“Is my diving equipment being made ready?” Spencer asked as he scrambled into the rest of his clothes. Unfortunately, he was the only qualified diver on board, but he and his shipmateshaddrilled for just such a situation, and they knew what he needed.
“They’re on it as we speak. They’re also getting the tools ready that you’ll need to cut through the sub’s hull.”
Spencer nodded, his feet already heading in the direction of the upper deck.
It was just pure dumb luck that they had an underwater, exothermic cutting device aboard. On their last mission, Spencer had been tasked to cut up metal debris that had been impeding a dredging operation for a new channel off the coast of the Carolinas. Thankfully, they hadn’t removed the equipment before making their way to Florida, then Maine.
“I’ll need my comm mask, as well,” he threw back as the captain followed him, both of them walking at a rapid clip to the above deck.
“Pietro will have it ready.”
Spencer nodded. Rather than a standard diver’s mask, the comm mask he needed would fit over his entire face, which would allow him to talk to Tabitha as well as the crew while submerged.
Unlike what a layman might think, the mask, although called full-face, didn’t cover his ears. If it did, there would be no way to equalize the pressure, which could cause him not only pain, but a possible rupture of his eardrums.
Something that also wasn’t common knowledge? He’d be able to hear Tabitha and the ship’s communications just fine without a device directly into his ears. He’d hear them through a small mic embedded into the side of his mask that rested against his cheekbone, sending the necessary sound vibrations into his skull that he’d easily interpret.
When Spencer arrived on deck, it was to a bustle of humanity. Every man aboard was doing a job. Pietro and Josh were handling his equipment, making sure everything was allset. Not that Spencer wouldn’t check it again. A good diver never took anybody’s word for the condition of his gear. But even before he took a look at it, Spencer knew that his tanks would be full, and everything would be in A-1 condition.
A couple of his teammates were bringing out his plasma cutting system, which included a burning bar, a striker, a specialized oxygen tank with its regulator and hoses, and the neoprene sponge-rubber barrier he’d need as protection against catching himself on fire while doing the job. He’d also go over all that equipment before the crew lowered it down with him.
But first…
“Can I speak to Tabitha?” he asked the skipper. He’d noticed they had the remote communications console set up near where Spencer’s gear was being assembled.
“Of course,” his superior assured him, leading him over to where the second mate was already in contact with the sub.
Without any additional words needed, he was handed the mic.
“Tabitha,” Spencer spoke as soon as he had it in his hand. “It’s Spencer. How are you holding out?”
“As well as can be expected,” she came back in a voice that was far more calm than Spencer would have imagined possible. “I understand you’re coming down for a nice little visit.”
Oh, Tabitha. You are one hell of a woman.
“Only if refreshments are offered,” he quipped back, but his throat was tight and the words didn’t come out easily.
“For you?” she returned. “Of course. Anything I have is yours, as long as you get me out of this godawful mess.”
Had there been innuendo in that offer? Spencer’s brain must be more fried than he thought. Nobody in Tabitha’s position would be thinking of sex.
“That’s the plan, Tabbi,” he returned, glowering at the shipmates who’d heard the comment, and were looking at him with waggling brows.
“Huh. Tabbi. You’ve been calling me Tabitha, so I guess this means you’re worried. Or you’ve simply decided to be less formal. Tabbi is what my sister calls me,” she replied, and for the first time, Spencer heard emotion in her voice.
He needed to nip that in the bud. Panic would only serve to use her air up faster.
“Your sister? What’s her name?” Spencer kept her talking while carefully checking over his gear and equipment.
“Sheila,” came the soft reply. “She lives in Florida.”
Spencer heard a long sigh before she continued.
“Her name and address are in my paperwork, so if anything happens to me…”
“Now, now. You have to have faith, sweetheart,” Spencer tried to assure her. He wasn’t certain where the endearment had come from that sprung from his lips, but it felt right. “I’m going to get you out of there. Without a doubt. Then you can tell your sister all about your big adventure, yourself.”
“That sounds good,” she managed. “Really good.”
