Something’s Down There

Chapter Ten

The Midnight Cruise ship was well prepared for any contingency. A spur-of-the-moment beach party dinner was a simple matter to arrange, even with an elaborate menu of gourmet items. A sturdy motor transporter ferried the stoves, tables and place settings while another carried all the foodstuffs. The operation was so efficient that hardly anybody noticed. The guests were formed into teams and prepared to do some exploring before dinner.

Chana and Lee Colbert had let the initial teams go ahead to pick their way around the rubble of the old submarine base. Chana shook her head and said, “Listen to them. You’d think they were in Disney World. All they’re doing is traipsing through wreckage.”

“In their world, lady, they don’t see junk. They only see money and what it can buy. This is a new adventure for them.”

“Come on, Lee, they’re tourists.”

He gave her a tight smile. “Sure they are. Millionaire tourists. Hell, you can’t even get a boarding pass on that ship unless you have a seven-digit income. Not capital. Income from the capital. Get the picture?”

The frown Chana turned on him showed pure displeasure. “That’s disgusting!”

“That’s what the last report from the Company indicated. I take it you didn’t read it.”

“No. I was busy with other matters. It was filed under general correspondence. I’ll read it later.”

Lee waved his hand at the backs of the retreating passengers. All of them were uniformed in white or khaki hiking clothes, some with Frank Buck jungle helmets and others with cute kepi-style coverings from expensive tailoring shops.

For a minute, Chana studied them again, then asked, “Why are they all waving like that?”

“They’re off the beach,” he told her.

“So?”

“They’re on the grass and they haven’t been issued any bug spray. Somebody is going to catch hell.”

Lee had barely spoken when they saw a young sailor in the ship’s colors running hard to catch the plodding assembly. Two canvas bags were over his shoulders and when he reached them he began passing out the canisters with instructions on their use and made sure everyone was well equipped before he started back.

When he reached Hooker and Judy he stopped and grinned at them. “Sure appreciate you telling me about that.”

“No trouble.”

“It would be for me if the boss man knew about it.”

Judy thought Mako was going to say something and gave him a nudge, but all he said was, “Just give us a wink when we eat. I want a seat close to the kitchen.”

The boy gave him a wink and said, “You got it, man.”

Judy took Mako’s arm, stuffed her bug spray in her pocket and started walking toward the remains of the repair shed on the beach. “He wouldn’t have believed you anyway,” she said.

Mako didn’t answer.

“Do I look like a part owner of the fleet?”

This time Mako nodded. “Sure you do.”

He was so matter-of-fact about it that she stopped and faced him, her brow furrowed. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would I?”

“Because you’re with me,” he told her. Then he grinned and said, “I’m the dominant male, wouldn’t you say?”

“Damn!” She laughed and kicked sand at his feet.

The perfumed chemical smell of the insect repellent hung over the island. Laboratory technology had improved the performance of the insecticide a thousand percent since the jungle warfare of World War II. There was no wild waving at clouds of minute flying things because they were either dead or held at bay by man’s chemical expertise.

Flashbulbs from small cameras were capturing the maze of bent steel girders, and inquisitive tourists were prying in and around ancient tooling devices and rotted cranes. Here and there a shriek would erupt as some furry thing dashed out of a hiding place, or a scorpion would suddenly become alert and make a threatening gesture at a portly millionaire who wasn’t used to violence of this sort at all. One tried bug spray on the terrestrial arachnid and all it did was spur the little beast into a charge. The man’s eyes bugged and sheer fright immobilized him, but the scorpion abruptly stopped and the man swallowed hard without being seen, then stepped back.

His pudgy little wife beamed at his bravery and said, “Dear, that was marvelous!”

“Yes” was all he could answer. His voice was quite humble. Inside all he could think was that that little bugger had scared the crap out of him.

Hooker and Judy were outside the scene, but they had found something of their own. Protruding from the sand was a huge piece of curved, shaped metal. Unlike most of the iron and steel around the base, this one showed no trace of rust at all. Hooker pried up a piece of board and began shoveling away the sand until four feet of it showed plainly. Judy said, “Is that what I think it is?”

