Arthur Clarke - Cradle

Carol stopped outside the bathroom door. “There are only two possibilities that make any sense,” she said. “It’s either the Navy or our sicko friends from the Ambrosia. Either way we’ll find out soon enough.” She stopped a moment and an elfin smile played across her lips. “I want you two to see if you can figure out a way to steal Homer’s gold. Tonight. Before we go back to meet with our extraterrestrials tomorrow morning.”

Carol and Troy went over the details one last time and she checked her watch. “It’s eight-thirty already,” she said. “If I’m much later I know they’ll be suspicious.” She was standing outside Nick’s Pontiac in the parking lot of the Pelican Resort, a restaurant about three-quarters of a mile from the Ashford mansion at Pelican Point. “Where is he?” she fretted. “We should have finished with this fifteen minutes ago.”

“Just calm down, angel,” Troy replied. “We have to test this new unit first. It could be very important in an emergency and I’ve never actually used it.” He gave her a reassuring hug. “Your friends at MOI originally developed it.”

“Why did I have to suggest such a wild-ass idea?” Carol said out loud to herself. “Where’s your brain, Dawson? Did you leave it in the…”

“Can you hear me?” Nick’s garbled voice interrupted her. It sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a well.

“Yes,” Troy answered into a tiny walkie-talkie shaped like a thimble. “But not too clearly. How deep are you?”

“Say again,” said Nick. “I did not copy completely.”

“Yes, we can hear you,” Troy shouted. He carefully enunciated each word. “But not very clearly. You must speak slowly and distinctly. How deep are you?”

“About eight feet,” was the response.

“Go down to sixteen and try it again,” said Troy. “Let’s see if it will work from the deepest part of the cave.”

“How’s he doing that?” Carol asked, while they waited for Nick to descend.

“It’s a brand-new system, built into the regulator,” Troy answered. “You have to speak while you’re exhaling for it to work. There’s a small transmitter/receiver inside the mouthpiece and an earphone attachment. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work much below ten feet.”

Almost a minute later Carol and Troy heard something, very faint, not even recognizable as Nick’s voice. Troy listened for a moment. “We cannot read you, Nick. There is too much attenuation. Come on back now. I’m going to send Carol on her way.” Troy pressed a button on the walkie-talkie that would repeatedly transmit this last message.

He handed the communications unit to Carol. “Okay, angel,” he said, “you’re ready. We should be in the water around nine o’clock and out, if all goes well, by half an hour later. Keep them occupied with your questions. You should leave by ten-thirty at the latest and drive directly to Nick’s apartment. We will meet you there with your wagon.” He raised his eyebrows. “And the gold, I hope.”

Carol took a deep breath. She smiled at Troy. “I’m scared,” she said. “I would rather face a carpet or even one of those warden things than this trio.” She opened the car door. “Do you really think I should go in Nick’s car? Isn’t that certain to make them suspect something?”

“We’ve been through all this twice before, angel,” Troy laughingly replied. He gently nudged her into the car. “They already know we’re friends. Besides, we need your wagon for the diving gear, the backpacks, and the lead and gold.” He closed the door and planted a light kiss on her cheek through the open window. “Be safe, angel,” he said. “And don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

Carol started the car and backed into the middle of the parking lot. She waved at Troy and pulled into the dark lane that led through the marsh to the end of the island. The only light was from the nearly full gibbous moon that was already above the trees. All right, Dawson, she thought to herself. Now you’re in the middle of it. Just stay calm and alert.

She drove very slowly. She reviewed the plans for the evening several times in her mind. Then she started thinking about Nick. He holds on to things. Like I do. He still hates Homer and Greta for cheating him. He couldn’t wait to dive for the gold. She smiled as she turned into the circular drive in front of Homer Ashford’s house. I just hope there is some left over for him.

A split second after Carol rang the doorbell, Homer opened the door and greeted her. “You’re late,” he said in a pleasant monotone. “We thought maybe you were not coming. Greta is already in the pool. Do you want to change and join her?”

“Thanks, Captain Homer, but I decided not to swim tonight,” Carol answered politely. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m mostly here on business. I would prefer to start the interview as soon as possible. Even before dinner, if that would be all right with everyone else.”

Homer led Carol into a gigantic family room and stopped by a large wet bar. A magnificent hand-carved wooden statue of a swimming Neptune, about four feet long altogether, was on the wall above the bar. Carol asked for some white wine. Homer tried without success to talk her into something stronger.

The family room had a billiards table at one end. On the other side, a sliding glass door opened onto a covered patio that narrowed into a cement walkway. Carol followed Homer in silence, sipping from her white wine every twenty steps or so. The walkway wound past big trees and a lighted gazebo off to the left before it spread out around the huge swimming pool.

Actually there were two pools. In front of Carol was a classic, rectangular, Olympic-sized pool under strong lights. At one end was a slide and waterfall that ran down an artificial mountain into the swimming area. At the other end, in the direction of the second pool and the ocean, there was a sunken Jacuzzi constructed out of the same decorated blue tiles that rimmed the top of the main pool. The entire complex was cleverly designed to create the impression of moving water. There seemed to be a steady flow from the waterfall, to the large pool. down into the Jacuzzi, and then into a stream that meandered off in the direction of the house.

The second pool was circular and dark. It was off to Carol’s left at the edge of the property, near what looked like a small cottage for changing clothes. Greta was in the rectangular pool in front of Carol. She was swimming laps, her powerful body moving rhythmically through the water. Carol, who was an excellent swimmer herself, watched Greta for a few seconds.

“Isn’t she something?” Homer walked over next to Carol. His admiration was obvious. “She won’t let herself eat a big meal unless she works out beforehand. She can’t stand fat.”

Homer was wearing a light brown Hawaiian shirt with a pair of tan slacks. Brown loafers were on his feet, and a big drink, crammed with ice cubes, was in his hand. He seemed relaxed, even affable. Carol thought he could have passed for a retired banker or corporate executive.

Greta continued to swim relentlessly through the water. Homer was hovering over Carol and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable, as if her space were being invaded.

“Where’s Ellen?” she asked, turning to the large man and moving just slightly farther away from him.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Homer replied. “She loves to cook, especially when we have guests. And tonight she’s making one of her favorite dishes.” There was almost a twinkle in his eye. He leaned down to Carol. “She made me promise not to tell you what we’re having,” he whispered confidentially, “but I will tell you that it’s a powerful aphrodisiac.”