Dirk Pitt 1 - Pacific Vortex (21 page)

“I've gone to a yellow hell,” Giordino sputtered. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and extended his hand to Pitt.

“Welcome to Delphi's House of Horrors.” He grabbed Giordino's hand and hauled him from the water onto the step.

Giordino nodded toward the sculptures. “The local reception committee?” He rubbed a hand over one of the squared-off beards, stroking the stony surface. “Any idea what causes the weird light?”

“It seems to emanate from the rocks.”

“That it does,” Giordino agreed. “Take a look at my hand.” He held up his palm and the skin emitted a faint glow. '1 can't give you a chemical analysis of the mineral content, but I'm reasonably certain it contains a healthy dose of phosphorescence."

“ Tve never known it to be quite this bright,” Pitt said.

Giordino sniffed the air. “I smell eucalyptus.”

“Eucalyptus oil. They use it to lower the humidity and keep the air from getting stale.”

Giordino began peeling off his own wet suit, gently easing it over his injured feet. They were, Pitt discerned in the strange light, torn nearly to the bone and were soon surrounded in a spreading pool of blood. But, he thought, he could still walk easily enough.

Tm going to scout the stairway. Why don't you hang around and enjoy the sights?"

“No chance,” Giordino smiled gamely. “I think it wiser if we stuck together. I'll keep up. Just mind the road ahead.”

Pitt squinted at Giordino's bleeding body and then looked down at his own. We're certainly a sorry-looking invasion force, he thought; they were both hurt badly.

“Okay, tough guy, but don't play silent hero.” Pitt knew his words were useless. Giordino would follow until he passed out. Without waiting for a comment, he turned and began walking up the stairway.

They climbed with agonizing slowness amid the unreal surroundings into a winding tunnel. The only sounds came from their labored breathing and the constant splatter of water trickling from the ceiling. The tunnel gradually narrowed until it was slightly over five feet high and three feet wide. The steps suddenly shortened until they became a smooth ramp.

Pitt kept his back pressed against the damp surface of the wall, and stooped to keep from, hitting his head, while inching his way through the passage. The batteries of the dive light were almost dead, and the beam they projected through the lens barely cast more illumination than the phosphorescence. Every thirty feet he paused and waited for Giordino to hobble painfully within arm's length. Pitt noted that each time he halted, Giordino took a little longer to catch up. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that Giordino couldn't last much longer.

“Next time, find a cave with escalators,” Giordino panted. It took him three breaths to get the words out through clenched teeth.

“A little workout never hurt anybody,” Pitt said. He had to keep Giordino going now. If they didn't find a way to the surface above the seamount, they would die a lonely death, crushed under thousands of tons of rocks and water.

Pitt pushed on. The dive light was down to a faint glow and he simply, uncaringly, let it slip from his hand to the rock floor. He hesitated a moment, staring unconcernedly at the light as it rolled down the tunnel in the direction he had climbed. He vacantly wondered what Giordino would think when it came rattling by. Pitt's gooseflesh rose in unison with a sudden cold air current that danced across his skin. There had to be a vent or an opening ahead. Soon a gentle, textured blue film met his eyes. The blue seemed to waver and alternate in tones that cast soft, animate shadows on the passage walls. Pitt moved closer. The thing swirled with a movement that was familiar. Why can't I recognize it, he dazedly wondered. His brain was fogging—fatigue rushed through his veins and deadened all his thought processes. He stopped and waited for Giordino, but Giordino did not come.

Pitt couldn't combat his feelings of isolation and oppression. For the second time in the last hour he found himself forcing back the black veil that circled his vision. He reached out with his hand and lightly touched the shimmering blue light His fingers met with a soft, smooth substance.

“A curtain,” he mumbled to no one. “ A lousy curtain.”

He parted the folds and stumbled into a fairyland of gleaming black statuary and blue velvet-covered walls. The huge room was decorated with delicately sculptured fish in ebony stone imbedded in a deep indigo carpet. The carpet was unlike anything Pitt had ever seen. It encased his feet to the ankles. He looked up and saw that the entire fantastic setting was reflected in a gigantic mirror which spanned the ceiling from wall to wall. In the center of the room, elevated by four carved leaping sailfish, was a clam shell-shaped bed adorned by the body of a naked girl lying on a sparkling satin spread, her white skin contrasting vividly with the blue and black motif of the chamber.

