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was so slow that Bill could not see how the barracuda moved.
He remembered the feeling of tense horror he had had as he waited. The parrot fish with its false mouth as though painted on seemed completely unaware of its enemy as it cruised along, sometimes standing on its head to nibble with its flat, buck teeth at the small plants.
There had been no warning. There had not been the slightest flicker of fin or tail before the flashing movement started. And it had been so fast that, to Bill, it had appeared as just a long, gray, blurred streak through the water.
Then the parrot fish was dead, torn almost in two, and the barracuda was back where it had been, motionless again.
''Shark chaser no good on barracuda,'' Bill said quietly. 'It's in here with me now."
"Bill. Bill! What can you do?"
"Haven't found out yet what's on that fish's mind. Don't know if he's hungry, mad, or just curious."
He had not stopped looking at the barracuda. Now, very carefully, he took a step sideways toward the door.
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He saw no movement of fin or tail but the fish, somehow, moved, staying right with him.
Bill said into the mike, "Start now taking in the line and wire, John. But, for the love of Pete, be careful! Just inch it up and stop if you feel any resistance at all. Tm going to try to get out of here without getting this critter excited. So don't let the line jerk me.'*
'Til be careful,'' John said, almost whispering.
Bill forced himself to move one foot very slowly. He knew the fish was going to give him no warning before it struck, and his whole instinct turned into a solid force trying to make him bolt from the room. But he also knew that the barracuda's reaction to a quick movement would be to attack. And, Bill knew, once the fish came for him—bye bye.
He took another step sideways, always keeping his eyes fixed on the fish.
Again it moved.
He had to swallow twice before he could speak. "Not getting anywhere. Stop taking in line. The fish is sticking to me like a shadow. I don't know how much longer he'll wait but I'm scared to move any more because he gets closer each time."
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For a moment sweat blinded Bill, burning his eyes, and there was no way to get it out except by blinking.
When he could see hazily again, the barracuda had moved. Now it was between him and the door.
*'That does it,*' he said to John. "He's got me blocked
now.'*
''Oh, Bill, Bill,'' John said. ''Can't I do something?"
"Nothing that I can think of."
But then Bill thought of the shark chaser again.
Moving his hands slowly, he reached into the pouch and snapped off another section of the cake. He forced his fingers to stop shaking and unwrap the black chunk. Then, afraid to make any movement toward the fish, he just dropped the stuff on the floor at his feet.
The black dye floated up and, in a moment, he was in pitch-black darkness.
"Start taking in line. Get it as fast as you can. It's got to be clear of the door when I am. But don't jerk."
"Right," John said, his voice clear now and strong.
Bill moved fast then, fear crowding up and choking in his throat. He touched the wall and slid along it, the room a solid black now from the dye.
He had no idea where the fish was, nor what it was
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doing; and to know that it might strike him at any instant in that complete blackness was a terrible thing to bear.
Then his fingers felt the door opening. He slid through the opening and, as he reached for the steel door, he almost yelled, *'Take line! Take line!'*
John took it so fast that it almost pulled .him over backward and he yelled again, ''Stop on line!'* .
Then, with every ounce of strength he had, he swung the door against the heavy, gluelike resistance of the water. He could hear his breath screeching as he swung the door and slammed it with a dull crash and leaned against it, his bare hands flat on it.
Through the door he felt another crash, then another.
The barracuda, probably blind in the dark room, was slamming heavily against the closed door.
''Bill? Bilir
John's voice sounded faint and far away through the sound of Bill's breathing and the pound of blood in his ears.
Slowly, still leaning hard against the door, he said, 'Tm okay. Got out of there and shut the door on him.'*
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^'Listen, Bill," John said, "come on up. I can't take any more/'
"How's my time?"
"Forty-two."
"I'm all right, Johnny. Just scared limp. I'll take a look into these rooms and then come up."
"There may be some more barracuda down there, Bill," John said, almost begging.
"Don't think they'd be right around here, Johnny. Barracuda are so bad tempered there aren't usually two around the same place. That one must have been headman in this area and, unless he chews his way through this steel door, he's a cooked pigeon."
Bill turned the light on the doorknob and found that it still worked, although it took strength to turn it. He tested it to be sure the door would stay closed in spite of the battering the fish was still giving it.
Then, for a moment, Bill just leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the fear drain on out of him.
Moving again, he walked into the room directly across from the captain's. Above the door the plate had Passenger on it.
Had this been Sweiner's room?
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Bill stood in the open doorway and played the light slowly around the walls. Two metal beds were against one wall, two desks against the opposite. Two chairs, both overturned, lay on the floor.
In the far corner there was a safe, the door closed, its combination knob still bright.
*1 may be getting somewhere now,'' Bill told John. *1 think Tm in Sweiner's room. And there's a safe.'*
Remembering the barracuda and taking no more chances, Bill pulled the door of the room almost shut, leaving a crack only wide enough to leave his line and wire free.
He walked to the safe and stooped over it, getting his hands on it.
