anyone wearing a uniform. The scientists and NUMA people took advantage of the bloody confusion and slipped away, with Trout showing the way to the dock where the patrol boat was tied up.
Austin got into the boat and started the engine. He climbed back onto the dock to help the others. MacLean was herding his fellow scientists into the boat. Then, as he was about to get in, shots rang out and he crumpled to the dock.
The shots had come from the bearded guard, who was running toward the boat. His slovenly lack of a uniform had protected him from being singled out by the creatures. Austin got off a quick shot that missed. The guard hadn't expected anyone to shoot back, but he quickly recovered, dropped to one knee and leveled his weapon.
A gunshot exploded in Austin's ear. Gamay had fired over his shoulder. She was an expert marksman, but in her haste her aim was off. The bullet caught the bearded man in the left shoulder. He screamed in rage and pain, but managed to swing his weapon around. Although he was deaf and dizzy from the shot near his ear, Austin stepped in front of his friends to shield them, raising his gun at the same time.
A chorus of howls came from behind the bearded guard. He turned and raised his gun, but he was buried under a pile of snarling creatures. Austin holstered his gun and he and Zavala were lifting MacLean into the boat when one of the creatures broke away from the others. It staggered toward the edge of the pier. Gamay raised her gun to shoot the creature. Trout, who was preparing to cast off the dock lines, stopped and grabbed her wrist. He recognized the creature as the one he had encountered in the blockhouse. 'He's wounded,' Trout said.
The creature's chest was dark with blood. He stared at Trout, and then his legs buckled and he pitched forward, dead, into the boat. Austin yelled at Trout to take the wheel while he tended to MacLean As soon as Gamay had cast off the lines, Trout gunned the throttle and pointed the bow into the darkness.
The boat sped from the island of horror at full throttle. Trout turned the wheel over to Gamay and went to MacLean who was lying on his back. The other scientists had made room for him. Austin had tucked a life jacket under MacLean's head as a pillow and he was kneeling beside the mortally wounded scientist. His ear was close to MacLean's mouth. He raised his head when he saw Trout and said, 'He wants to talk to you.'
Trout kneeled down on the other side of the dying scientist. 'We got away, Mac,' he said. 'We'll get you to a doctor and get you fixed up in no time.'
MacLean replied with a gurgling laugh and blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. 'Don't try to fool an old Scotsman, my friend.'
When Trout went to reply, MacLean lifted a weak hand. 'No.
Let me talk.' His eyes started to roll back in his head, but he pulled himself together.
'The formula,' he said.
'What about it?'
MacLean's eyes went to Austin's face. And then he died.
GERTRUDE CAME OUT to say good-bye. The AUV picked up the sound of the departing patrol boat and intercepted it about a mile from the island. Zavala saw the vehicle first. He was probing the darkness with a spotlight, looking for rocks, when the tall fin came into view. He thought it was a killer whale, but as it grew closer he saw rivets in the metallic fin and knew exactly what it was.
The vehicle paced them for a few hundred feet, then peeled off and went about its routine patrol. No one aboard the patrol boat knew how close they had come to disaster. Back at the command center, Max had sent the AUV to pursue the escaping boat and had armed all four of the torpedoes. He had set the launch switch and was about to hit the fire button when his throat had been ripped out by a red-eyed demon.
The patrol boat continued blissfully on its way for another half hour before Austin decided to call the Coast Guard for help. Minutes later, the 110-foot British Coast Guard boat Scapa picked up the Mayday from a boat broadcasting a position. The Scapa responded with
its full thirty-knot speed. Based on past experience, the boat's skipper thought the call was from a fisherman in trouble. As he gazed from the deck of the Scapa at the inflatable boat caught in the spotlight, Captain John Bruce thought that he had seen some strange sights in his twenty years of patrol in the Orkney Islands. But this was one for the books.
The rigid inflatable off the port bow was about thirty feet in length, Bruce estimated. Most of the shivering passengers on board were dressed in lime coveralls. The captain didn't know of any local prisons, but the circumstances, to say the least, were highly suspicious. Decades at sea had taught Captain Bruce to be careful. He ordered his crew to stand by with weapons ready.
As the patrol boat pulled alongside the inflatable, the captain raised an electric megaphone to his lips and said: 'Please identify yourself.'
A man came to the side and waved to get the captain's attention.
He had broad shoulders, rugged bronze features and his hair was platinum, almost silver in color.
'Kurt Austin of the National Underwater and Marine Agency,' he said, his voice carrying clearly without artificial magnification over the sound of boat engines. 'These people are suffering from exhaustion and possible hypothermia. Can you help us out?'
The captain reacted with caution, despite the obvious earnestness in Austin's face. He had heard of NUMA, the far-reaching American ocean science organization, and had occasionally come across one of its vessels on a mission. But he couldn't reconcile the sorry bunch crowded into the small boat with the sleek turquoise-hulled research ships with which he was familiar.
Captain Bruce was a burly Scotsman with a freckled bald head, light blue eyes and a firm chin that correctly advertised the determination of its owner. He let his eye roam from stem to stern. There was no faking the weariness and anxiety he saw in the faces of those crowding the inflatable. Captain Bruce ordered a boat lowered and the passengers taken on board. He warned the deck crew to keep their weapons ready and a close eye on the boarders.
It took several trips to move the passengers from one boat to another. Seen from up close, it was clear that the bedraggled passengers were no threat. As they stepped onto the deck, the medic gave them a quick physical checkup. Then they were each given a blanket to wrap themselves in and directed to the mess hall for hot soup and coffee.
Austin took the last boat over, accompanied by an attractive red-haired woman and two men, one with a dark complexion and the other so tall he stuck out of the boat like a mast.
Austin shook the captain's hand and introduced the others. 'This is Paul and Gamay Morgan-Trout and Joe Zavala,' he said. 'We're all with
NUMA.'
'I didn't know NUMA had any operations going in the Orkneys,' the captain said, shaking hands all around.
'Technically speaking, we don't.' Austin told the others that he would join them in the mess in a few minutes and he turned back to the captain. 'The passengers were having a rough time and some of them are suffering from exposure. On top of that, we were lost in the fog, so we called for help. Sorry to bother you.'
'No bother, lad. That's our job.'
'Thanks anyway. I have another favor to ask. Could you radio a message to Rudi Gunn at NUMA headquarters in Washington? Tell him Austin and company are well and will be in touch.'
'I'll have someone get right on it.'
'In that case I could use some hot soup myself,' Austin said with a smile. He turned around as he walked off and said casually, 'By the way, there are two bodies on board the inflatable.'
'Dead bodies?'
'Very dead. I wonder if your crew could bring them over before you put the boat in tow.'
'Yes, of course,' Captain Bruce said.
'Thanks again, Captain,' Austin said. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders like a Navajo Indian and strode off toward the galley.
The captain had an annoyed expression in his eyes. He was not used to having people usurp his command. Then he broke into a chuckle. After years at sea dealing with different crews and situations, he was a good judge of men. Bruce detected that what some might have seen as insouciance in Austin's carefree manner was a supreme self-confidence. He ordered his men to retrieve the bodies and take them to the dispensary. Then he told his crew to tie a towline on the boat.
