Clive Cussler - Pacific Vortex!

Hunter's tired eyes gazed at York steadily, but the doctor made no further comment. Hunter rapped his knuckles against the table and rose to his feet.

«Dr. York, Dr. Chrysler, you've been a great help. The Navy is in your debt…Now, if you'll please excuse us…»

The two civilians shook hands, bid their good-byes, and left. Pitt rose and walked slowly over to the big map on the other end of the long room.

Denver slouched in his chair. «Now, at least, we know who we're up against.»

«I wonder,» Pitt said quietly, staring at the red circle in the middle of the map. «I wonder if we'll truly ever know.»

It was four hours later when Pitt released his hold on a comforting sleep and drifted awake. He waited a moment and then focused his eyes on two upright brown bars directly in front of his face. His foggy mind cleared in an instant as he recognized a pair of shapely, tanned feminine legs. He stretched out his hand and ran the back of a finger up one of the nylon-clad calves.

«Stop that!» the girl yelped. She was cute, and her face had a soft surprised expression. The figure was lush and was tightly enclosed in the chic uniform of a naval officer.

«Sorry, I must have been dreaming,» Pitt said, smiling.

Her face flushed with embarrassment as she unconsciously smoothed her skirt and demurely stared at the floor. «I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you were already up and I brought some coffee.» Her eyes smiled nicely. «I can see now that you don't need it.»

Pitt followed her snappy swivel action as she walked from the room. Then he sat up on the leather couch, stretching his arms as he glanced around the admiral's paneled study.

It was obvious that Hunter was busy. The desk and floor were littered with charts and papers, and a huge ornate ashtray was filled to the hilt with cigarette butts. Pitt groped in his pockets for his cigarettes but couldn't find them. He resigned himself to their loss and reached for the coffee. It was hot, but the acid taste restored his dulled senses to near normal. At that moment Hunter walked briskly into the room.

«My apologies for not allowing you more shut-eye, but we've made a couple of breakthroughs.»

«I take it you've found Delphi's transmitter.»

Hunter's eyebrows raised a notch. «You're pretty perceptive for a man who just woke from a sound sleep.»

Pitt shrugged. «A logical guess.»

It took a recon plane all of two hours to spot it,» Hunter said. «A three-hundred-foot antenna mast doesn't exactly lend itself to concealment.»

«Where is it located?»

«On a remote corner of the island of Maui, situated in an old abandoned Army installation built during World War Two for coast defense artillery. We checked through old records. The property was sold off years ago to an outfit called…»

«The Pisces Metal Company,» Pitt interrupted.

Hunter scowled good-naturedly. «Another logical guess?»

Pitt nodded.

Hunter gave him a wolfish grin. «Did you know the Martha Ann will be docking in Honolulu about this time tomorrow?»

Pitt was properly surprised. «How is that possible?»

«Minutes after you airlifted the crew off the flight pad,» Hunter answered, «we programmed the computers to bring the ship back to Hawaii.»

«Smash a few instruments; cut a few wires,» said

Pitt. «Surely Delphi's men could have stopped the engines or knocked the steering equipment out of control.»

«You might think so,» Hunter replied. «But the Martha Ann's override command system was designed with that very probability in mind. We work under the constant threat of capture and impoundment by a foreign government at odds, shall we say, with the 101st Fleet's rather clandestine salvage operations. The engine room and navigational controls are automatically sealed off by electronic command with steel doors which would take at least ten hours to cut through. By that time, the ship is safely back in international waters and ready to raise wrecks another day.»

«Is she running without crew?»

«No, we airlifted a crew at first light,» Hunter said. «Damned good thing too. The helicopter arrived just in time to see the Martha Ann run down a fishing boat. They managed to pull the skipper out of the drink only minutes before the sharks would have gotten him. It was a damn near thing.»

«Now that the Martha Ann is on her way home, what about the Starbuck?»

«We write her off,» Hunter answered tonelessly. «Orders from the Pentagon. The Joint Chiefs have firmed their decision; better to mangle the Starbuck as soon as possible so her missiles can't be launched and then raise her later.»

«How do you intend to 'mangle' her?»

«At 0500 hours tomorrow morning the frigate Monitor will launch a Hyperion Missile on the position where you found the Starbuck. The concussion from the warhead's detonation, combined with the water pressure, will collapse and inundate any air pockets inside the seamount, as well as destroy the submarine.» «An overkill,» Pitt muttered.

«I agree. I presented my case for going back with a crack team of Navy Seals and recapturing the sub, but was voted down. Better safe than sorry, so sayeth the big brass on the Potomac. They're afraid that if Delphi has computed the launching sequence, he could conceivably level thirty cities anywhere around the world.»

«An extremely complicated procedure. He'd have to reprogram their guidance controls to strike targets outside of Russia.»

«Doesn't matter where he might send the warheads. The Joint Chiefs are afraid he's learned how to do it.» «I disagree. If Delphi has been sitting on the thirty nuclear missiles for six months without letting anyone know about them or if he was threatening to use them, it's obvious that he hasn't figured out the launch systems.»

«You're probably right, but it won't change anything. I have my orders and I intend to obey them.» Pitt gave Hunter a long stare. «Are your superiors aware of Adrian's abduction?»

Hunter shook his head slowly. «Ill not confuse the issue with a personal problem.»

If she and Delphi are still on the island and can be tracked down before tomorrow morning…»

«I know your train of thought. Capture Delphi and the crisis is over. A good script, but it won't play. Unfortunately they're both at the seamount» «You can't know that for certain.» «My people sifted through all the licensed private aircraft in the islands. They discovered a jet seaplane registered to our old friend, the Pisces Metal Company. A team of security men surrounded the dock

where it was kept, but they were too late. Witnesses said that two hours before a giant man and a dark-haired woman climbed on board and took off. We then picked it up on satellite recon and tracked it to the Starbuck's position.»

«Then we must assume Adrian is with him at the seamount.»

Hunter nodded without answering.

Pitt pulled up a chair opposite Hunter's desk. «Erasing the Starbuck and the seascape around her is a grave mistake. We don't know anything about Delphi and his setup. He may have other bases scattered around the globe. Is he a front for a foreign government? What if the crew of the submarine are still alive out there? There are too many unanswered questions at stake to let the whole thing be blown away. Give me one bona fide reason why we should sit around like zombies while a bunch of conference table intellectuals seven thousand miles away dictate our actions from a few scraps out of a data processor. I say we ought to…»

«That will do!» Hunter's voice was authoritative. 1 do what I'm told, and so will you.»

«No, I won't!» Pitt's tone was quiet. «I refuse to stand idle while a terrible mistake is being committed.»

A subordinate had never refused to obey Hunter in his thirty years in the Navy. He was at a loss as how to react. «1 can have you locked up till you cool off,» was his only retort.