The robotic submersibles, the sonar equipment, the great winch for lowering survey systems into the depths were neatly secured. Rare was the occasion when an engineer or scientist wasn't fussing with hi prized apparatus. And he knew when a door opened from a companionway leading to the bridge and a familiar figure stepped out onto the deck that the unthinkable had happened.
"How nice to see you again, Mr. Pitt," said John Merchant, snidely. "You never give up, do you?"
Pitt, in those first few moments of bitter frustration, felt an almost tangible wave of defeat wash over him. The fact that they had been effortlessly and completely snared, that Maeve was trapped in the arms of her father, that there was every likelihood that he and Giordino would be murdered, was a heavy pill to swallow.
It was all too painfully obvious that with advance warning from their agent inside NUMA, Dorsett's men had arrived at the Ocean Angler first, and through some kind of subterfuge had temporarily subdued the captain and crew and taken over the ship just long enough to trap Pitt and the others. It had all been so predestined, so transparent that Arthur Dorsett had been certain to do something beyond the bounds of the ordinary, as a backup strategy in the event that Pitt and Giordino had slipped through his fingers and somehow come on board. Pitt felt he should have predicted it and come up with an alternate plan, but he'd underestimated the shrewd diamond tycoon. Pirating an entire ship while it was docked within stone's throw of a major city had not crossed Pitt's mind.
When he saw a small army of uniformed men appear from their hiding places, some with police clubs, a few leveling rubber-pellet guns, he knew hope was lost. But not irretrievably lost. Not so long as he had Giordino at his side. He looked down at Giordino to see how he was reacting to the terrible shock.
As far as he could tell, Giordino looked as though he was enduring a boring classroom lecture. There was no reaction at all. He stared at Merchant as though measuring the man for a coffin, a stare, Pitt observed, that was strangely like the one with which Merchant was appraising Giordino.
Pitt put his arm around Maeve, whose brave front began to crumble. The blue eyes were desolate, the wide, waxen eyes of one who knows her world is ending. She bowed her head and placed it in her hands as her shoulders sagged. Her fear was not for herself but for what her father would do to her boys now that it was painfully obvious she had deceived him.
"What have you done with the crew?" Pitt demanded of Merchant, noting the bandage on the back of his head.
"The five men left on board were persuaded to remain in their quarters."
Pitt looked at him questioningly. "Only five?"
"Yes. The others were invited to a party in their honor by Mr. Dorsett, at Wellington's finest hotel. Hail to the brave explorers of the deep, that sort of tiring. As a mining company, Dorsett Consolidated has a vested interest in whatever minerals are discovered on the seafloor."
"You were well prepared," said Pitt coldly. "Who in NUMA told you we were coming?"
"A geologist, I don't know his name, who keeps Mr. Dorsett informed of your underwater mining projects He's only one of many -who provide the company with inside information from businesses and governments around the world"
"A corporate spy network."
"And a very good one. We've tracked you from the minute you took off from Langley Field in Washington."
The guards who surrounded the three made no move to restrain them. "No shackles, no handcuffs?"
asked Pitt.
"My men have been commanded to assault and maim only Miss Dorsett should you and your friend attempt to escape." Merchant's teeth fairly gleamed under the sun between his thin lips. "Not my wish, of course. The orders came direct from Ms. Boudicca Dorsett."
"A real sweetheart," Pitt said acidly. "I'll bet she tortured her dolls when she was little."
"She has some very interesting plans for you, Mr. Pitt."
"How's your head?"
"Not nearly injured enough to keep me from flying over the ocean to apprehend you."
"I can't stand the suspense. Where do we go from here?"
"Mr. Dorsett will arrive shortly. You will all be transferred to his yacht."
"I thought his floating villa was at Kunghit Island."
"It was, several days ago." Merchant smiled, removed his glasses and meticulously polished the lenses with a small cloth. "The Dorsett yacht has four turbocharged diesel engines connected to water jets that produce a total of 18,000 horsepower that enable the 80-ton craft to cruise at 120 kilometers an hour.
