“No. They would have known about it in time: Ethically, I should have told Dr. Knox and Fisel the moment I found it I suspected right away that it was Mexican Olmec, but it seemed so fantastic, I wanted corroboration before I stuck my neck out. That's when I contacted Sandy.”
“Except for you, your colleague back at the university was the only other person who had seen evidence of the find?”
“Yes, but Sandy would never tell anybody. Thank goodness the preliminary data are secure in her hands.” She paused. “I have to get home as soon as possible.”
“We're heading to the Yucatan peninsula to check out the impact area of the asteroid that may have wiped out the dinosaurs. We've got another day of survey here before we leave,” Austin said. “We'd love you to be our guest for that time, then we can drop you off at Marrakech, where you can catch a plane to New York It would give you some time to rest and consolidate your thoughts.”
“Thank you,” Nina said. “I'm still pretty jittery, but I feel safe here.”
“You'll be more than safe, you'll be well fed.”
“There is one thing. I've got to notify the university about the expedition and Dr. Knox. The anthropology department will be devastated. Dr: Knox was an institution. Everybody loved him.”
“No problem,” Zavala said. “I'll take you to the radio room.”
Austin got a glass of iced coffee and brought it back to the table. He poured in a dollop of half-and-half and stared at the dark liquid as if the answer to Nina's puzzle lay in the swirling curlicues. None of the story made much sense, and he was no nearer enlightenment when Zavala returned with Nina a few minutes later.
“That was fast,” Austin said. “Didn't you get through to the university?”
Zavala was uncharacteristically somber. “We got through immediately, Kurt.”
Austin noticed Nina's eyes were moist with tears.
“I talked to the administration,” Nina said, her face ashen. “They didn't want to tell me at first, but I knew they were holding back something.” She paused. “Good God! What is happening?”
“I don't understand,” Austin said, although he suspected what was coming and wasn't totally surprised when Nina said:
"It's Sandy. She's dead.
Serpent
8
AUSTIN LAY IN HIS BUNK AND stared at the ceiling, listening with envy to Zavala's soft snores from across the cabin. As predicted, the chef had gone heavy on the herbs and oil, but Austin's stomach was fine. It was his brain keeping him awake. Like a busy file clerk, it was sorting out the day's events and wasn't about to let him rest.
The shakedown cruise on the Nereus was supposed to be a milk run, a chance to take a break from the NUMA team's more strenuous probes into the strange and sinister enigmas on and under the world's oceans. Then Nina appeared with the hounds of hell snapping at her heels and practically ran into his arms. Maybe he was really being kept awake by thoughts of the lovely young woman in the next cabin.
He glanced at the glowing hands of his Chronosport wristwatch. Three o'clock. Austin remembered a doctor telling him that three A.M. was when most deathly ill people give up the ghost. That got him out of bed. He pulled on a pair of heavy sweatpants and a nylon windbreaker and slipped into battered boat shoes that fit like gloves. Quietly leaving Zavala to his slumber, he stepped into the passageway and went up four decks to the bridge.
The wheelhouse door was open to admit the night air. Austin stuck his head inside. A young crewman named Mike Curtis was on the early morning watch. He sat in a chair with his nose buried in a book
“Hi, Mike,” Austin said. “Couldn't sleep. How would you like some company?”
The crewman grinned and put the book aside. “Wouldn't mind a bit. Things get pretty boring up here. Want some coffee?”
“Thanks. I like mine black.”
While Mike poured two steaming mugs Austin picked up the geology book “Pretty heavy reading for the graveyard shift.”
“I was just boning up for the Yucatan survey. Do you really think that a meteor or comet wiped out all the dinosaurs?”
“When an object as big as Manhattan slams into the earth, it's going to shake things up. Whether the big lizards were already on the verge of extinction is another question. This plankton survey should settle a lot of arguments. It's ironic in a way, having little one-celled animals telling us what happened to the biggest life form ever.”
