Шкловский Лев Переводчик. Deep Sea Death

Шкловский Лев Переводчик
Deep Sea Death

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DEEP SEA DEATH

ONE

ne ten-thousand-ton research vessel Sir Wilfred Laurier

steamed to the Pearl Harbor entrance by special

sion, was intercepted by the nuclear frigate U.S.S. J. P.

Jones at Hamner Point, exchanged signals, and was es-

corted past Waipio Peninsula to the Southeast Lock and

Pacific Fleet Headquarters. The visitor was an innocuous

ship compared to the fighting ships it passed, the best the

U.S. Navy had to offer in Pacific waters.

ne first off the ship was Captain Paul Hart,

followed by Dr. Julius Flynn and Dr. Barbara Wall. They

were met at the dock by a midshipman who saluted and

asked them to follow him. He commanded an escort of

four naval complete with white armbands and hel-

mets. The trio were walked briskly, almost in military

cadence, to an impressive white stone building a hundred

yards from shore. Not a word was exchanged between the

Americans and their Canadian guests.

Barbara Wall thought the whole business of stopping at

naval headquarters a waste of time. They were scientists.

They camed no armament and were interested only in the

exploration of volcanic and sandstone formations in the

Hawaiian chain. Typical of the mentality of men playing

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their games, she thought as she unwillingly trudged along,

falling behind. Barbara didn't nonnally trudge, but she

was tired, bored, and indifferent to the need for protcxol.

Usually her stride was athletic, a match for the body she'd

brought to the r*ak of perfection by pushing it to its

physical limit every day. She was a complex woman, one

of the tBt brains of the Foundation for ()cean Research

(FOR), a privately endowed underwater and underground

research organization under the guidance of the National

Research Council in Ottawa, a department of the Canadian

government.

In her mind, permission had been sought and granted by

their foreign minister during one of his personal visits to

the secretary of state in Washington. It had been routine.

The countries were the best of friends, about to enter into a

trade agreement unprecedented on their side of the Atlan-

tic. All of this—Ahis useless posturing—was a waste of

time.

The small group entered the ten-story building, the en-

sign saluted from corridor to corridor by guards placed at

every strategic location. They crowded into a small ex-

press elevator at the rear of the building and were whisked

to their destination in seconds. The top-floor lobby was

about twenty feet square. It contained only a guard post

manned by four men and one huge steel door.

The metal door opened with the push of an unseen

button, and the Canadians were led past another half-dozen

guards to a beautifully scrolled wooden door and into an

office that tötally surprised Dr. Barbara Wall.

It was huge. One wall, fully forty feet long, lcx)ked out

over the harbor, commanding a view of most of the ships

at anchor. The walls were of exrrnsive cherrywood panel-

ing, with subtly lighied of French masters

gracing them. The furniture, in two groupings, were of the

DEEP SEA DEATH

finest leather, and the one functional piece, a highly

ished desk of simple lines, placed in front of the expanse

of glass, held a single orange folder. A phone was attached

to the side of the desk at the crcupant's right hand. He

rose as they entered.

Only one word descritrd Admiral Charles S'CutE" Bren-

ner. in Barbara Wall's opinion, the word was "dynamic."

Energy seemed to crackle from the man like static electric-

ity. True to the nickname Irstowed on him by his men, he

was built like a fcx)tball tackle, scaled down to five

feet ten. His hair was no more than half an inch long,

blond turning to white, a contrast to the deeply tanned face

that made his blue eyes seem even brighter.

Barbara's first impression was of a stem man, a discipli-

narian, but as she watched him, totally absortkd, the

leatherlike skin of his face crinkled at the eyes and his

smile made up for the almost chilly reception they'd re-

ceived thus far.

"Welcome. Please sit and make yourselves comfort-

able," he said.

When they were seated and stewards had served them

steaming coffee in mugs emblazoned with the admiral's

rrrsonal insignia, he looked from one to the other with his

remarkable ice-blue eyes. She noticed he didn't waste time

with introductions. He knew who they were and they knew

who he was. But she was wrong if she thought his interest

was casual, He made sure they knew he had a thorough

background on them.

"Lßt me make sure my information is correct," he said,

turning to the captain first. "Captain Paul Edward Hart.

Commodore of the RCN, retired, presented the Navy Cross

by my government for action in the Sea of Japan during

the Korean War. Took command of the newly commis-

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sioned oceanography ship Sir Wilfred Laurier exactly fif

teen months ago."

Captain Hart sat, surprised at the detail and the tota

recall, his great frame immobile in the chair he challeng

with his bulk. He was in dress whites, his captain's stri

in gold, four rows of ribbons a splash of color on his le

breast. His round face was almost covered with a full bu

neatly trimmed tEard.

"Dr. Julius Caesar Flynn, bachelor of science f

McGill University in Montreal in biology, master's deg

from the University of Toronto in archaeology, took yo

doctorate in oceanography at Harvard," the admiral wen

on. "Worked on the Titanic project, headed up an ocean

ography project last year in the Arctic in liaison with th

Cousteau group. Married with three children, all nam

after biblical characters, a concession to your fully or

dained spouse."

Barbara had never seen Flynn's mouth gaping in wonde

at anything. In fact, she'd never seen him fully surprise

even at discoveries they'd made together hundred

of feet beneath the sea.

"It shouldn't have surprised me to find Dr. Barb

Alice Wall on this expedition. Doctorate in

from Stamford, distinguished by several notable expedi

tions," the military man went on. was surprised

learn that you are a black belt in karate and can benc

press more than double your body weight. Is

that strenuous, Dr. Wall?" he asked.

It was the first time any of the three Canadians had

chance to get a word in. Barbara was taken aback. Sh

hadn't known Julius's middle name was Caesar or th

anyone knew her middle name. It didn't appear on any 0

her records, not even through her distinguished academi

career.

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DEEP SEA DEATH

g 'Apparently no one informed you of our mis-

sion, Admiral," she replied. "We are interested in the

archaeology of cave dwellers as much as in our ocean

research. Many islands built up from both volcanic rock

and sandstone contain huge cavems. Some were txcupied

thousands of years ago, long before these islands were

populated. I'm surprised you didn't learn that for yourself

when you were marooned less than five hundred miles

from here," she went on. "You lost a ship you attempted

to salvage from a battle in the Sea of Japan about the time

Captain Hart was on active service. I understand you were

the only survivor and spent a number of weeks alone on an

island rife with caves and caverns."

The admiral grinned at her, then let out a guffaw that

shook the walls. An officer and two NCOs looked in, guns

drawn. They retreated as fast as they'd reacted.

"Touché, Ih Wall. I'll let you in on a secret. The most

feared admiral in the Pacific command is a claustrophobic.

You'd never get me down in a submarine. The best could

manage was in a fire control center deep in the bowels of a

cruiser. I didn't explore the caves-—not my idea of a good

time."

The ice was broken. The battle lines that might have

been drawn between a military man who had to conduct

all his business in strictest secrecy, and the group of

civilians who would be nosing around his private pre-

serves, were never permitted to materialize.

"We'll try to keep out of your way, Admiral," Flynn

assured him. "We intend to drop anchor at every piece of

rock within a thousand miles of here and explore it for

cavems. You'll probably be completely unaware of us."

"It's not that simple, Dr. Flynn," Brenner said. "My

radar picks up a flyspeck on the ocean within three hun-

dred miles of here. My fleet air arm flies sorties and

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training exercises over the whole area you will cover.

We'll know where you are at all times."

Barbara listened to the words and sensed his specially

trained mind at work. Her long-held animosity toward

things military surfaced briefly. She didn't like to have her

every move watched. It was bad enough that satellites tracked

them when time could be spared from other reconnais-

sance. That modern technology could track them at will

was disquieting for a scientist who liked to feel that she

was miles from civilization backward through the

centuries at signposts left by ancient peoples.

"You'll pardon my asking, Admiral," Captain Hart

said, "but the yard seems to on a full alert, almost a

wartime footing. I've been here before. It's not the same

today. "

The admiral was quiet for a few minutes. Apparentl

Hart had struck a nerve and the admiral was trying t

decide on his txst course of action. "We have a top-secre

ship in dry dock here for a final fitting. Our enemi

would dearly love to get a look at her." It was obvious h

wasn't about to reveal more. Instead, he got up and press

a button on the wall in front of them. A map of hi

command rolled silently from a concealed slot in the ceiling.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay away from this

until my new charge is out of the area," he said, indicat

ing the island to the west, out past the Kure Atoll.

"That's where your new craft will conduct its trials?'

Captain Hart asked. "Isn't that usually classified?"

"Right. fiey'll be under sealed orders. But my guess i

that they'll be out past Kure."

"We're following Necker Ridge to the southeast," Dr

Flynn said. "The first rcxky outcroppings we'll be explor

ing are to the west of Horizon Tablemount. We won't

within four hundred miles of the Kure Atoll. "

DEEP SEA DEATH

' ' nen I don't see any problems," the admiral said,

walking purposefully back to his desk. Apparently the

interview was over. By the time the three scientists were

out the dcx»r, stewards had been in, cleared away the mugs

and trays, and the office was as srx)tless as when the

admiral had reported in that morning.

"Give me some slack," Hynn said as he lowered himself

to a shelf of r(Xk at the fourth level. They had entered the

cave four hours earlier and encountered two underground

lakes. By.conducting extensive underwater searches, they'd

managed to find an outflow that took them to another

cavern in each case. They left an orange-colored trailing

line behind them, secured at their point of entry.

"What do you say we break for lunch?" Barbara sug-

gested when the five of them were gathered on the shelf of

rock.

Three undergraduates, strong young men, accompanied

Julius Hynn and Barbara Wall on the descent. It would

have been totally dark for five members of the party

except for the long-life lanterns each member of the group

carried.

"I'm famished," one of the young men admitted.

He was always famished, Barbara thought. In more

ways than one. He was always first to the table. He was

the first and only one to approach her on the long sea

journey out of Vancouver. And he was the only one to

share her bed. Her were a trial as well as a blessing.

The long blond hair and hazel eyes were a match for the

almost body. During her whole academic career

she tried to hide her beauty under unattractive clothing and

dark-rimmed glasses. Now, a scholar with an established

reputation, she had eased up-—and it had caught up with

her once or twice.

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NICK CARTER

When he'd made his play she'd been bored and the

thought of physical pleasure was not far from her mind.

His apFtite had tren voracious. It had happened only

once, a weak moment in an otherwise dull trip and an act

she wasn't about to rermt. But her refusals hadn't stopped

him from tying.

"Let's take a half hour," Flynn agreed. "We could all

use a rest."

They had sandwiches in waterprcx)f containers inside

their packs and each had a thermos of coffee. Barbara

carried a bottle of brandy for emergencies. She'd seen

hypothermia rear its ugly head on other exrditions and

knew the of the liquor's warmth down a cold

gullet. The brandy was in one breast of the water-

proof shirt she wore over her wet suit. In the other pcket

she carried a reference book she'd written on rare sea

creatures.

"I'm surprised this tums you on," Rod Lang said,

easing himself down beside her.

"It's what I dream of when I'm on dry land," she said,

allowing him a small smile. "When I'm cold and hungry,

I dream of dry land."

"That's what I like. A complicated woman," the young

man said, maintaining eye contact, not letting her forget

their time together.

"You ever get scared?" he asked.

"l used to. My first two or three descents were the

hardest, you know, squeezing through a narrow under-

ground river, not knowing what's on the other side, hoping

your breathing gear's not going to snag on anything."

"How far down do you figure we are?" he asked.

"My depth meter shows six hundred feet, but that could

be out by twenty percent. Let's see," she said, furrowing

her brow in thought. "The first drop was about fifty feet.

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Hard to figure the first river . .

maybe we dropped

another thirty feet to the first big cavem. "

cavern was at least a hundred feet high," he

offered.

"So that was just a little less than two hundred feet. I

figure the first water hole we explored was maybe fifty

feet deep and the river we followed drop!Ed another hun-

dred and fifty."

' 'So that's three-fifty?"

' 'And the rest following that twisting tunnel three hun-

dred feet down."

"Yeah," he said without enthusiasm. "Crawling on

your knees, or on your gut for what seemed like two

miles."

"Wish you'd never come?" she asked, half teasing.

' 'Except for one night. ne whole expedition was worth

that one night."

' 'Keep your voice down," she said, elbowing him in

the ribs. "You can hear a damned pin drop down here."

' 'So what? So they all find out. Why deny it?" he

asked, catching her eye again and grinning.

God, but I was a damned fool, she thought as she

finished her sandwich. She still had half her thermos of

coffee and closed the cap before it

"l still think it's like a miracle to find pockets of air,

even huge caverns so far below the ocean surface. It

doesn't seem that gravity's at work here at all," he said.

