Something’s Down There

Chapter Twelve

The storm didn’t ease up. It stopped with the startling suddenness of tropical disturbances in that area, the low clouds rolling away like a retreating army. The nasty chop of the waves rounded off into gentle swells, and overhead the flickering light of the stars made the sky come alive.

Judy looked at Hooker and he nodded. Billy Bright let a smile grow on his face, wiping out the concern that had etched it earlier. Mako said, “Where are we, Billy?”

“Over the deep coral heads, sar. You want anchors to get lifted?”

“Weighed, Billy.”

“I know how much she weigh. You want I lift them?”

Hooker didn’t argue the point. “You go ahead and lift ‘em, then.”

When Billy went up to the bow Judy asked, “Aren’t you going to help him?”

“Lady,” he said pleasantly, “when I outfitted this boat I didn’t plan to mess around with big old navy-style anchors. They got motors to do those things.”

“Sorry I asked.”

“Only way you’ll ever learn, doll,” he told her, with a grin, then switched on his fish finder. In a few moments the face of the instrument blossomed into life, registering depths below, showing the flurry of action schools of fish made and picking up images of big singles that still lurked below, wary of the power of nature that could rile up the ocean to its very bottom.

Judy pointed to the odd shadowy things on the screen. “What are those?”

“Coral heads. They’re stretched out for another three miles.”

She put her finger on the numbers indicating the depth. “Aren’t they down awfully deep? Most of the ones I’ve seen were in one atmosphere, about thirty feet.”

“No telling what’s happened to the bottom in this area. Undersea disturbances are pretty damn common. How do you think all these islands were formed? Right now the Sentilla is probing beneath the sea for an indication of activity.”

They heard the growl of the chains coming in and the final thunk as the anchors were snaked onto the deck. And while Billy Bright was lashing them into place, Hooker nudged the throttles and the Clamdip, almost as if she were happy, dug her forefoot into the chop and picked up speed.

Above them the dots of the stars gave way to the grayish light of dawn, disappearing slowly, and were gone when the sun let a tip of itself show above the horizon to the east.

A soft, rain-cooled breeze came across the boat. Billy had made the coffee, gave one to Judy in the stern and brought another to Mako. He put it down beside the wheel along with two pink packets of sweetener. “Why that stuff work, sar?”

“Because,” Hooker explained to him, and Billy nodded as though it made some sense.

But Hooker had forgotten about the coffee. He was watching the fish finder and very gently pulling the throttles back as Billy walked away and picked up the binoculars to search the area ahead, as though looking for the Sentilla. Billy and Judy, who had reacted to the boat slowing down, knew what Mako was doing but didn’t pay any more attention.

Mako wasn’t looking ahead. He was staring at the images on the fish finder, wondering if what he was seeing was real. Something was there, all right. It had no definite form, but there it lay amongst the coral heads like some strange, deadly anomaly, a something that didn’t belong.

The sun hadn’t penetrated deep enough to define the thing; it was a great, dark blob, distorted along its outlines, the coral heads making the whole scene seem unreal. It could well have been a trench area, or an underwater garden of weed. Had he fished this area often he would have known what the mass was, but Billy had always put him over the top spots where the fish they wanted fed. For a minute he thought of calling to his mate, but there was no sense in upsetting Billy again. He had survived the night into a new day and that dark thing whose shape wasn’t really discernible at all made it an ambiguous deal not worth pursuing.

Suddenly it was not there anymore and the coral heads thinned out until they were gone altogether. Up ahead on the surface he could see the tiny shapes of the Sentilla and the cruise ship. Nearly blanked out by their sizes would be Lotusland. He looked back at Judy and pointed up ahead.

A minute later Billy joined Hooker at the wheel, waited a few seconds, then said, “Sar, what is it you see?”

Hooker scowled and glanced at the Carib. “What are you talking about, Billy?”

The mate nodded at the fish finder. It was off and the screen was blank. “This thing you see down there.”

“What thing?”

