computer technician had produced a glass of brandy and was coaxing her to drink it. She looked for all the world as if she'd seen her third ghost of the day.
Hoker and three other engineers were bent over a circuit panel, checking the rows of indicating lights gone dark, fruitlessly manipulating knobs and switches. It was obvious to Pitt that all communications with the RSV had gone dead.
Hoker looked up when he saw Pitt. 'I've got something interesting to show you.' Pitt nodded toward Heidi. 'What's wrong with her?'
'She saw something that knocked hell out of her.'
'On the monitors?'
'Just before transmission was cut off,' Hoker explained. 'Take a look while I replay the videotape.' Pitt watched. Gunn came and stood beside him, staring. The darkened screens slowly lightened and once again they saw the RSV break into sunlight. The glare lessened and then flashed in several sequences.
'This is when Baby was lifted from the water,' observed Pitt. 'Yes,' Hoker agreed. 'Now catch the next action.'
A series of distortion lines swept horizontally across the monitors, and then abruptly the left one blinked out.
'The clumsy nerds,' Hoker complained bitterly. 'They didn't know a delicate piece of gear when they saw it. They dropped Baby on its port camera and broke the color pickup tube.'
At that moment the shroud was pulled back, coming into focus. The material could now be clearly seen for what it was.
'Plastic,' exclaimed Gunn. 'A thin sheet of opaque plastic.
'That explains the protoplasm,' said Pitt. 'And there are your neighborhood spooks.'
Two figures in rubber diving suits knelt down and appeared to study the RSV.
'A pity we can't see their faces under the face masks,' said Gunn.
'You'll see one soon enough,' said Hoker. 'Watch.'
A pair of legs clad in Wellington boots and denim pants walked into camera range. Their owner stopped behind the divers and bent down and peered into the camera lenses.
He wore a British-style commando sweater with leather patches over the shoulders and elbows. A knit stocking cap was set at a casual side angle; graying hair along the temples was brushed fastidiously above the ears. He seemed to be in his late fifties, Pitt figured, or perhaps middle sixties. He had the look about him of a man who might be older than he appeared.
The face possessed a cruel, self-assured quality, found in men who are familiar with hazard. The dark eyes had the detached interest of a sniper peering through a telescopic sight at his impending victim.
Suddenly there was a slight, discernible widening of the eyes and the intense expression turned to anger. His mouth twisted with silent words and he spun quickly from view.
'I'm not a lip-reader,' said Pitt, 'but it looked as if he said
They remained, watching, as what looked like a canvas tarpaulin was thrown over the RSV and the monitors turned dark for the last time.
'That's all she wrote,' said Hoker. 'Contact was lost a minute later when they destroyed the transmission circuitry.'
Heidi rose from the chair and moved forward as if she was in a trance. She pointed at the dead monitors, her lips quivering.
'I know him,' she said, her voice barely audible. 'The man in the picture…... I know who he is.'
Dr. Otis Coli inserted a du Maurier cigarette in a gold-tipped filter, clamped it between his dentures and lit it. Then he resumed poking through the open access panel into the electronic heart of the RSV.
'Damned clever, the Americans,' he said, impressed with what he saw. 'I've read scientific papers on it, but never seen one up close.'
Coli, director of the Quebec Institute of Marine Engineering, had been recruited by Henri Villon. He was a gorilla of a man, barrel-chested, and had a rounded, heavy-browed face. His white hair passed his collar, and his mustache, beneath a thin, sloping nose, looked as if it had been clipped with sheep shears.
Brian Shaw stood beside Coli, his face clouded with concern. 'What do you make of it?'
'An ingenious bit of technology,' said Coli in the tone of a young man engrossed in a Playboy foldout. 'Visual data is translated and sent by ultrasonic sound waves to the mother ship where it is encoded and enhanced by computers. The resulting imagery is then transferred to videotape with rather amazing clarity.'
'So what's the scam?' grunted Foss Gly. He perched boredly atop a rusty winch mounted on the blue fishing boat's foredeck.
Shaw fought to hold down his temper. 'The scam, as you so apathetically put it, is that these cameras were transmitting pictures when you brought them on board. Not only have the people on the NUMA ship been alerted to the fact they're being watched, they also have our faces recorded on videotape.'
'How does that concern us?'
'Their project director is probably whistling up a helicopter this minute,' Shaw replied. 'Before nightfall the tape will be in Washington. And by this time tomorrow they'll probably have identification.'
'On you maybe,' Gly said grinning. 'My partner and I kept our face masks on. Remember?'
'The damage has been done. The Americans will know we're not local divers looting a wreck. They'll be aware of who and what they're up against and will take every precaution.'
Gly shrugged and began unzipping his diving suit. 'If that mechanical fish hadn't interrupted us, we could have laid the charges, blown the hulk and left them precious little to salvage.'
'Bad luck on our part,' said Shaw. 'How far did you get?'
'We'd barely started when we saw lights coming from over the stern.'
'Where are the explosives?'
'Still on the forecastle of the wreck, where we stored them.'
'How many pounds?'
Gly thought a moment. 'Harris and I made six trips each, towing two hundred-pound sealed containers.'
'Twenty- four hundred pounds,' Shaw totaled. He turned to Doc Coli. 'What if we detonated?'
'Right now?'
'Right now.'
'Weight for weight, Trisynol is three times as powerful as TNT.' Coli paused to stare across the water at the Ocean Venturer. 'The pressure waves from its explosion would break the back of the NUMA ship.'
'And the Empress of Ireland?'
'Demolish the bow section and smash in the forepart of the superstructure. At that point the main force would be Absorbed. Further aft, a few bulkheads might buckle, a few decks cave in.'
'But the central section of the wreck would remain intact.'
'Quite correct,' nodded Coli. 'Your only accomplishment would be the mass death of innocent men.'
'Little sense in pursuing that quarter,' Shaw said thoughtfully.
'I'd certainly want no part in it.'
'So. Where does that leave us?' asked Gly.
'For the moment, we tread softly,' replied Shaw. 'Sit back and observe, also find us another boat. The Americans are no doubt on to this one.'
A look of contempt crossed Gly's face. 'Is that the best you can come up with?'
'I'm satisfied. Unless you've got other ideas.'
'I say blow the bastards to bits and end it now,' Gly said coldly. 'If you lack the stomach, old man, I'll do it.'
'Enough!' Shaw snapped, his eyes fixed on Gly. 'We're not at war with the Americans, and there is nothing in my instructions that condones murder. Only carnal idiots kill unnecessarily or wantonly. As for you, Inspector Gly, no more debates. You'll do as you're told.'
Gly shrugged smugly in acquiescence and said nothing. He didn't have to waste words. What Shaw didn't know, what no one knew, was that he had inserted a radio detonator in one of the Trisynol containers.
With the press of a button he could set off the explosives anytime the mood struck him.
Mercier ate lunch with the President in the family dining room of the White House. He was thankful that his