"Water pressure's neutralized by the internal lakes and

rivers," she said, adjusting her gear. "Something like the

trap under a sink that keeps sewer gasses out. I've seen

caverns the size of football fields hundreds of feet below

the sea. That's where we've made our best finds."

"Well, this trip has helpd me decide on the future.

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NICK CARTER

When I think of tEing six hundred feet below the surface,

my stomach chums. It's scary."

"Maytx you'll get used to it. Give it another try."

"The last river we descended? The one that was so

narrow? I felt myself wedged a couple of times and almost

panicked. It's just not for me."

' 'We were all frightened the first few times," she said,

trying to reassure him.

"Do you ever think of what would if we lost the

guide line?" he asked.

A shiver coursed through her spine. It was the one thing

that woke her up screaming out of a deep sleep. If they

ever lost freir guide line, they'd dead. No one could

remember all the twists and tums made in an underground

trek.

semnk about something else," she said.

"Except for you, it's all I think about."

• 'C'mon, Rcxi. That night was fun, but it's over. And if

you let yourself get freaked the climbs, you'll be

confined to boat."

"Might not a bad idea. How many descents have we

tried anyway?"

"A dozen."

"And we haven't found a goddamned thing."

"No one ever said that anthropology would be fun all

the time," she told him. "Sometimes you go for weeks

without finding anything, not so much as a scratch on a

wall. Then the first find could a simple drawing or a

whole panorama. Ihat's part Of the thrill."

"How the hell did the ancients get down into these

caves? We've got the best equipment and it's never easy,"

he observed, sitting too close to her, making her move to

keep her own space. 'SHow'd they stand the cold of the

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water? How'd they hold their breath through the long,

narrow rivers and the deep pools?"

"Who knows? Maybe the caverns shifted. Perhaps they

were closer to the surface years ago. niat's what makes it

so interesting."

"Interesting." He chewed on the word for a few seconds

as if in private, thoughts. ' 'Why do we do it,

Barb?"

She hated the "Barb." EslEcially from a handsome

college senior she'd been fool enough to let seduce her in a

weak moment. But she thought ü•re question. "Any

answer would sound trite, Rod. 'Because it's there' is as

good an answer as any."

The small cavern trembled for a second or two.

' 'My God! What the hell was that?" Rod spoke, louder

than' the whispered conversation he'd had with her.

"This is an active volcanic area," Flynn explained.

He'd been in deep discussion with the other two, unaware

of their conversation. "You'll get rumbles like that all the

time—feel them for hundreds of miles. "

"But one a little worse could close some of the narrow

passages we came through," said, genuinely alarmed.

"That's why we had to sign a release," Flynn joked.

' 'No sweat, really. The odds against a real shift are several

millions to one."

While he spoke a rumble more severe than the first

shook the walls. Rocks fell on them from above. One hit

Rod on the side of the head, knocking him sideways into a

deep

Barbara eased herself down and got a hand around his

arm. "Pull my other arm!" she yelled at the others.

Flynn and one of the other youths grabbed for her free

arm and one of them got Rcxi by the armpit and dragged

him back to the flat rock shelf.

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NICK CARTER

' 'Is he all right?" Barbara asked.

"Strong pulse," Flynn said. "Probably a concussion.

We should get him to the surface in a hurry."

"Not until he comes around. He's got to manage his

own scuba gear," she reminded him, examining wound.

It was a deep gash, still bleeding profusely. She reached

for her backpack and the waterproof first aid kit she carried.

"What the rumble—the pssible shift?" one of

the young men asked. "Do you think we'll have any

getting back?"

s 'The odds are in our favor," Flynn answered solemnly.

g 'I shouldn't have kidded about it. We're okay—really."

Barbara worked on the cut and thought about Flynn's

statement. He had to say that. The others were young,

inexFrienced. They needed all the confidence he could

feed them.

"What do you think it was?" the other student asked.

"It could have been anything—a small earthquake, al-

though I horr not, or it could have been a volcanic erup-

tion hundreds of miles away. Or just a simple earth

crust shift."

"Why'd you say 'I hope not'?"

"Because there'd be aftershocks."

"What about an explosion?" the first young man asked.

"What the hell would explode around here?" Flynn

asked, obviously tired of the questions.

"Well, maybe the U.S. Navy's on a training mission.

Or—"

"Forget it?' Flynn cut him off. "How's he asked

Barbara.

"Coming around. We should able to take him up in a

few minutes."

"Where's the trail rorr?" the first young men asked as

he rose on the ledge, holding his lamp and balancing with

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DEEP SEA DEATH

one hand on the rock face. ' 'It was tied to me all the way.

I just untied it a few minutes ago. "

"You idiot!" the other youth cried. "How will we get

back now?"

it, you two. Look around. It's got to be here

somewhere," Flynn said.

' 'It couldn't have gone up by itself," the first youth

said, almost in a panic. "It was right beside me here when

I was eating."

While they were arguing among themselves, the water

in the pool they'd planned to explore after lunch started to

change color. From an inky black, broken only by the

reflections of their lamps, to gray, then to light yellow.

Several sources of light separated and came upward

growing in strength.

"What is it?" Barbara supporting Rod in

front of her. Her back was to the rock wall, the injured

man lying against her.

Flynn was speechless for once. The two students were

holding their lamps in front of them, shading their eyes,

trying to see what was coming at them from the deep.

The lights broke the water and almost blinded them.

They backed against the rock wall. Dark shadows emerged

from the pool wearing a style of diving gear they had

never seen Irfore.

"Who are you?" Flynn asked, finally coming out of his

stupor.

The five newcomers still had their self-contained under-

water breathing apparatus in their mouths and weird masks

covering their faces. They moved their lamps to one side

to reveal wicked harpoons in their other hands.

Without a word, the swimmers from the depths squeezed

their triggers in unison and the hiss of compressed gas

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NICK CARTER

masked the sound of barbed churning through soft

flesh.

Flynn and the others were flung backward against the

cavem wall and cr-ampled in of tyrir own blood, each

skewered through the heart, dead Irfore they hit the

A harpoon reced through Rod and struck Barbara Wall,

kncxking her head against the rcxk behind her. The pain

was excruciating. She'd never felt anything like it. But she

was not unconscious. She floated somewhere t*tween the

blackness of death and the faint of life.

S' nat all of them?" she heard.

"That's it," a voice above them answered. She was

barely conscious of the voice her, but her questing

brain solved the mystery of the disappearing trail rol*.

They had been attacked from both directions.

"The other team took care of the tx)at," one of the

swimmers said. "It's on the bottom by now. I felt the

concussion all the way down here."

' 'God Our job is done. Let's report back to andal,"

the voice above said, fading until she heard nothing.

Slowly the lights disappeared. Everything was total

darkness.

She wasn't unconscious. It was just dark. And the pain

had lessened; it was more like a deep throbbing than a

puncture. She moved Rod away from her on the slippery

rock shelf.

She might have unconscious for a few minutes, but

now her senses were alert. The place smelled of death, the

sheared-metal smell of blocxi. Somehow she got her hands

behind Rcxi and pushed. lhe harpoon came away and she

was free. 'Ihe barbed tip that had passed through Rod had

been stopped by her reference book. She figured she'd

have a bruise the size of a football on her chest, but that

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aplrared to be the worst of her injuries. Her head had been

protected by her wet suit hood.

Rod slid into the cold water at her feet and she almost

screamed out for him as he entered his watery grave. But

she couldn't scream. nry, whoever they might be, could

come back.

Barbara felt along the face and sliprrd in a pml of

liquid. She scrarrd a knee and riPFd her wet suit as her

hand found the end of a pole. She felt along the shaft until

her hand found Flynn's body.

She continued her search. The other two were gone;

they had probably slipped into the same watery grave.

She was alone.

TWO

Nick Carter's room at the Sheraton Kaanapali looked

out over the Pacific toward Lanai across the Auau Chan-

nel. He'd been there a week, about as much R & R as his

agile mind was able to take between jobs trfore he began

to itch for the excitement of another assignment. The week

had been uneventful. While many of the women at the

hotel had tried to catch his eye, this time he hadn't winked

back, a state of affairs his boss, David Hawk, wouldn't

have triieved.

But that was about to change. Earlier in the week a

friend had intrcxiuced him to a private club, one with a

license to run its own casino for members only. The only

woman who had interested him was a merntEr. As he

stood in front of a mirror straightening his black tie, he felt

a surge of adrenaline at the anticipation of the chase.

A dark-haired man was reflected back at him, the face

ruggedly handsome, the dark eyes hinting at life fully

experienced. He smiled as he thought of an interesting

night ahead at the green tables of the casino, the intriguing

woman, and the pleasure that would inevitably follow.

'Ihe club was almost empty. It was luxurious in its own

understated way. No glitz and noise here as in Vegas. The

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NICK CARTER

few people milling around were in formal dress. ne

minimum was twenty-five dollars. He consulted his

Rolex. It was still early, but it didn't matter. He decided to

play blackjack until she showed.

Carter preferred to play one-on-one with the dealer and

figured he might just have enough time for the hundreds of

hands needed to guarantee success. He requested the table

be posted at a hundred-dollar minimum and placed twenty

hundred-dollar bills on the table. ne dealer stacked twenty

black chips in front of him. Carter tEt one.

dealer's hands moved quickly. They both had ' 'break-

ing" hands, trtween twelve and sixteen. He decided to

stand pat, knowing the dealer had no such choice. The

dealer lost and payed off. Carter, the premier agent of

AXE, an ultrasecret intelligence organization set up years

earlier at the request of the president, signaled that the bet

would stand.

Carter ran his streak of wins to six. He bet three chips

on the third hand, four on the fourth, four on the fifth, and

five on the sixth; a progression system he'd been taught by

Mike Gocximan at the Dunes in Las Vegas a few years

earlier. The game continued at lightning speed and started

to draw

While the pit boss offered free drinks, changed the cards

frequently, and even resorted to changing the dealer—

anything to stop the bleeding---the beautiful woman Carter

had seen earlier sat at the table and spread a handful of

green chips iR front of her.

The pit boss sighed, his relief evident. He couldn't have

asked for more if the woman had been employed by him.

Languidly she ordered a champagne cocktail and coaxed

the winner to have the same.

Carter was not out to break the casino. His real objec-

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tive had been the lovely creature now sitting trside him.

She placed a chip in the rectangle in front of her.

She was one of the most stunning women he'd ever

seen. She was a raven-haired txauty with ivory skin. Her

eyes, like his, were dark brown, almost black. Her mouth

was perfection and her high cheekbones hinted of a native

heritage. And if her face wasn't enough to attract men, her

figure was

"This is a hundred minimum, madam," the dealer said,

using his most deferential manner.

She graced him with a dazzling smile as she pushed a

stack of green chips on the rectangle in front of her.

He dealt two hands and waited.

The woman looked at her cards and slipped them

neath her pile of chips. Carter had a five and six against

the dealer's five showing, an ideal time to double up. He

added seven chips to the trt.

The dealer a nine on the five and six, giving

Carter twenty. He waved off other cards. By this time a

good dozen FOPle stood behind him, and

pointing.

The dealer flipped his down card. It was a six, giving

him an eleven. Without hesitation he dealt himself another

card as the $rctators held their breath.

A seven. Carter had won again.

The dealer paid him the fourteen chips and fliprd over

the woman's cards. Seventeen. He raked in the pile of

green chips and waited for their bets.

"Damn!" she said. "This is so boring."

"And what would you prefer?" Carter asked.

"A walk around the grounds. A sail in the moonlight.

Anything but this."

It was a test and he knew it. No respectable player left a

table when he was hot, winner of almost three thousand

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NICK CARTER

dollars within minutes. And it wasn't the amount. Players

bet more, won and lost more. It was the professional way

he'd done it.

"I'm Natalie Foreman," she said, flashing her magnifi-

cent long-lashed brown eyes at him. "And you are ,

"Carter. Nick Carter. And why don't we try the gar-

dens?" he suggested.

"Cash in," he said, turning to the pit boss. A signal

passed tetween them. Carter knew that he could have gone

on to hurt the house badly. The pit boss was as aware as

he. In the parlance of the game he was a "tough" player.

Apparently some things were more important than money.

The srrctators gasped when they realized the winner

was about to quit. It just wasn't done. With the mystique

associated with winning and losing, they chose to believe

he could win at will. It never occurred to them he'd give up

thousands for a woman.

When they were in his room, the walk through the

gardens forgotten, she put the question to him, the ques-

tion everyone at the casino wanted to ask. "Why qui

when you were ahead?"

"I've gambled all over the world: Mombassa, Macao,

London, the Bahamas, Las Vegas. The tables will alway

be there."

"But you could have won thousands."

' 'I'd much rather be here with you."

'SHow gallant," she said, smiling, accepting the cham

pagne he offered. ' 'Gallant and gracious," she added.