She lay on her back with one knee drawn up and one hand palmed around a small white breast as though caressing it. Her face was enticingly hidden by long, sleek hair that glinted in the light as it trailed across the pillow. The rise and fall of her breathing distinctly showed that her stomach was hard and firm.

Pitt leaned unsteadily over the bed and brushed the hair away from her face. His touch awakened her and she moaned softly. Her eyes slowly opened and locked on Pitt, gazing unseeing for a moment until her sleep-dulled brain registered the sight of the bloody specter standing over her bed. Then her lovely face snapped into shock and her large, inviting lips opened for a scream that was never uttered.

“Hello, Summer,” Pitt muttered with a crooked smile. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in.”

Then the door in Pitt's skull slammed shut and he pitched backward onto the waiting carpet.

Pitt lost count of the number of times he straggled up from the dark mist, only to slip off the top rung of consciousness and fall back into the black void. People, voices, and scenes barreled through his mind in a disjointed swirl of kaleidoscopic confusion. He tried to slow down the blur of images, but the crazy vision persisted; when he opened his eyes to erase the nightmare from his mind, he saw the nightmare itself: the bestial yellow eyes of Delphi.

“Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” Delphi said drily. The tone was courteous, but the hatred was manifest in the icy lines of the face. “I regret your injuries, but you can hardly sue for damages, can you?”

“You neglected to post NO TRESPASSING signs.” Pitt's voice came through his ears like the halting speech of a senile man.

“An oversight But then no one invited you to blunder into our power turbine's exhaust current.”

“Power turbine?”

“Yes.” Delphi seemed to relish Pitt's questioning look. “There are over four miles of tunnels here in my sanctuary, and as you've noticed, it can be rather cold. Therefore, we require an extensive heating and electrical supply as only steam turbines can produce.”

“All the comforts of home,” Pitt mumbled, still trying to clear his head. I take it they're responsible for the surface fog."

“Yes, the vented heat from their power plants coming in contact with the cooler water causes a mist-like condensation. Presto: instant fog bank!”

Pitt pushed himself upright to a sitting position. He tried to read the hands on his watch but the dial was a blur.

“How long have I been out?”

“You were discovered in my daughter's sleeping quarters precisely forty minutes ago.” Delphi stared speculatively at Pitt's bruised and scarred body, betraying no degree of emotion or concern.

“A nasty habit of mine,” Pitt said, smiling. “Always showing up in ladies' bedrooms at inconvenient times.”

Delphi maintained his bland expression. The silver-haired giant sat on a white, sculptured stone couch lined with red satin cushions while Pitt noted wryly that he was delegated to the cold, marble-smooth floor.

He ignored Delphi for a moment and took in the surroundings. It looked like one of those futuristic displays at world expositions. The room was of comfortable proportions, about twenty-five square feet, with walls decorated with original oil paintings of seascapes grouped in neat but casual array. Incandescent lighting came from rounded brass fixtures beamed at a white ceiling.

Toward the far wall was a broad walnut desk with a red leather top, handsome matching desk furniture, and a modern and expensive intercom. But the unique innovation that set the room apart from anything that might even slightly resemble it, was the large transparent portal into the sea. It was an arch nearly ten feet wide, and eight feet high; through the thick, clear crystal Pitt could see a garden of spiral- and mushroom-shaped rocks that were outlined by underwater lights. An eight-foot moray eel slithered along the lower edge of the portal and cast a stony eye at the occupants of the room. Delphi did not notice the eel; the golden eyes beneath his half-closed lids were still aimed at Pitt.

Pitt's gaze wandered back to Delphi.

“You don't seem talkative this morning.” Delphi smiled. “Perhaps you're concerned with the fate of your friend?”

“Friend? I don't know what you're talking about.”

The man with the injured feet. You left him in an abandoned passageway."

“Litter is everywhere these days.”

“It's stupid of you to continue your display of ignorance. My men have discovered your aircraft”

“Another bad habit. I double-park.”