They chatted until Mike went to attend to routine duties. Austin drained, his mug and walked through the radio shack to the chartroom at the rear of the bridge. With its big wrap-around windows the space doubled as an aft control room the crew could use when maneuvering the ship in reverse.
Austin spread a chart of the Moroccan coast on the navigation table and marked an X in pencil to show the ship's present position. Lips pursed in thought, he studied the chart, letting his eyes travel along the 'occipital bulge in the skullshaped African continent from Gibraltar to the Sahara. After a few minutes of study he shook his head. The chart told him nothing. A hovercraft could have come from land or sea.
He dragged a chair over, put his feet up on the table, and read the entries in the ship's log from the start of the trip. It had been a picture-perfect cruise up to now. A swift and uneventful voyage across the Atlantic, a brief stopover in London to pick up a batch of European scientists, a pleasant couple of weeks in the Mediterranean testing the submersible, and then the Moroccan stopover two days ago.
Nina's story was bizarre by any measure. The hovercraft attack and the bloodsoaked evidence at the campsite had convinced him the tale was true. The terrible news about her colleague's death removed all shreds of doubt. A car accident. Convenient. These assassins had a long reach. They had erased the data Nina sent to UPenn. Now Nina was the only one who had firsthand knowledge of the mysterious Olmec artifact and the veracity to be believed. He was glad she was in her cabin safely asleep, thanks to the mild sedative provided by her roommate.
Austin walked outside and leaned on the rail of a small platform behind the chartoom. The ship was in darkness except for a few floods illuminating sections of the white superstructure and low-level runway lights along the decks. Beyond the range of the lights was a vast velvet blackness. The smell of rotting vegetation that came to his nostrils was, the only evidence of the great land mass that lay less than a league away. Africa. He wondered how many expeditions like Nina's had vanished into the heart of darkness. Maybe the truth would never be known.
Enough philosophizing. Austin yawned and pondered whether to go back to the bridge, return to his cabin, or stay where he was and watch the sun come up. He lingered, savoring the beauty of the night. The Nereus was like a behemoth at rest. He loved the feel of a sleeping vessel, the hum of idling electrical systems, and the creaks and groans of a ship at anchor.
Tunk.
Austin leaned forward and cocked his. ear. The clinking noise had come from below Metal on metal.
Tunk. There it was again.
Not loud, but out of sync against the background of usual ship sounds. Curious now, Austin quietly descended to the first level and made his way along the deserted deck, his hand running lightly along the damp rail. He paused. His fingers had hit a hard lump. He looked closer and saw the prong of a grappling iron, covered in cloth to muffle sound. Exploring further with his fingers, he felt the bare metal of the shaft, which must have caused the clinking sound when it hit the side of the ship.
He stepped away from the light and peered over the rail. From down at the waterline came the sound of faint rustlings. They could have been caused by ripples of water against the hull. He cupped a hand to his ear.
Whispered voices separated themselves from the sea sounds. He could see moving shadows.
Austin didn't wait to ask if the boarders were friend or foe. The answer was obvious in his mind. He sprinted for the nearest stairway and climbed back to the cabin level. Moments later he was shaking Zavala awake. His roommate slept as if he were drugged,
but he had an uncanny ability to snap himself fully alert as if an internal electrical switch were turned on. Zavala knew Austin wouldn't wake him unless it was important. Grunting to let Austin know he was getting ready for action, he rolled out of bed and yanked on a pair of shipboard shorts and a T shirt.
Austin had thrown back the cover of his foot locker and was rummaging through his belongings. He pulled out a leather holster, and a second later the snake wood grips of a Ruger Redhawk filled his hand. With its fat, four-inch barrel, the .375 Magnum revolver, custom-built by Bowen, was compact yet packed a wallop.
Zavala called the Bowen “Kurt's Cannon” and claimed it used railroad spikes for ammunition. Actually, the gun fired a special load of .50caliber bullets. '
“We've got company” Austin said as he checked the five-shot cylinder chamber. “Starboard side, coming aboard with grapnels. Those are the ones I know about. There may be others. We'll need weapons.”