"Just practical," he said. She'd never know how muc

truth was in that statement. Carter led the kind of life i

which money was useless. He was seldom a week or tw

without an assignment. When he needed money and equi

ment on the job, it was provided. His pay was not exces

sive, but it had a way of piling up while he was on so

DEEP SEA DEATH

of the longer projects. He had his restored Jaguar XKE and

his brownstone in Georgetown. When he wanted diversion

he always had enough money, and windfalls like tonight's

came along every so often to sweeten the It was the

kind of life few would understand. Even among those in

his profession he was unique. And he was the best. When

he was plying his trade, every ounce of his energy and

considerable intelligence was exploited to the maximum.

But when he played, it was with a flair, with panache. He

was one of a rare breed, a dying breed.

Carter put down his fluted glass. He walked up to

Natalie and gently lifted her chin. As his lips met hers, he

heard the muted sound of her glass hitting the deep pile

His hands slid around her and inside her clinging, open-

backed dress. He drew her closer to him. She came ea-

gerly, the heat of her mouth a fair gauge of her intentions

as their tongues intertwined.

He slipped one thin strap off her shoulder and then the

other. As he moved slightly away, the garment fell to her

hips. She was wearing nothing beneath it and her breasts

jutted proudly as he looked down on the kind of

that never failed to fill him with awe at such tmuty.

The dress was against her skin and without the

support of the straps it slithered past her hips and came to

rest on the floor.

He stood back while she assumed a model's B)se, hands

on hips, shoulders back, raising the cones of breasts,

hipshot, one leg taking most of her weight.

She wore only a pair of bikini panties and high-heeled

gold sandals. The effect would have been ludicrous if she

hadn't so incredibly beautiful.

He moved back to her and swept her off her feet,

claiming her lips again with his. lhe heat of her brought

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

him to a level of passion he had a hard time controlling.

He'd have to go very slowly or he'd make a fool of

himself, a declaring his first time.

He put her on the bed and lay beside her, running his

hands over her bcxiy, sliding the wisp of nylon down her

legs, feeling her nipples harden under his touch, kissing

her from neck to thighs until she moaned, tearing at his

clothing. He had to help her. She managed the jacket, the

tie, and the shirt, but he had to roll backward while she

pulled off his pants. It was done in seconds but they

seemed to have apart for minutes.

She was more than just a beautiful face and a beautiful

body. Her skin was taut, her muscles lithe, her strength

well above average. thought was ae fleeting message,

but it also suggested she would have stamina. He deliber-

ately controlled himself to make sure the night was memo-

rable, and for his efforts he received whisrrred demands

and strong anns pulling him on top of her.

He'd been ready for some time but he'd planned to draw

it out. It was just past eleven. ney had not tumed on th

lights, but the moon was full and it bathed them in a cream

glow. She smelled of bath soap and something else, th

unmistakable musk given off by a wornan who is ready,

ready, frantic for fulfillment.

She felt for him and her soft hand was like a live wire

She guided him to her and moved up to meet him, kissin

him, moaning deep in her throat as she took all of hi

deep inside her.

He tried to hold her still, to savor the moment, but sh

writhed beneath him, forced him to move with her, brough

the friction of their joining to a maximum, a force that h

could deny.

With a roar of passion, he clarnlkd his arms around he

DEEP SEA DEATH

and held her tightly in his powerful grasp while he acceded

to her unspoken command.

She moaned, sometimes and finally screamed as

he brought her from one climax to another. She had de-

manded his tESt and she was going to get it. She had

provided the vessel, and Carter was determined

she'd never again have to wonder what fulfillment meant.

lhe journey seemed endless. Her stamina, as he'd sus-

pected, was a match for his own. She moved with him

through one last long climax that brought them to a peak

seldom reached, a peak that brought them the seldom-

quaffed nectar meant for the gods.

When at last it was over, they clung to each other, she

whispering words of endearment in his ear that he couldn't

really hear, he running his hands softly over her until she

was back to mortal plains, back in the room, back on the

sheets that had been their passage to heaven.

When they parted, she saw his cigarettes on a night

table and asked for one. He lit two of the custom-blended

cigarettes with his gold Dunhill and passed one to her.

She leaned on an elbow above him, lc»king at the

muscular torso. She leaned across him from time to time to

flick the ash from her cigarette, and each time the frown

on her face. "The scars," she said at last. "An

accident? No," she corrected herself. "More than that.

Some are older than others. Some are puckered like small

rosebuds; some are shiny like knife marks. But none of

these were made by a medical man." She hesitated for a

moment as if afraid to ask. "Who the hell are you, Nick

It was a question he had to evade all often. ' 'I'm a

foreign correspondent most of the time. Amalgamated Press

and Wire Services. I work out of Washington when they

can find me." It wasn't entirely a lie. Amalgamated Press

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

and Wire Services was the front for AXE headquarters in

Washington, D.C., and for its many offices around the

world.

g 'Come on. Foreign correspndents don't get banged up

as much as this."

The phrasing was pregnant with innuendo, but he de-

cided to let it go. "I did some soldiering before I took up

journalism," he lied. His sixth sense was taking over.

He'd teen too relaxed in the islands for the past week.

What the hell had happened to his training? This could

an enemy agent pumping him with seemingly

questions. Enough inmxent answers and his enemies would

have a pattern that could tell them more than AXE wanted

them to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone. In the quiet

of the room it sounded like a fire alarm. He picked it up

and walked to the far comer of the room, dragging the

long cord after him.

"Nick? It's Ginger."

He cupped his hand around the mouthpiece. "Yes?"

"Someone with you?"

"You could say that."

"Ah, romantic Hawaii . . s"

She hesitated a second,

not wanting her uue feelings to come to the surface. She

was David Hawk's right hand, and she and Carter had

become involved briefly many years earlier but realized

the liaison was foolish and dangerous in their line of work.

"Hawk is tied up in Bangkok. We lost an agent last

night."

"And Hawk went to check it out? Why didn't Smitty

go? He's head of Operations—it's his job."

"You haven't heard. Smitty's in the hospital. Some

kind of virus."

It was unusual for Hawk to leave Washington. Carter

DEEP SEA DEATH

knew it would take something like Rupert Smith being

seriously ill to get him away from AXE headquarters at

Dupont Circle. Losing an agent was always difficult. Usu-

ally loose ends had to be tied up and new assignments

made.

Carter didn't ask who they had lost. It almost invariably

tumed out to someone he knew, someone he'd worked

with. And right now he didn't want to know. He'd learned

that pain dulled his responses and mourning eroded

concentration.

"l presume this call is important," he muttered.

"Yes, it is, Nick. Very," she said. "A Canadian re-

search team is missing. They were granted permission to

explore uncharted islands around Hawaii."

S 'Details?" he asked, keeping the conversation at his

end to a minimum.

'SA fairly large expedition. Ten-thousand-ton ship, crew

of ten. ney have two experts on the expedition, special-

ists in anthropology, archaeology, and some oceanography

thrown in there somewhere. Three or four undergraduates

with them."

"Their mission?" he asked.

"Simple enough. Hunt for extensive caverns in sand-

stone rock formation in the Pacific. They've got our secre-

tary of state's blessing."

"Equipment?" he asked.

"That's the strange thing. A ten-thousand-ton oceanog-

raphy vessel, the Sir Wilfred Laurier, recently commis-

sioned, named after one of their earlier prime ministers."

Carter noticed that Natalie was in the bathroom with the

door closed. He faintly heard the sound of a shower.

"Even a large ship like theirs could easily be lost in the

Pacific," he said. "What's the excitement?"

' 'They made a courtesy call to Admiral Brenner at

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

Pacific Fleet Headquarters only days ago. At first he was

able to track them on his radar from headquarters, then

they lost it. lhe admiral issued orders for every ship or

plane in their vicinity to report their position. "

"I see what you mean. With all the training sorties they

make, hundreds of sightings should have been made.

Couldn't we reach them by radio?"

' 'Dead silence. It's as if they disappeared from the face

of the earth."

"Did Hawk leave any instnrtions?"

"Not very $xcific. He wanted you because you're close

to the scene. Howard's going to your control on this

one."

Howard Schmidt was their exrErt on identification and

their specialist with gadgets. He was completely gadget-

crazy and tried to press his latest inventions on Carter at

every opportunity. Some of them were pretty weird, but

sometimes they'd proved to invaluable. For all his

eccentricities, Schmidt was one of Carter's real friends in

what was in truth a very lonely profession.

"What's Howard got in mind?" Carter asked.

"He's already outtx)und from the San Diego naval base

in one of the merchant marine's fastest freighters. He's got

some kind of boat he wants you to try out on this one."

"He never gives up, does he. What am I supposed to do

in the meantime?"

'S Take a plane to Honolulu. A navy escort will take you

to Admiral Brenner. He's agreed to outfit you for cavem

exploration and drop you at the last known location of the

expedition. "

"And how is Howard supposed to catch up with me?"

"He's sent along a couple of gadgets by navy jet. They

should be waiting for you in the admiral's office."

"For a small operation, Howard's pulling out all the

DEEP SEA DEATH

" S., 27 (39 of 212)

DEEP SEA DEATH 27 stops," Carter observed. "These people could be in a sheltered harbor. They might not want to be found." "I know. And Howard could be blowing our budget on a wild-goose chase." "While the cat's away . . ." Carter mused. "It's okay. The poor devil's trapped in his basement office most of the time and we probably don't appreciate him enough. Let him have his fun this time. It could be interesting. "One last thing," he said. "Send out word for Stone-wall Kuhuhu. I used to do some diving with him. He owns his own scuba shop on Waikiki Beach. Get clearance for him and have him meet me at Brenner's office." "Can do. Good luck, Nick," Ginger said. She always left him with that as her last thought. They both knew that he hadn't survived longer than any of them by luck. He was the best, physically and mentally, of any agent in the West, and better than anyone the enemy had thrown against him. In a few hours he'd know if the challenge was worthy of his talent. 1

THREE

The office on the top floor was filled with officers in dress whites. Stewards with nays of drinks c' the group. It was significant to Carter that men, all full commanders or higher in rank, lipped. A civilian was totally out of place. solved the problem of privacy by taking C office adjoining his. The man seemed to fill the mom with his presence. He stood, a block of granite, his face totally devoid of emo-tion. This was going to be one of those military minds who hated dealing with any kind of covert intelligence problem, who treated people like Carter with contempt, Carter thought. But this wasn't going to be a major problem. It was too simple for that. A group of scientists had disappeared. They were probably in some secluded cove, shielded from radar, not programmable on scanners from aircraft passing over. "This should be simple for you, Carter," Admiral Bren-ner said. "I've read your file, or the little I could get on you. Impressive. Can't understand why they'd put you on to something like this." So Carter had underestimated the admiral. He usually

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

didn't prejudge anyone. "What's the cxcasion for the

party?" he asked.

The admiral's expression told the story. He was obvi-

ously caught between total "eyes only" secrecy, and a

compulsion to tX)ast about his new acquisition. "You've

got all the top clearances," he said, "so I guess there's no

harm in telling you. We've completed the final fitting for

the U.S.S. Lance."

"Our identification expert gave me a rundown on her

last month. An unbelievable piece of machinery," Carter

said.

' 'We don't have pieces of machinery now, Carter,"

Brenner said, softening his tone. "She's an electronic

marvel. A destroyer carrying six nuclear missiles, two

dozen mounts for ship-to-air missiles, electronic detection

devices that go beyond advertised state of the art."

S'And she's going out for trials?"

"Tomorrow. She'll be under sealed orders direct from

the Chief of Staffs office. I'm pretty sure I know where

they'll send her and it's not where the Canadians are

missing. My guess is they're sending her out beyond Kure

Atoll in the Midway Island chain. She'll be alone, but we

can monitor her from here. "

"l wish you well, Admiral. What arrangements have

you made for me?"

*'We gave the Canadians royal treatment. The J. P.

Jones, one of our nuclear frigates, escorted them in and

out," Brenner said, drinking the last of the glass he'd been

carrying. "Their captain, Paul Hart, and our Commander

Straight exchanged a few stories. Straight knows as much

as anyone about where they were heading and has our last

fix on them. He'll take you to the area."

"I asked my E*ople to contact a local man to assist

me."

DEEP SEA DEATH

"Mr. Kuhuhu is aboard the J. P. Jones. All your gear is

stowed and they're ready to go when you are," the admi-

ral said, turning to the door and leading the way back to

his office.

The noise level dropEXd a decitrl or two, and most eyes

tumed to their commanding officer. He led Caner to a tall,

thin man in the far comer. A group around Commander

Straight broke up and drifted off as the two men approached.

"Commander Straight, Nicholas Caner," Brenner said,

his voice strong. The introductions were almost barked out

in the babbles that surrounded them. "You've both got

your orders. I suggest you get to it," he said as he turned

on his heel.

