnikov AK-74 rifle; beneath the surface, it used identical cartridges to propel not bullets, but six-inch-long hydrodynamic nail rounds.
And the gun was pointing at the Sharkdozer.
‘Incoming!’ was all he had time to shout—
The diver opened fire on full auto, blasting a stream of nails at them. Matt was already taking evasive action, but it was too late – the lumbering submarine was an unmissable target at such close range.
Piercing clangs rang through the pressure compartment as the nails struck the hull. There was a flat thump, followed by a fizzing sound – and the Sharkdozer jolted. An urgent warning siren hooted, more red lights flashing. ‘He hit an air tank!’ Matt reported.
Nina pointed at the Evenor. ‘Matt, there!’ A large hole was visible in the side of the survey vessel’s hull, angling upwards towards its main deck. ‘Can we fit through it?’
‘It’ll be tight, but if it stops us getting shot I’ll have to try!’ Matt replied, changing course.
Eddie shifted the arm to keep their attacker in view. The diver was fumbling with his gun, changing the large and awkward magazine. ‘He’s reloading – we’ve got a few seconds.’
‘I dunno how much I can do in that time, mate!’ Matt told him as he took the sub into the gap. Mangled metal clawed at them from all sides – and something larger hove into view across their path, a twisted steel beam. ‘Hang on!’
He jammed the controls hard over – and rolled the submersible on to its side.
Loose objects clattered across the cabin, Nina only holding herself in place by grabbing Matt’s chair, while Eddie thumped painfully against the wall. The beam swept past, scraping along the Sharkdozer’s fibreglass upper bodywork. There was a sharp crack as something was torn away, the sub slewing sideways . . . then they were clear.
Matt rolled the vessel back upright. ‘What’s that drongo behind us doing?’
Eddie found the diver again, who had now reloaded the gun and was following the sub through the passage. ‘Still gaining.’ He looked ahead. The Sharkdozer was coming to the end of the mangled tunnel. ‘Matt, as soon as you get to the top, go hard right.’
‘But that won’t—’
‘Just do it!’ He worked the manipulator arm again, extending it further out – and back.
‘Turning now!’ Matt warned, pushing the controls over to their limit. The Sharkdozer’s thrusters pivoted, throwing the craft into a tight turn.
Eddie opened the claw and swung the arm round as the sub emerged from the Evenor’s ruined deck. He searched for the pursuing diver’s lights.
They reappeared on the monitor, much closer. He pushed and twisted the joystick as if trying to guide a giant robot’s punch, closing the claw again—
It clamped round the deep suit’s chest section.
Eddie thumbed the control harder and the claw tightened, the diver’s limbs flailing as he struggled to break free. If he could crush him, or at least puncture his suit, it would make the fight slightly less one-sided . . .
The man brought up his gun – but didn’t point it at the submarine. Instead, he aimed at the arm itself. Jets of gas burst from the muzzle as he fired more nail rounds, clanks echoing through the metal into the cabin – and a light on the console flashed urgently. ‘Matt, what’d he do?’
Matt checked the instruments. ‘He’s shot out the claw’s hydraulic line!’
‘You mean it’s jammed?’ The camera now showed the trapped diver turning his gun round to bash at the arm with its stock. Without hydraulic pressure, the claw