Hooker nodded. “Part of it, anyway.” He poked away just below it and hit something solid. “A blade of a propeller. And here’s another one.”

“That second one’s awfully close to the other one, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s more than a four-bladed baby, that’s for sure. At the angle I see here, this prop must have carried eight or ten blades.”

“How big across, would you say?”

“The circumference of rotation would have to have been at least twelve feet.” He started pushing the sand back into its original position. “That was a big bastard for World War One.” His face had a puzzled expression and Judy noticed it when he joined her.

“What’s the matter, Mako?”

“There’s no rust on that prop.”

“What about it?”

“The thing isn’t stainless steel, but it’s in better shape than what we’re producing today.”

“But it’s just laying there.”

“I know,” he told her. “Apparently the German metallurgists were way ahead of their time. They didn’t even bother to try to hide what they had. They just used it, figuring they were going to win the war anyway.”

“Hooker... is it that important?”

“No, not now. We can produce hardened, nonrusting metals ourselves, but back then it would have been quite a coup, as the Indians say.”

“Then why did you cover it up?”

“Because there might be something there that needs looking into. We’ll let Captain Watts send a team in to recover it.” He scanned Judy’s half-closed eyes. “What’s bothering you now?”

“That propeller had been here since 1918. How come nobody else ever spotted it?”

“Maybe they did, but who cared? The war was over. Nobody wanted this island, it was all history and destined to rust.”

“Except that it didn’t rust.”

“No, and neither do your zippers on your jacket. We caught up, okay?”

She thought a moment, then agreeably nodded. “Okay.”

Mako took her hand and led her back into the maze of aging girders. In the rubble was the culture of another generation; a single shoe of heavy leather, a piece of striped cloth—part of an apron—both too rotted to touch. The mouth of a whiskey bottle protruded from the sand and in one corner was a heap of old beer bottles, some with corks still in them.

At the far end was the office or what was left of the office. The furniture was not what any native would use, so it was sand-covered, but recognizable. The wooden filing cabinets had come apart and only shards of papers were to be seen, but an ancient typewriter, still covered by a cracked rubber hood, sat on a sturdy table, looking totally untouched.

Judy asked why.

“Natives could have been superstitious. This was the home area of the place to them. They didn’t like the unexplainable, so this place could have been taboo. Anyway, who knows?”

“The others from the ship could have taken souvenirs from here.”

“Not likely, kid. This was adventure, not an auction. It’ll all look better in photographs. You hungry?”

“Starved.”

Mako glanced at his watch. “We can beat them to the tables if we shake it a little.”

From a good distance away, Lee Colbert put down his binoculars. For an hour he and Chana had stayed out of sight but kept a close watch on Judy and Mako. “They’re just kicking up sand,” he said.

“Balls. Hooker’s up to something.”

“Chana, knock it off,” Lee told her testily. “They haven’t been looking for anything and they haven’t found anything.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Damn it, Chana, he’s here because he’s got a woman with him!”

“What difference does that make?” she spit back.

Very quietly, but very nastily, Lee said, “At least he knows she won’t shoot him.”

Captain Don Watts wasn’t about to miss a meal on the beach. For too long he had been exposed to the superb elegance of French and Italian trainee chefs on board the ship, and now he wanted the smell of charcoal fires and to hear the sizzling of plain old hamburgers on the grill. A pair of the islanders who worked on the Sentilla had already buried yams and a fresh-caught fish in leaf wrappings, and the aroma hung over the beach like a pleasant cloud.

A portable plank bar had been set up above the high tide mark, bottles of distilled spirits glistening like jewels, but the glassware was heavy and old-fashioned. A half keg of beer was chocked in place at the end of the bar, an old wooden spigot rammed into the bung. Thick mugs with heavy handles were grouped around it.

“A miniature Sloppy Joe’s,” Judy said.

“Anything for a change,” Hooker told her. “They’ll be lining up at a keg and spilling the suds all over the place. I wonder when was the last time these old boys bellied up to a beer bar?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Oh, these old boys have been there and back, believe me. Two in that crowd started out in push-carts.”

“Selling what?”