"That's plain enough," Straight said. He leaned down

to a side table and deposited his almost filled glass. "Let's

get the hell out of here, Carter. You've given me an

excuse to get away from some damned boring duty."

"And replaced it with a tX)ring trip along Necker Ridge. "

"It's never boring when the steel of my ship is under

my feet, Carter. Obviously you're not a seafaring man."

"I've had my share of time at sea."

"Just who are you? Some kind of spook? What's so

important about this group?"

"That's three questions, Commander. First, I'm just a

troubleshooter from Washington," Carter said, smiling

innocently. "I do my job and stay clear of politics. Last,

the group was given permission by our secretary of state to

explore some of our territory. It seems he feels some kind

of responsibility for their safety."

They'd been walking from the headquarters building to

the slip where the U.S.S. J. P. Jones was berthed. She

was sleek, looked fast, and gave the impression she could

take care of herself in any kind of action with fair odds.

They were aboard. Straight introduced him to his

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

first officer and disamxared to change into his working

clothes. "Take Mr. Carter below to Mr. Kuhuhu. He'll

want to his gear," he said as he left.

Stonewall Kuhuhu was sitting in the middle of an audi-

ence of enthralled swabbies. *Ihe off-duty sailors were

bug-eyed at the stories the seasoned islander was telling

them the women of the islands and how they made

love. He was one of the most accomplished storytellers

Carter had ever met and the biggest liar. He was a coffee-

colored man with the build of a weight lifter, his face a

stage on which his emotions played a full r%rrtoire, his

hair shoulder length, jet black and wavy. His eyes were

dark like Caner's, but they were surrounded with crinkled

skin that could have only been the product of thousands of

smiles and a lot of hours in the sun. He had no worry

lines.

The old friends embraced in the fashion of the islands

where emotions were never hidden. ' 'Man, haven't seen

you since that damned old shark near took off my leg,"

Kuhuhu said, displaying the scars where the teeth had

ripped at the muscle. "Where the hell you

"I've been here and there, old friend. Let's check out

our equipment. We can talk later."

Carter followed Kuhuhu through a watertight door and

along a companionway to the rear of the ship. In a square

steel enclosure at the stem, the navy people had set out an

oversize dinghy for them complete with twin seventy-

five-horse Johnsons.

"What about climbing gear?" Carter asked.

Kuhuhu pulled the end of a tarpaulin aside and revealed

as much equipment as they would need, everything similar

to the gear used by mountain climbers, except for the

clothes. They had wet suits and skintight underwear to go

with it. The gear included a block and tackle.

DEEP SEA DEATH

"Better than camouflage. I'll show you when we get

there. Take a lmk at the special package from Washing-

ton," Kuhuhu suggested.

To one side, a four-by-four box was unolkned. A water-

proof delivery sleeve was glued to the top. Howard Schmidt

had sent a package already. How he'd managed to get it

there so fast, the man from AXE couldn't imagine. AI-

though, through Hawk, Schmidt had access to some high-

rw.vered connections.

Carter slit the box opn with a knife Kuhuhu freed from

the belt around the robe he wore. The pwerful

islander was barefoot as usual.

A note was enclosed in the plastic sleeve.

Nick

This should hold you until I get there with some

better equipment. Your weapons are part of the con-

signment, as usual. I've included my new scuba ex-

rrimental toy and an earth station. Just off the

e'Fimental tmch back at Dum)nt. Don't let anyone

get his hands on it. Instructions are included with

both. Don't get yourself in any trouble. I'll be there

in a couple of days.

Howard

Good old Mother Howard, the provider and the worrier.

Carter examined the box for his weam)ns. His 9mm Luger,

Wilhelmina, an old friend he'd used to get out of more

than he could remember, was in her usual leather

holster. The long thin stiletto he'd named Hugo was en-

cased in its chamois sheath. He pulled it out and examined

the blade. It was clean and razor sharp. Last, he looked

over an object no larger than a small lime, a lethal bomb he

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

frequently taped to an inner thigh like a third testicle. The

Luger and the stiletto had with him for years; the

bomb was usually left at the scene where he'd used it, two

halves rolling on a foreign floor, the lethal gas deadly to

anyone who took one whiff. Sometimes, when it was

imperative to take prisoners for interrogation, he used a

gas bomb designed to render enemies unconscious.

In recent years Schmidt had included a mxket-sized

leather case that contained syringes and three kinds of

drugs, one to knock out a subject, one to extract the truth

from unwilling enemies, and the third to complete a sanc-

tion as quietly and quickly as possible.

He put the weapons aside. He felt naked without them,

but they'd be donning wet suits soon and he'd probably

have to take them in a waterproof backpack.

lhe new scuba gear was surprisingly small, but it lived

up to its acronym: self-contained underwater breathing

apparatus-—scuba. Instead of a tank of compressed gas, an

arrangement of tubes and valves, and a mouthpiece, the

new scuba gimmick was a stainless steel tube about four

inches long. It had a rubber band around it and another

note from Schmidt:

Pull out the black plastic oval in the center of the tube.

Use it as a mouthpiece and bite down on it. You'll have

ten minutes of air. Try not to use it at extreme depths.

Typical Schmidt magic, Carter thought as the big is-

lander next to him examined the second of the new scuba

tubes AXE's inventive genius had sent.

Another package of oiled brown palxr contained a group

of triangular pieces of metal, an electronic box, and a power

pack. It was also ringed by a rubber band and a note. Carter

began to feel like a schoolboy being led around by the nose.

DEEP SEA DEATH

If your addled brain can cope with this, we can

communicate when I get close to you. It's my new

earth station. The triangles interlock to make a dish

about a foot in diameter. Push the sensor through the

middle of the dish and plug it into the electronic con-

trol. You'll see three dials on the control: direction,

volume, and push-to-talk. The power pack has its

own connector jack and the black has a clearly

marked plug. Don't let the power source fall

into the wrong hands. It's nuclear and totally classi-

fied. No one but Hawk and I know about it so far. It

will be useful to power many new tools for us in

future.

Carter read the note again and put a match to both notes.

The embers had just disappeared when the commander

showed up.

"What's that gadget?" he asked, reaching for the

unassembled earth station.

"How did the box get to us?" Carter countered, making

no effort to let the commander see the various parts.

"You must have clout at the highest levels. It was flown

over in a prototype B-2 bomber. We've never seen one

here and- the field was cleared of all personnel while it

landed and took off," Straight said, a measure of respect

in his voice. "Now, what the hell is that thing?"

' 'It's as classified as the bomber, Commander. I'm not

supposed to show it to anyone. But you've got the right to

know something of what you're carrying," Carter con-

ceded. "It's experimental. A complete land station. With

this I can raise my people from anywhere on earth."

"Why don't the military have it?"

' •ney probably will. Most of our new gadgets end up

with the military in time." Carter wasn't always crazy

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

about using Schmidt's new toys, preferring to handle most

situations as he always had, but he was proud of his

friend's genius and wasn't about to see it compromised in

any way.

"What are the steel bars?" Straight asked, reaching for

Kuhuhu's.

ne big islander moved a shoulder an inch or two to put

the scuba device out of reach.

'*It's our scuba gear for emergencies," Carter admitted.

Straight curled a lip in disgust. ' 'So you don't frust me.

All right. I'll get you in as close as I can and that's it for

us. Come to the chart room," he told Carter.

Ihe commander unrolled a four-by-four navigation chart.

s 'The last we have on them was latitude 19 de-

grees 13 minutes south of Capricom, longitude 172 de-

grees 47 minutes west of Greenwich. They planned to

follow the Marcus Necker Seamount Chain first, a shelf

that stretches hundreds of miles to the southwest."

"What's your private guess, Commander?" Carter asked.

The two were on a totally formal footing now. Carter

could see the man's point of view. No captain liked to

have secrets withheld from him on his own ship. And this

captain knew the stranger he'd been ordered to help had

clout that reached far beyond his circles. Too bad. It

happened all too often and made the job one that kept

Carter alone much of the time.

"My guess is they're sitting drinking tea, or whatever

Canadians drink, and sunning themselves in the lee of

some uncharted rock out there. "

"How much fuel can you manage for me?"

"We've got some gadgets of our own, Carter. But

we're not so damned closemouthed about them," Straight

said, his attitude bitter by this time. "We'll drop you off

close to the coordinates. We'll lower a thousand-gallon

DEEP SEA DEATH

fuel drum to the sea floor with a floating filler nozzle. The

damned thing mcs like an albatross floating in the chop."

"Good enough. I noticed the dinghy had pressure fuel

tanks for a two-day trip. We'll use the storage tank as our

base. "

He returned to Kuhuhu and found the big man suiting up

in his therrnal long johns and wet suit. Ihe waters were

warm around the islands, but the undersea lakes and rivers

they'd encounter could be extremely cold.

Carter stippd to the skin and Pierre—his longtime

name for the tiny the inside of his leg before

donning the long underwear.

"Hold it a minute," he said, looking at the small scuba

tube. "Strap the tutE inside your thigh before you put on

your suit. "

"Why, Nick? It goin' to be uncomfortable there."

"Just do it, Stonewall. Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Not yet, my man. But all the gods say you can't be

right all the time."

lhe swells close to the hunk of rock where Straight dropFEd

them were about six feet high, no problem for the oversize

dinghy but enough to make their progress less than ten

knots. The U.S.S. J. P. Jones steamed out of sight,

leaving them alone in an empty sea. It was close to noon.

The sun overhead was relentless, so the two men wore

floppy white canvas hats to protect themselves. Carter was

beginning to wish they'd waited to change into wet suits

when they found a landfall.

The fake albatross floated beside them. Carter took a

bearing in two easily recognizable rocky outcroppings you

couldn't really call islands to mark the spot in his memory,

and pressed the electric starter button.

The twin Johnsons roared to life. He switched to for-

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

ward drive and gave the twin motors a quarter throttle.

6' Weill circle below these two hunks of rock before we

take off on our search pattern," he shouted into Kuhuhu's

ear over the roar of the motors. S' They could deceiving.

Rocky outcroppings like these could have cavems in them

thousands of feet txlow the surface."

The big Hawaiian seemed content to let Caner make all

the decisions. While the Killmaster steered them to one of

the towers of rock, Kuhuhu broke out two anchors, old

that l«yked as if they'd seen plenty of hard

use, and prepared to lash one to the rail and one to the

stem. They weren't about to find a beachhead on this pile

of rock.

Both men donned their gear. ne scuba apparatus was

all of a piece, lashed to webbing that also held their

backpacks. When they entered the water, they were about

as streamlined as they could be. *Ihey'd have to present a

minimum profile if they were to traverse some of the

underwater rivers and narrow passages they'd find.

The waters of Necker Ridge were warm. With Caner

leading the way, they swam from the anchored dinghy

around each of the outcroppings without finding

anything. They examined every angle of rock to a depth of

fifty feet without so much as a ten-foot indentation.

On the surface, bobbing beside the boat, Kuhuhu pulled

out his mouthpiece. "What now?" he asked.

Carter scrambled over the side. ' 'We explore everything

by line of sight. 'lhere must ten or twelve uncharted

rock formations jutting up around here. We record them on

our charts, make a square search, then fan out further each

day."

"With only a two-day supply of fuel, we can't take in

the whole Necker Chain."

"Let's hope we get lucky. The navy radar should be

DEEP SEA DEATH

first rate. They have to be around here, somewhere in our

range."

"Why don't we try that new gadget of yours, try to

raise them by radio?"

"The navy's had a constant signal sent out to them since

they disapEured. All they got was dead air."

"So which hunk of rock are you heading for?"

Carter started the motors and pointed to his right. "That

one's the biggest. Let's uy it. "

He brought the dinghy up to about fifteen knots and

headed for the towering hunk of rock, going with the

swells at an angle. Ille wind was at their backs. They'd•

reach the island, if you could call it that, on the weather

side.

It tcx)k all of fifteen minutes. lhe weather side was all

rock reaching to the sky. The sea had eaten away at the

rock, carving a concave slope at the base where the rock

was softest. The granite slabs were unchanged from the

moment they'd been thrust from the sea. it impos-

Sible to climb, offered no 'landfall, and wasn't even occu-

pied by sea birds.

"I'm going to circle the whole island tkfore we get

wet," Carter shouted in Kuhuhu's ear.

The lee side was a surprise. As they rounded a wind-

whipped corner of rock, palm trees waved their fronds at

them and a small sandy beach beckoned.

"What do you think?" Kuhuhu asked.

"We pull the dinghy onshore and explore around the

whole rock to a depth of fifty feet, maybe more. If they've

found an entrance to a cavern, they'd be on the weather

side. "

lhey made twenty-five knots on the lee side and were

on the beach, pulling the rubber dinghy up the soft sand

within minutes.

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

"We'll do a quick search of the weather side, then we'll

come back here and cook up something," Carter sug-

gested. "I'll ready for one of your island as

soon as we've swept this one clean."

