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Page 427
sile. At the same time, he activated the sonar phone. ''Hear this! There are six minutes left. Repeat, six minutes. This is an order for Peters. Take off and move south. Now, Ave. Now."
He heard a burr of protest.
"DO IT!"
He seized a handhold, then another, and clawed his way back to the open warhead.
Another signal. Damn them! Ave hadn't followed his orders. The helo was still hovering right above. He didn't have time to argue anymore.
Five minutes. Less, now.
He braced himself atop the warhead. The luminous numbers counted down, seemed to flow before his eyes. Four minutes, twenty seconds. Nineteen. Eighteen.
Morgan fought an urge to attack the recalcitrant timer with his diver's knife, with a weapon, any weapon, with his gloved fists.
Another time signal. Damn Peters. Three minutes, five seconds. Still no progress. Two minutes fifty, forty-five, thirty.
Morgan's fingers were clumsy in the reinforced gloves. In desperation, he split the Velcro fastener on his right glove and discarded it. The icy, contaminated water burned his hand. All feeling began to vanish, but at last he caught hold of a terminal lead connecting the timing mechanism to the implosion module, the trigger, the heart of the warhead.
He tugged at the wire, the effort making his pulse pound in his head. His hand strength was weakened by the cold. His movements were lazy, imprecise, in slow motion.
Another time signal. One minute.
He began to count to himself. Fifty seconds. Forty. He reached for the wire clippers in his tool pouch, closing his frozen fingers around the grip. Thirty. The burring time signals were coming every second now.
Morgan cut the wire.
The timer lights went dark.

 
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