“War surplus,” she said. “The government threw it away and they sold it back to use in Korea.”

Before he could answer, he spotted Captain Watts coming up the beach and waved. Watts was sipping the foam off a mug of cold suds, washing down a mouthful of hamburger with apparent relish.

When he got closer he yelled, “You’d better get into the chow before the crowd gets here.”

“We intend to,” he said, pulling Judy to an angle to intercept the bar. When they all had a beer and burger they curled down into the sand far enough away from the squealing of the happy crowd so that they could talk without shouting.

Judy asked, “How long are you staying, Don?”

“When they dry up the bar they’ll be ready to go back. This bunch is always ready for a little extracurricular activity. They never miss an outing. Some of them wanted to go skin diving, but none were qualified.”

“You need a certificate out here?” Judy put in.

Watts shook his head. “Didn’t have to explain. We just pointed out the sharks the boys had piled up on the dock and that slowed them down pretty quickly.” The captain stopped and stared over Mako’s and Judy’s heads a moment, then said, “Company coming,” and stood up.

Hooker got up with him and let out a tight smile at Chana and Lee Colbert. Judy waved from her position in the sand. There was another girl with them, and this one was no tourist. The sun had burned her almost as dark as Mako, but she had gremlin eyes where diving goggles had given her a strange mask of white, and in the dimming light it was almost impossible to tell if she was plain or pretty.

Captain Watts made the introductions. The girl was Kim Sebring, an oceanographer from Woods Hole who was researching ocean currents around the area where the Sentilla was operating.

When everybody was back in the sand again, Judy asked her why Woods Hole would be interested in this area.

“You know the history of Reboka Island?” Kim asked.

“Only that it was a German sub base in World War One,” Hooker told her. “Was there more to it?”

The girl shrugged. “Historically, it’s a question mark. Submarine warfare was in its infancy at that time, but the German government realized its potential. Unfortunately for them, their technology was limited and their production capabilities didn’t measure up to their plans.”

“How did they pick this place?” Watts queried.

“Probably through information gathered from their shipping trade. Most likely the subs were towed as far as they could be. In some instances the records show they were towed all the way. Incidentally, did you see those low spots in back of the buildings?”

Mako said, “I saw them through the office windows. They sure weren’t foundation excavations.”

“They were blowout holes,” Kim told them. “Originally, huge steel tanks were buried there. Fuel cells, loaded with oil for the subs.”

“What happened to them, Kim?” Judy asked.

“The operation ceased,” the diver told her. “The war ended. They had used up all the oil anyway and when a hurricane hit here and flooded the island, those big, empty drums just burst through the sand and floated away. Apparently the vents were left open, because they were never seen again.”

Hooker finished off his beer and wiped his mouth. “You trying to locate them?”

“No way.” Kim laughed. “They were made of thin metal that has long since been eroded away. No, I’ve been checking out the odd currents in the area. The way everything gets dumped on Scara Island, for one thing.”

“Those mines that drifted there were a surprise.”

“Not really. All sorts of odd things wind up on that beach. There are parts of old ships from the eighteen hundreds, wreckage from torpedoed boats during World War Two. There were even two houses that drifted down from Florida during a hurricane. They didn’t last long, though. Whatever hits the sun and the sand doesn’t last long.”

Hooker said, “You’d think the kids with metal detectors would be scouring the area.”

“Why, metal doesn’t float. Buoyancy and a strange tidal current keep the junk on Scara Island.”

“Too bad.”

“Except for a float sent up from a sunken submarine.”

“A float?”

“Yeah. Apparently one of the subs assigned to the base here submerged and couldn’t blow its tanks to come up. When they had tried everything the captain shot the float up through one of the torpedo tubes.”

“You’re a real seagoing encyclopedia, lady.”

Kim gave him a small laugh. “You know what the Kingston valve is?”

“Tell me.”

“It’s the valve that controls the flow of compressed air. When the sub was submerged the air was compacted into high-pressure containers while seawater flooded chambers that gave the sub negative buoyancy to take it down. To go up, the compressed air was released, blew out the seawater and the sub rose to the top. Only in this case, the valve stuck.”

