Atlantis Found Part 67

"Take a deep breath and relax," he said softly. "My name is Dirk, and my burly little munchkin friend is Al. We're going to take you safely home."

His words had a soothing effect, and her expression of dire anxiety slowly altered to simple uneasiness. She placed her explicit trust in him, and Pitt began to dread for the second time that night what he might find when they reached their stop and the elevator doors opened. They could not shoot their way out, not with the women beside them.

His fears were groundless, as it turned out. There was no army of guards with drawn guns waiting on the cargo level. "I am totally lost," he said, looking at a labyrinth of corridors.

Giordino grinned ruefully. "Too bad we didn't pick up a street map."

Pitt pointed at a golf cart parked in front of a door marked "Circuit Room." "Salvation is at hand," he said, jumping into the driver's seat and twisting the ignition key. Everyone climbed in, and he punched the accelerator to the floorboard almost before their feet left the deck. Unable to use his little direction finder except for course headings, he made a lucky guess after crossing the tram tracks and found a large freight pa.s.sageway that opened onto a loading ramp leading down to the dock.

The army of guards with drawn guns he was concerned about had arrived.

They were pouring out of trucks and dispersing on the dock, weapons drawn and at the ready, as they cl.u.s.tered around the loading ramps. Pitt estimated that there were nearly four hundred of them, not counting a thousand already on duty aboard the s.h.i.+p. He instantly sized up their dilemma and shouted, "Hold on! I'm heading back toward the elevator." He slammed on the brake, spun the cart in a U-turn, and turned back into the freight pa.s.sageway.

Looking behind, all Giordino could see were black coveralls swirling like ants around the dock. "I hate it when things don't go right," he said morosely.

"We'll never escape-" Pat broke off, clutching her daughter. "Not now."

Pitt looked at Giordino. "Wasn't there an old war song called 'We Did It Before, and We Can Do It Again'?"

"World War Two was before my time," said Giordino. "But I get your drift."

They quickly reached the elevator, but Pitt didn't stop. The doors were still open, and he drove the cart inside just before they began to close. He pressed the b.u.t.ton for the sixth level, pulled out the .45 and gestured for Giordino to do the same. As soon as the doors spread open, they came face-to-face with the three furniture movers they had thrown out of the elevator earlier. Still stunned by their eviction, the movers were shouting and gesturing at a man wearing yellow coveralls, who looked to be someone in command. At seeing Pitt and Giordino come charging out of the elevator on the cart like unleashed starving German shepherds, their guns drawn and aimed, the four men froze and threw their hands into the air.

"Into the elevator!" Pitt ordered.

The four men stood blank and uncomprehending until Giordino shouted the command in Spanish.

"Sorry," said Pitt, suddenly self-conscious. "I got carried away by the drama of the moment."

"You're forgiven," Giordino absolved him.

The routine they'd hastily improvised in the office building was repeated. Six minutes later, they were all on their way again, leaving the four men in their underwear bound with duct tape and lying on the floor of the elevator. As soon as the doors opened wide, Pitt drove the cart onto the main cargo entry deck, stopped, and ran back. He sent the elevator upward and jammed the controls, leaping out before the doors closed. Then he followed the direction signs and drove toward the tram. Three of them now wore the red coveralls of interior s.h.i.+p workers, while the fourth-himself-was dressed in the yellow uniform of a supervisor.

Security guards were already stationed at an intersection just short of the tram station. One of them stepped forward and held up his hand. Pitt brought the cart to an unhurried stop and looked at the guard questioningly.

Not knowing that Pat and her daughter had been whisked from their quarters, the guard was not unduly disturbed at seeing two women in the uniforms of cargo loaders, since many of them had been recruited to operate forklifts and tow vehicles. Pat squeezed her daughter's arm as a warning not to speak or move. She also turned Megan's face away from the guard, so he wouldn't notice her tender age.

Pitt figured the yellow coveralls he had appropriated represented authority, and the respectful look in the guard's eyes confirmed it.

"What's going on here?" Giordino demanded, his Spanish improving with practice.

"Two intruders in security guard uniforms have infiltrated the s.h.i.+pyard and are believed to have boarded the Ulrich Wolf."

"Intruders? Why didn't you stop them before they entered the s.h.i.+pyard?"

"I can't say," the guard replied. "All I know is that they killed four of our security force guards in an attempt to escape."

"Four dead," Giordino said sadly. "A great pity. I hope you catch the murdering swine. Right, group?" He turned to the others and nodded spiritedly.

"Si, si," Pitt said, agreeing with a vigorous display of disgust.

"We have to check everyone going on or coming off each s.h.i.+p," the guard persisted. "I must see your identification cards."

"Do we look like trespa.s.sers in security guard uniforms?" Giordino demanded indignantly.

The guard shook his head and smiled. "No."

"Then let us pa.s.s!" Giordino's friendly voice went suddenly cold and official. "We have a cargo to load and a deadline that we won't meet sitting around the dock talking to you. I'm already late for a meeting with Karl Wolf. Unless you don't want to be left behind when the cataclysm hits, I suggest you step aside."

Properly browbeaten, the guard lowered his weapon and yielded. "I'm sorry to have detained you."

Not able to translate the exchange, Pitt stepped on the cart's accelerator pedal only after Giordino elbowed him in the ribs. Thinking it best to appear like ordinary s.h.i.+pyard workers on a job-related a.s.signment, he continued toward the nearest tram station at a moderate pace, drowning an urge to run the cart at its full speed. With one hand on the steering wheel, he dialed the Globalstar phone with the other.

SANDECKER pounded the speaker b.u.t.ton halfway through the first ring. "Yes?"

"This is the Leaning Pizza Tower calling. Your order is on its way."

"Do you think you can find the house all right?"

"The issue is in doubt whether we can arrive before the pizza gets cold."

"I hope you hurry," said Sandecker, suppressing an urgent tone in his voice. "There are hungry people here."

"Traffic is heavy. Will do my best."

"I'll leave a light on." Sandecker set down the phone and stared at Admiral Hozafel with a heavy face. "Forgive the rather silly talk, Admiral."

"I understand perfectly," said the courtly old German.

"What is their situation?" asked Little.

"Not good," replied Sandecker. "They have Dr. O'Connell and her daughter, but must be facing enormous odds in escaping the s.h.i.+pyard. 'Traffic is heavy' meant that they were under pursuit by Wolf security forces."

Little looked directly at Sandecker. "What do you think their odds of making a clean getaway are?"

"Odds?" Sandecker's expression seemed pained. He looked as though he had aged ten years in the past hour. "They have no odds."

31

THE TRAM MOVED SLOWLY out of the station, pa.s.sing another tram going in the opposite direction. Though it picked up speed until it was gliding over the rails at nearly thirty miles an hour, Pitt felt as if the tram were crawling and he wanted to get out and help push it. Stations designated in the letters of the alphabet came and went, each one met with their expectation of security guards flooding on board and seizing them. When the tram exchanged pa.s.sengers at W Station, Pitt's hopes began to rise, but at X Station, their luck ran out.

Six black uniformed security guards boarded the end car and began checking the pa.s.sengers' identification tags, which Pitt only now observed were carried on bracelets around their wrists. He cursed himself for not knowing earlier so he could have stolen the bracelets from the furniture movers. Too late, it occurred to him that the guards would make a special effort to search for people without them. He also noted that they seemed to be taking extra time to check any workers wearing red or yellow coveralls.