“The one you don’t want to tell me about.” Before he could ask, Billy explained, “Easier to see through glasses when at speed in this boat, sar.” He looked directly at his boss and grinned. “So...?”

“I saw something big and dark.”

“Many things big and dark down there, sar.”

“How come you’re not scared, Billy?”

Billy pointed to the barometer. “The glass, sar, she is steady.” His finger pointed off the starboard side at the splashes in the water and the low cloud of what looked like low-flying birds and said, “The flying fish, sar.” His nose went skyward and he breathed deeply, filling his lungs with air. He did it again. “It is not a day for the eater, sar. Today is a good day.”

“And when it gets dark?”

A little frown clouded Billy’s eyes momentarily, and then the grin came back. “Like the man says, sar, what will be will sure as hell be.”

“Tell me that when something comes up out of the water and breathes on you.”

Billy twisted his head very slowly and stared at Mako for a long time. “Sar, you are fooling me?”

“Yeah,” Hooker told him, “I’m fooling you.” He let out a small snort and hoped Billy believed him.

Captain Watts ushered Mako into the wheelhouse of the Sentilla, checked the gauges, then pulled out a couple of high-backed stools to sit in. “You’re a big believer in this eater business, aren’t you?”

“Somebody has to be. You pick up anything on sonar yet?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be explained. We put out three scout boats with some new technology aboard and they covered everything in this site for three miles. There’s nothing under us except the usual species of fish. One of them located an old hulk from World War Two and the burned remains of a fishing schooner. If you’re making another dive, believe me, nothing is going to eat you.”

“I sure appreciate the effort.”

“Couldn’t do anything less, Colonel. Your credentials come from understood high places.”

“High enough to get me a special favor?”

“Just ask.”

Hooker wrote the name down on a piece of paper and slid it over to Don Watts. “I want his history. He may have used other names, but I’m pretty sure the last outfit he worked for would have checked him out pretty thoroughly.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Anything, but let’s start with a police record. In this computer age any contact with the cops gets you down on paper. A lot may be illegal, but if you’re clean it won’t matter. If you’re dirty, you can buy the farm... six feet deep.” Mako tore another sheet off the small pad and wrote on it. “I’m giving you a number that identifies me. Memorize it and use it if anyone puts a block in your path.” He handed the paper to Watts. For a minute and a half he stared at it, unblinking, then handed it back. Hooker lit a match and held the paper to it.

“That big, huh?” Watts said.

“That big,” Hooker confirmed.

Before Hooker could add anything else, the phone rang and Watts picked it up. He listened for a moment and switched on the overhead speaker. He said, “Say again.”

A muffled radio voice said, “This is Paul Vernon on the twenty-two boat, captain. We just got a signal on CB radio from one of the native fishing boats a couple of miles from here. He’s hooked into something huge about fifty feet below him. Whatever it is, the head of the thing is a few hundred feet away from his short line.”

“How long will it take you to get to him?”

“Fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Good. Stand by when you get there. Take that fisherman and his crew on your boat and attach a marker buoy to the line he has out. Keep that thing in sight.”

When he ended the transmission, Watts said, “Seems like something’s about to happen.”

“Are you going to cover this?” Hooker queried.

Watts shook his head. “Unless there’s a war, this ship is on permanent station until our jobs are finished. This situation isn’t serious enough to call for other ships to converge and I’ve instituted an action already that could handle any contingency.” He stared at Mako and let a grin cross his face. “Especially since I have a gung-ho army colonel ready to take a stab at this himself.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Hooker said.

“But you wouldn’t turn it down,” Watts proposed.

“No way.”

“Who are you taking?”

“Kim Sebring and a few of her top diving team.”

“Need any special armament?”

“What can I have?”

“Your security clearance will get you anything under a destroyer, but I’d suggest a mobile rocket launcher. You won’t be in a naval engagement so it should take only one shot. Those rockets are armor-piercing explosive shells, and what they hit goes to never-never land. Have you ever fired them?”

“Trained with them and used them in the field.”

Watts didn’t ask him where. The expression on Hooker’s face told almost the whole story.