You will find Mr. Dorsett is a man of singularly high taste."
"In reality, he probably has a personality about as Interesting as a cloistered monk's address book,"
said Giordino readily. "What does he do for laughs besides count diamonds?"
Just for a moment, Merchant's eyes blazed at Giordino and his smile faded, then he caught himself and the lifeless look returned as if it had been applied by a makeup artist.
"Humor, gentlemen, has its price. As Miss Dorsett can tell you, her father lacks a fondness for satiric wit. 1 venture to say that by this time tomorrow you will have precious little to smile about."
Arthur Dorsett was nothing like Pitt had pictured him. He expected one of the richest men in the world, with three beautiful daughters, to be reasonably handsome, with a certain degree of sophistication.
What Pitt saw before him in the salon of the same yacht he'd stood in at Kunghit Island was a troll from Teutonic folklore who'd just crawled from an underworld cave.
Dorsett stood a half a head taller than Pitt and was twice as broad from hips to shoulders. This was not a man who was comfortable sitting behind a desk. Pitt could see from whom Boudicca had gotten the black, empty eyes. Dorsett had weathered lines in his face, and the rough, scarred hands indicated that he wasn't afraid of getting them dirty. The mustache was long and scraggly with a few bits of his lunch adhering to the strands of hair. But the thing that struck Pitt as hardly befitting a man of Dorsett's international stature was the teeth that looked like the ivory keys of an old piano, yellowed and badly chipped. Closed lips should have covered the ugliness, but oddly, they never seemed to close, even when Dorsett was not talking.
He was positioned in front of the driftwood desk with the marble top, flanked by Boudicca, who stood on his left, wearing denim pants and a shirt that was knotted at her midriff but, oddly, buttoned at the neck, and Deirdre, who sat in a patterned-silk chair, chic and fashionably dressed in a white turtleneck under plaid shirt and skirt. Crossing his arms and sitting on his desk with one foot on a carpeted deck, Dorsett smiled like a monstrous old hag. The sinister eyes examined every detail of Pitt and Giordino like needles, probing every centimeter from hair to shoelaces. He turned to Merchant, who was standing behind Maeve, his hand resting inside a tweed sport coat on a holstered automatic slung under one arm.
"Nicely done, John." He beamed. "You anticipated their every move." He lifted a matted eyebrow and stared at the two men standing before him, wet and bedraggled, turned his eyes to Maeve, stringy damp hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks, grinned hideously and nodded at Merchant. "Not all went as you expected, perhaps? They look like they fell in a moat."
"They delayed the inevitable by trying to escape into the water," Merchant said airily. The self-assurance, the pomposity, were mirrored in his eyes. "In the end they walked right into my hands."
"Any problems with the dockyard security people?"
"Negotiations and compensation came off smoothly," Merchant said buoyantly. "After your yacht came alongside the Ocean Angler, the five crewmen we detained were released. I'm confident that any formal complaint filed by NUMA officials will be met with bureaucratic indifference by local authorities.
The country owes a heavy debt to Dorsett Consolidated for its contribution to the economy."
"You and your men are to be commended." Dorsett nodded approvingly. "A liberal bonus will be forthcoming to all involved."
"That is most kind of you,
sir," Merchant purred.
"Please leave us now."
Merchant stared at Pitt and Giordino warily. "They are men who should be watched carefully," he protested mildly. "I do not advise taking chances with them."
"You think they're going to try and take over the yacht?" Dorsett laughed. "Two defenseless men against two dozen who are armed? Or are you afraid they might jump overboard and swim to shore?"
Dorsett motioned through a large window at the narrow tip of Cape Farewell, on New Zealand's South Island, which was rapidly disappearing in the wake behind the yacht. "Across forty kilometers of sea infested with sharks? I don't think so."
"My job is to protect you and your interests," said Merchant as he slid his hand from the gun, buttoned his sport coat and stepped quietly toward the door. "I take it seriously."
"Your work is appreciated," Dorsett said, abruptly becoming curt with impatience.
