Riptide

plata bound for Cadiz. The sheer volume of treasure he acquired—in gold bars and cakes, silver wedges and pigs, undrilled pearls, and jewels—has been estimated at over a billion dollars in face value alone.

Ockham's eventual fate remains a mystery. In 1697, his command ship was found off the Azores, drifting free, all hands dead of an unknown affliction. No treasure was found on board, and scholars of the period agree he had concealed it along the east coast of the New World sometime shortly before his death. Although many legends of varying credibility have arisen, the strongest evidence points to one of three potential sites: Ile a Vache off Hispaniola; South Carolina's Isle of Palms; or Ragged Island, off the Maine Coast, seventy miles north of Monhegan.

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Chapter 14

Hatch throttled down the diesels of the Plain Jane, then dropped anchor twenty yards off the lee shore of Ragged Island. It was 6:30, and the sun had just topped the sea horizon, throwing a gauzy gold light across the island. For the first time since Hatch had returned to Stormhaven, the island's protective mist had lifted completely. He clambered into the dinghy and motored toward the navy-issue prefabricated pier at Base Camp. Already the day was warm and humid, and there was a certain heaviness in the air that presaged bad weather.

As he gazed across the scene, his old apprehensions began to ease. Over the last forty-eight hours, Ragged Island had grown comfortingly unrecognizable. An enormous amount of work had been accomplished, more than he could have believed possible. Yellow 'crime scene' tape had been strung around the unstable areas of the island, with safe corridors delineated for walking. The meadows above the narrow strip of shingle beach had been transformed from a place of deserted silence to a miniature city. Trailers and Quonset huts were arranged in a tight circle. Beyond, a brace of massive generators thrummed, wafting diesel fumes into the air. Beside them sat two enormous fuel tanks. Bundles of white PVC pipe flowed across the muddy ground, shielding date lines and power cords from the elements and unwary feet. In the midst of the chaos stood Island One, the command center, a double-wide trailer festooned with communications gear and transmitters.

Securing the dinghy, Hatch jogged along the pier and up the rough path beyond. Arriving at Base Camp, he walked past the Stores shed and stepped into the Quonset hut marked MEDICAL, curious to see his new office. It was spartan but pleasant, smelling of fresh plywood, ethyl alcohol, and galvanized tin. He walked around, admiring the new equipment, surprised and pleased that Neidelman had purchased the best of everything. The office was fully equipped, from a locked storeroom full of equipment and drug cabinets to an EKG machine. Almost too equipped, in fact: Among the medical supplies in the lockers, Hatch found a colonoscope, a defibrillator, a fancy electronic Geiger counter, and a variety of expensive-looking high-tech gadgets he couldn't identify. The Quonset hut itself was larger than it looked. There was an outer office, an examination room, even a two-bed infirmary. In the rear of the structure was a small apartment, where Hatch could spend the night during inclement weather.

Stepping outside again, Hatch headed for Island One, carefully avoiding the ruts and furrows left behind by the treads of heavy equipment. Inside the command center, he found Neidelman, Streeter, and the engineer, Sandra Magnusen, bending over a screen. Magnusen was like a small, intense bug, her face blue in the outwash of the computer terminal, scrolling lines of data reflecting on her thick glasses. She seemed all business, all the time, and Hatch got the distinct feeling that she didn't like most people, doctors included.

Neidelman looked up and nodded. 'Data transfer from Scylla finished several hours ago,' he said. 'Just completing the pump simulation now.' He moved aside to give Hatch a view of the terminal.

SIMULATION COMPLETED AT 06:39:45:21

RESULTS FOLLOW

INTERLINK SERVER STATUS                 OK

HUB RELAYS                                       OK

SECTOR RELAYS                                  OK

DATASTREAM ANALYZER                      OK

CORE CONTROLLER                             OK

REMOTE SITES CONTROLLER               OK

PUMP STATUS                                     OK

FLOW SENSORS                                   OK

EMERGENCY INTERRUPT                      OK

QUEUE MEMORY                                 305385295

PACKET DELAY                                   .000045

—CHECKSUM VERIFICATION—

CHECKSUMS FROM REMOTES                OK

CHECKSUM DEVIATION                      00.00000%

DEVIATION FROM SCYLLA                  00.15000%

DEVIATION FROM PRIOR                   00.37500%

END RESULTS

SIMULATION SUCCESSFUL

Magnusen's brow furrowed.

'Is everything all right?' Neidelman asked.

'Yes.' The engineer sighed. 'No. Well, I don't know. The computer seems to be acting flaky.'

'Tell me about it,' Neidelman said quietly.

'It's running a little sluggishly, especially when the emergency interrupts were tested. And look at those deviation numbers. The island network itself shows everything normal. But there's a deviation from the simulation that we ran on the Cerberus system. And there's even more of a deviation from the run we did last night.'

'But it's within tolerances?'

Magnusen nodded. 'It might be some anomaly in the checksum algorithms.'