Kim Sebring picked her two best divers and left the others grumbling on the dock. No information was given out on the mission but everyone knew this was top priority. Sebring consoled those left behind by telling them to be ready for an emergency call. That seemed to satisfy them.

On the Clamdip Billy and Judy had engaged the compressor engine and were recharging the empty diving tanks while Kim Sebring was going over a notebook full of diagrams with her divers. Finally the three of them opened up a large oceanographic map of the seabed below them, sat on the corners and discussed one specific area. Hooker came over and watched them trying to make sense out of all the penciled markings and crayon-shaded sections.

Kim looked up and said, “I think we’ve figured out the secret of Scara Island.”

“That sounds like the title of a spooky movie.”

“Doesn’t it, though. And it almost is.”

“What’s happening?” Mako asked her.

She tapped the map with her forefinger. “This area has undergone a recent change. Not last week or last year, but a couple of centuries ago. The old Confederate ship Savannah, whose captain detailed everything, made soundings all around here. Note these large rises.”

Hooker studied them a moment and nodded. They were large hillocks that swelled up from the sandy bottom, some rising to within thirty feet of the surface. In those days a line of them had run nearly to Peolle, with another branching off like a scimitar, nearly touching what was now Scara Island.

Kim suddenly sketched in other shapes and when she was done she said, “This is the way it is now. Undersea movements have flattened out those rises, and now a channel runs on the left side of where they were. It isn’t a very deep crevice but it causes a flowing action that ends up on Scara Island.”

“That affects objects down deep?”

“No,” Kim explained. “It’s generally surface material that’s directed to the island. There are many currents in the ocean itself that nobody can fully explain. Some are proven and used, like the westerly and the easterlies. Sailing ships used these conditions to travel around the world.”

Billy suddenly called over his shoulder, “Mr. Hooker, sar, that boat she be straight ahead.”

Hooker leaned over the side, spotting the naval boat and one of the islander’s single outboard dories. “Whose boat is that, Billy?”

“She belong to Peter-from-the-market, sar. He buy that boat in Miami.”

“Get him on the CB and tell him we’re coming alongside. Ask him if it’s clear.”

While Billy contacted his friend, Hooker picked up the VHF microphone and said, “Sentilla scout, this is Clamdip. What’s the situation?”

“Sir, that fisherman has got something down there, all right. You look off about thirty degrees to his right and you’ll see the commotion in the water. Something barely surfaces there every once in a while.”

“Right. I think I see what you mean.” He pointed with his finger and everybody on board looked out, fascinated. “I’m coming alongside you for a closer inspection.”

“Whatever it is down there is pretty damn big, sir.”

“Well, the divers will go down and take a look at it.”

“Sir!”

“You’re off the hook, sailor. Confirm with your captain if you want to.”

The way he said “Yes, sir,” left no doubt about his doing just that.

But there was a different look on the faces of Kim Sebring and her divers. There was no apprehension at all, just anticipation, the excitement of the dive, the anticipation of possibly seeing firsthand some incredible thing that no one had ever seen before. All three of them had strapped on underwater cameras with small-sized but powerful floodlights and each carried a long aluminum tube that fired a twelve-gauge shotgun shell that could take out practically any predator.

Above the noise of voices Billy suddenly said, “They won’t need those bang guns, sar.”

“What?” Mako looked sharply at his mate. He wore his usual placid expression that showed no concern at all. Quickly he scanned the water around them and saw no flying fish at all. Then he looked at the barometer. It hadn’t changed at all. It was still a nice day.

“It is not the eater, sar.”

“You sure, Billy?”

“Like you say, I am one smart Carib. I am very sure.”

“Then go get some equipment and you can dive with us,” Mako suggested.

Billy’s expression didn’t change, but his mind did. And he told Mako, “Maybe I am not so sure, sar.”

Mako knew his buddy would add another excuse he could be a little more certain of. He said, “Oh?”

“The shark with your front name, sar, he...”

“You see him, Billy?”

“He is a quiet mister, that one, sar.”

