The Secret of Excalibur (21 page)

Ruth looks over at the cliffs. “Yes, and with the high concentration of iron ores to help mask the nuclear fuel, no one would notice the increase in the magnetic influx, unless, like you, they were specifically looking for the increase.”

“Know what, kid?” She shakes her head. “We may have solved the whole mystery of the Lady of the Lake and Excalibur, and helped prevent WWIII.”

That should've made her happy, but she isn't. “I'm frightened, Arthur. If everything we're speculating is true, we're sitting over a nuclear sub from a foreign country, hidden so they can start a war when they're ready, and England will be blamed.”

“True, Ruth. And you can bet that 'They' won't be blamed, because 'They' aren't here.”

“God, to think they could've started a war whenever they wanted over the past years, and no one suspects, but us.” Her face is pale and she's nervously toying with her necklace.

“Well, maybe Dobie has the scenario figured out by now too, so we won't be alone in this.” I silently hope, crossing my fingers.

For the next several hours, Ruth remains leaning against me, lost in her thoughts, and me, in mine. We watch a spectacular setting of the sun, and after dark we stroll up to the tent and lie down, holding each other, not talking. About one in the morning I sit in the doorway, watching the beach.

Around two-thirty, Ruth falls asleep, softly snoring. My lungs desperately crave a cigarette, but I can't smoke one. At three-thirty, I start feeling uneasy, as if a dozen eyes are watching me, so I mentally open up. I feel absolutely nothing.
Hell, I'm so messed up now I can't feel the cave, or the fish.
I slowly lean out of the tent to look around. Nothing. Brightly shining stars, no moon. I can barely see the boat. Around ten after four, the sky blazes into orange, then turns bright, and the sun peeks up.

I relight the fire, and boil some water. With a strong Coffee-A, I wearily recline in my chair, thinking.
Nothing. I was wrong. How could they not come to check on what went on up here?
Boats coming and going, all the commotion, and right near their grate too. They should've come out to see what was going on up here.
Have to? Evidently not, dummy.

Taking a drag on a cigarette, I continue reflecting. Our theory is perfect, even down to the smugglers and poacher boats that after a few passes with nets, would run in and out of the lake from the sea. Restocking and rearming the sub would be easy like that. Hell, they could've brought the whole Russian army in that way. Or, they could meet the sub out on the lake, without any fear. Nuclear subs have listening devices on them that can hear a spider fart a mile off in a hailstorm.

Last night, I'd turned the camera on to run all night, and left it right next to the front of our boat. I slowly stroll over and retrieve it. The camera uses VCR tapes and has a small, built-in TV screen. I rewind the tape and play it back at fast-forward, twice I have to stop, back up and go forward on slow. It looks like water flying past the lens, or could've been bugs flying around the camera. Unfortunately, nothing else can be seen on the tape, except our tent surrounded by the darker trees, then the light of day, and finally me.

Damn. Dobie will be really angry now. Well, maybe not, because I did promise him I'd work for him whether I were proved wrong.
Setting the camera aside, I stretch my legs, contemplating my predicament.
Shit, I'm really messed up. I can't even mentally focus on Dobie's men, and I know where they're deployed. Hell, I'm no better than an ordinary man now. Ruth is even thinking clearer than me.
But, everything I've seen and felt since we camped here can't just be my imagination; the grate is real, plus the hollow rock and the periscope.
Whoever's down in that cavern has to be real. If not, I'll need more than just a checkup.

And, Ruth is right. My mind's definitely spiked with sex. Even now, I'm on the verge of being aroused. After a few more Coffee-A's, I'm still feeling tired and frustrated. Nothing is working out right around here for me anymore.

Around seven, the phone starts beeping away; probably Dobie to read me the riot act.

“Merlin? Dobie here, how are you two?” He doesn't sound his typical pompous self. I was expecting him to sound vindictive.

“Uh, fine, Cecil, we're just fine.” I cringe, waiting for him to lower the boom.

“We'll be coming out soon, Arthur, and I'll bring eggs to go with the bacon you brought home to us. Just wanted you to know we're on the way. You'll be there?”

“Uh, yes, Cecil, I imagine we'll be here.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Yeah, bye.” I stare at the handset in confusion.
Now what the hell was that about? He must've assumed I read his mind.

