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She looked a little embarrassed when she said, “Hypnosis.”
“Brainwashing? Really?”
“I told you these ideas were out there, but I’m otherwise stumped. Intelligence services have experimented with hypnosis combined with psychedelic drugs to improve the power of suggestion and subliminal direction, but the results have been mixed at best. Again, I didn’t find any hint of drugs in the systems, so it’s far-fetched, but I can’t rule it out.”
Max tried not to roll his eyes. “Anything else?”
Julia took a breath. “Auditory psychosis.”
Max frowned at her. “What’s that?”
“In my review of the literature, I found research that suggests high-volume auditory stimuli at certain frequencies can cause the vestibular system to convulse, producing a disturbing resonance in the neural pathways.”
Max gave her a look that said You’re going to need to dumb that down for me.
“We get our sense of balance and gravity from the inner ear,” she continued. “Those sensory organs can be thrown out of whack by high-intensity sounds, even if they’re ultrasonic or infrasonic—high and low frequencies that are out of the range of hearing for humans. Sonic warfare dates back to World War One. And the Nazis developed a parabolic dish to emit extremely loud noises as a battlefield weapon, but it was never put to use.”
Max nodded. “I’ve heard of something similar called LRAD, a Long Range Acoustic Device. It emits ear-splitting sounds that are unbearable. Cargo and passenger ships are mounting them on deck to use as a nonlethal way to repel pirates.”
“Right. And remember the incidents in the U.S. embassies in Cuba and China? Personnel were experiencing all kinds of ill effects that were later attributed to being bombarded by high-frequency noise.”
“How would the crew in the Gator be affected by something like that?”
“They were wearing headsets. I asked Mark Murphy to inspect all of the software to see if something was installed to broadcast a signal directly into their ears. In the meantime, if you see anyone wearing a headset that’s behaving strangely, remove it immediately.”
Max nodded. “I’ll send out an alert to the crew to be aware of that possibility.”
Max’s phone went off. It was Hali.
“I’ve got Tate on the line,” he said.
“Patch it through.” Max nodded at Julia and exited the moon pool on his way to the op center.
The phone clicked. “This is Max Hanley.”
“Yes, I remember you. So Juan left you in charge? Interesting choice.”
Max had no patience for Tate’s games. “Where is the Kansas City?”
“You are correct. No time for chitchat. You’ve got sixty minutes until the bomb on the KC’s hull explodes, so you’re going to have to move quickly.”
“Where?”
“If you’re where I told you to be, you’re only eight miles away. I’m texting you the precise longitude and latitude now.”
“How do I know the bomb won’t go off just as we get to it and kill my people?”
“That wouldn’t be very sporting, but, then, I’m not very trustworthy. It’s just a risk you’re going to have to take, isn’t it? Good luck.”
Tate hung up. Max put the phone in his pocket, grinding his teeth in fury. It didn’t help that Tate used a phrase that wasn’t uttered on the Oregon. It was considered bad luck to wish someone “Good luck” before a mission.
When he got to the op center, Max asked Murph to pull up the depth charts for the location Tate had texted to him.
“Two hundred fifty feet, just like he told us,” Murph said.
Max ordered the Oregon to set course for that spot. “When we get there, I want to begin a full sonar search of the seafloor.” He called down to the moon pool and told them to be ready for the dive in twenty minutes.
“Any radar contacts?” he asked Hali.