“But he’s not here, Billy.”

Very solemnly, Billy Bright said, “Everything’s got to be someplace, sar.”

This time Hooker let out a short laugh. No way was he ever going to get the better of the Carib. “Okay, pal, you take care of topsides while we check this thing out.” He paused a moment and added, “You sure this isn’t the eater, Billy?”

Billy, still very solemn, nodded his head. “Sar, I am very sure.”

And Hooker stopped grinning because Judy had come up from the cabin carrying her dive mask and fins and for a second he thought she was totally naked, until he saw the tiny pink bikini she was wearing, and all he could say was, “You diving like that?”

Judy’s eyes flashed over to Kim Sebring, who was hoisting her single tank onto her back. She had on the same outfit in black.

When she smiled coyly Hooker said, “Yeah, but she sure isn’t built like you, doll.”

“We’re going after something that won’t notice the difference, aren’t we?”

Hooker just shook his head and she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she walked over to get her tank out of the rack and check its pressure. When she was satisfied it was okay she started to lift it into position and a young diver started to give her a hand. But he was too slow. Hooker jumped in himself, adjusting her bindings, then she gave him another kiss on the cheek.

How Billy saw the action he didn’t know, but Hooker heard him say very softly, “Yes, sar, everybody’s got to be someplace.”

Mako slipped on his tank, got squared away and jumped in right after Kim Sebring. Judy followed with the two young divers behind them. The group dropped down twenty feet below the Clamdip, where they all checked the compasses on their wrists, then fanned out and swam toward the dory of Peter-from-the-market, whose line was still snagged into an unknown thing another fifty feet below them— where visibility was cloudy, and the unknown, no matter what it was, posed a threat like walking through a minefield.

They all felt it. Unconsciously, they tightened up their small formation, well within sight of each other. Mako saw the men firm their grip on the bang sticks and then the movement of their flippers stopped.

The eighty-pound nylon test line that started at Peter-from-the-market’s dory angled right down in front of them. There was no slack in the line at all, and as they watched, it began to veer to the left as something on the other end pulled it that way.

It was Hooker’s move now. He reached out and felt the line between his fingers, sensed the vibration coursing up it. Undoubtedly, old Peter had tied on a number 14/0 hook used for marlin and sharks. He had snagged something and wasn’t about to lose his rig no matter what it was. Peter had already had a brush with the eater, and from his initial radio contact to his staying on the scene without cutting his line, he had the same feeling about what he had caught that Billy had.

The divers were watching him closely now, then Judy and Kim came up beside him and he was thinking how stupid it was to have the girls down there on a trial run like this. Judy’s eyes were clear behind the mask and he knew that whatever he did, she would follow, so he pointed down and they followed the heavy strand of nylon.

About three hundred feet of line was run out, taking them down to eighty feet. Churned-up sand made the water murkier than ever. Twice, fish about three feet long passed languidly in front of them, then swam away leisurely with no sign of fear.

Fish have no sense, Hooker thought.

And at that moment he saw the waving black thing in front of them, a hideous mass that seemed to have no dimensions at all, and the nylon line was tied in securely to its body and it was pulling forward, ever so slowly, but pulling. Peter-from-the-market had put no anchor out, and Hooker knew the dory would be following whatever was on the line and that the scout boat from the Sentilla and the Clamdip would be following right along. Right about now, no matter what he believed, Billy Bright would be having a fit. He would be able to see the bubbles coming up from their diving gear, but if they stopped there was no telling what Billy would do.

Hooker went hand over hand down the line. The thing hit him in the face before he got to the first hook and with one hand he tried to wave it away, but his fingers sank into it and before he could shake loose he knew what it was and hung on.

They all saw him turn, wave them up, shaking the other arm that was seemingly into the very flesh of the indescribably wild thing, then up close they could see what it was. Peter-from-the-market had inadvertently hooked into an old drift net that had been floating loose in the sea.

But something else was caught in the other end.

Hooker gave a thumbs-up sign to return to the top and the team swam toward the surface.