“Morning, Arthur.”

With a soft cry and thumping heart, I jump two feet into the air.

“Oh sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Startle hell, kid
, I think, annoyed with myself that I didn't know she was there.

“I heard the phone ring and came out. I overheard what Commander Dobie told you. Did he make sense to you?”

With a sheepish shake, I say, “I hate to admit it, but no, not a damn bit.” I kiss her good morning and try a small hug.

Ruth steps back at arm's length, giving me a penetrating look like she's reading my mind again. “You'll have to wait at least until I go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, I know what Commander Dobie meant. He's telling you you're correct and brought home the bacon, and he has egg on his face. In his own way, he's apologizing to you again. He was wrong, you were right. That's all.”

“Why didn't he just say that then?” I grumble.
Damn bureaucratic bullshit.

“Oh, don't be silly, in front of his men? Never.” She heads towards the tent. Looking over her shoulder, she asks, with a flush of pink on her cheeks, “Uh, would you walk with me so I can go bathroom? I don't want to walk into the trees alone.”

I retrieve my 9mm and follow her, standing off to the side, while she takes care of her needs. Striding back, she says, “I don't know which is worse, afraid to go into the trees alone, or having you watch me.”

“Hey, I wasn't watching you, kid, honest,” I say in my defense, holding up my hands. I have some character flaws, but that isn't one them.

“Maybe not, but you can still hear me, and that's just as embarrassing.”

“Don't worry, Ruth; I'll let you watch me pee, if it will help you.”

“No, sweetheart,” she smirks at me, “I don't want to watch. Just stay close, okay?”

“Sure, kid.” Tenderly patting her arm as we stroll back, it feels good.
Damn.

While we're fixing breakfast, I hear a noise, sounds like a boat, but not Colly's fishing boat. This boat sounds loud, bigger and powerful, the low thrumming of the motors vibrating the air, echoing off the dark cliffs. In the sea river gap we see them, two sleek navy Corvettes, machine guns, cannons and men walking around on the decks. Quite a surreal sight in this calm, quiet, little cove. The boats idle in and set anchor one-hundred yards from our boat, and two-hundred feet apart. They make our boat look like a toy compared to these babies.

We see men running around performing whatever duties were assigned to them. But no one's preparing to come ashore. Not long after they show up, Ruth touches my arm, pointing. Way out in the lake we see Colly's boat, but we couldn't hear his motor over the deep rumblings coming from the Corvettes.

“Damn, kid, when Dobie called he was already halfway here.”

On Colly's deck, we see men, and some black objects. Rubber rafts. Colly drives within ten foot of shore, shutting down his engine. He's coasting in fast, must be excited to chance coming in at that speed. He grinds to a stop in the sand; immediately, six men jump off, helping Dobie, Tober, and another man down off the boat and on shore.

“Arthur, Dr. Burns, good morning. My, is that tea I smell? Sure could use a spot of that,” a friendly Dobie asks, yelling over the noise from the two Corvettes. We have to yell at each other to speak as we stride towards the fire-pit.

Ruth is pouring tea for our visitors, as Dobie says, “Arthur, I'm sure you already know this, but this is Admiral Nicholas, he's in charge of the West Coast Defense Network. And as such, Lake George is part of his territory.”

Clasping his limp hand for a handshake, I conveniently leave out the fact my scanning powers aren't working.

“Commander Dobie has relayed to me everything you've encountered and suspect,” Admiral Nichols says in a whiney, nasal voice. “We have six more boats deployed on the seaside, with divers searching for another entrance to the cavern. Whatever is down there, we have it effectively contained now, and we don't want it getting away. The Prime Minister has authorized us to capture it intact.” He daintily sips his tea with an extended pinky finger, then lightly wipes his mousey-brown, thin mustache.

Dobie sets his cup down, leaning forward, not so much for friendliness, but so he won't have to yell over the noise from the ship engines. “Someone has plenty of explaining to do over this mess, Arthur. If you're wondering, the sub is not British, and as far as we can tell from what the American Ambassador is saying, it's not one of theirs either. In fact, he suggested we blow the damn grate apart, then see who the sub belongs to. Also, the PM wishes me to convey her deepest regards and thank you for this fantastic discovery, and of course, the Heathrow incident.” He gives the Admiral a meaningful look, leaning back.

