Кеннет Робсон - Death in Silver

Monk was a blunt fellow — not given to suavity — and what he was thinking showed on his incredibly homely features.

Rapid Pace began to tremble.

"On second thought, I shall be glad to go," he gulped. "Yes, on second thought."

- — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The Helldiver's engines had been reconditioned since her Arabian jaunt. Diesels had new pistons, the electric motors new bearings. The electric motors were running now, and they made little noise.

Doc Savage and his 4 companions stood in the control room. The submarine was equipped so that one man could operate her if necessary. All controls centered in one spot.

The depth indicator read only 20 feet and the periscope was up above the surface. But Doc now turned a wheel and the steel cigar with the strange runners sank slowly. A touch of a button and the periscope swished down into its well.

Rapid Pace moistened his lips, clenched his fists, and cried uneasily, "But we're in New York harbor! A ship may run into us!"

His homely features placid, Monk said, "We've taken the Helldiver where icebergs were thicker than fleas and never did hit anything!"

"What saved you?" Pace demanded. "Yes sir, what saved you?"

"The instruments," Monk shrugged. "There are sonic devices all over the hull. They tell us how deep the water is. If anything larger than a rowboat comes near, we'll know it."

Monk indicated a bank of dials. These bore hands which were continually jumping slightly. 4 of them were marked 'North', 'South', 'East', and 'West'. A 5 thdial was labeled 'Bottom Distance'. The dial marked 'South' abruptly began jumping.

"That means there is a boat to the South," said Monk. Doc swung the steering controls slightly. After a bit, the jumping shifted to the 'West' dial … then the 'North' dial, which meant they had left the surface vessel astern.

"Remarkable!" Hugh McCoy murmured.

"You ain't seen nothing!" Monk snorted. "Doc has used this sub for testing out ideas. It's got more gadgets aboard than the average man sees in a lifetime."

Shifting about nervously as was his habit, Rapid Pace asked in a shrill voice, "But what are we out here in a submarine for?"

Monk scowled. "We're hunting silver men, of course!"

"Who ever heard of a submarine hunting a submarine?" Pace said rapidly. "They use 'sub chasers' — surface vessels for that."

"Listen, noisy! Suppose you pipe down," Monk requested.

"Yes," McCoy told Pace. "You talk too much."

Rapid Pace glared at the handsome, well-knit figure of McCoy. His lips curled hatefully.

"You, of course, are large enough to whip me," he gritted. "Otherwise, I would hand you a poke on the jaw!"

"I'll tie one hand behind me if it will encourage you any," McCoy jeered.

Monk said, "Cut it out or I'll bump both your heads!"

Without taking his flake-gold eyes off the controls, Doc Savage announced, "Within not longer than 2 minutes, we shall know whether we have the slightest chance of finding the silver men."

- — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The electric motors had decreased their slight hum and gear boxes made almost no noise so that they could hear the bay water curling past the outer skin of the Helldiver .

"Where are we?" Monk asked.

Doc Savage dropped a sinew-wrapped bronze finger on the illuminated chart table and said, "Here."

The gorilla-like chemist hunched over the map board … his small eyes … and observed that they were navigating by the crude map which Doc had secured from the secret room in the Indian Head Club.

Their position — as indicated by Doc's finger — was near one of the 4 small stars. But not the star where the bronze man had dived and found the mysterious metal box.

"So we're gonna try to get another one of them boxes," Monk grunted.

"No," Doc corrected.

Monk squinted his small eyes. "Huh?"

"I saw enough of the first box before losing it over the side of the launch when the submarine fired on us," Doc explained. "Those boxes are very clever radio buoys. They are nothing more than tiny transmitters."

"Radio transmitters!" Monk grunted.

"Very compact," Doc elaborated. "They are fitted with a form of the so-called air-cell battery, which delivers a small quantity of current over a long period of time. The transmitters in the boxes are of extremely small power using a negligible amount of current."

Ham tapped the chart with his sword cane. "You say those stars mark the location of radio buoys? What do you mean 'radio buoys'?"

"I will illustrate," Doc answered.

The bronze man clicked switches, then turned a knob which controlled the Helldiver's radio compass. The latter did not differ greatly from the type in use on most naval and commercial vessels except that it could function on extremely short wavelengths.

Manipulating the wavelength knob, Doc fished through the ether for the signal from the Silver Death's-Heads' radio buoy.

The others waited impatiently. The bronze man had decreased their speed even more until the momentum was now barely enough to cause the planing effect of diving rudders to hold them off the bottom.

A faint popping came from the speaker. It loudened as Doc maneuvered the loop — a sound closely akin to static .

"There!" he announced. "They did not use the regular dot-and-dash signals but an arrangement of breaking contacts which creates a sound resembling static ."

"Deuced clever," Ham murmured. "Anyone picking up that noise on their radio would think it was static and give it no more attention."

Doc moved levers. The Helldiver picked up speed and headed for the radio buoy. The sound got louder … then began to weaken as they passed over it and left it astern. Soon Doc picked up the sound of the next buoy.

Rapid Pace said abruptly, "I get it! Yes, I get it! These buoys are to guide the Silver Death's-Head submarine into the harbor. They must have a rendezvous somewhere outside the harbor."

There were thick glass windows in the submarine conning tower. And through these the men could see the vile greenwater of the bay curling past.

"The green trail," Ham said grimly. "I hope it leads us to something."

Although the Helldiver could be navigated by one man, it was considerable of a single-handed task. It kept Doc extremely busy moving levers, nipping switches. The tanks trimmed themselves through the medium of a robot apparatus which helped.

Inset in the front wall of the control room was a large panel of frosted glass. There were similar panels in the side and rear walls, as well.

Monk — who was familiar with the Helldiver's intricate mechanism — adjusted dials which resulted in a remarkable thing happening to the frosted glass panels. They assumed a greenishhue. The glaucous tint seemed alive, moving.

Rapid Pace ogled the panels. But not until a bit of underwater driftage swirled past one did he realize he was seeing the watery depths outside the submarine.

"Marvelous!" he exploded. "Yes sir, marvelous!"

"There are strong infrared searchlights recessed in the hull," Monk told him. "Infrared light penetrates water a little better than ordinary visible rays. Photoelectric eyes pick up the images, and they are brought to these screens through common television apparatus."

Pace looked a little dizzy. "Why, this underseas boat is incredible! It must have cost a fortune!"