Treasure Of Khan Part 61

A wave of relief fell over Dirk at seeing his sister still alive. With renewed vigor, he kicked the catamaran harder toward the s.h.i.+p. "Let's get aboard and find out what's going on."

It was a task easier said than done. The s.h.i.+p's lowest deck was still ten feet above them. And with the s.h.i.+p held in position by its thrusters, there was no anchor line in the water. Dirk hoped there might be an imbedded steel ladder on the s.h.i.+p's stern, a feature not uncommon on utility vessels.

They reached the bow and were quietly paddling aft when the third detonation erupted below them. They could feel a minor vibration from the s.h.i.+p and noticed a few ripples in the water, but still no boiling torment of an underwater explosion. The lights around the moon pool illuminated the underside of the s.h.i.+p, and they could see a string of cables running down to the tripod device, which stood upright on the sea bottom.

They moved a few more feet down the s.h.i.+p's side when Dirk realized that the rumble of the nearby side thrusters had fallen silent. Before he knew what was happening, the s.h.i.+p's side hull smacked into the catamaran with a bang, then jerked the craft up on a building wave of water. The entire s.h.i.+p was moving laterally into them and quickly building speed. Sitting atop the side thrown high, Dirk could see that the catamaran was going to flip. The low surfboard was being pushed down and it was just a matter of seconds before the whole craft got sucked under the moving s.h.i.+p.

"Get off the board," Dirk yelled at Dahlgren.

He prepared to roll off the side himself when he caught sight of a line over his head. It was an unused mooring line that looped over the side of the s.h.i.+p, dangling down a few feet below the deck. With a desperate lunge, Dirk sprang up and off the twisting catamaran, barely grasping the rope with his left hand. Pulling his body around, he grabbed on with both hands, the line dropping taut under his weight to within a yard of the water.

He looked back to see the catamaran tumble down and under the advancing s.h.i.+p, swallowed beneath its side. Dahlgren was farther back, riding atop the cresting wave and swimming like a madman.

"Over here. I've got a line," Dirk implored in a low voice, hoping not to draw attention to their plight.

It was loud enough for Dahlgren to hear. He fought his way toward Dirk at a frantic pace that both men knew he could not sustain for long. The water seemed to swirl in all directions off the flat side of the s.h.i.+p, tugging Dahlgren one way, then another. When he finally surged close, Dirk reached out and grabbed a handful of his wet suit and yanked with all his strength. He pulled him far enough out of the water that Dahlgren was able to hook an arm over the line. He hung limp for a minute, catching his breath from the exertion.

"That was exciting," he muttered.

"And also the second time today that I've had to fish you out of the water," Dirk said. "If this continues, I must insist that you go on a diet."

"Ah'll take that under advis.e.m.e.nt," Dahlgren panted.

Resting for a moment, they proceeded to climb up opposite ends of the rope, emerging on deck a few yards apart. Though faint voices told them that a few crew members were on the stern, they were able to regroup undetected on the port beam. Dirk took a quick glance toward the high wall of lava that was quickly approaching in the darkness. There was clearly something amiss in the wheelhouse, as the s.h.i.+p was on a collision course and n.o.body seemed to be aware of it.

"Let's move," Dirk whispered. "I have a feeling we're not long aboard this s.h.i.+p."

As they started to move forward, another deep rumble began to sound in the distance. This time, the noise came from the sh.o.r.e.

Five thousand miles away, the elevator doors opened on the tenth floor of the NUMA headquarters building and a sleepy-eyed Hiram Yaeger eased toward his computer room toting a thermos of Sumatra-blend coffee. His eyes widened at the sight of Dr. McCammon seated at the console, an anxious look on his face.

"You got the jump on me again, Phil?" Yaeger asked.

"Sorry for the early intrusion. Something just came over the wire from the National Earthquake Information Center that looks important."

He spread a seismogram across the table as Yaeger slid into an adjacent swivel chair.

"A large quake struck the Big Island of Hawaii just moments ago," McCammon said. "A little over 7.0 magnitude. And it was a shallow quake. Its epicenter was just a mile off sh.o.r.e, in a place called Keliuli Bay."

"What do the foreshocks look like?"

McCammon crinkled his brow. "Very similar to the ones we've seen before. Man-made in appearance. I just fed the data to Max for a.s.sessment. Hope you don't mind me taxing her talents while you were away," he added.

Max was standing near a computer bank with her arms crossed, looking deep in thought. She turned and smiled at McCammon.

"Dr. McCammon, I am delighted to a.s.sist you at any time. It is a pleasure to work with a gentleman," she added with a slight tweak of her nose in Yaeger's direction.