“Sir, because of the delicacy of a military nature here, I must ask all civilian personnel to evacuate the area, for their safety, of course. That, I'm afraid, is you and Dr. Burns,” Admiral Nichols announces tight-lipped, looking down his long nose at us.

Shooting Dobie an icy-gray glare, I say. “Cecil, you had better get this straightened out. We aren't leaving here. We found the sub, and we'll see this through to the end. Besides, who in the hell do you have that's better equipped to handle whatever's down there than me?” Turning my icy stare, I continue, “And Admiral, Dr. Burns works for MI6, which I assume you know is part of your government services. I'm also on loan to MI6. So, Admiral Nichols, there aren't any civilians present that you need to be responsible for.”

He stands with a stiffened spine, peering authoritatively down at us, “Then, Mr. Merlin, I'll have to confiscate your passport, and hold you under arrest until this military situation is resolved.”

“Cecil, is he wearing a toupee?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Uh, ahem, Admiral Nichols, I told you this would be his response. He is working for me, so I guess technically he's a government employee. I will accept responsibility for them.”

“Uh, quite. Then, Commander, while I offload the Royal Marines perhaps you'll update them on our situation?” After Dobie gives a curt nod, he heads off down the beach, talking into a small radio.

“Damn Uniforms,” Dobie grumbles, “only know one way to do anything, by force. We'll have to keep an eye on him now. Besides, I'm in charge here, not the Navy.” He holds his cup out for more tea, and Ruth pours. “Anything happen last night, Arthur?”

Now, the truth comes out
, I think ruefully. I've been anxiously waiting, hating the fact I'll have to admit I was wrong, plus being under his control.

“Uh no, sorry, Cecil. We were up all night watching, but didn't see anyone.” Ruth looks over at me, frowns, then winks. In her mind, I say, *You owe me one for falling asleep on guard duty.*

“Aha, not so, Arthur. Look at these.” Dobie pops a green cassette into the VCR camera. The title on the side of the cassette reads H. S. IR-100. He's cocky as he continues, “This cassette was filmed from down the beach there, about half a mile.”

Four men in black wet-suits wade out of the water, search over everything in our boat, then walk back into the water behind the boat.

“And look there, Arthur. See them?” Dobie asks, pointing at some figures on the screen.

In the trees behind and along each side of our tent, six, maybe eight more men, in the shadows. Tiny glints are reflections from rifles they're carrying.

“Armed support, in case the divers encountered trouble. Because the divers didn't run across any problems, they left. This incident was recorded at three-thirty this morning.” He removes the tape and pops a different one into the VCR.

Staring off into the trees by our tent, I think,
damn. Three-thirty, right by the tent?
That's the time I started feeling uneasy, as if someone were watching me.
I even mentally scanned the area, but felt no one, and they weren't more than fifteen feet away from me.
That's impossible.
Reflecting over the past few days, I realize I can't lie to myself any longer.
Whatever's affecting my powers is bad
, I admit with a sinking feeling.

“Commander, Arthur attached a line and bell on the grate. No one could've opened the grate without Arthur knowing.”

Glancing gratefully at Ruth, I think,
thanks, kid, for trying to hold up my end of this mess.

“Ahh. Ingenious, Arthur. But they didn't open the grate. Look here. This tape was filmed from up there in the rocks.” He pushes the button.

I watch in shock as the tape reveals the truth. “I'll be damned. They came down the river from the ocean. So there has to be another cave entrance somewhere, Cecil.”

“Correct. They were using extra precaution last night; they couldn't risk compromising the grate, so they came in the long way. I would say it's about a four mile swim, each way, by the river.”

Rubbing my forehead, I ponder,
then those objects I saw on our camera I mistook for bugs were actually drops of water as they were searching our boat.
I had positioned the camera facing the wrong direction.

“They were wearing dark wet-suits, and you would've been hard-pressed to see them at all against the background of the lake. They knew what they were dong, this is definitely a military operation.”

As Ruth was pouring Dobie more tea, she asks, “But whose military, sir?”

“Ah, we have more photos taken through nightscopes. Take a look at these.” From his suit jacket, he takes out a manila envelope, unfolds it and removes some pictures. There're thirty black-and-white photos, which show a little more detail in the dark than the tapes did.