With flip}rrs making a weird pattem in the sand, the

two men entered the water and started around a rocky

outcropping back to the weather side. The island was

about a mile around at sea level. After one circuit and a

thorough search they'd be tired and hungry and would

probably call it a day.

Swimming strongly, his pushing him through

the water, a lantem in one hand and a harpon in the

other, Carter led the way around the island at a depth of

about twenty feet. He could see every angle of the rcxk

face to a depth of thirty feet. Kuhuhu swam behind, a

second pair of eyes, making sure the Killmaster didn't

miss an opening that could Sl*ll the end of their search.

nry circumnavigated the island to the lee side and

tumed back, tracing their path but at a depth of fifty feet.

Carter was the first to spot it. Where the yellow light of

their lanterns bounced off the rock, nothing reflected from

the dark hole in the rock. Carter swam closer. An cF1ing

showed up as a black void against the shining rock.

The two men in front of the hole. Carter mo-

tioned for Kuhuhu to follow.

Their lights showed them a cave filled with water. It

was twenty feet wide at the opening and spread to forty

feet or more at the sides.

At first the cave appeared to go nowhere, then Carter

spotted a slorr and his light showed an opening at least ten

feet wide that gradually sloped downward.

Kuhuhu was eager to explore right away, but Carter

held him back with a wave of his hand. He signaled for a

DEEP SEA DEATH

detailed search of the first opening before they proceeded

into unknown waters.

Within minutes Kuhuhu shone his light at Carter and

waved frantically. Carter churned to his side, his fliprrrs

pumping wildly. The big man pointed to a cleat hammered

into a crack in the and a short length of attached.

Carter examined the rope. It had cut cleanly a few

inches from the wall. Ihe frayed end waved at them,

chumed into action by the turbulence the two divers had

Carter signaled for Kuhuhu to wait beside the rope. He

B)inted downward and held up five fingers.

Kuhuhu nodded.

The muscular form of the AXE agent, encased in a thin

wrapLEr of cloth and a wet suit, eased himself forward,

using only his flippers. The downward slope continued for

twenty feet then leveled out to another opening about as

big as the first.

He found the other end of the rol*. It was coiled

unevenly in a crevasse at the far end of the second flooded

cavern as if someone had tried to conceal it. One end was

frayed but the other, covered with silt, trailed off to a

corner of the large opening. It disappeared from sight at a

small 0EEning no bigger than a man's shoulders, a man his

size, too small for a man like his companion.

The setup smelled like trouble. The rope was yellow,

usually the kind of left by cave explorers to lead them

back to safety. And it had been cut. If someone had

followed the rope down to the scientists and pulled the

other end back, the people he sought could still be down

there.

But how could they down so long? Maybe they had

found a cavern large enough to sustain their interest for

days. But what about their boat? Wouldn't it still be

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

anchored in the lee of the island? Why would someone

hide this end of the rope and leave a few inches still

attached in the other cavern?

Caner had no way of answering the questions without

following the rorE But he wasn't about to do it then and

there. He tumed to go back to Kuhuhu. They'd set up

camp on the island, have something to eat, then they'd

retum to try and solve the mystery.

FOUR

Kuhuhu was a master at catching fish, burying them in

the sand under a fire, and bringing them to a state of

culinary perfection. He found root vegetables, them

in leaves, and provided a feast fit for King Kamehameha.

But this was a slow process. Carter srrnt the time fitting

the triangles of metal into a conical dish. When he'd

plugged it into the transmitter and connected the fuel pack,

he rotated it to find a satellite. The transmitter had a table

Of satellite Icxations shown on a decal. The closest one was

directly over Oahu so he pointed the dish almost straight

up and was able to code in his N3 identification to the

AXE computer.

"Nicky. It's t*en a long time," the honeyed voice of

the computer exclaimed. The joker whom Hawk had hired

to bring them up to date in the world of computers had a

warped sense of humor. The simulated voice sounded like

a recording from some dial-a-porn number.

As usual, Carter disregarded the programmed responses

and stated his business. "Patch me into Howard Schmidt, "

he commanded, using the push-to-talk handset attached to

the transmitter.

"Where are you, Nicky?" the computer while

it sought the correct channel to pick up Schmidt at sea.

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NICK CARTER

Carter didn't resist this time. It was sometimes useful to

have the computer know exactly where he was. "You

have the location where I was dropped?" he asked.

A pause. "Yes."

"We're about ten miles south at a rcxk outcropping

that's not charted. "

Schmidt's voice broke in on the exchange. "Nick? How

are you, buddy?"

'*Fine so far." He gave Schmidt the coordinates of the

island as t*St he could. "We found some evidence that the

expedition was sabotaged. We plan to follow it up as soon

as we've had something to eat."

"We're still thirty-six hours from your location. Where

will you be then? Can you send up a signal?"

"I don't know. If we're here, we will. If not, stand off

and wait."

"Will do."

"What are you doing here, Howard? ms isn't a matter

of earth-shattering global security, you know."

"Maybe. Maytr not. I've got some gear you'll proba-

bly need."

"Like what?"

' 'An underwater sled, for one."

• 'I could get one from the navy quickly enough."

"But not one like mine," the gadget-maven said,

chuckling.

Caner had his doubts about this whole assignment. The

broken safety rope bothered him. But the disappearance o

a ten-thousand-ton oceanography ship bothered him even

more. The scenarios that whirled in his head ranged all the

way from a simple change of the scientists' plans that had

not been picked up on radar, to the fact that they could

dead and the ship at the bottom of the ocean.

"All right. We're going to follow the broken safety ro

as far as we can. I'll try to signal you in thirty-six hours."

DEEP SEA DEATH

' 'This ship has to reprt to Pearl Harbor in forty-eight

hours. We've only got mayt* eight hours leeway."

"I'll do what I can," Carter replied, annoyed at the

constraints. How was he to know at that moment what the

caverns might contain? '*I'm signing off."

"Wait a minute,"' Schmidt said urgently. "I should

have thought of this tRfore. Leave the earth station where

it is. Turn on the red switch on the left side of the

transmitter. It's a location signal. We can beam in on it."

Carter flipped the switch. "Okay?" he asked.

' 'Loud and clear," Schmidt replied.

ne killmaster quickly considered the lcxation for

the earth station, then moved back to the fire and his

talented friend. Carter could smell the food that Kuhuhu

was cooking. He hadn't realized how hungry he'd been.

Kuhuhu had uncovered the fish and laid out a complete

meal on broad leaves beside the fire. "What's happen-

ing?" he asked.

Carter gave him a quick rundown as he attacked his

meal. He was famished. ne fish was delicious and so

were the root vegetables he'd never tasted txfore.

"I'd like to camouflage the boat," Carter announced

when he'd finished eating.

"No problem," Kuhuhu said, grinning. "An old Poly-

nesian trick." He pulled the rubber dinghy inland, his

massive strength making the task seem easy. He uncovered

the block and tackle from their stores, climbed a tall palm

to attach a stout rope, and hauled the dinghy, supplies and

all, up to the covering of dozens of palm fronds in a grove.

e 'No one ever looks up," he explained, grinning in his

own inimitable way.

Carter moved the earth station to a circle of rocks that

would make it almost impossible to spot, then covered the

fire pit, their tracks, and the marks left by the boat with a

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NICK CARTER

broom made from dried palm fronds. S 'We'll skirt the

sand, then drop off a rocky shelf to get back to the cave,"

he said. place looks like no one has been here for

years."

Their were sealed in waterprcx)f packs strapped

close to their tanks. They tried to make silhouettes as

streamlined as possible. Carter led, falling backward into

the water. He led his friend to the cave with unerring

accuracy, holding his flashlight out in front and slightly to

one side.

In the second small cavern, the rope was still where

they'd left it. Carter hammered a climber's clamp into a

crevice and tied the yellow to it. He tested it for

strength and made a motion to Kuhuhu that he was going

down.

ne well-muscled Kuhuhu had never admitted to a living

soul the fact that the depths of undersea caverns petrified

him. Swimming in scuba gear in shark-infested waters

held no terror for him, but the fear of the unknown and the

inky blackness of underwater research inside rock forma-

tions brought on cold sweats that could not be masked by

wet suits.

Now he followed the waving flipErrs of his friend through

the two caverns to a small opening. He could see from

Caner's torch that the yellow disappeared into the

small opening. Carter waved for him to follow and his

flippers slowly disappeared.

Kuhuhu hesitated, the few times he'd agreed

to cave exploration and the times that claustrophobia had

grabbed at his gut and he'd almost panicked. Slowly and

with a dread of what was to come, the big man kicked out

with his flippers and entered the hole, his torch lighting

the sides for twenty feet ahead. Carter was already out of

sight.

DEEP SEA DEATH

ne rock walls scraped at the pack on his back. Twice

he was snagged on sharp outcroppings and he'd reached

ahead to pull himself through, knowing a man with less

strength would not have made it. Going on womed him.

The retum trip womed him. Everything about this job

worried him.

How far had he come since entering the underground

river? It seemed like forever but it had only minutes. He

brought his arms to his sides, sacrificing the light, hoping

to make a slimmer profile. He pushed ahead until his

massive shoulders would take him no further. He churned

with his powerful legs, but he was wedged even tighter

and turned slightly to face the side wall.

Back up. That was the only solution as the fear of being

trapped built up in his gut. He tried to bring his arms

forward to pull himself, but he couldn't move them. In the

effort his hand slipped from his torch and it tumbled past

his face and down the river, following the slight current.

It was dark and quiet.

Carter's light brightened as it shone through only inches of

water as he shot out of the river and had to grab an

outcropping beside him to avoid dropping through a dark

cavern to a rock platform below. He pulled himself to a

shelf of rock beside the drop-off and shone his torch down.

The small river cascaded down the side of a cavern

perhaps thirty feet deep. The yellow rope followed the side

of the waterfall, trailed off to the far side of the cavern,

and disapFxared in another hole in the rock. Carter pulled

off his mouthpiece and tested the air. It was fresh. He

shut off his valve to conserve air and continued his exa-

mination of the cavern.

While his flashlight was beamed on the end of the rope,

Kuhuhu's torch flew out of the river and tumbled to the

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

floor of the cavern below. At the same time, the stream of

water seemed to dwindle. Ihe torch's tram shone on one

wall, illuminating the whole cavem.

Kuhuhu was in trouble. Carter figured his friend had

wedged in the tunnel and had no torch.

Carter pulled off his backpack and took out a

hammer and a steel chisel. With his mouthpiece back in

place, he pulled his way back up the tunnel, now almost

free from water. Twenty feet from the (Fling he found

his companion, his eyes wild behind his mask, his great

frame firmly wedged in the tunnel.

Carter worked frantically, small pieces of rcxk tumbling

past him as his hammer and chisel went to work. He

thought of the amount of air they had left but couldn't take

the time to check his watch.

Slowly the massive shoulders started to slip through the

enlarged opening. The force of the water held up behind

Kuhuhu started to push him through the narrow tunnel like

the cork out of a champagne bottle. But the they

built up could as dangerous as tring wedged. If they

flew out of the river to the cavem they could be

killed outright or their bodies smashed so badly they'd

never get out.

Carter wedgedhis flippers against the walls and signaled

to Kuhuhu to take it slowly. His aprkal had no effect.

They moved down the small tunnel too quickly and flew

out the end into the cavern.

Carter's right hand caught the yellow rope and he swung

to one side as they popped out. With his left he tried to

catch Kuhuhu•, but the big man's wet suit was too slip-

rry. The killmasterwatched helplessly as Stonewall Kuhuhu

flew past him and landed in a heap far below, Carter's

torch beside him pointing at a pool that was beginning to

form under the big man. It looked like blood, but Carter

couldn't tell at that distance.

DEEP SEA DEATH

Carter swung down the rope hand-over-hand. He'd mis-

judged the distance in the faint light. It was more like a

hundred feet to the mck below. He reached the massive

form in seconds but time made no difference now. The

side of Kuhuhu's head was crushed and while Carter

watched, the valiant heart stopped pumping blood from the

crushed skull.

lhe bloody mouthpiece dangled on its hose beside his

mouth. Caner shut off the valve on his gear and shut off

the one that Kuhuhu no longer needed.

Carter at the bulk of his friend and decided to

strip him of his burdens. He took off the backpack and put

it to one side. The scuba gear he stuffed in a deep crevice

in a dark comer of the cavem. He pulled the big man to

one side of the cavern and covered his body with rocks

that were strewn around the cave. Caner stood motionless

over his friend's tomb for a few moments, thinking of

some of the good times they'd shared in the past.

He was in no hurry. He had all the time in the world to

mourn his friend. He figured the scientists were either

dead or safe in some other cavem.

Carter had only one course of action that made sense.