"Good morning to you, too, Max," Yaeger said. "Have you completed the a.n.a.lysis for Dr. McCammon?"

"Yes," Max nodded. "As Dr. McCammon can show you, there were two primary foreshocks recorded before the quake. Each had nearly identical seismic readings, though there was a slight increase in intensity with the second foreshock. And both foreshocks appear to have originated near the surface."

"How do they compare to the foreshocks recorded before the two Persian Gulf earthquakes?" Yaeger asked.

"The foreshocks show near identical signal characteristics to those that preceded the earthquakes at Ras Tanura and Kharg Island. Like those shocks, they originated near the surface."

Yaeger and McCammon looked at each other with grim silence.

"Hawaii," Yaeger finally said. "Why Hawaii?"

Then with a shake of the head, he added, "I think it's time we contact the White House."

-50-

SUMMER KEPT HER hands gripped around Bull Neck's wrist, despite staring down the barrel of a Glock automatic pistol. Tong stood still in the doorway, trying to a.s.sess the situation. Behind him, a deep rumbling echoed across the water, but he ignored the sound while silently admiring Summer's skill at subduing one of his toughs.

On the opposite side of the bridge, the helmsman regained his tongue and nerve, while keeping a safe distance from Summer.

"The port thrusters are disabled," he shouted at Tong. "We will strike the rocks." Waving animatedly, he pointed toward the lava cliffs now materializing off the port beam.

Tong listened without quite comprehending, then followed the helmsman's motions and looked out the bridge wing. As he turned, an unseen pair of thick arms, clad in the black neoprene rubber material of a wet suit, reached out of the darkness and grabbed Tong around the torso. The Mongolian instinctively squeezed the trigger on his pistol, but the shot fired harmlessly through the roof of the bridge. Tong then turned to fight off his attacker by whipping the gun around as a club. But his movements came too late. His a.s.sailant had already taken a step forward, pitching Tong off balance. Tong staggered forward, trying to stay on his feet, but only added momentum to his captor. The a.s.sailant capitalized on the momentum with a gyrating lift, sweeping Tong completely off his feet. With a staggering lunge, he heaved Tong up and over the side railing, then let go. The stunned Mongolian let out a shriek as he disappeared over the side, his scream ending with a loud splash when he struck the water below.

On the bridge wing, the ex-calf roper Jack Dahlgren turned back toward the wheelhouse and gave Summer a quick wink and a grin. An instant later, Dirk rushed past him onto the bridge, wielding a gaff he had snared off the lower deck.

"You're all right," Summer gasped at the sight of the two men.

"Alive but soggy." Dirk smiled.

A jovial reunion was cut short by a jarring crash that knocked everyone to the deck. The four-thousand-ton drill s.h.i.+p, driven by the unabated power of its starboard thrusters, smashed broadside into the edge of the cove. The grinding impact of lava against steel echoed up from the waterline. The sharp volcanic rock sliced easily through the s.h.i.+p's hull, penetrating the lower hold in more than a dozen places. Seawater flooded in like a sieve, quickly tilting the s.h.i.+p to a port list. Somewhere in the darkened waters beneath the s.h.i.+p, the lifeless body of Tong swirled about, having found himself at the unfortunate point of impact between s.h.i.+p and sh.o.r.e.

The young helmsman was the first to find his feet, striking a s.h.i.+p's alarm bell, then fleeing out the starboard wing. Summer finally let go of Bull Neck's wrist, but the thug was in no mood to fight when Dirk jabbed the pike into his ribs and prodded him out the port wing door. Outside, the sound of men's shouts competed with the continued rumbling.

"Why did I have a feeling you had a hand in piloting the s.h.i.+p?" Dirk asked his sister with a grin.

"Desperate measures," Summer replied.

"Company on the way," Dahlgren said, peering off the bridge wing. Two flights down, a band of armed men were rus.h.i.+ng toward the bridge.

"Can you handle a swim?" Dirk asked, leading the way up the sloping deck toward the starboard wing.

"I'm fine," Summer replied. "A dip was actually on my agenda before you arrived."

The threesome quickly scrambled off the bridge and down to the lower deck, where yells and shouts from the crew peppered the night air. On the bow, several crewmen were preparing to lower a lifeboat, though the water was already was.h.i.+ng over the deck of the listing port side. On the opposite beam, Summer wasted no time in further encounters with the crew, climbing over the rail and sliding down the angled s.h.i.+p's flank until plunging into the water. Dirk and Dahlgren followed her in and quickly swam away from the s.h.i.+p.