were as expressionless and icy as ever. Pitt turned and looked down at Giordino who met his eyes with a wry grin. They tensed their bodies, waiting for the end. But Delphi's yellow eyes strayed over his targets, toward the door.
«No, Father!» Summer implored. «Not that way!»
She stood at the door, wearing a green robe that came to mid thigh, her beautifully tanned and smooth skin radiating warmth and self-assurance. Pitt's blood began to pump rapidly through his veins. She moved into the room, her eyes touching Delphi with a confident, challenging gaze.
«Do not interfere,» Delphi whispered, «This matter does not concern you.»
«You just can't shoot them down here,» Summer persisted. «You just can't!» Her great gray eyes suddenly became soft and pleading. «Not within these walls!»
«Their blood can be washed away.»
«It's no good, Father. You've had to kill to maintain our sanctuary. But that was outside in the sea. You must not bring death into your own house.»
Delphi hesitated and slowly dropped the gun.
«You're quite right, Daughter.» He smiled, «Death from a bullet is too quick, too merciful, and too unclean. We'll set them free on the surface. We'll give them a chance to survive.»
«Fat chance,» Pitt growled. «Hundreds of miles to the nearest land. Man-eaters waiting for a bite of human flesh. You're all heart.»
«Enough of this morbid talk.» The gianfs face wore a sardonic expression. «I still wish to hear how you came to be here, and I haven't time for any more of your wit.»
Pitt casually studied his watch. «About thirty-one minutes to be exact.»
«Thirty-one minutes?»
«Yes, that's when your precious sanctuary caves in.»
«Back with the jokes again, are we, my friend?» He walked over to the portal, staring at the moray eel, before turning abruptly. «How many other men were in your aircraft?»
Pitt snapped another question back. «What became of Lavella, Roblemann, and Moran?»
«You persist in toying with me.»
«No, I'm dead serious,» Pitt said. «You answer a couple of questions and I'll tell you what you want to know. My word.»
Delphi thoughtfully looked at the gun. Then he laid it on the desk «I believe you.»
To begin with, Major, my name really is Moran.»
«Frederick Moran would have to be in his eighties to be alive now!»
«I am his son,» Delphi said slowly. «I was a young man when he set out with Dr. Lavella and Dr. Roble- mann to find the lost island of Kanoli. You see, my father was a pacifist. After the second world war had ended in the inferno of the atomic bomb, he knew it would only be a question of time before mankind destroyed itself in a nuclear holocaust. When countries arm for war, the arms never go unused, he once said. He began researching areas that would be safe from radiation and far from target sectors, eventually discovering that a base under the sea provided the ideal retreat. When the island of Kanoli sank into the sea many centuries ago, it dropped suddenly, without volcanic activity or major cataclysm. This indicated that the ceremonial caves and tunnels recorded in the legends might still be intact. Lavella and Roblemann sympathized with my father; they joined him in his search for the lost isle. After nearly three months of sounding the seafloor, they found it, and immediately began plans for pumping the passages dry. It took them nearly a year before they were able to set up quarters within the seamount.»
«How was it possible to work so long in secret?» Pitt asked. «The records list the expedition's ship as missing only a few months after it left port.»
«Secrecy was no great problem,» Delphi continued. The ship's hull had been modified so that divers and equipment would be able to pass in and out of the sea. A few alterations like changing the name on the bow, and painting the superstructure, and the ship simply became another unnoticed steamer plying the Western trade route. Not secrecy, but financing, became the major problem.»
«The rest I know,» Pitt said with an unnerving degree of certainty.
Delphi looked up. Summer took a step forward, the identical expression of doubt showing in their faces.
«How odd you didn't catch onto the fact that the entire 101st Fleet, the entire Navy Department, discovered your setup.»
«What purpose do you serve by lying?» Delphi demanded.
«You should have guessed, Delphi. Remember when you left my apartment? I mentioned Kanoli, yet you hardly batted an eye. Probably because you knew I was about to die so my little revelation was of no consequence.»
«How… how could you?…»
The curator at the Bishop Museum. He remembered your father. But that was only the beginning. The pieces are all there, Delphi, and they all neatly finish the puzzle.» Pitt walked over and knelt down beside Giordino. Then he faced Delphi again. «You kill because of greed, nothing else. You've even imbedded the same cold-blooded philosophy in your own daughter. Your father might have been a pacifist, but what Dr. Moran began for strictly scientific and humanitarian reasons, unwittingly became, in your hands, the slickest hijack operation in maritime history.»
«Don't stop,» Delphi said grimly. «I want to hear it all.»
«You want to hear it told from the other side?» Pitt asked, his tone neutral «Want to hear how you're put down in the files? Very well. Before continuing, however, I'd appreciate it if you could make Giordino here a bit more comfortable. If s embarrassing for him to have to lie on the floor like an animal.»
Delphi nodded reluctantly to the guards, who lifted Giordino by the arms and carried him to the red-cushioned couch. Only when Giordino was sitting more comfortably did Pitt continue. The next few minutes wouldn't make much sense unless he could guess enough of the plot behind Delphi's strange organization. If they were to have even one chance in a hundred of escaping the crush of the coming explosion, he'd have to get Giordino and Summer out of that room. The great crystal portal would be the first to go, unleashing a million gallons of seawater. He could only pray for an interruption. He took a deep breath, hoped his imagination was operating in high gear, and began.
«The Explorer, your father's ship, had outlived her usefulness by the time the scientists had made the seamount livable. Dr. Moran needed money to buy equipment in order to continue underwater construction, so he resorted to the world's most common con game — taking an insurance company. Screwing the establishment out of a few bucks in the name of science consoled his conscience. And what the hell did he care? He and Lavella and Roblemann had dropped out of society anyway. So he sailed the Explorer to the States, loaded the holds with worthless junk, insured the ship and cargo to the hilt, all this under a different name and registry, of course. Then he sailed the ship back to Kanoli where he opened the sea cocks and became the first victim of the Vortex. He immediately applied for the insurance.
«The scheme worked so smoothly, Delphi, that you couldn't resist opening up for business in a big way
after the good scientists died off and could offer no objections. Only this time, you refined the operation. You used ships that didn't belong to you. There was more loot in this method, as you weren't out the original cost of the ship. It must have been one hell of a profitable scheme. And still is, for that matter. It's almost ridiculously simple. You arrange for a few of your men to sign on as crew members on a merchantman heading west from the mainland to the Indies and the Orient. Why always west? The western steamer lane cuts right over your backyard, and not only does Kanoli lie near its path, but goods stamped MADE IN THE U.S.A. are easier to sell in the backwater black markets. All your clandestine crew had to do was deviate the ship a few degrees off its course, signal 'All Stop' to the engine room, and then stand by while you and your merry band of pirates climbed aboard and murdered the loyal crew.
«No trace of the vessel is ever found. How could it be? The bodies were weighted and dumped over the side, the hull was repainted from stem to stem, a few prominent areas of its superstructure were altered, and presto, you had a new ship. Then it was only the small matter of selling the cargo — unless it was easily traceable and too hot to handle, in which case it was expediently dropped in the sea. You made a few honest trade runs under a new registry before you then reinsured it, and then you sunk it on the summit of the seamount so you could always get at the remains for spare parts needed to make phony modifications on future acquisitions to your ill-gotten fleet