“Who’s got the float now?”

“It’s in the Naval Academy at Annapolis.”

“How’d you wind up here?”

“Magazine assignment. Our bunch at Woods Hole get some beauties since we work closely with government projects.”

“They sent you out by yourself?”

Kim shook her head at Hooker. “I’m not alone. There are four of us on the dive and we’re well equipped.”

For the first time Chana spoke up, the tone of her voice tinged with a note of superiority. “You’re not afraid of the eater, I take it.”

Kim laughed again. “Lady, I’m afraid of everything I’m not prepared for.”

“Then how do you prepare for an eater?”

A casual shrug touched the girl’s shoulders. “Hell,” she said, “I’m not a boat.” She turned her head abruptly and grinned at Judy and Hooker. “Either of you two divers?”

“I’ve got a ticket,” Mako told her.

When Judy said she was certified too, Mako gave her a curious glance. “You get around, kiddo.”

“Daddy let me dive for three seasons with the sponge fleet. We were using hard hats then.”

Hooker said to Kim, “You need some extra hands on your project?”

“Two of our divers have head colds you wouldn’t believe. They take a shallow dive off the boat and it’s like eating a cold ice cream cone and having that hammer hit you in the forehead.”

“I remember the feeling,” Hooker said. He nudged Judy and asked, “You want to lend a helping hand?”

“Sure, but I’m not an oceanographer.”

“No sweat,” Kim told her. “All you have to do is stick plastic pennants on wire rods into the sand. We’ll be at fifty feet to seventy feet with hundred-foot clear visibility. Nothing dangerous down there we can’t handle, and when we’re done we can drop on down to the wreck of an old submarine. It’s been there since 1918.”

“Interesting,” Judy said. “What about the diving gear?”

Hooker said, “I have equipment for four on board the Clamdip.”

“Tanks?” Kim asked.

“Eight fully filled,” Mako told her. “There’s a four-stage compressor on board if we need to recharge.”

Chana’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why would you carry all that equipment for, Hooker?”

“I’m a sports fan,” he told her. Then, “Why don’t you come along, Chana. Diving is one of your specialties, isn’t it?”

There was more in his tone than an invitation. This time it was a direct order given so that no one would suspect he had the commanding position. Chana’s hands tightened involuntarily, then she gave a small smile of pleasure and nodded her acceptance.

Hooker grinned back and squeezed Judy’s hand. “What time do we leave, Kim? We’d better take the Clamdip instead of your little boat. We’re up to our ears in supplies and the Tellig will be staying on station with the Sentilla, right?”

Lee Colbert was pleased with the idea. He could get the official business done with Captain Watts without Chana looking over his shoulder, and Chana would have a good opportunity to find out just what role Hooker had in this game.

Kim said, “We’ll leave at six A.M. It’s about a forty-minute ride to the dive site, so we should be in the water at seven-thirty. That sound okay?”

“Suits me,” Hooker said for Judy and himself. “Where are you tied up?”

“On the other side of the Sentilla at the floating dock.”

“Good, I’ll pick you up there.” To Chana he said, “You staying on board your boat tonight?”

“Where else?”

“Then I’ll pick you up after I get Kim and her partner.”

“I’ll be ready,” Chana said, then looked at Judy. “Thanks for inviting us to the beach party.”

“My pleasure,” Judy told her. “It was fun.”

When Lee and Chana walked away Captain Watts eased up from his cross-legged position in the sand and brushed his pants off. Down by the water’s edge the last of the cruise ship’s passengers were boarding the boats to get back to the main ship. A handful of sailors were packing away the picnic equipment and when they were ready the captain said, “I suppose you two are going to get in on the cruise ship’s festivities, right?” He gave them a wry grin. “I understand they have two major shows, two lounge shows and a fully equipped gaming section.”

“They have everything on that ship,” Judy reminded him.

“Except spare quarters,” Captain Watts laughed. “I hear they are completely sold out.”

“For three years in advance.” Judy smiled back. “Even being a part owner doesn’t mean a thing.”

Watts gave her back a broad smile. “Just think of the money you’re making.”

