particular seamount sits on the Fullerton Fracture Zone. It's quite possible that heavy activity could build a rise of several hundred feet, pushing it above the sea's surface during the span of a thousand years and then suddenly drop it back in a matter of days.» He was facing the window, his eyes turned inward, envisioning the step-by-step process of destruction. «Mr. Pitt's report on the seabed rise and the cooler water temperature around the mount, also tends to support our fault theory. Cold, deep-bottom water often up-wells thousands of feet to the surface from extensive fractures along the seafloor, and this in turn explains the absence of coral; coral will not thrive in water temperatures of less than seventy degrees.»
Hunter stared thoughtfully a moment at the charts before speaking: «Since the people who boarded the Martha Ann had to come from somewhere, could they have come from the seamount itself?»
«I don't understand,» York replied.
«Nothing showed on the Martha Ann's radar. That eliminates another ship in the area. Except for the sunken wrecks, no other vessel was detected on sonar which eliminates a submarine. That leaves two choices. They either came from a man-made underwater living chamber, or from within the seamount itself.»
Td have to strike out the underwater chamber,» Pitt said. «We were attacked by a force of nearly two hundred men. It would take an immense facility to house that number underwater.» «Then we're left with the seamount,» said Hunter. Chrysler rested his chin on his hands and looked across the table at Pitt. «I believe you said, Major, that you smelled eucalyptus when the fog surrounded the ship.»
«Yes, sir, that's correct'*
«Odd, most odd,» Chrysler murmured. He turned to Hunter. «As astounding as it might sound, Admiral, your suggestion of the seamount isn't too farfetched at that.» «How so?»
«Eucalyptus oil has been used for a number of years in Australia for purifying the air in mines. It is also known to lower the humidity within a closed area.
The phone buzzed; Hunter picked it up, saying nothing, only listening. When he replaced the receiver in the cradle, he wore a satisfied expression. «Drs. Lavella and Roblemann were lost at sea on board a research vessel named the Explorer. It was under charter to a Pisces Metals Company for an expedition to study deep-sea geology for a positive mining operation. The Explorer was last seen steaming north of Hawaii about…»
«Thirty years ago,» Denver finished. He looked up from a sheaf of papers in his hands. «The Explorer was the first ship to disappear in the Vortex.»
«A dime to a doughnut, Frederick Moran went down on the same ship,» said Pitt.
«Most likely the leader of the expedition,» Chrysler said flatly.
«The puzzle is taking shape,» York muttered. «Yes, by God, it figures.» He leaned back in his chair and looked up as if contemplating the ceiling. «Many of the islands where Pacific natives lived were honeycombed with caverns. They were used primarily for religious reasons. Burial caves, temples, idol rooms, and such. Now if the Vortex seamount was a volcano and disappeared in a shattering explosion, obviously nothing of the native civilization would be left. But if the island dropped beneath the surface due to a movement of the Fullerton Fracture, the likelihood is excellent that many of the caves survived.»
«What's your point?» Hunter asked impatiently.
«Dr.. Lavella's field was hydrology. And hydrology, gentlemen, is the science dealing with the behavior of water in circulation on the land, in the air, and underground. In short, Dr. Lavella would have been one of the few people in the Western World who could have designed a system for pumping dry a network of caverns under the sea.»
Hunter's tired eyes gazed at York steadily, but the doctor made no further comment. Hunter rapped his knuckles against the table and rose to his feet.
«Dr. York, Dr. Chrysler, you've been a great help. The Navy is in your debt…Now, if you'll please excuse us…»
The two civilians shook hands, bid their good-byes, and left. Pitt rose and walked slowly over to the big map on the other end of the long room.
Denver slouched in his chair. «Now, at least, we know who we're up against.»
«I wonder,» Pitt said quietly, staring at the red circle in the middle of the map. «I wonder if we'll truly ever know.»
It was four hours later when Pitt released his hold on a comforting sleep and drifted awake. He waited a moment and then focused his eyes on two upright brown bars directly in front of his face. His foggy mind cleared in an instant as he recognized a pair of shapely, tanned feminine legs. He stretched out his hand and ran the back of a finger up one of the nylon-clad calves.
«Stop that!» the girl yelped. She was cute, and her face had a soft surprised expression. The figure was lush and was tightly enclosed in the chic uniform of a naval officer.
«Sorry, I must have been dreaming,» Pitt said, smiling.
Her face flushed with embarrassment as she unconsciously smoothed her skirt and demurely stared at the floor. «I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you were already up and I brought some coffee.» Her eyes smiled nicely. «I can see now that you don't need it.»
Pitt followed her snappy swivel action as she walked from the room. Then he sat up on the leather couch, stretching his arms as he glanced around the admiral's paneled study.
It was obvious that Hunter was busy. The desk and floor were littered with charts and papers, and a huge ornate ashtray was filled to the hilt with cigarette butts. Pitt groped in his pockets for his cigarettes but couldn't find them. He resigned himself to their loss and reached for the coffee. It was hot, but the acid taste restored his dulled senses to near normal. At that moment Hunter walked briskly into the room.
«My apologies for not allowing you more shut-eye, but we've made a couple of breakthroughs.»
«I take it you've found Delphi's transmitter.»
Hunter's eyebrows raised a notch. «You're pretty perceptive for a man who just woke from a sound sleep.»
Pitt shrugged. «A logical guess.»
It took a recon plane all of two hours to spot it,» Hunter said. «A three-hundred-foot antenna mast doesn't exactly lend itself to concealment.»
«Where is it located?»
«On a remote corner of the island of Maui, situated in an old abandoned Army installation built during World War Two for coast defense artillery. We checked through old records. The property was sold off years ago to an outfit called…»
«The Pisces Metal Company,» Pitt interrupted.
Hunter scowled good-naturedly. «Another logical guess?»
Pitt nodded.
Hunter gave him a wolfish grin. «Did you know the Martha Ann will be docking in Honolulu about this time tomorrow?»
Pitt was properly surprised. «How is that possible?»
«Minutes after you airlifted the crew off the flight pad,» Hunter answered, «we programmed the computers to bring the ship back to Hawaii.»
«Smash a few instruments; cut a few wires,» said
Pitt. «Surely Delphi's men could have stopped the engines or knocked the steering equipment out of control.»
«You might think so,» Hunter replied. «But the Martha Ann's override command system was designed with that very probability in mind. We work under the constant threat of capture and impoundment by a foreign government at odds, shall we say, with the 101st Fleet's rather clandestine salvage operations. The engine room and navigational controls are automatically sealed off by electronic command with steel doors which would take at least ten hours to cut through. By that time, the ship is safely back in international waters and ready to raise wrecks another day.»
«Is she running without crew?»
«No, we airlifted a crew at first light,» Hunter said. «Damned good thing too. The helicopter arrived just in time to see the Martha Ann run down a fishing boat. They managed to pull the skipper out of the drink only minutes before the sharks would have gotten him. It was a damn near thing.»
«Now that the Martha Ann is on her way home, what about the Starbuck?»