Zavala glanced around the cabin and grumbled, “Just my luck I recall someone telling me this was going to be like a Love Boat cruise. I didn't even bring a cap pistol. I didn't know we'd be repelling Barbary pirates.”
Austin slung the holster over his shoulder. "Neither did I.
That's why I didn't bring a reload. I've got five shots and that's it"
Zavala brightened. “What about your London purchase?”
Austin dug into the locker again and lifted out a shiny flat wooden case. “My Joe Manton specials? Hell, why not?”
Zavala took a diver's sheath knife out of a drawer. “This toothpick is it for my arsenal,” he said.
“Not exactly what I'd call overwhelming firepower. We'll have to improvise as we go along.”
“It wouldn't be the first time,” Zavala said with a shake of his head.
Austin started for the door. “My guess is that they're after Nina. I'll get her and wake everyone on this level. You can get below and roust the rest of the crew and scientists. We'll have them squeeze into the bow thruster room forward of the crew quarters.”
“That's going to be tight quarters.”
“I know, but they can secure the watertight door and buy us some time. We can't have a bunch of unarmed PhDs and deck hands running around where they can be hurt or taken hostage. Unfortunately the Nereus is a research vessel, not a warship.”
“I'm beginning to wish it was a warship,” Zavala said. As swiftly as a thought he disappeared down a stairway that led below.
A sleepy-eyed physician's mate answered Austin's knock on the door of the adjoining cabin. Without elaborating, Austin told her to get dressed while he woke Nina. She was still groggy from her medication, but when she saw the intensity in Austin's face her fluttering eyelids snapped open like window shades.
“They're back, aren't they?” she said, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Austin nodded. Moments later he and the two women were in the hallway making their way from cabin to cabin. Soon more than a dozen grumpy people were gathered in the narrow passage. They were dressed in a variety of nightwear or hastily pulled-on mismatches of clothing.
“No questions now,” Austin said in a tone that showed he meant it.
He directed the sleepy-faced group down the stairs to the lowest deck level. Zavala was waiting for him with the others. Like cowpokes on a cattle drive, they herded the reluctant throng into the bow section forward of the crew quarters, where crew and scientists jostled for space with the bow thrusters that were used to stabilize the ship in heavy seas.
Austin wasted no time summing up the situation “I'm got to make this short and sweet. The ship's being boarded by armed attackers. Don't open this door unless you know it's Joe or me.”
A researcher piped up: “What are you going to do?”
Damned scientific minds, Austin thought, always asking questions. This wasn't the time for his usual blunt honesty.
“Don't worry. Joe and I have a plan,” he said with confidence. “We'll be back” He quickly stepped into the bunkroom and closed the door on the frightened faces.
“You sounded like the Terminator in there,” said Zavala, who was right behind him. “It's good to hear we've got a plan. Hope you don't mind telling me what it is.”
Austin damped a big hand on Zavala's shoulder. “Simple, Joe. You and I are going to kick these bastards off our ship.”
“That's a plan?”
“Maybe you'd like to ask them politely to leave.”
“Why do it the easy way? Okay, deal me in. Where do we start?”
“We get up to the bridge in a hurry. That's where our uninvited guests will go first. I hope they're not already there.”
“How do you know they'll go for the bridge?”
“It's what I'll do. They can cut off communications and take control of the ship in one fell swoop.” Austin hustled toward the nearest stairway. “Try to stay out of sight. If it's the same gang that wiped out the expedition, my popgun won't stand a chance against automatic weapons.”
Using interior .stairways they went up the six decks to the bridge. They stopped at each level before proceeding to the next but saw no sign of the intruders. At the deck below the bridge they split up. Zavala went ahead to warn the watch. Austin woke the captain, who was asleep in his cabin under the wheelhouse, gave him a condensed account of the status quo, and suggested he take cover.
Captain Joe Phelan was a craggy-faced, tough-as-barnacles NUMA veteran in his fifties. He answered Austin's suggestion with a snarl.