He crawled to the end of the yellow rope and examined the

opening where it disappeared again. He took a last look at

Kuhuhu's tomb, washed his mouthpiece in the nearby

waterfall, and put it in his mouth. With one flashlight in

his right hand and the other tucked in his IElt, he started

down the second river.

Who would be there to take him out should he become

wedged as Kuhuhu had earlier? What was at the end of the

river? How far down was he and how far did he have to

go? He cursed his luck at losing his old friend as a torrent

of questions flooded his brain. He'd lost too many partners

through the years, but never one to such a stupid accident.

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

This river was steerr but wider. As far as he could tell,

he'd traveled atx)ut a hundred and fifty feet before he came

out at a water-filled cavern that gave him more freedom to

explore.

Nothing of interest could be found in the undersea cav-

em except the yellow rol* that wound its way inexorably

downward into another narrow opening. This time, the

water cascaded down a hole about ten feet wide and the

rope continued across the few feet to a dry tunnel.

The physics of undersea caves was a mystery to Carter.

How could some of the caverns so far below the level of

the sea flooding? Why was he now in a dry tunnel

that still led downward? the water had tren di-

verted in another direction. Such diversions were the only

explanations he could come up with. The cavern where

Kuhuhu was lying under a pile of r(xk had filling

because the outflow was at least equal to the inflow. But

where had the fresh air come from?

lhe dry tunnel led downward, sometimes leveling off

only to tum downward again. He figured he was atx)ut five

hundred feet txlow the sea and still the continued to

draw him forward.

He came out at a partially water-filled cavern, this one

much smaller. Ihe water flowed out through another tun-

nel while the yellow snaked through a dry tunnel ten

feet above the level of the water.

Carter tried to pull himself up by the but it was

loose at the other end. He had to climb the sheer rock face

using his own and steel climbers' cleats. At the top he

entered the dry tunnel and followed the rolE for fifty feet

where it ended in a neat coil.

Ihe tunnel continued straight ahead. He shone his torch

but could see only rock walls in a tunnel about six feet in

diameter.

DEEP SEA DEATH

He had to go on. "Ihe tunnel led to another cavern, this one

filled almost to the top by water. He rested for a few

minutes to conserve the precious air in his tank, then

explored the undersea lake for an exit.

He found one at the other side and about twenty feet

down. Again, after about twenty feet, the water

away in an underground waterfall, leaving him in a tunnel

that was dry and dark.

He tested the air. It was foul. Quickly he used his

breathing apparatus and searched his weary brain for the

familiar smell that fouled the air. It really wasn't difficult.

He'd smelled the stench of decomposing bodies often

enough.

lhe tunnel came out at a ledge down on another small

lake. He shone his torch around. The body of a man, or

what remained of it, was wedged against a back wall, a

harpoon sticking from his chest. Ocean crab swarmed over

the remains, slowly devouring it. He turned away with a

shudder.

Carter swung his light around the rest of the shelf and

found nothing. He shone the light on the surface of the lake

and found two bloated bodies half submerged in the water,

encrusted with scores of voracious crabs.

He'd found his scientists, and the assignment suddenly

took on a whole new dimension. Someone had killed

them, someone who must have had a compelling reason,

someone who probably had something to hide.

Carter searched the water thoroughly and found one

other body. The weight Of its equipment was too heavy for

the amount of buoyant flesh remaining. He could still tell

that it was a man. The tally was four men, all with

harpoons sticking from half-eaten flesh.

But where was the woman?

The only way was down. He checked his watch. With

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NICK CARTER

fresh air in caverns and walkways, he'd only used half

of his full hour of air. But half meant he was not to

get back to the surface using his own tank. He could hold

his breath for part of the time and Schmidt's scuba tube

would give him another ten minutes, but that wouldn't be

nearly enough, not if he went on.

*Ihe plluted lake led him to another underground river,

this one wider, the current faster. Water tugged at him and

pulled him on as the drop tkcame

He felt like a roach pulled down an sink

drain, a swirling vortex that became more of a whirlpool

as he reached the bottom.

Suddenly he was in free fall, clawing at unresisting air,

thinking of the fate that had befallen his friend Stonewall

Kuhuhu.

He didn't have time to think it through before falling

into another body of water. His mind played tricks on him.

Perhaps it was the compressed air he'd been breathing.

While falling, and before hitting the surface of another

lake, he thought he'd seen what appeared to be a fairyland

of color with people dressed in formal evening clothes

walking beside the lake.

Carter surfaced at the base of a monstrous fountain that

spewed water to a height of fifty feet. He swam to the side

of the lake and found himself staring up at scores of

curious faces, all looking down at him and smiling.

FIVE

The people ranged in age from about twenty to fifty and

they all had one thing in common: they were as perfect as

pssible, wrinkle-free, happy and smiling. The formal clothes

Carter thought had tren an hallucination were real. The

women wore a variety of styles, long and short, bright and

dark, some enhanced with precious gems set in filigreed

silver or gold. The men were in black tie, white tie, some

in military dress uniforms. All were irnrrccable and

handsome.

Four men, none less than six feet six inches tall, parted

the crowd with care and pulled Caner from the water.

They stripped him to his wet undergarments, confiscating

his Luger and stiletto, and led him away, accompanied by

the cooing of admiring females.

Carter was left unguarded in a luxury bedroom that

rivaled those of Bangkok's Oriental Hotel, rated the trst in

the world for the past few years. A dresser was filled with

underclothes of all sizes. The closets were filled with

clothes of every kind, arranged into work clothes, casual,

and formal.

lhe man from AXE decided he might as well go with

the flow. He searched the bathroom for listening devices

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

and made sure the mirror wasn't one-way glass before he

stripvrd off the tiny gas bomb and Schmidt's scuba device.

He showered in the huge bathroom of pink marble, re-

placed his equipment with the old taEr, and donned the

tx»xer shorts he'd carried with him to the bathroom.

Carter finished dressing in the t*droom and soon

in front of a full-length mirror in black tie. While dressing,

he wondered how they managed to bring in the material,

the marble, the clothes, the furniture. They had to have an

access B)rt big enough to allow a submarine to enter, one

large enough to almost anything.

The guards must have had a camera concealed in the

bednx)rn and observed his dressing. As as his tie was

straight and his hair combed, they came for him, the same

four men, in the same military-cut uniforms, all four ex-

actly alike in form and feature, as alike as in a pod.

Am I dreaming? Carter wondered.

He was led from room to past hundreds of beauti-

ful people in dinner clothes, through massive lounges, and

finally into an intimate apartment that made the room he'd

been given seem like a hovel. The walls were glazed by

something that looked like a glossy silicone. It gave off its

own light. lhe furniture was soft and inviting. On a raised

dais, a man sat alone, smiling down at him.

He was a man of average height, not abnormal in any

way—at first glance. On closer his eyes were

like deep pools of mercury, hypnotic, compelling—eyes

that once seen would never be forgotten. And his features

were Frfect, unlined, his teeth cappd, his hair full and

glossy. He Carter to sit Irside him in a similar

chair, similar but at a level two feet lower. When they'd

been served a steaming brew that tasted like coffee laced

with a liqueur, he spoke for the first time. His voice

sounded like a recording, the bass notes attenuated

abnormally.

DEEP SEA DEATH

"First we'll find out who you are. Look straight ahead,

please," the voice said, its tone like a drag, commanding

without force or threat.

Carter complied. A screen in front of them came to life

with thousands of faces flashing past at the rate of hun-

dreds a second. Suddenly Carter was looking at his own

face. It stayed on the screen for a moment before it faded

and a history followed:

Nicholas Carter. Age unknown but assumed to be late

thirties to early forties, six feet one in height, dark brown

eyes and hair, multiple scars on body. Carter is the most

highly rated agent of AXE, an ultrasecret intelligence

agency known to only a few people. Carter is designated

N3, Killmaster, authorized to kill in the line of duty.

The screen showed nothing for a few moments and then

continued:

AXE, fronted by Amalgamated Press and Wire Services

located on Dupont Circle in Washington, is headed by one

David Hawk. confidant of the president of the United

States and selected members of his cabinet. Hawk, thought

to be the best man at his job in the West, started with

Donovan as a teen-ager in the OSS in WW II.

The account went on to give Hawk's description, and

full details on the appearance and resrx)nsibilities of Gin-

ger Bateman, Rupert Smith, and Howard Schmidt. It ended

with one comment:

On success of mission, recommend elimination of all

AXE personnel, high priority.

"You seem to have the better of me," Carter said,

selecting a cigarette from an ornate silver box on the table

beside him and lighting it with a matching lighter.

"Xanax Zendal," the voice said. "This is my main

base. You will be comfortable here, temporarily."

"I wasn't thrilled with the tast statement on your screen,"

Caner said as casually as he was able.

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NICK CARTER

' 'Nothing personal, Mr. Carter. All intelligence agen-

Cies must be eliminated eventually. It would seem prudent

to eliminate the best one first."

"If you are to meet your objectives," Carter finished

for him.

"Exacdy. How refreshing to with an outsider who

understands."

Carter sighed, dragged on his cigarette, and thought

about the number of men he'd encountered like this one.

The thought was momentary. It was one of several that

took only microseconds and didn't divert his attention

from the man trfore him. What would the average J(E, the

man on the street think if he knew of all the crackpots who

were to become demigods and eventually take over

the world? Carter didn't have to have the scenario spelled

out for him, but to formulate a plan of his own he would

have to learn all he could about this one. How extensive

was his organization? When did he plan to make his first

major strike? What was his ultimate objective? How was

he supplied and where did the underwater ship enter their

kingdom? The place appeared to be quite extensive.

One thing, however, was common to all the men like

Zendal he'd ever met: they were proud of their accom-

plishments and could easily rationalize their position. They

were usually not averse to boasting about their plans.

"The walls," he began. ' 'They seem to be fluorescent."

'SA spray prcxess that one of my people invented, I was

thinking of a glass dome, but he convinced me we'd less

detectable if we pulverized millions of tons of sandstone,

vacuumed out the powder, and sprayed the walls with his

new silicone fluorescent. We're surrounded by volcanic

rock, the trst support we could possibly find."

"It seems extensive. "

"You've only seen a fraction of the cavems," Zendal

DEEP SEA DEATH

said. ' 'They go on for more than a mile." He waved a

hand at one of the tall guards who carried a tray of

s 'We drink only fruit juices here, Carter. What

would you like?"

"I'll pass. Fruit juice has never been one of my vices."

"l)ecadence. Ihat's what

' Zendal started to say,

his face suffused with blood for a moment before he

regained control. In those few seconds Carter was re-

minded of old newsreels he'd seen of Hitler when he was

annoyed.

' 'Something about the IEople," Caner took another

tack. g g They all look so happy, so healthy. ney seem to

be in a festive mod"

"Every man and woman in .the world, your world,

wants to be attractive and healthy. Your society cannot

guarantee that. I can."

"Zendal's fountain of youth?" Carter asked, trying to

keep mockery out of his tone. Where did he get that name?

he mused. Some kid's sci-fi comic?

The man was beyond absorbing sarcasm. Madmen sel-

dom recognized criticism unless it was overt. "Plastic

surgery," he answered. "The best dentistry, a complete

transplant program. No one need suffer or feel old. No one

need feel lonesome or unappreciated."

"So you've cured every ailment known to mankind?"

"Not yet," the giant ego responded as if the problem

were not out of his reach. "Selection, Carter. You find a

genius suffering from a kidney ailment, hounded by a

harpy of a wife, unappreciated by an indifferent govern-

ment," the man said, looking down at Carter, sipping at

an orange-colored drink. ' 'My agents approach him, con-

vince him he is worthy of a better life. It's seldom a

scientist is so nationalistic that he puts patriotism before

his own comfort. "

NICK CARTER

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NICK CARTER

g 'And your agents have tren processed. They are like

the beautiful people I saw earlier. "

"You learn quickly, Carter. Women recruit men. Men

recruit women. Sometimes, not often, we find a mind so

brilliant we break a rule and send a man after a man."

' 'Decent of you," Caner said. "You're sure you don't

have a scotch and soda somewhere, a gin and tonic,

perhaps a brandy?"

Self-deluded monsters of Zendal's calitxr didn't react to

subtle jabs at their philosophies, but they reacted violently

to direct attacks. Carter had dealt with the breed before.

His intention was to keep the man off guard without going

too far. His usual ploy was to prod them into tx)asting of

their accomplishments and showing more than was pru-

dent. He usually succeeded. No matter how brilliant the

mind, the breed was driven by vanity and that conceit was

their Achilles' heel in the end.

"You must have a complicated source of supply to keep

your fed and clothed," Carter commented lightly.

"Not too complicated, really. The seas are vast, Carter.

I have transport submarines and supply ships. There are

hundreds of uncharted coves in these waters for off-loading.

The best radar in the world cannot cover the globe. "

"I'd like to see the submarine pens."

