Raise the Titanic - Cussler Clive (книги читать бесплатно без регистрации полные .txt) 📗

    Kemper and Sandecker looked at each other and nodded. They looked at Seagram, waiting for the rest of it.

    "Now then," he continued, "Meta Section has developed a defense system with the code name of the Sicilian Project . . . ."

    "The Sicilian Project?"

    "We named it after a chess strategy known as the Sicilian Defense. The project is devised around a variant of the maser principle. For example, if we push a sound wave of a certain frequency through a medium containing excited atoms, we can then stimulate the sound to an extremely high state of emission."

    "Similar to a laser beam," Kemper commented.

    "To some degree," Seagram answered. "Except a laser emits a narrow beam of light energy, while our device emits a broad, fanlike field of sound waves."

    "Besides breaking a bevy of eardrums," Sandecker said, "what purpose does it serve?"

    "As you recall from your elementary-school studies, Admiral, sound waves spread in circular waves much like ripples in a pond after a pebble is dropped in it. In the instance of the Sicilian Project, we can multiply the sound waves a million times over. Then, when this tremendous energy is released, it spreads out into the atmosphere, pushing air particles ahead of its unleashed force, condensing them until they combine to form a solid, impenetrable wall hundreds of square miles in diameter." Seagram paused to scratch his nose. "I won't bore you with equations and technical details concerning the actual instrumentation. The particulars are too complicated to discuss here, but you can easily see the potential. Any enemy missile launched against America coming into contact with this invisible protective barrier would smash itself into oblivion long before it entered the target area."

    "Is . . . is this system for real?" Kemper asked hesitantly.

    "Yes, Admiral. I assure you it can work. Even now, the required number of installations to stop an all-out missile attack are under construction."

    "Jesus!" Sandecker burst out. "The ultimate weapon."

    "The Sicilian Project is not a weapon. It is purely a scientific method of protecting our country."

    "It's hard to visualize," Kemper said.

    "Just imagine a sonic boom from a jet aircraft amplified ten million times."

    Kemper seemed lost by it all. "But the sound-wouldn't it destroy everything on the ground?"

    "No, the energy force is aimed into space and builds during its journey. To someone standing at sea level it would merely have the same harmless impact of distant thunder."

    "What does all this have to do with the Titanic?"

    "The element required to stimulate the optimum level of sound emission is byzanium, and therein lies the grabber, gentlemen, because the world's only known quantity of byzanium ore was shipped to the United States back in 1912 on board the Titanic."

    "I see." Kemper nodded. "Then salvaging the ship is your last-ditch attempt at making your defense system operational?"

    "Byzanium's atomic structure is the only one that will work. By programming its known properties into our computers, we were able to project a thirty-thousand-to-one ratio in favor of success."

    "But why raise the entire ship?" Kemper asked. "Why not just tear out its bulkheads and bring up the byzanium."

    "We'd have to blast our way into the cargo hold with explosives. The danger of destroying the ore forever is too great. The President and I agree that the added expense of raising the hull far outweighs the risk of losing it."

    Kemper tossed out his lure again. "You're a positive thinker, Seagram. I grant you that. But what makes you think the Titanic is in any condition to be brought up in one piece. After seventy-five years on the bottom, she may be nothing but an immense pile of rusty junk."

    "My people have a theory on that," said Sandecker. He put his fishing pole aside, opened his tackle box and pulled out an envelope. "Take a look at these." He handed Kemper several four-by-five photographs.

    "Looks like so much underwater trash," Kemper commented.

    "Exactly," Sandecker answered. "Every so often the cameras on our submersibles stumble on debris tossed overboard from passing ships." He pointed to the top photo. "This is a galley stove found at four thousand feet off Bermuda. Next is an automobile engine block photographed at sixty-five hundred feet off the Aleutians. No way to date either of these. Now, here is a Grumman F4F World War II aircraft discovered at ten thousand feet, near Iceland. We dug up a record on this one. The plane was ditched in the sea without injury by a Lieutenant Strauss when he ran out of fuel on March 17, 1946. "

    Kemper held out the next photo at arm's length. "What in hell is this thing?"

    "That was taken at the moment of discovery by the Sappho I daring the Lorelei Current Expedition. What at first looked like an ordinary kitchen flannel turned out to be a horn." He showed Kemper a shot of the instrument taken after Vogel's restoration.

    That's a cornet," Kemper corrected him. "You say the Sappho I brought this up?"

    'Yes, from twelve thousand feet. It had been lying on the bottom since 1912."

    Kemper's eyebrows raised. "Are you going to tell me it came from the Titanic?"

    "I can show you documented evidence."

    Kemper sighed and handed the pictures back to Sandecker. His shoulders sagged, the weary, fatigued droop of a man no longer young, a man who had been carrying a heavy burden for too long a time. He pulled a beer from the fish net and popped the tab. "What does any of this prove?"

    Sandecker's mouth tightened into a slight grin. "It was right in front of us for two years-that's how long ago the aircraft was discovered-but we completely overlooked the possibilities. Oh sure, there were remarks about the plane's excellent condition, yet none of my oceanographers really grasped the significance. It wasn't until the Sappho I brought up the horn that the true implications came home."

    "I'm not following you," Kemper said tonelessly.

    "First of all," Sandecker continued, "ninety per cent of that F4F is made out of aluminum, and as you know, salt water eats the hell out of aluminum. Yet that plane, after sitting down there in the sea for over forty years, looks like the day it came out of the factory. Same with the horn. It's been underwater crowding eighty years, and it shined up like a newborn baby's ass."

    "Have you any explanation?" Kemper asked.

    "Two of NUMA's ablest oceanographers are now running data through our computers. The general theory at the moment is that it's a combination of factors the lack of damaging sea life at great depths, the low salinity or salt content of bottom water, the freezing temperatures of the deep, and a lower oxygen content that would slow down oxidation of metal. It could be any one or all of these factors that delays deterioration of deep-bottom wrecks. We'll know better if and when we get a look at the Titanic. "

    Kemper thought for a moment. "What do you want from me?"

    "Protection," Seagram answered. "If the Soviets get wind of what we're up to, they'll try everything short of war to stop us and grab the byzanium for themselves."

    "Put your mind at rest on that score," Kemper said, his voice suddenly hard. "The Russians will think twice before they bloody their noses on our side of the Atlantic. Your salvage operations on the Titanic will be protected, Mr. Seagram. You have my iron-clad guarantee on that."