It was too heavy to lift.
''Guess we'll have to drag this safe out with a line/' he told John. ''Can't lift it."
"Do you think that's where the money is?" John asked.
"Could be. If Sweiner thinks the way I do, this is where he'd put it."
"Want me to drop down a line?"
"Yeah."
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Then he heard John laughing.
"What^s up?^' Bill asked.
"You ought to see what Sticks has made. He's taken some bungee and made a spear gun. It's a fierce looking weapon. Fll send it down to you with the line.''
*Tell him thanks and that I hope I won't need it," Bill said.
As he waited for the line to come down, he looked around the room again and then, idly, turned the handle on the safe door. It moved hard, but moved.
Amazed, Bill, stooping, turned the handle all the way and then pulled.
The door of the safe came open with a grinding noise.
**Hold up on the line, Johnny," Bill said, reaching up for the light. '1 just got the safe open."
John's voice was excited as he asked, 'What's in it?"
Bill turned the cold blue beam of the light into the black opening of the safe.
Then he sat down slowly on the deck and put the light down beside him.
Slowly he pushed the talk button with his chin and said in a dead voice, ''Nothing. Nothing at all, John."
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John's voice was dead too as he said, 'Too bad, Bill/' Angrily, Bill shoved the safe door shut and got to his feet again.
'Well, it's down here somewhere. How's my time?" ''Seventy-one minutes, Bill. You've got forty-nine to
go."
"I don't want to push these tanks all the way," Bill told
him. "Let me know when there's only twenty minutes left. I wouldn't want to be caught down here breathless."
Bill got the crowbar and started to work on the desk drawers. Before he had gotten the first one open, John's voice rattled in his ears. It sounded as though something was choking him and Bill could feel a surge of fear coming down the wire.
But the voice was slow and quiet as John said, "There's a boat coming, Bill. Straight toward us. Fast."
Somehow, Bill knew the answer. But he asked, "A schooner?"
"Yes."
"White?"
"Yes."
"No topmasts?"
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''No topmasts/'
'It's Sweiner, John/'
"Yes/'
"Under sail?"
"Yes. But with power too, I think/'
"How far away?"
"I'd guess five or six miles/'
Bill stood a moment, thinking. "That leaves us less than an hour, John. I'm coming up. Take in line."
For a moment longer he stood, beaten, then moved slowly out.
Cnapter 8
CLEAR OF THE SUNKEN SHIP NOW, BILL HUNG IN THE
empty water as John and Sticks pulled him slowly up.
Once he looked up at the mirrorlike surface of the water. It looked so beautifully clean and pure. It was hard to think that death was coming fast across such a stillness.
But there was no time for that kind of thinking now.
Nor time to think long about how Sweiner had found the Venture again. He must have known approximately where his ship went down and had just come into the area and used the radar for the final pickup.
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What could they do now?
"What's the weather Hke up there?'' he asked.
**Dead calm. But something's making up in the east. Looks like a front moving in."
No wind, Bill thought. So there was no escape.
What, then, could they do?
*Which side is Sweiner on?'*
**Dead ahead. Bill."
''Bring me up over the stern then. I don't want him to see me."
'What are you planning to do?"
"Don't know, Johnny. Just feeling my way along. This is bad, Jawn."
"I know it."
"What's Sticks doing?"
"Sitting here."
"How's he taking it?"
John's voice came back low. "I can't tell."
"Is he—with us?"
"I can't tell, Bill-Then he broke the surface of the water. Sticks, saying nothing, helped pull him aboard and get the tanks off.
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Bill got down low in the companion hatch and pushed the mask up off his face.
For a long time he and Sticks Neal looked at each other, neither's eyes wavering.
At last, his voice ugly, Neal said, '1 know what youVe thinking/'
"Do you?'' Bill asked. "Are you sure?"
Sticks nodded.
Bill said quietly, "I don't think you're right, Sticks. I'm thinking that you're a better man than you believe you are. I'm thinking you're all man."
Sticks suddenly lowered his head and turned his face away. Then, his voice very low, "Is that straight, Bill? Is that what you really think?"
"Yep."
Sticks still didn't look at him. "I hope you're right."
"I know I am. All right, now let's get this Sweiner."
John's voice, desperate, asked, ''How, Bill?"
"I don't know. But we're not going to sit here and let him whip us without a fight he'll remember."
Bill leaned against the hatch coaming and watched the schooner.
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'1 wonder if any of Sweiner's men ever saw me?'' he asked, almost idly.
''On the wharf that night?'' John asked.
*lt was dark and I had a flashlight on them. It must have been pretty hard to see clearly."
*What difference does it make? Sweiner knows you.
''Maybe none. But here's what I think: Sweiner sees us anchored here, sails off and furled. Won't he figure that we've found the wreck?"
"I would," John agreed.
"Then, wouldn't the first thing he'd do be to go down and take a look at it. Maybe just take the money and—even let us alone."
"You make it sound swell, but I don't think he works that way."