"And you shall," he said, turning in his seat to face

Carter. "You have two options. You will join us or you

will die. Either way, I'd be pleased to show you my whole

operation. "

The look on his face as he made the pronouncement was

classic. Hitler håd the look. If history could have recorded

it, Stalin, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great—all the

conquerors who had the same kind of inflated ego would

have had the look. It was a kind of madness, an unwilling-

ness to recognize the rules of society, any outside society,

any rules that were not their own.

DEEP SEA DEATH

(71 of 212)

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DEEP SEA DEATH

"Like the scientists I found on the way in?"

"Unfortunate. What a waste. Flaws in our clones, I'm

afraid. They reacted t(X) quickly. lhe problem's already

tren corrected. "

waiter?" Carter asked. "A clone like the others?"

"Any prcxiuctive needs service. But slavery breeds

discontent. The simple solution is either cloning or robotry.

We're further advanced in cloning at present. Mine have

some electronic assistance-—-bionic clones you might say. "

"Subhumans."

' 'Not even that, Carter. Synthetic flesh, some electron-

ics, some human cells used to cover the innards and make

them appear human. "

"What about funding? You can't sit down here and

print your own money," Caner said, realizing he might

just have spoken the truth.

"Old-fashioned. Sloppy. Too much room for error. No,

Mr. Carter, we use more sophisticated means," Zendal

said, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. "I have the

best computer minds in existence. Taking money from the

banks and depositing it in my accounts is child's play for

them. It's become a game, like the way an average family

might play a board game on a rainy day. We follow the

progress of all nations and use the transfers as a form of

punishment. Of course, they don't know where the money

went or why. We have to be satisfied in our own minds

that we have played the game well. "

The man's worse than I thought, Carter told himself.

The sooner he got out, the better. He'd radio Schmidt and

make sure the government used the military to take care of

this crackpot. But how would he convince them of the

u•uth? It sounded like a nightmare, not a rational explana-

tion for the deaths of a handful of scientists.

First he had to find out how this madman was going to

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NICK CARTER

take over the world or whatever was on his warped agenda.

"Your computer screen showed that you plan to out

my organization. Why mine?" he asked.

"You rxrhaps weren't listening. I said Jid have to elimi-

nate all intelligence agencies."

6' Ihen the politicians, then all military officers, then the

teachers," Carter finished for him.

"Not necessarily in that order. But yes, they have to

go."

"So you can build a new s(Xiety, a society," he

said, not hiding his sarcasm this time. "Why does it

always sound the same in the end? You know better, right?

You won't make the same mistakes, right? It takes one

hell of an ego to think he can rule the world without

making the same mistakes as other mortal men."

"Come, Mr. Carter. I see you have to convinced,"

Zendal said, rising from his chair and guiding Caner

toward a massive in his chamber.

They climbed aboard a two-man car and were whisked

away from Zendal's apartment at high speed. In minutes

Zendal used a SIECial plastic card to a pair of steel

doors. They entered and were looking up at a mass of

tubes and wires circling a tubular structure that appeared to

rise to the of the cavern.

"Nothing extraordinary about this, Carter. An oversize

laser. With it I can cut through three-inch steel twenty

miles away."

"Impressive."

4' The next is even more impressive but you

shall not see it. Not unless you decide to join us."

' 'Magnetic rays. Science-fiction stuff, I suppose," Car-

ter mocked.

' 'How could you know? Who could have told you?"

Zendal asked, almost in a rage.

DEEP SEA DEATH

s 'I supm•se you have massive jamming devices that

screw up compass readings and make radio contact use-

less," he prodded further.

Zendal controlled himself and said nothing. But in this

case, his silence was pregnant with rx)ssibilities. The crazy

ideas Carter had thrown out were close to the fruth. La-

sers, magnetic fields of force, jamming devices. It seemed

reasonable considering all the talent the man had coerced

into coming here.

Since &ndal wasn't responding, Carter decided that

silence was also the best course. He'd been joking and

obviously hit a nerve. "Where are the submarine rms?" he

finally asked.

"Next stop on the tour," Zendal boasted, tyr incident

already forgotten.

Again, Carter couldn't help but compare this man with

others like him through the years. The man's brain seemed

to be compartmentalized. He wasn't limited only to tunnel

vision, he had tunnel senses. He didn't hear suggestions

that didn't fit his plans. If he did allow a foreign thought to

penetrate, his brain rejected it out of hand.

The car sped along the nanow road at about thirty miles

an hour and it seemed like twice the speed in the narrow

corridors. Carter memorized every twist and turn on the

route and knew how long it took to get from one place to

another. An overall plan of the underground city was

forming in his mind.

Without waming, they rounded a comer and were dwarfed

by two submarines tied up at cement piers, both being

unloaded. The cargo included people who were strapped

to stretchers and appeared to be unconscious.

"Donors," Zendal volunteered. "Not easy to find. They

have to be indigents who are relatively healthy and com-

pletely unattached. Tissue matching is very difficult on the

mainland. One has to have a complete organization."

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

He said it as if the butcher shops he was running were a

minor annoyance and the unwilling donors ungrateful. Car-

ter was leaming more than he'd bargained for, but he still

didn't know the major moves Zendal planned.

"Fixed laser beams and magnetic fields that have lim-

ited range won't blackmail the world into submission.

What are you going to do, build a nuclear bomb?" he

asked.

"Very good, Mr. Carter. Full marks. I have the IEOple

who can do it. I can steal the plutonium. But I don't want

to go through the motions. Too slow. And I'd end up with

a second- or third-generation device instead of the trst. "

"What then?"

"Steal what I want. Your navy is sending out a new

destroyer for field trials. They are overconfident fat cats

who think the small ship is invincible."

"You canst steal it and run it with your own people.

The navy'll send out the whole fleet if necessary and blow

you out of the water."

"I don't want the ship, Carter. I want the six nuclear

devices it carries."

"How . . .

' 'Intelligence. You saw my identification file and the

data we have on you. I've got people in the Pentagon, the

State Department, the White House."

"But the new ship's orders will be sealed. Not even

Admiral Brenner has been given a copy."

"I saw the orders before they were sealed and delivered.

The ship will pass within ten miles of this base. I can draw

the ship off course to within range, then use my lasers to

open it like a can of peas at the waterline. It'll go down

like a stone," Zendal boasted, his face a broad grin. "My

clones will be waiting for it at two hundred fathoms. I

have launching chambers here and on one other island. "

DEEP SEA DEATH

While they rode back to the main dining room, Carter's

mind was going over all the He'd seen his

wet suit and backpack in a guardhouse not far from the

submarine rrns. He had to get out and tell Schmidt so he'd

be able to alert the navy.

But would they trlieve him? 'Ihe military had a natural

suspicion of information not from their own brass. They

also had their share of large egos. And what had hapEEned

to the woman scientist in the group he'd come to save?

Were they conditioning her now? Would she end up as one

of them, coiffed, manicured, tummy-tucked, and with a

mouthful of teeth the envy of Farah Fawcett?

And what of the hundreds of rrople, thousands,

who were there now? If the navy believed his story, they'd

blast these caverns to dust. And if they didn't believe him

and he had to stop this madman himself, how was he

going to get the disillusioned innocents out? And once out,

would they fit back into the world above?

The answers his reeling brain supplied were disquieting.

He couldn't let the navy or any other force destroy thou-

sands just because they'd been deluded by a megaloma-

niac. Somehow these brainwashed souls could be made

productive members of society. So in the long run it was

going to be up to him. He'd wam the navy to protect their

ship, but that was as far as he was going to go.

While his mind was at work, they arrived at a dining

room that looked like first class on the Queen Elizabeth 2.

"Ihe tables were filled with people chatting and

laughing. A string quartet played a Beethoven sonata.

Waiters carried trays of food that smelled like dishes from

the kitchens of Lutece and Le Cygne in New York. The

clones apparently could be taught both basic and artful

skills. They lacked the will to change or better themselves.

They existed solely to serve their masters. It was truly a

controlled, twentieth-century form of slavery.

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NICK CARTER

Carter looked around at the other diners. He almost

doubted if these pople could ever be brought back to the

real world. or that they would leave of their own free will.

But he couldn't destroy them with the installation. It was

one hell of a problem.

During the first course, while Zenda] was in an expan-

Sive mood, Carter asked the final question, the final piece

of his jigsaw. "The men in the cavern who were killed by

your guards-—did any survive?"

"Survive? Unfortunately, no. I understand one was a

Ph.D. in oceanography and had a masters in archaeology.

Or was it the other way around?"

"It's strange that they had only one scientist in the

group," Carter commented.

"They had a woman, a Ph.D. in anthropology. She

must have gone down with the ship. Unfortunate waste.

We could have used them both."

Gone down with the ship. Carter's jaw tightened. So

they had sunk the Sir Witfred Laurier. It was lying on the

bottom somewhere near the island. The bastard! He was

totally cold-blooded.

And the woman—what was her name? Dr. Barbara

Wall—must have gone down with the ship. There was no

way they'd have kept her from the descent unless she'd

been ill. Perhaps that was it', she'd been ill and stayed on

board. It didn't matter now. She was just as dead one way

as the other.

He looked around the room while he poked without

appetite at his steak tartare. Everyone looked so damned

happy. Was it all one great charade, or were they fed .

He put down his fork and looked at his plate. He'd only

had one mouthful of the meat. Better leave the rest, he

thought. Zendal might have brought them all to the cav-

erns willingly, but he might be keeping them in a state of

DEEP SEA DEATH

euphoria with drugs in their food and drink. Perhaps that

was the reason for the ban on alcohol. A drugged popula-

tion couldn't tolerate liquor of any kind.

Carter played with his food, not eating any while he

looked around the room. They were under guard. Some of

the clones stood at the entrances with strange-looking auto-

matic weapons. He knew where he'd seen something like

them. Schmidt had shown him the latest in caseless ammu-

nition. These submachine guns could spit out a thousand

rounds a minute with no appreciable recoil. The projectiles

had no casings, so the square magazines that made up

most of their bulk held hundreds of rounds instead of the

usual twenty or thirty of more conventional weapons.

g ' lhe men's room?" Carter whispered to his host.

"No problem. " Zendal clapped his hands and four wait-

ers put down their trays to surround Carter and escort him

away. His last glimpse of the dining room showed more

than five hundred people, all in excited conversation, en-

joying their meal, totally unaware of the stranger who was

under guard. It wasn't natural. But then, nothing in this

place was.

SIX

Carter felt like an army miscreant being marched to face

his CO, but this was much more unusual. The four guards

towered over him by several inches, they all looked alike,

their pace was identical, and they all seemed to think the

same, if they actually thought at all.

Near the men's room outside the dining area, one of the

arrned guards joined them. The six marched into the white-

tiled rest room to find several men in the process of

relieving themselves.

"You will clear this area," one of the clones said while

Carter closed himself in an empty booth.

The noise in the room decreased to almost nothing, just

the breathing of the five guards. Obviously the other men

had all cleared out. Carter sat on the seat, his pants and

boxer shorts around his ankles, his right hand busily peel-

ing the tape away from Pierre. While he was in the process,

he peeled off the small scuba device, placed it in his

right-hand jacket pocket, and thanked his lucky stars that

they'd missed these two items when they'd first found

him. He could understand their not finding Pierre, but not

noticing the scuba tube's bulge under his long johns was a

fortunate oversight.

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

"Ihe time was right. He zipped his pants, flushed the

toilet, and walked out, the small tk)rnb in his hand. He

a deep breath, twisted the two halves of the bomb,

and droprrd it on. the floor in the middle of the five

startled guards.

They did appear to be capable of emotion. The surprise

changed to fear, but they didn't inhale. Something in their

makeup-—flesh, plastic or electronic—told them to imitate

the prisoner's action.

Carter didn't wait for them to take the initiative. He

drove his fist into the guard holding the submachine gun

and snatched the weapon from him as the clone gulped in

lethal gas and crumbled.

The others moved in. Carter gut-punched two in light-

ning succession using the butt of the gun, then whipped

around, using his right heel in a judo move on the other

two.

It was a scene familiar to the Killmaster. One blow

usually forced the enemy to take a breath and Pierre did

the rest. He was the only one left standing. It took him less

than two minutes to change into one of the guard's clothes

and make his way outside and find one of the two-man

transport cars.

Armed with the lethal modern machine gun, he headed

for the guardhouse where he'd seen his wet suit and

backpack. No one stopped him. While sitting at the con-

trols, the too-large uniform wasn't obvious. It wasn't until

he arived at the guardhouse that it was easy to see that he

was not one•of them.

Two guards were on duty. They raised their weapon

but each three rounds of the caseless ammunition i

the chest before they could react fully. They backed u

against the wall, then slid to the floor leaving ugly

streams running slowly downward.