As soon as Merchant was gone, Maeve lashed out at her father. "I demand you tell me if Sean and Michael are all right, unharmed by your rotten mine superintendent."
Without a word, Boudicca stepped forward, reached out her hand in what Pitt thought was a show of affection, but brought it viciously across Maeve's cheek, a blow with such force it almost knocked her sister off her feet. Maeve stumbled and was caught by Pitt as Giordino stepped between the two women.
Shorter by half, Giordino had to look up into Boudicca's face as if he were staring up at a tall building.
The scene became even more ludicrous, because he had to peer up and over Boudicca's bulbous breasts. "There's a homecoming for you," he said drolly.
Pitt was familiar with the look in his friend's eye. Giordino was a keen judge of faces and character.
He saw something, some infinitesimal oddity that Pitt missed. Giordino was taking a risk that in his estimation was justified. He grinned slyly as he looked Boudicca up and down. "I'll make you a wager,"
he said to her.
"A wager?"
"Yes. I'll bet you don't shave your legs or your armpits."
There was a moment of silence, not borne by shock but more from curiosity. Boudicca's face suddenly twisted with fury, and she pulled back her fist to strike. Giordino stood complacently, expecting the blow but making no move to dodge or ward it off.
Boudicca hit Giordino hard, harder than most Olympic boxers. Her balled fist caught Giordino on the side of the cheek and the jaw. It was a savage blow, a damaging roundhouse blow, not one that was expected from a woman, and it would have knocked most men off their feet, cold. Most men would have been unconscious for twenty-four hours, most, that is, that Boudicca had ever struck in ungoverned fury.
Giordino's head snapped to one side and he took a step backward, shook his head as if to clear it and then spat out a tooth onto the expensive carpet. Incredibly, against all comprehension, he stepped forward until he was under Boudicca's protruding bosom again. There was no animosity, no expression of vengeance in his eyes. Giordino simply gazed at her reflectively. "If you had any sense of decency and fair play, you'd let me have a turn."
Boudicca stood in confused amazement, massaging a sore hand. Uncontrolled outrage was slowly replaced with cold animosity. The look came into her eye of a rattlesnake about to strike with deadly purpose. "You are one stupid man," she said coldly.
Her hands lashed out and clamped around Giordino's neck. He stood with his fists clenched at his sides, making no move to stop her. His face drained of all color and his eyes began to bulge and still he made no effort to defend himself. He stared at her without any malice at all.
Pitt well remembered the strength in Boudicca's hands; he still had the bruises on his arms to attest to it. At a loss as to Giordino's out-of-character display of passivity, he moved away from Maeve in readiness to kick Boudicca in a kneecap, when her father shouted.
"Release him!" Arthur Dorsett snapped. "Do not soil your hands on a rat."
Giordino still stood like a statue in a park, when Boudicca released her grip around his throat and stepped back, rubbing the knuckles she had scraped on his face.
"Next time," she snarled, "you won't have my father to save your filthy hide."
"Did you ever think of turning professional?" Giordino rasped hoarsely, tenderly touching the growing discoloration marks around his neck. "I know this carnival that could use a geek--''
Pitt put his hand on Giordino's shoulder. "Let's hear what Mr. Dorsett has to say before you sign up for a rematch."
"You're wiser than your friend," said Dorsett.
"Only when it comes to averting pain and associating with criminals."
"Is that what you think of me? That I'm a common criminal?"
"Considering that you're responsible for murdering hundreds of people, an unqualified yes."
Dorsett shrugged imperviously and sat down behind his desk. "Regrettably, it was necessary."
Pitt felt feverish with anger against Dorsett. "I can't recall a single justification for cold-bloodedly cutting short the lives of innocent men, women and children."
"Why should you lose sleep over a few deaths, when millions in the third world die every year from famine, disease and war?"
"It was the way I was brought up," said Pitt. "My mother taught me life was a gift."
"Life is a commodity, nothing more." Dorsett scoffed. "People are like old tools that are used and then thrown away or destroyed when they have no more purpose. I pity men like you who are burdened with morals and principles. You are doomed to chase a mirage, a perfect world that never was and never will be."