Delphi ignored the remark. “You have exactly thirty seconds to tell me what you're doing here.”

“Okay, 111 tell all,” Pitt said randomly. “I chartered a plane to fly to Las Vegas on the special casino tour and we got lost. That's all there is to it, I swear.”

“Very witty,” Delphi said wearily. “Later you'll be begging for mercy.”

“I've always wondered now Id bear up under torture.”

“Not you, Pitt. I wouldn't consider causing you the slightest discomfort. There are several more refined methods of getting at the truth.” Delphi rose from the couch and bent over the intercom. “Bring me the other.” He straightened and offered Pitt a rigidly fixed and lifeless smile. “Make yourself comfortable. I promise the wait will be short.”

Pitt rose awkwardly to his feet He should have been reeling from dizziness and exhaustion. Yet, unaccountably, the adrenaline began to pump and his mind ran sharp.

He stole a glance at his watch. It read 0410. Fifty minutes until the marines attacked the transmitter on Maui. Fifty minutes until the Monitor blew the seamount into gravel There was little chance of getting out alive now. The sacrifice would be worth it, he thought grimly, if only Crowhaven got the Star-buck underway. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the Starbuck cutting a course through the ocean back to Hawaii, but somehow the picture wouldn't come.

Crowhaven could not remember when he had seen so much blood. The deck of the control room was coated with it, while several places along the electrical panels were splattered wildly in the manner of a Jackson Pollock abstract painting.

Things had gone smoothly at first Too smoothly. The entry into the aft storage compartment had gone off without opposition; they'd even had time to remove their diving gear and take a short breather. But when the advance party of SEAL's crept into the Starbuck's control room, hell broke loose.

For Crowhaven, the next four minutes were the most frightening of his life. Four minutes of ear-splitting thunder spouting from the automatic weapons in the hands of the SEAL's, four minutes of groans and cries that amplified and echoed around the steel-walled interior of the sunken submarine.

Delphi's men were firing their strange silent guns until cut down by no less than six to eight solid hits from the SEAL's rapid fire weapons. He wondered how it was possible for anyone to stand up to such punishment unless they had gone mad. Three men were killed outright and the other four had died since his message to Hunter. Nothing could have saved them. As for his side, one SEAL was dead; one of those bastards tying on the deck had struck him through the left temple, and three more were wounded seriously. Gritting their teeth against the pain, they were secure in the knowledge that he, Crowhaven the Wizard, was going to raise this big steel deathtrap and get them proper medical treatment faster than a speeding bullet.

But he was already fourteen minutes behind schedule. He was sorry he'd put his foot in his mouth by promising Admiral Hunter to have the Starbuck underway by 0400. It was the suction—six months of lying on the bottom of the ocean had built up a staggering suction around the hull. All the ballast vents had been blown; but it hadn't been enough to break away from the clutching grip of the seafloor. He began to wonder bleakly if they were going to meet the same fate as the Starbuck's original crew.

His second in command, a scowling chief petty officer, approached.

“There's nothing left to dump, Commander. Main ballast tanks are empty, and all diesel fuel and freshwater tanks have been blown. She still won't budge, sir.”

Crowhaven kicked the chart table like an unruly child.

“No, by God, she's going to move if I have to tear the guts out of her.” He stared at the chief with a withering gaze. “Full astern!”

The chiefs eyes widened. “Sir? ”

“I ordered full astern, dammit !”

“Begging the commander's pardon, that'll beat the hell out of the screws, sir. They're half stuck in the seabed now. And there's a good chance we'd shear a shaft.”

“It beats the hell out of dying,” Crowhaven said curdy. “We'll kick this mother out of here as though she were a mule in a swamp. No more arguments, Chief. Give me full astern for five seconds and then jam her full ahead for five seconds. Keep repeating the process until we bust her into scrap or she breaks free.”

The chief shrugged in defeat and hurried off to the engine room.

After the turbines were engaged, it took only half a minute before the first dire report came into the control room.

“Engine room, Commander,” the chiefs voice carried through the speaker. “She can't take much more. We've already bent the screw blades, twisting them into the sand. They're out of balance and vibrating like crazy.”