Pacific Vortex! Part 20

The shark rolled by and thrashed wildly, the rush of water whirling Pitt in a mad backward somersault as though he were being caught by a breaking surf. With all his strength he recovered and broke for the surface, keeping a wary eye on the shark, glancing skyward so he wouldn't ram his head into the keel of the Martha Ann. A shadow fell across him; he peered up to see the helmsman twenty feet above, motioning Pitt in his direction. Pitt didn't need an engraved invitation. He made the distance in ten seconds. Then he turned and waited for the next attack. The great board-headed murder machine had halted and staring menacingly out of its good right eye, its powerful fins barely propelling the ma.s.sive body through the water. Suddenly it spun about and unpredictably swam off at incredible speed, disappearing in the dark blue of the water.

Exhausted and shaken, Pitt gratefully let himself be pulled up onto the diving platform where helping hands removed his diving gear. He was totally exhausted. Then he looked up and found Boland standing, grimly staring down at him.

"Where's March?" Boland's tone was edged with ice.

"Dead," Pitt replied simply.

"These things happen," he said, and walked away.

Pitt stared at the drink in his hand. His face was devoid of expression but his eyes were tired and red. The brilliant tropical sunset threw its final rays of the day through a porthole and sparkled off the ice floating in the Scotch. Pitt rolled the gla.s.s over his forehead, mingling the condensation with his perspiration. He had finished giving Boland the whole story. And now, when he should have relaxed, he somehow sensed that the terrible events of the past hour were only the beginning of something even more sinister.

"You're not to blame yourself for March's murder," Boland said earnestly. 'If you had become trapped in the escape chamber, and if he'd drowned, then it would have been on your hands. But G.o.d only knows there was no way you could have foreseen a pair of killers roaming the Starbuckl"

"Come off it, Paul," Pitt said wearily. "I forced that boy to enter the sub. If I hadn't been so eager to prove a point he'd be alive now."

"Okay. A life has been lost, but the staggering importance of what you found more than offsets a single Me. If it cost me every man in this crew to return the Starbuck safely to the security of Pearl Harbor, I wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice them all, and that includes you and me."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Paul," said Pitt.

Boland smiled. "I'm a nice guy because of your influence with admirals. Beyond that, I think you're a pretty shrewd operator. I believe your insane act of flooding the forward torpedo compartment has a Machiavellian scheme behind it. Got an explanation?"

"Simple," Pitt said briefly. "I sabotaged the Starbuck to keep her on the bottom for a few days."

"Go on," Boland said. There was no smile now.

"To begin with, there were two armed men down there, and Seaman Farris, who was starved and mistreated. The Starbuck was his prison. He couldn't escape because there was no place to go. Even the guards came on in s.h.i.+fts. From where, I can't guess, but they didn't live on the sub."

"How can you say for sure?"

"The epicurean in me. I checked the galleys in the crew's mess and the officer's wardroom. There wasn't a hint of groceries. The guards had to eat. Even Farris couldn't last six months without food. Either there's a McDonald's in the neighborhood we don't know about, or those guys go home for lunch. I strongly suspect the latter. Whoever they are and wherever they come from, they're lurking around down there right now, waiting for an opportune moment to grab the Martha Ann. If we disappear like the rest, the Navy Department can kiss off the Starbuck for good. That's why I flooded the torpedo compartment. If our mystery pals get wise to the Martha Ann's real intent, it stands to reason they'd move the Starbuck the h.e.l.l out of the area before the Navy steamed over the horizon."

"We could airlift a crew here inside of three hours."

"Too late. We've been on borrowed time ever since we anch.o.r.ed. Whatever happened to those other s.h.i.+ps will probably happen to us."

Boland looked skeptical. "The whole idea sounds pretty fantastic. According to radar, there isn't another vessel within five hundred miles, and sonar reports the area clear of any submarines. Where in G.o.d's name can they come from?"

"If I knew the answer to that one," Pitt said irritably, "I'd demand a raise in pay ... and get it."

"Unless you can come up with a tighter case than that," Boland responded, "we'll remain anch.o.r.ed here till morning. Then at dawn we'll begin raising the Starbuck."

