The Alpha Deception (32 page)

If there was regret in the captain’s voice, Blaine couldn’t find it. “That’s the least of our worries,” he told him.

The fishing boat was already steaming forward, chancing the reef, and Johnny Wareagle was barely halfway on board when Captain Bob finally gave his cruiser gas.

“Spirits guide you out here, Indian?” Blaine asked Johnny.

“Not this time, Blainey. I just followed the men in the boat behind us. Their presence in Bimini seemed too great a coincidence.”

“Sure beats Club Med if you ask me.”

The humor failed to impress Wareagle. He was breathing hard. “The scientist Sundowner is dead, Blainey.”

“What? How?” Blaine shook his head. “Never mind. The Farmer Boy must have got to him, probably before he reached the President with the truth about the replacement satellite. Damnit, I should have known… .”

“No, you couldn’t have, because there’s more. Just before the scientist left, he learned that Atragon has been discovered in Colorado.”

“Colorado?” It was Natalya, numbed to the bone.

They both looked at her. Wareagle spoke.

“A town called Pamosa—”

“Springs!” completed Natalya abruptly. “In the plane to Algiers I overheard Raskowski and Katlov speaking about that town! Troops mobilized to hold it. But what would he want with—” She stopped, the realization striking her at the same time it struck McCracken.

“The Atragon!” he exclaimed. “The source for his death beam!” Then, thinking it out as he continued, “His first satellite blows up, and all of a sudden he needs more. The Farmer Boy somehow learns it’s there in Colorado, so Raskowski takes the town over. Mines all of the crystals he can use.” A puzzled look crossed McCracken’s features. “Only what does he do with it then? He used his deception to get his reflector into orbit but he still would need—”

The first bullets started blazing from the fishing boat, a few smacking into the sides. The three of them dove for cover.

“Their boatman’s damn good,” Captain Bob called from behind the wheel. “Knows these waters almost as good as me. But he won’t know the shallows. Ain’t a man alive who knows ’em like I do.”

Blaine watched the Soviets draw to within a hundred yards. Winds and currents were playing hell with their aim, though the narrowing of the gap would take care of that before long. If they were going to survive, it would depend on Captain Bob’s savvy. The captain was making sharp maneuvers to avoid the reefs; a few times he miscalculated and the shrill grinding sound of reef rubbing against boat frame was frightening to hear.

“Blainey, I sense something,” Wareagle said suddenly.

“Probably just our boat getting a massage.”

“No, a disturbance in the great fields, a large imbalance. Listen close and even you will be able to hear the warnings of the spirits.”

Blaine and the others watched as fifty yards back their pursuers’ boat was jostled steeply to the side, the Soviet gunmen losing their balance. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. The underside of the Russian boat had hit the reef and a good portion of its underside was probably torn to shreds. The pilot tried to veer aside at the last instant and succeeded only in crashing his stern into a huge reef near surface level. The fishing boat turned lazily, desperately, starting to sink into the sea. Blaine and the others watched in silence. The remaining Russians dropped their weapons in favor of life jackets and inflatable rafts. The boat was dying.

“Told ya, didn’t I?” Captain Bob beamed from the bridge. “Told ya, told ya, told ya so, I did!”

“There’s your imbalance, Indian.”

“No, Blainey, what I feel is still …”

Wareagle stopped when a huge swell of water rose over the dying Russian boat. It came with incredible fury. Then the very ocean seemed to open up beneath it, revealing a huge shape rising claws-first from the depths.

The Dragon Fish had finally arrived.

Chapter 29

CAPTAIN BOB BEGAN CHANTING
words in a language Blaine couldn’t understand, his grip on the wheel relinquished as he moved forward in a daze. The boat began to spin with the currents as he ripped his shotgun free of its perch. The rest of them watched transfixed, unable to move.

The creature had the look of a giant black crab with twin claws on either side, one of which was swooping down toward the largest concentration of the doomed Russian crew. Their screams almost covered the awful crackling that resulted when the claw splintered what remained of the fishing boat.

Captain Bob rushed to the bow, raised the shotgun, and squeezed off a pair of shots.

“Don’t waste your bullets or your time,” Blaine advised. “You’ll only let him know we’re here.”