"I don't think so either, beyond where he goes down to get the money. But he's really after the money first, not us. As long as he knows he's got us pinned down just where he wants us—right here—won't he go look for the money before wasting a lot of time hammering us?"
John and Sticks nodded.
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"Hell probably send one or two guys over here to watch us. Guys with cannons. But he*ll be thinking about nothing but that dough down there.*'
*'Then you're just going to let him go and get it?*'
"If it was as simple as that—yes. But Sweiner isn't simple, John. He isn't going to let us sit here and see him take that $250,000 and go away with it. He's too guilty. He'll want no witnesses who might get word to the Navy or Coast Guard and get him nabbed before he reaches safety. So, even if he does get the money, we've got a fight on our hands."
"One guy with one gun can handle the three of us, easy," Sticks said. "Bang bang bang.'
"Two," Bill said. "That's where you come in. Sticks."
"I don't get it.''
"You're going to be me. Bill Grant. Let's hope that Sweiner thinks there are only two people aboard this boat—me and John."
"Where are you going to be?" Sticks asked.
"Down there."
Sticks' mouth dropped open in a sort of horror. ''Down there?"
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Bill nodded, as he reached for two full tanks.'Wait-
>> mg.
Slowly John asked, dragging the words out, 'To-do—what?''
*1 don't know. But our only chance is with surprise. And the only surprise we can make is in being three when Sweiner thinks there are only two of us."
Bill pulled the mask down and tested the phone. "Don't let them see you lowering me into the water. And hide this line and the wire so they won't see it."
Then he was sinking down into the blue gloom again, fear crawling on him like insects.
Sweiner had everything, Bill thought. His boat is faster than ours because of the diesel; the men aboard were, without doubt, armed; Sweiner knew where in the ship the money could be found, and now he knew where the ship was; finally, there was always the radar. M^ow could you fight a combination like that? Bill thought, desperate and bitter. There wasn't even a place to begin.
What could they do? he wondered. Three of them, and two of them teenagers, pitted against a man like Sweiner to whom murder meant nothing.
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John's voice in the earphones broke into his thoughts. ^'They're swinging in just aft of us, Bill/'
*'How many of them are there?'*
*1 can see five. There may be more."
*'See Sweiner?'*
''Can't recognize him. But there's one man in a diving suit."
*Trog job?"
'1 don't think so, Bill. He hasn't got anything on his head. . . . No, it's a big job. They're putting the helmet on him now and I can see the hoses."
Bill checked his descent, not sure what to do.
''They're dropping anchor now. Right behind us. There's another . . ." John's voice stopped suddenly.
Bill pushed the talk button. "John? John?"
There was no answer. Bill wondered if the phone had broken down but he could still hear the hum of it plainly.
He hung there twenty feet below the Venture almost in panic. Without the phone he felt that he had lost the last weapon.
Then John's voice came again, very low. "Bill, they've made me and Sticks come aft and sit on the fan-
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tail. A man on their ship is covering us with a gun; looks like a machine gun. If we move he'll shoot, he says.
"Any sign of Sweiner?'*
"Bill, you'll have to talk louder. IVe got the phone set down inside my shirt so you'll have to yell."
"One two three,'* Bill yelled. "Hear it?"
"You don't have to make it quite that loud."
Bill lowered his voice again. "Any sign of Sweiner?"
"Not yet, but he may be in the diving suit. They're screwing the helmet down on the neckpiece now."
"How far aft of you are they?"
"Under a hundred yards, I'd say."
Bill hung on the life line. At a hundred yards a machine gun could cut them all to pieces. But, at least, Sweiner hadn't sent a man over to the boat and, better, hadn't come himself. Evidently, he thought that Sticks was Bill Grant.
So far Sweiner had done exactly what Bill had predicted he would.
So now what?
Bill remembered suddenly the list of Sweiner's advantages. The first one of them had been speed. The
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schooner's diesel made her far faster than the Venture, Nor could it hide from it as long as the radar watched.
*7ohn/' Bill said.
^^Yeah?''
**Let me know as soon as their diver goes over the side. Watch the hose reel and when it's going around, give me a buzz.*'
^^All right. What's up?" . *Well, one thing, I always want to be behind that guy. Not in front of him."
In a little while John said, ''He's going over the side now. He's down in the water."
Bill waited. Looking up he could see the bottom of the Venture but could see nothing of the other ship.
''Hose reel's going around now. Real slow."
Speed, Bill thought. Maybe I can do something about that. And maybe about the radar, too, if it runs off the diesel.
"Still going around. A little faster now," John said.
"Good."
Bill didn't have much time. Undoubtedly it was SwemeFin the diving suit and he had only a hundred yards or so to walk to get over to the wrecked ship.
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Then climb up. And, since he knew where the money was, it wouldn't take him long to get it and come up.
Dropping down to around forty feet. Bill began swimming straight away from the Venture, Occasionally he would stop and look up at the shining surface of the water, now being broken into mirrored planes by the wind.