Poseidon's Arrow

over the ledge and lay on his back, recovering.

He felt scrapes and bruises, but he’d managed not to break any bones. After a minute, he rose to his feet and peered over the side.

Forty feet below, his ATV stood on end, its nose augured into the ground and its body telescoped. A few yards away, the other ATV lay upside down, its wheels still spinning. Dirk didn’t see Green Fatigues at first, then spotted a motionless leg protruding from beneath the vehicle.

Dirk walked along the cliff, moving gingerly until his limbs loosened. Glancing back toward the dock facility, he saw some movement, a small foot patrol heading his way. Just beyond, at the mouth of the lagoon, he saw the patrol boat heading to sea. They were taking the theft of the ATV rather seriously, Dirk thought.

He retraced his morning footsteps until he reached a shallow face in the ridge where he could slide down. At the crash scene, he found the inverted ATV battered but mostly intact. He dug his feet into the sand, positioned a shoulder against its side, and shoved, rolling the vehicle back onto its wheels. The mangled body of its rider lay embedded in the sand, his back and head unnaturally twisted.

Dirk pocketed the man’s pistol and climbed onto the ATV. The seat and handlebars were bent and two fenders torn off, but the drivetrain looked undamaged. He hit the ignition button and heard the starter grind and grind. Gasoline had drained from the fuel line while the vehicle sat inverted, and it took several tries before the engine caught. Dirk gunned it, and the ATV took off, the exposed tires sending sand flying.

At the far end of the beach, Dirk pulled up alongside the small berm. Summer appeared from a large hole in the center and waved. After pulling herself inside, she had excavated nearly a third of the rubber raft.

He hopped off the idling ATV and ran to her. “You all right?”

“Fine, except for my dead leg.” She noticed his bruised appearance, and the even more battered ATV.

“I thought I heard a crash. What happened?”

“I had a falling-out with an acquaintance.” He motioned his thumb over his shoulder. “The crowd at the port facility is the same bunch that rammed us. I borrowed one of their ATVs, and they aren’t too happy about it.”

Summer saw the urgency in his eyes. “We need to go?”

“I think that would be a good idea.”

He scooped her off the ground and carried her to the ATV.

“Wait,” she said. “The Barbarigo’s logbook.”

Dirk gave her a quizzical look.

“That’s a rubber raft buried in the sand. It’s from a vessel called the Barbarigo. I found a book wrapped in oilskin under the bench,” she said, pointing at the mound. “I can’t read it because it’s written in Italian, but it looks like a logbook.”

Dirk stepped to the partially buried raft and reached in. He froze when he saw a fully exposed skeleton, which he had somehow missed seconds earlier. The torso lay near a bench seat, on which sat the oilskin-wrapped logbook. He snatched it, climbed onto the ATV behind Summer, and handed it to her. “You didn’t mention its scribe was still hanging around.”

“There’s at least two other bodies. We need to have the ship’s archaeologist examine the site.”

Dirk reached around his sister and twisted the throttle. “Perhaps another day.”

Leaving the bones and beach behind, they rode up a rocky ridge that fingered into the sea. From its peak, they could view the opposite coastline curve before them in a broad expanse of sandy flats. The turquoise hull of the Alexandria bobbed in the swells several miles distant. Dirk focused his eyes on the ground, driving down the rocky hill as fast as he dared, aware of Summer’s impaired ability to stay seated.

Summer was the first to notice the vessel, a small Zodiac, skimming parallel to the beach ahead. When the ATV’s tires reached the flat sands, Dirk accelerated to top speed. The Zodiac was traveling away from them, but he quickly closed the gap. Honking the ATV’s high-pitched horn, he caught the attention of Jack Dahlgren, who was piloting the Zodiac with a NUMA crewman. The parties converged, Dirk driving his ATV into the waves as Dahlgren drew the Zodiac near.