DEEP SEA DEATH

Carter dragged them into the guardroom and looked

outside to see if the firing had drawn attention. It was an

almost deserted part of the vast cavern. No one was in

sight. He pulled on the dry underclothes he'd wom with

the wet suit and forced the tight-fitting rubber suit over it.

l'he guard's uniform went on over the black rubber for

camouflage. He checked his pack and found it had been

untouched.

The corridor was still deserted and the transporter was

still outside. No alarm had been raised as far as he knew.

It was about five minutes since he'd left the men's room.

Zendal had to aware that his security had been breached.

The comdor to the sub pens passed the quarters of the

clones, dormitories lined with bunks in the military fash-

ion. One was for female clones.

He saw more activity as he neared the sub pens. Clones

and men in white lab coats fussed around the two subs that

were still unloading. He parked the transporter and walked

confidently to a scientist who was working alone at a

control board. He shoved the machine gun barrel at the

man's chest. "How do I enter the air REk?" he asked.

'*Who the hell am you? You're not a guard

was about to sound an alarm when Carter shoved the barrel

into the man's diaphragm, making him wince with pain.

"Don't a fool. You don't want to die now," he

hissed. "Show me how to get out of here."

The white-coated man led the way in a daze. No one

paid any attention to them. He led the way to an air lock

and on Carter's order closed the door after them.

"Fill the chamber with water and the outer door,"

Carter commanded when they were secure and out Of

sight.

"But I'll drown," the man said, his voice a mere

squeak as his fear took over.

+ 110%

NICK CARTER

"You've got one chance," Carter said. "I'll get out as

fast as I can. Hold your breath and close the outer chamber

as soon as I'm out."

"But 1 can't!"

"Then you'll die. Get moving!" Caner shouted at him

as he heard the general alarm, like the wail of a siren,

muffled by the airtight room.

The sound of compressed air or released hydraulics

sounded as the scientist turned a valve. One side of the

room started to to the sea and water rushed in at their

feet. Carter prepared to leave, using the gun's sling to

shoulder the wealx»n and free tX)th his hands.

"I'll drown!" the man cried as Carter attempted to pull

himself through against the strong inflow of water. ne

last thing he saw was the man standing up to his waist in

the surge of dark water.

ne sea was black and the pressure more than he'd

experienced without scuba equipment. The largest cavem

had to be two hundred feet from top to bottom and he'd

worked his way several hundred feet down to get there. If

he tried to find the surface too fast, he'd get the bends. If

he moved too slowly, they would be waiting for him on

the surface.

Through years of yoga training, he had the ability to

hold his breath for four minutes, more if he pressed it.

Better call that three minutes under this kind of pressure.

The small scuba device would give him another ten min-

utes according to Schmidt.

He moved his hands, fanning the water, making sure he

didn't rise too fast. It was still totally black. He had no

idea whether it was night or day, whether the sun would

eventually lighten the water near the surface or he'd break

the surface in darkness. Given the choice he'd opt for

DEEP SEA DEATH

darkness, but that meant he still didn't know how far down

he was.

Three minutes must have passed as Carter's lungs began

to scream for air. He pulled the plastic mouthpiece from

the small clamped it his teeth, and applied

pressure.

Compressed oxygen flowed into his mouth at a rate

determined by how hard he bit down on the plastic. He'd

have preferred some practice with the gadget, but the time

for that was past. He had to breathe through his mouth and

blow out through his nose. It took him at least half a

minute to adjust to the rhythm.

The pressure of the sea was no longer crushing against

him as it had when he exited the sub pen. It had to be ten

minutes now and he was still not at the surface. He

couldn't have more than three minutes of air left and he

felt the of the bends attack his gut.

He'd come up tcx) fast. The bubbles of nitrogen in his

bloodstream might not extensive but what he had were

painful. He'd had no choice. It was either a mild case of

the bends or death by drowning.

Though he knew he was close to the surface, he also

realized he wasn't out of danger. He could hear the propel-

lers of small search boats, could see them churn the vater

above him. He waited for a of relative calm and

poked his head above water, letting the scuba tube sink to

the bottom as he drew in a welcome lungful of fresh air.

He counted six boats in the distance. It seemed they

were fanning out to sea. They must have searched the

island first, then the shore close in.

The moon was full but was hidden trhind clouds, mak-

ing the sea and the island dark and forbidding. Carter

swam to the beach and crept out, keeping to the dark

outline of rock until he was onshore. lhe sand had been

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NICK CARTER

churned up by searchers but the island seemed deserted.

He opened one of the packs and armed himself. With the

packs hidden and one of the enemy's guns cocked and

ready, he made a quick sweep search, the submachine gun

held in front of him. He didn't want to vulnerable while

he hauled the rubber dinghy down.

The dinghy and his equipment would heavy for one

man to lower, but he wrapÆEd the around the twisted

bowl of a coconut palm, released the block and tackle, and

sat, his feet against the palm trunk as he let the feed

around the trunk slowly.

Carter's supplies were all there. He added the packs

he'd salvaged, then hauled the boat to the shore and into

the mild surf. He knew there was no way he could stay on

this island; anywhere was safer than here. He took one

minute to fill his tanks from the bobbing fake albatross,

then hauled on the gear shift and accelerator levers at the

same time. The twin Johnsons roared and churned the inky

water at full revs. He'd made it. He'd stop at a nearby

island, call Schmidt on the land station, and wait for

reinforcements.

The had come out from behind a cloud. Carter

was able to sea the shape of the horizon for the first time.

One rose above the others in the distance and he

headed for it, locking the common tiller for the twin

motors and taking stock of what was on board. He wasn't

about to unpack his own weapons. They'd been with him

too long to be soaked in saltwater. He examined the

submachine gun he's captured. unusual design kept

the rectangular ammunition box waterproof. He cocked the

gun, putting one round in the chamber. Water could have

entered the barrel and the trigger mechanism. •But Carter

wasn't concemed atX)ut the long-term effect of the brine.

The weapon would perform for as long as he needed it.

DEEP SEA DEATH

He some of the packs. One contained the earth

station, another was filled with emergency cooking gear

and supplies. Good. He'd be able to have a meal when he

hit dry land.

It was too soon to feel secure. He was entering the

1Erirneter of the tX)ats that had fanned out looking for him.

ney spotted the lone rubtEr dinghy among all the steel

hulls and the chase was on.

Carter knew he couldn't outrun them, his seventy-five

Johnsons against their jet motors. So he plowed on, cocked

the weapon, and waited for them to come within range.

At first it was like shooting the proverbial fish in a rain

barrel. 'Ihey seemed to come on without regard for his

firepwer. He stripped three boats of their passengers and

left them careening wildly out to sea before one of them

tried a kamikaze move, heading straight for him, all guns

blazing, and running him over as steel-jacketed slugs tore

at the hard rubber of his craft.

The tactic was too much for the smaller craft. Even

without being run over by the steel hull, the holes from the

7.62mm slugs would have sunk her.

Carter was underwater again. He chumed from left to

right looking for the packs he'd lost and found then slowly

sinking into the black depths. He was able to round them

up and hold their straps over one arm while treading water.

The weight of the waterproof packs and his efforts neutral-

ized each other at about twenty feet underwater.

Again he waited, holding his breath, watching the sea

churn around him as the jets and a few propellers cut

through the water over his head.

It seemed an eternity until all was quiet above. Carter

had been counting off the seconds. He got to about two

hundred when he decided it was safe to surface. He pulled

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NICK CARTER

the plug on the flotation chambers of his packs and bobbed

to the surface as they filled with compressed air.

remains of the small fleet were a half mile

away, heading for their home base. The rrak Carter had

selected as his target was about five miles away, probably

ten miles from Zendal's unnatural kingdom.

Carter straps from two or three packs in each hand

and started to churn with his feet in a butterfly

kick. He couldn't keep his head raised all the time, so he

raised it every few seconds to keep his direction and

plowed on.

Five miles was not a real challenge for the Killmaster.

He'd done twenty miles more than once, but he still suf-

fered from a mild case of the bends and the sea battle had

been a drain on his energy. When he finally circled the

towering rock and found a small secluded trach, he was

almost exhaustedl

Carter dragged his supplies to the shadows of a clump of

squat pineapple palm and lay back on the sand to gain his

strength. The bends had almost disappeared, but he was

cold and hungry. He took off his wet suit and the cotton

long johns he wore beneath it and hung them on clumps of

palmetto to dry. The night was not cold now that he was

out of the wet suit. A balmy Pacific breeze caressed his

skin. It was mild and warm.

Carter's first priority was communication. He assembled

the land station and pointed it toward the sky over Hawaii.

It needed little adjustment to come to full pwer.

He pressed the talk button and sent out the recognition

signal, "N3 calling HS." He repeated the call three times

before Schmidt came back.

"Schmidt. We're still twelve hours out. Are you still at

the same location?"

DEEP SEA DEATH

"Negative. I'm about ten miles south. You've got to

find a way to get to me without causing suspicion."

"Say again. Suspicion from whom?"

"This is going to sound crazy. You'll believe it because

you know me. But no one else will. "

"Try me."

"We've got a mad scientist on our hands. This is comic-

book stuff. But the guy's for real."

"Dangerous?"

"Affirmative. He's enticed a choice crowd of scientists

to join him. They've develorxd powerful magnetic fields

and the biggest laser txarn I've ever seen. They can do a

lot of damage."

"Not from there they can't," Schmidt offered.

' 'Don't txt on it. The navy's sending a new destroyer

out for sea trials--—the newest weapon they've got. This

madman, name's Zendal, knows the ship's going to pass

by his island. He plans to bring the ship close to him by

magnetic force and use the laser to 01:m her up like a can

of com. "

"Why sink her? Why not just take her?" Schmidt asked.

"He'll try, but give the navy credit. They won't give up

without a fight. He'll split her open, sink her in about

seventy fathoms, and steal the six nuclear missiles on

board."

"So what else is new? Every crazed gang of fanatics is

trying for nuclear thefts now. I heard the Palestinians got

their hands on one last week. ' '

Carter didn't want to go into all the details, but he had

to give Schmidt at least the minimum. "Here's the rest of

it. He's got close to a thousand people down there with

him—a kind of underwater kingdom. ney act far too

cheerful—it's as if they've been drugged. I'm sure he got

them there with legitimate incentives, but he's keeping

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NICK CARTER

them in a pink cloud now so they won't change their

minds. We've got to free them Irfore we can destroy

him."

"So let the navy do it."

g 'I don't see how we can. It would war any way they

played it. Most of the innocents would killed."

"SFaking of innocents, what hapFEned to the people

you went after0"

"Dead. This Zendal's got an army of—get this—clones.

They killed the Canadians and sank the research vessel.

But I've got a feeling the woman scientist is alive. I've got

a gut feeling he's holding her, mayt* going to try to

convert her because her knowledge of oceanography would

a great help to him.

"What do you think you can do?"

"I don't know. But I need transportation. For once I'd

be happy to see all the gadgets you can pull out of your

hat."

"How'd the scuba tube work?"

"Like a charm. I'll tell you about it one day but not

now. I need and I need weapns."

' 'You've got both. Any idea what's the test way to get

to you undetected?"

"Are you close to any of the trade routes?" Carter

asked.

He could hear Schmidt confer with the captain. "Cap-

tain says we're only ten miles from one of the Hawaii-

Tahiti runs. '.'

"Okay. Track the run so Zendal will think you're friendly.

Can you spring my transport yourself?"

s 'No problem. "

"We'll need some unique camouflage."

"I've thought of that."

DEEP SEA DEATH

"You've got to wam Admiral Brenner. I can predict his

reaction, but we've got to tell him anyway."

"We could need him later to pick up the innocents you

talked about. How do you plan to get them to safety?"

"I'll take care of that. Just notify Brenner and let it take

its course. if I know the military mind, he'll think we're

crazy and issue no orders."

' 'Ihat's it? Can I reach you there anytime?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Howard, old boy. Just get

me the damned boat, or whatever it is, as fast as you

can."

Zendal sat in his throne room with his security chiefs

around him. "Are we certain the man Carter is dead? He

knows too much to live."

They weren't about to remind him that Carter's knowl-

edge was his fault. It was part of the ego problem they had

to deal with every day. "He's dead. We saw him go down

with his boat."

"Remember that he survived an escape from one of our

chambers. How do you explain that?"

"We can't, Excellency. But one of my best men was in

one of the boats. We don't have to rely on the word of

clones. Carter is dead. "

"How long did you circle the downed craft?" Zendal

asked. Carter had fooled him before. He couldn't afford to

take any chances. He had too much at stake.

'*Five minutes, Excellency. No man could have lived

through our attack."

"Very well. I've been informed that our target has left

Pearl Harbor," Zendal announced, his unusual mercury-

colored eyes aflame with excitement. "When it reaches its

closest point to us, we will commence our project."

ney stood to leave.

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