"Wishful thinking," Pitt said. "By dawn the Martha Ann will be lying beside the Starbuck."

"You forget," Boland persisted quietly, "I can radio Pearl Harbor and have air support overhead before dark."

"Can you?" Pitt asked.

Boland thought he had an unnecessarily positive look in his penetrating green eyes, but with Pitt it was hard to be sure. Pitt's expression showed exactly what Dirk Pitt wanted it to show and no more.

"Has Admiral Hunter acknowledged your calls?"

"We've only sent on maritime frequency, the same as you from the submarine."

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that Hunter hasn't sent a communication concerning the discovery of the Starbuck? You said it yourself. My call from the submarine was heard by every transmitter within a thousand miles. How come none broke in to say 'screw you,' or 'how's the weather?' Why haven't Hunter or Gunn requested details? Chances are you'll find nothing got through, even that phony bit about the burned propeller shaft bearing."

Pitt struck home this time. Boland raised an eyebrow and then calmly touched one of several intercom switches and said: "This is Commander Boland. Open communication to Pearl on Code Overland Six. Let me know as soon as they acknowledge."

"Code Overland Six, yes sir," replied the rough voice from the speaker.

"What makes you think we didn't get through?" Boland asked.

"Except for the Lillie Marlene, no one else ever got off a message. Not even the Starbuck. It stands to reason that our unknown friends aren't about to let the world know what we've found."

"If you're correct, then they must be jamming our transmissions."

"You bet your life they're jamming," Pitt said seriously. "That explains why no signals ever came from the missing s.h.i.+ps. They sent them out all right, but nothing was received at the maritime stations on Oahu. It also explains the fake position report from Dupree before the Starbuck supposedly vanished. Our unknown friends have a high-power radio transmitter stashed somewhere. Probably on one of the Hawaiian Islands. They'd need a land base to support an antenna tall enough to overpower signals from s.h.i.+ps at sea."

"Commander Boland?" a voice rasped from the speaker.

"Boland here. Let's have it."

"Nothing, just nothing, sir. They acknowledge all right, but not on Code Overland Six. I've repeated the call four times. All they do is send back a request for a message. Can't figure it, Commander. The calls on the maritime channel came in letter perfect. Somebody is trying to get cute."

Boland flicked off the intercom. n.o.body said anything. It didn't seem important that we were in contact, Pitt thought. All that mattered was that we were in contact with the wrong party.

"Not good," said Boland, his expression grim.

"That answers one question. But what really happened to the Starbuck's crew six months ago? And, if she's sitting down there all prim and proper, why hasn't she been put in operation?"

"We can scratch the Russians or any other foreign power," said Boland. "No way they could have kept this a secret this long."

"Crazy as it sounds," said Pitt, "I'don't think the capture ot the Starbuck was a conspiracy, or a preconceived act"

"You're right. It sounds crazy," Boland said evenly. "It's not exactly the easiest trick in the world to unintentionally put the grab on a nuclear submarine in mid-ocean."

"Somebody mastered it," Pitt retorted. "March and I found nothing to indicate the slightest damage inside or out of tiie hull."

"It won't wash. An army couldn't have gained entrance inside the sub. The array of sophisticated detection gear must have given off a warning. The Starbuck has automatic alarms that will wake up the dead when activated by open ventilators or hatches. Nothing but fish could have come within spitting distance."

"Still, even modern submarines aren't prepared to repel boarders."

Before Boland could reply, lie was interrupted by the intercom speaker. "Skipper?" "Go ahead."

"Could you please come to the bridge, sir. There's something you ought to see up here." "Give me a clue."

"Well... sir... it's land of crazy..." "Come man," Boland snapped, "spit it outl" The voice from the bridge hesitated. "Fog, Commander, Fog is coming up out of the water and covering the surface like an old Frankenstein flick. I've never seen anything like it. It's unreal." "I'll be right there." Boland stared grimly at Pitt.

" What do you make of it?" "I'd say," Pitt murmured softly, "we've had it"