“He knows,” Captain Bob said madly. “He knows.” And he fired twice more before pausing to reload.

The creature’s claws continued to sweep the waters for Russians. Blaine estimated the Dragon Fish to be over two hundred feet from claw tips to its strangely shaped tail. Wait a minute, the tail …

His thoughts were interrupted when their ship at last struck the reef, lodging there and pitching all its occupants violently to the deck. Natalya struck the gunwale hard and would have gone over if not for the quick hand of Johnny Wareagle who reached out and grabbed her. Captain Bob was not as lucky. The collision pitched him to the deck on his head. He was plunged into unconsciousness as the creature which devoured his sons loomed close.

Off their stern, the Dragon Fish continued to compress the dying boat and crew within its claws, more interested in pure destruction than dinner. Wareagle concentrated on the regular rhythm with which its claws opened and closed, opened and closed… .

“It’s not alive!” he shouted.

With the screeching of the cruiser on the reef, McCracken didn’t hear Johnny, but he was forming his own conclusions. The monster moved too stiffy and its tail—yes, its tail. It remained unexplainably stiff. There were no bends in the monster’s joints, none of the supple motions one would expect from a seagoing beast. It seemed … mechanical.

“It’s a fucking submarine!” Blaine realized.

Which seemed to make little difference as water gushed through the gaping holes in their boat’s bottom. As the deck lowered beneath them, Wareagle propped up Captain Bob against the cabin which was the cruiser’s highest point. The Dragon Fish was swinging toward them now, snapping together its outstretched claws and making the hollow sound of steel meeting steel. Blaine could see the mourn now, could see that the huge teeth, which had looked razor sharp and deadly from a distance, were merely painted on.

It was a submarine all right, and now it was slowing to a drift before them as they clung to whatever parts of the deck remained above water. The body of the beast was a near-perfect sphere, perforated by holes for piston jets to promote drive on the surface. It had oblong windows for eyes and lines in its hull marking hatch points.

Blaine’s eyes returned to the claws, raised high, when a hatch at the top of the Dragon Fish’s head opened and a pair of machine gun wielding guards appeared. Behind them was a figure McCracken recognized all too well. “Please,” said Vasquez, “come aboard.”

“Welcome to the Dragon Fish,” the fat man said politely after the last of them had climbed down into the submarine’s bridge followed by a pair of guards carrying the unconscious Captain Bob. More armed guards watched them from every angle. “I had thought about devouring you, McCrackenballs, but I was worried what you might do to my baby’s digestion.”

“You were never one to turn down a good meal, fat man.”

Vasquez made himself laugh. “You’re too tough for my taste. At least you used to be.”

The belly of the beast was oval shaped and lit by a soft orange glow. Blaine gazed around and saw the most advanced computerized equipment available for any submarine. Diodes and display gauges stood out everywhere, with Vasquez’s technicians manning their stations in neatly starched, lime-green uniforms, totally uninterested in the action around them. A technician moved slightly to his right and the soft green glow of a CRT screen cast a dull light over Vasquez’s expression.

“Steal this from Electric Boat, fat man?”

“No, McCrackenballs, but they were generous enough to furnish most of the parts.”

“Your own private Trident …”

“And then some, as you have already seen.” Not a strand of Vasquez’s slicked back hair was out of place as he patted his cheeks with his ever-present handkerchief. The sweat was starting to soak through his jacket. “Professor Clive was kind enough to reveal your destination. Imagine, coming all the way to the Biminis in search of those mysterious crystals… . ”

“Since you weren’t about to part with the ones you’d already lifted, I didn’t have much choice. Yup, it all makes sense, even those holes Natalya and I found in the old wrecks down there. After that sea quake made their treasures accessible again, you created—or resurrected—the myth of the Dragon Fish to assure yourself of sole salvage rights.”

Vasquez gazed around him fondly. “Far more than a myth, as I’m sure you can see.”

Blaine feigned looking about in order to meet Johnny Wareagle’s eyes. The Indian, never one to give up easily, was obviously gauging methods for a possible turning of the tables. McCracken’s unspoken instructions held him back.

“So the island with no name becomes your exclusive territory, thanks to this contraption here. I guess it doubles as a damn good salvage vehicle.”