On board the Clamdip Mako gave the two men the end of the three-quarter-inch braided nylon anchor rope to take down and tie around the net. The other end ran around the pulleys on the ship’s winch. When the divers came back up, Hooker started up the auxiliary engine, put the lever in gear and began to pull in the line.

“What do you think it is?” Judy asked him.

“We’ll know in a few minutes.”

The end of the net came over the side and Hooker stopped the winch. All hands began taking in the net, and when the weight got too great they tied it off, reset it into the winch and powered it in some more. At least a football-field length was piled on the deck and right below them was the monstrous, nearly dead body of a manta ray, its wings spreading well over twenty-five feet across.

Billy said, “That is one big mister for sure.”

“And he only eats krill. Little tiny krill.”

“How he get so big, sar?”

“He ate a lot of krill,” Mako told him. He looked up and smiled. “You feel like eating this baby?”

“Maybe I like him better if we cut him loose.”

Kim Sebring came away from studying the giant ray still entangled in the net below the boat and said, “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Hooker said cheerfully, “this is what scared the hell out of us when it came up out of the sand and took off dragging that net behind it. Here we were thinking the damn eater had us and we got all shook up.”

“I think Billy had the best idea, Mako.”

Judy stood there, wet and glistening, that tiny bikini seemingly highlighting her chilling beauty. Hooker wondered if he was the only one who could feel whatever it was that radiated from her.

What Judy had said was almost like an order. Minutes later the net was cut free and the manta ray was loose. It sensed its freedom and its giant wings waved slowly, gratefully, and it swam away from the boat. Almost as one, they started to clap.

On board the Sentilla, Captain Don Watts saw the underwater action, and the capture and release of the manta ray, and he grunted his approval. “That’s first-class photography, Colonel Hooker. No wonder the guests on the cruise ships passed up your invitation of a dive. Just watching what the cameras caught raised their heart rate up considerably. That manta was gigantic.”

“And totally harmless,” Hooker said, then added, “unless they get tangled in an anchor line and tow some poor sucker miles from home.”

“The Lotusland people like it?”

“Did they! Right now a story conference is going on and they’re going to rebuild some of the boats that have been hit, principally the Soucan. Their money men got right to the ones who photographed the damage on the Arico Queen. The story is almost writing itself, and with the reallive action stuff that will go in, they’ll have one hell of a hit.”

Captain Watts leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee. “But what about the main star?”

Hooker saw what he was getting at and a grin toyed with his mouth. “The eater has to go. Whatever it is has got to be caught and destroyed. Or at least photographed. There’s been too much publicity about that... that thing to have it just disappear.”

“You have any idea about it?”

“What it looks like? No. What it does I can tell you. How it does it is beyond me. If we knew, a full report would have gone in to Washington from Chana and they’d be champing at the bit to find out if those mines on Scara Island tie in with this boat eater.” Hooker paused and frowned at Watts. “What have you heard?”

“The satellites are covering every inch of our area. The navy has made a dozen photographic missions as well and so far... zilch. All they could report was that this was a peaceful section. The planes photographed three more mines on Scara and a team of Navy Seals are coming in to destroy all the old explosives left on the wreck below.”

“And the Lotusland will get all this on film?”

Watts shrugged. “No way of keeping them out of it without raising a ruckus. Hell, as long as the publicity is favorable to the navy, why fight it? You say they’re doing a story on it now? They probably already have copyrights on it in hand and a script registered in Hollywood.”

“They haven’t got the big thing, Don.”

“What’s that?”

“The ending,” Hooker said. “The multimillion-dollar ending.”

“Did you ever think all this could have been accidental?” Watts asked.

“No,” Hooker told him softly, “something’s down there, all right.”

Across the desk the two stared at each other, lost in their thoughts. It was a strange moment for them because they knew that in many places in worldly governments consternation was touching certain individuals, because in this day of high technology and scientific investigation something was happening that they couldn’t understand at all and couldn’t focus on with any of their expertise. Again Watts sipped at his coffee. “No idea at all?”