“I was there when they laid the keel of the Nereus,” he snapped, anger dancing in his hazel eyes. “I waited thirty years to take the helm of a vessel like this. Damned if I'm going to hide in a closet while these guys have the run of my ship.”
Phelan could make the Nereus move with the agility of a ballet dancer, but Austin wasn't sure how he'd be at close combat, which was what things might come down to. On the other hand, it might be risky now for the captain to get down to the bow section. The boarders could be swarming all over the ship.
Phelan zipped up the front of a navy jumpsuit and lifted a pump-action shotgun off a wall rack.
“Only a .410,” he apologized. “Never know when you're going to have to put down a mutiny” Noting Austin's quizzical frown, he chuckled. “Sometimes I shoot skeet off the deck.”
“This time around the skeet will be shooting back,” Austin said grimly
Phelan produced two boxes of shotgun shells and threw them into a canvas bag with the wooden case Austin had been carrying. Then they hurried up to the bridge.
Before they entered the wheelhouse, Austin called out in a low voice, “Joe, it's us.”
The warning was well advised because when they stepped through the door they were staring down the barrel of a flare gun.
Zavala lowered the gun. “Mike's sending off an SOS.”
The young crewman Austin had coffee with earlier stepped into the wheelhouse from the radio room. “The signal is on automatic and will broadcast our positron until someone shuts it off.”
Austin didn't have much hope of the cavalry galloping in for a rescue. The ship was many miles from civilization. .They would have to do what had to be done without outside help.
“Guess you won't be bored for a while,” Austin told the wide-eyed crewman.
“Guess not. What should I do?”
“It's .too late for you to go below with the others, so I'm going to put you to work. Climb up on top of the bridge where you get a good view of the ship. Captain, when I give you the signal, I want the News lit up like Broadway and Forty-second Street, but keep the bridge in darkness.”
With a quick nod and no questions Phelan went over to a console and put his hand on a panel of buttons. Austin and Mike went onto the starboard wing, and Zavala took up a position on the port wing.
As Mike started up the ladder to the bridge roof, Austin said, “When the fights go on I want you to count every stranger you see and remember where you saw them. We'll do the same down here. Remember, keep your h
ead low.”
As soon as everyone was in place, Austin called in to the captain.
“Showtime, skipper.”
The ship was equipped with floodlights at every angle, so the crew and scientists could work at night as easily as during the day. Phelan's forgers danced over the console. In an instant the Nereus lit up like a Caribbean cruise ship; every deck was bathed in light from one end to another.
Two decks below, Austin saw a trio of figures freeze, then scurry for cover like startled roaches in a pantry.
“Cut!” he called.
The lights blinked off.
Mike called down. “I saw three guys on top of the submersible garage. Heading our way. None forward.”
“You flatten down and stay put for now” Austin stepped into the wheelhouse as Zavala came in from the other wing.
“Three on my side, three decks below. Dressed like Ninjas.”
“Same with me. Mike saw three coming from the aft deck That makes nine. That we know of. Captain, can Joe borrow your shotgun? He's had a little more experience shooting, ah, skeet.”
The captain knew there was a big difference between picking off clay targets and shooting to kill. He handed the shotgun to Zavala. “Safety's off,” he said calmly. At Austin's suggestion, he stepped into the radio room where he would be out of the way.
Austin and Zavala stood back-to-back in the middle of the darkened wheelhouse, the guns pointed toward the open doors on each side. They only had to wait a few minutes before their unwelcome company arrived.
Serpent
9
A PAIR OF SILHOUETTES MATERIALIZED in the starboard doorway, where they were framed against the blue darkness, one behind the other, making no attempt at concealment. It was a fatal mistake. Seizing his opportunity, Austin lined his sits up on the lead intruder and squeezed the trigger: The Bowen's thunderous roar rattled the wheelhouse windows as it sent a heavy .50caliber slug smashing into the first attacker's sternum, shattering it to bony splinters before the bullet burst from his nib cage and ripped through the heart of the second figure. The force of the impact threw the intruders back, and their bodies crashed over the rail.