The fat man nodded, impressed with the analysis. “Parts of its lower frame are detachable: smaller robot and manned submersibles with incredible range and equipment. We’ve been able to plunder just about every treasure chest.”

“But you’ve stayed around.”

“Because there’s still a fortune we haven’t gotten to yet, McCrackenballs. Strange things were happening in these parts well before the Dragon Fish was even conceived. Someday I’ll find a way to bring up the rest of those crystals.”

“You mean they’re still down there?”

“Besides some modest reserves that were relatively easy to salvage.”

“Which you offered to the highest bidder.”

Vasquez nodded. “A shame I didn’t have more, though. One party paid an astounding price for my meager stores. Big Russian with a patch for a left eye.”

“Katlov!” Natalya said loud enough to draw the armed guards’ attention to her. Her eyes locked with McCracken’s.

“Then,” Blaine realized, “Raskowski was after the Atragon here as well. Unlike him to give up so easily.”

“He didn’t give up,” Natalya said. “He found what he needed in Pamosa Springs. The Biminis became superfluous. If anything he’d want the reserves here buried forever, so we wouldn’t be able to get to them either.”

“Stop the games!” Vasquez barked. “All the stories in the world won’t save you this time, McCrackenballs.”

“No story this time, fat man. I was after those crystals to power an energy shield, against a death ray controlled by a Russian madman. Once he wipes out America the rest of civilization will fall like dominoes. Think about it.”

“You’re lying!” Vasquez insisted, but his voice sounded tentative. “Holding to tricks, deceptions, till the very last.”

“The deception’s not mine this time, fat man. It belongs to a mad Russian general named Raskowski to whom you so kindly delivered your reserves of Atragon.” McCracken stopped to put things together for himself. When he spoke again, it was mostly to Natalya. “That shipment must have powered the satellite he lost. When the need for more came up, he turned to Pamosa Springs. He could launch his reflector on board the replacement for Ulysses and save himself the bother of moving the crystals by constructing the generator gun right in the town. But one thing doesn’t fit. The second communiqué he sent, the one containing the three-week ultimatum, was sent after he lost his first satellite and way before the work in Pamosa Springs was finished. I don’t get it.”

“Another deception,” suggested Natalya. “He wanted to make your government believe they had more time than they actually did, so the element of surprise would return to his side. There won’t be any more ultimatums or messages. He’s going to begin firing just as soon as his reflector achieves orbit.”

“Twenty-four hours from now,” McCracken said. “Maybe less.”

“Stop!” ordered Vasquez. “Very well rehearsed, I grant you, but—”

“Give it up, fat man. The story’s true and you know it. Think about the fact that we weren’t the only party to end up in your private waters. Or have you forgotten those Russians you devoured a few minutes ago?”

“Russians?”

Blaine nodded. “Raskowski’s men, as I see it. He’s not just after us anymore, either. He wants you and your Atragon out of the way, too, and it’s my guess we’ll have proof of that before long. If I penetrated your guise as Salim, it’s a sure bet he did as well. Once I arrived on the scene you became too much of a liability. He’s probably had you under watch since the very beginning.”

Vasquez’s huge jowls puckered in grim determination. “Fitting, since I have kept tabs on his one-eyed bandit all this time too.”

Katlov!
Natalya and McCracken thought together.

“Then you have tabs on Raskowski!” she blurted.

“Only if they’re together. The information’s a phone call away, that’s all. But that assumes I—”

The sonar operator broke in, turning toward Vasquez as he spoke. “Sir, I have three aircraft coming up on our position. Range, 5,000 meters and closing.”

“Prepare to dive,” ordered Vasquez, and a bell chimed three times within the huge belly of the Dragon Fish. He waited a few seconds longer, giving the armed guards ample opportunity to solidify their positions around their captives at what promised to be a most vulnerable moment. “Dive.”

The Dragon Fish dropped gracefully beneath the sea, lights growing immediately dimmer and hazing over with red.

“Aircraft 4,000 meters and closing,” reported the sonar operator as three additional blips appeared on his screen. He gazed back at the fat man once again. “I also show three large ships steaming this way. Range four miles. Speed increasing. Trying for a signal fix now… .”

“Join us, fat man,” Blaine urged. “There are some things important enough to bring even you and me together.”