“The name of the game.” She smirked. “Anyway, I have my own cabin on the Clamdip. “When Hooker didn’t say anything she prodded. “Well, don’t I?”

“Hell, a hammock on deck isn’t so bad,” Hooker mumbled.

“No wonder Chana shot you.”

Watts glanced up sharply. “What?”

With phony fierceness Judy nodded and said, “That’s right, she put a bullet right in him.”

“That true?” the captain asked.

“Yeah, but she missed.”

“Missed what?”

“Killing me,” Hooker said, his voice cold.

“Damn! How’d that happen?”

“Women and guns make an unhappy combination.”

Watts didn’t ask anything further, but the half-concealed smile begged an answer.

Hooker said, “I’ll keep her guessing on that dive. I’ll stay in back of her and she’ll never know if I’m going to jab a knife into her or not.”

Quietly, Judy asked, “Would you?”

“No,” he answered softly, “but I’d like to. Trouble is, it would draw blood, then the sharks would come, then maybe the eater would come and we’d all be in one heck of a mess. Anyway, Captain, we’ll cancel on your invitation for tonight.”

“Maybe tomorrow night, then?”

“Good. You’re on.”

On the way back to the Clamdip in the dinghy they enjoyed the whine of the small Johnson outboard and the salt taste of the spray on their faces. The night was warm, the air a little heavy, but the moonlight sparkled off the waves. Ahead of them was their boat, lights blazing on deck and below. When they got close they could see Billy Bright pacing in the wheelhouse and Judy asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s alone, it’s nighttime and he’s scared witless that the eater is going to make a snack of him.”

But it wasn’t that at all.

Billy had caught a radio message directed to the ship Tellig. A cameraman in a light plane sent up by the Lotusland had gotten clear shots of the eater. It was plainly seen by the pilot, the copilot and the cameraman, although they could not determine the depth below the surface. The day was clear, the sunlight bright and the plane was headed back to process the negatives.

The answer from the Tellig was direct. They identified themselves as a government agency and the film was to be delivered to the Tellig immediately upon development. Five minutes went by before the Lotusland chiefs acknowledged in the positive. Nothing was said about it being the sole copy. This time the government was dealing with Hollywood, and movieland wasn’t going to let any U.S. agency get away with a prize like this.

Billy brought them a cold Miller Lite after he lashed the dinghy down, joining Mako and Judy in the deck chairs. Simply knowing that the eater had been photographed brought him a sense of satisfaction. The unknown had suddenly become known and now it was something they could go to war over.

Judy said, “How are they going to get this before the public, Mako?”

“Probably TV. That Lotusland group will go over every detail of that film for their own use before they get it to the Tellig. Chana might have come down hard with her demands, but there’s no way they can force the issue. Not at this point, anyway.”

“Would it be to anybody’s advantage to hold it back?”

“Uh-uh. This ‘eater’ story is big news, a damn sight bigger than the Bermuda Triangle jive. The public will eat it up.”

“Mako... what do you think it is?”

Billy squeezed his empty beer can into an aluminum ball, wondering if he should listen to his boss or not.

Hooker said, “Beats me.” He turned to Billy then. “Our TV working out here?”

“Not for long time, sar. Only in port,” Billy replied.

“We can pick up the transmission on the cruise ship,” Judy said. “If we radio Don Watts he can monitor the stations and tape the broadcast.”

“Sar... will we really see the eater?” Billy asked.

“Why, don’t you want to?”

“If the eater... he was dead... then I wouldn’t mind.” He swallowed hard and added, “He still down there, sar.”

“Mako...” Judy’s voice was very quiet. “Lotusland is only a couple hours from here.”

“So?”

“We’re still in its... operational area.”

Hooker headed for the wheelhouse. “Then let’s see if we can find out what it looks like,” he said over his shoulder.

Judy and Billy watched him silently as he contacted the Midnight Cruise ship. They avoided looking directly at each other but scanned the darkened sea every so often. It was a vast blackness out there, then something would make a wild dash below the surface, leaving a bright streak of fluorescence in its path. At times a body would lift out of the water and come down again in a muted splash. Twice a living thing felt its way along the keel and twice the hull was rammed softly by some sort of creature as long as the boat. They weren’t new experiences to Mako or Billy, but for the first time, Judy realized just how alive the ocean was and how small their boat seemed and how helpless they would be in a foreign element like the Black Sea.