Pitt found himself staring at stark, unfettered madness. "You'll die chasing a mirage too."
Dorsett smiled humorlessly. "You're wrong, Mr. Pitt. I will grasp it in my hands before my time comes."
"You have a sick, warped philosophy of life."
"So far it has served me very well."
"What's your excuse for not stopping the mass killing caused by your ultrasonic mining operations?"
"To mine more diamonds, what else?" Dorsett stared at Pitt as though he were studying a specimen in a jar. "In a few weeks I will make millions of women happy by providing them with the most precious of stones at a cost a beggar can afford."
"You don't strike me as the charitable type."
"Diamonds are really nothing but bits of carbon. Their only practical asset is they happen to be the hardest substance known to man. This alone makes them essential for the machining of metals and drilling through rock. Did you know the namèdiamond' comes from the Greek, Mr. Pitt? It means indomitable.
The Greeks, and later the Romans, wore them as protection from wild beasts and human enemies. Their women, however, did not adore diamonds as women do now. Besides driving off evil spirits, they were used as a test for adultery. And yet when it comes to beauty, you can get the same sparkle from crystal."
As Dorsett spoke of diamonds his stare didn't falter, but the throbbing pulse in the side of his neck gave away his deep feeling on the subject. He talked as if he had suddenly risen to a higher plane that few could experience.
"Are you also aware that the first diamond engagement ring was given by Archduke Ferdinand of Austria to Mary of Burgundy in the year 1477, and the belief that the 'vein of love' runs directly from the brain to the third finger of the left hand was a myth that came out of Egypt?"
Pitt stared back with unconcealed contempt. "What I'm aware of is the current glut of uncut stones being held in warehouses throughout South Africa, Russia and Australia to inflate false values. I also know the cartel, essentially a monopoly directed by De Beers, fixes the price. So how is it possible for one man to challenge the entire syndicate and cause a sudden, drastic drop of prices on the diamond market?"
"The cartel will play right into my hands," said Dorsett contemptuously. "Historically, whenever a diamond-producing mining company or nation tried to go around them and merchandise their stones on the open market, the cartel slashed prices. The maverick, failing to compete and finding itself in a no-
win situation, eventually returned to the fold. I'm counting on the cartel to repeat their act. By the time they realize that I'm dumping millions of diamonds at two cents on the dollar with no regard for earnings, it will be too late for them to react. The market will have collapsed."
"What percentage is there in dominating a depressed market?"
"I'm not interested in dominating the market, Mr. Pitt. I want to kill it for all time."
Pitt noticed that Dorsett didn't gaze right at him but fixed his eyes impassively on a point behind Pitt's head as if seeing a vision only he could see. "If I read you correctly, you're cutting your own throat."
"It sounds that way, doesn't it?" Dorsett lifted a finger at Pitt. "Exactly what I wanted everyone to think, even my closest associates and my own daughters. The truth of the matter is that I expect to make a great sum of money."
"How?" Pitt asked, his interest aroused.
Dorsett allowed a satanic grin to display his grotesque teeth. "The answer lies not in diamonds but in the colored gemstone market."
"My God, I see what this is all about," said Maeve as if witnessing a revelation. "You're out to corner the market on colored stones."
She began to shiver from her wet clothing and a swearing dread. Pitt removed his soggy leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
Dorsett nodded. "Yes, Daughter. During the last twenty years, your wise old father has stockpiled his diamond production while quietly buying up claims to the major colored gemstone mines around the world. Through a complex formation of front corporations I now secretly control eighty percent of the market."
"By colored gemstones," said Pitt, "I assume you mean rubies and emeralds."
"Indeed, and a host of other precious stones, including sapphire, topaz, tourmaline and amethyst.
Almost all are far more scarce than diamonds. The deposits of tsavorite, red beryl or red emerald, and the Mexican fire opal, for example, are becoming increasingly difficult to find. A number of colored gemstones are so rare they are sought by collectors and are very seldom made into jewelry."