“Enjoying the local tourist sights in comfort, Ah see,” Dahlgren said by way of greeting. The Texan’s relief at finding them alive was evident in his eyes.

“More than we really cared to,” Dirk said. “Permission to come aboard?”

Dahlgren nodded and inched the Zodiac alongside the ATV.

“Summer’s lost feeling in her left leg,” Dirk said. “We think she’s bent.”

Dahlgren plucked Summer, still clutching the Barbarigo’s logbook, off the ATV and set her in the inflatable boat.

“Everyone aboard Alexandria will be anxious to hear what happened. Had us plenty worried when we found the sub downstairs without you in it. Guess you’ll have plenty of time in the chamber to fill us in.”

He had to sit down and goose the motor to keep the Zodiac from swamping under a wave. As Dahlgren pivoted back to the ATV so Dirk could jump aboard, he noticed the shredded jumpsuit and multiple bruises. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you went square dancing with a rototiller.”

“If it’s any consolation, I feel like it,” Dirk said.

“You don’t want to park that ATV on dry land?”

“No, the owner was rather troublesome about me borrowing it. I suggest we get to the Alexandria as soon as possible.”

Dahlgren gunned the outboard motor and steered toward the research ship. Dirk gazed across the horizon, spotting the patrol boat speeding in their direction. A moment later, a deep rumble drowned out the whine of the outboard, and a shadow darted over the Zodiac. Dirk looked up to see a low-flying C-130 lumber over. It was painted gray, with the multicolored flag of South Africa displayed on its tail. Dahlgren waved at the plane, slowing the Zodiac to be heard over its motor.

“Search-and-rescue plane we dialed up out of Pretoria. About time they showed up. I guess we better let them know you’re safe.” He retrieved a handheld radio and informed the Alexandria of Dirk and Summer’s appearance.

While they waited for the message to be relayed to the airplane, Dirk tapped Dahlgren’s shoulder and pointed to the approaching patrol boat. “Call back and ask the plane if they would buzz those guys. Tell them we suspect they’re part of a local piracy ring.”

“I reckon the FAA doesn’t extend to these waters,” Dahlgren said, and relayed the message.

The C-130 had already receded to a speck on the horizon. Then it turned and grew larger. The pilot brought it down low, barely fifty feet above the waves. Approaching the patrol craft off its stern, it caught the crew by surprise. Several gunmen threw themselves to the deck as the roar of the four 4,200-horsepower turboprop motors engulfed the patrol boat.

The plane flew past, made a lazy turn, and came back for a second run across the patrol boat’s beam. This time, a few of the braver crewmen waved their weapons, but nobody fired a round. Undaunted, the C-130’s pilot made three more passes, each one lower than the last. The patrol boat accepted the message, reluctantly veering off and motoring back to shore. Tracking it for good measure, the C-130 hung around at low altitude for almost an hour, before dipping its wings and heading home.

Dirk looked to Dahlgren. “Remind me to send a case of beer to the South African Air Force.”

“Those boys don’t mess around, do they?”

A few minutes later, they pulled alongside the Alexandria. Dirk and Summer were surprised to see their mangled submersible on the stern deck as they were hoisted aboard.

“We found her promptly with the sonar and were able to rig her for lifting with an ROV,” Dahlgren said. “We renewed our shore search when we didn’t find you inside.”

The siblings were greeted warmly as they boarded, but Summer sensed a nervousness, even from Dahlgren, as she was helped onto a gurney. The ship’s doctor rushed them to the decompression chamber, which was already prepped with food and medical supplies.

Dirk tried to duck out, but the doctor ordered him in as a precaution. Before the hatch closed, Dahlgren poked his head inside to ensure they were comfortable.

“Might not be a good idea to linger around the area,” Dirk said. “We were able to plant all the seismic sensors before our run-in with the patrol boat. We can deal with the thugs another time.”

“The captain’s already winding us up for a run to Durban at flank speed.” Dahlgren’s face was taught and