When Mako came back on deck she had to stifle a sigh of relief.

But he knew what she was thinking. “Relax,” he told her. “It’s always noisy out there. As a matter of fact, this is a quiet night.”

“Why haven’t I noticed it before?”

“Because you’ve always been in a cabin or the band was playing too loud or somebody was whispering in your ear.”

“The next time I’ll be listening.” She paused a moment. “What did the ship say?”

“They’ll monitor all the stations. Whatever is made public, we’ll see.”

“Could you go to Chana...”

“Forget it, Judy. She’d make every move difficult. Unless we know... are absolutely sure of what we’re dealing with. All we have is speculation.”

Billy sensed his annoyance and brought him another cold Lite. Mako opened it with an automatic gesture and sipped at it.

Judy left her chair and stood next to Mako at the rail. “Why is a government ship here at all?”

“Because the Sentilla is a government operation. Supposedly, Tellig is resupplying them.”

“That’s a cover story, Hooker.”

“Sure it is.”

“Then why are they here?”

“Judy, there are some incidents that can go around the world in one hour. You think this ‘eater’ business isn’t being gobbled up in every city on earth? Hell, even if it was only around our islands it would be big news, but when the Arico Queen got hit, we’re on the front page.”

“Mako... accidents happen all the time!”

“Damn it, this was no accident.”

She felt a sudden coldness in the air, chilled by the tone of his voice. “What do you think it is?”

His shoulders shrugged his answer. Finally he said, “Something is prowling around, that’s for sure. As long as it’s something it’s big news. It’s the monster out there in the dark. It’s got teeth and it’s got power and everybody is scared to death of it.”

“Suppose it’s identified.”

“Then we’ll know how to deal with it.”

“You’re thinking something else, Mister Hooker.”

Mako nodded slowly and took another pull of his beer. “I’m thinking of all the cute political moves that are going to come down on us. Those playboys in Washington will make more out of this than the Panama bit.”

“Like how?”

“Like how and where to apply funding to something that will improve the politicians’ positions. This has all the earmarks of one hell of a publicity angle that can’t be overlooked. Every paper and TV show in the world will be locked in on it, and before long every publicity-hungry pol will be drooling over the potential for reelection that it offers.”

Mako’s facial expression had darkened and she didn’t pursue the conversation.

Billy Bright had been bent over the starboard railing. Now he pulled up the line in his hand and took the readings off the thermometers that had recorded temperatures at different depths. He squinted at the readings and took them under a brighter light to verify what he saw. He jotted numbers down on a pad and handed them to Mako. “She be high, sar. Four degrees over last night.”

Mako checked the readings and compared them to the other nightly numbers. “Odd,” he stated.

“No flying fish,” Billy told him. “Plenty last night.”

Puzzled, Judy said, “What’s flying fish got to do with anything?”

Mako shrugged again. “Just odd, is all. The islanders have something about rising water temperatures and no flying fish.”

“Billy?”

He gave her a noncommittal look and shrugged too.

Once again, the night air seemed cooler than it actually was and she wished she had another sweater.

Almost as if it knew that its picture had been taken, the formless mass reacted to the nature of its environment and gently let its own world smother it. There was no hurrying in its movements, just easy responding to its elements, knowing that it would go to the right place. The elongated form drove other things out of its path simply by being there, as if the smell of it were as offensive as its size and character.

Only the smaller fish seemed protected by its presence, the way pilot fish are by a shark, or like suckerfish adhered to a predator’s belly. When the mass rose, the small fish rose with it. When it turned in those very wide curves they would be alongside. Their safety was ignorance. Overhead daylight had put a pale glow on the surface and the movement of the great body caused it to ascend, bare inches at a time. Now it seemed to be looking. On the surface was the dark bottom of a boat and not far away was another, but the great thing was not looking for them. When it was ready, it would find what it was looking for.