“Just that there are things here that shouldn’t be. They don’t mesh. Events in the past suddenly pop up, like this eater baby is a catalyst and that keeps the pot boiling.”

“Which came first, Hooker?”

“I think the eater has the edge,” Mako said, and refilled his cup. “Did you make that call for me?”

“Oh, yes, I sure did. In one hour I had the answer. It’s three pages long and for your eyes only.” He opened the drawer of the desk and took out the stapled sheets, handing them across the desk. “This answer came back on a very secure channel.”

“That’s because they don’t have an idea of what’s going on, but you can bet the Company will be doing a follow-up investigation of their own.”

“It’s really that hot?”

“Considering the status of world affairs it’s hot as hell. There isn’t a truly stable government on the globe right now. They’re all in trouble. If they’re not at war, they have an insurrection, or an internal collapse, or an economic crisis. In 1956 you could buy a new Cadillac for around five grand. Now you don’t get a decent used car for that. Money was worth something, now a dinner out can ruin a hundred-dollar bill. The politicians deal millions, hell, billions out like shovels full of sand to change the way other nations feel about us... and that’s our hard-earned cash.”

“What did Shakespeare say, Hooker? ‘First, let’s kill all the lawyers.’”

Mako let out a laugh. “And nick the politicians a little bit.”

“Come on, Mako, those guys duck blows like a slicker does rain.”

Mako unfolded the sheets in his hand and scanned the history of Gary Foster. He skipped over the details of his early life, noting that he had two years of college and was studying chemistry before leaving school to join the army, where he was put into an outfit specializing in explosives. After an altercation with an officer, he was court-martialed and eased out of service with a Discharge Without Honor, which didn’t bother him at all. He had three arrest records, two for using dynamite in an illegal manner. A clever lawyer got him off with severe warnings. For several years he apparently was without a job, but most likely he had some illicit scam going where no tax monies were paid. A year later he was hired by Donnell and Johnson, a demolition company that took down buildings in tight city quarters with an impeccable work record. He was let go on suspicion of having stolen a considerable amount of explosive material and associated items. His next employer was Lotusland Productions. They were aware of his previous history. His work record to date was excellent.

“Did you read this?” Mako asked.

“It was for your eyes only... after mine. Anything you can tell me?”

“Nope. It just confirms a suspicion that I had.”

Watts waited.

“He could have been in an action designed to kill me and my mate on the Clamdip.”

“What good would that have done?”

“Keep me from probing into somebody else’s background who thinks he’s under deep cover.”

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“Damn near did,” Hooker said.

“You need any other favors, Mako?”

“Just one for the moment. I need access to a radio, voice only.”

Watts stood up and waved for Hooker to follow him. “I’ll take you up to the radio shack myself. Our chief radioman up there is ten years past normal retirement and doesn’t appreciate intruders on his domain. Can you handle the equipment?”

“No trouble.”

The chief radioman must have lied about his age. The navy was his home and he wasn’t about to live any other place. Even Mako’s being in company of the captain wasn’t enough for him. He interrogated Hooker until he was sure he knew what he was doing, then stepped outside with Don Watts very reluctantly and didn’t stray far from the door.

It took Hooker two minutes to contact his source in the Company; then he gave his ID with the number and coded words that attested to his status, security rating and current operative position. When the computer gave back a confirmation, the line was open to the director, who spoke with a soft voice that hid all the nails in his makeup. “I’m glad you’re working with us again, Mako.”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“Yes, I understand. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it?”

“That’s why I retired,” Hooker said.

A laugh came through Mako’s headset. “There are a lot of people here who wish you had stayed that way.” He heard the metal clang of a steel door being opened, then shut, followed by the rustling of papers. The voice finally said, “You requested information about the Becker Bank. After the founder was killed during a robbery, the French government moved in, initiated an audit, and although nothing was found out of order, some of the bank’s depositors had a questionable ring to them.”

“Like how?” Mako queried.

“They wouldn’t release all the information to us at first, but it seems that several had mob connections in the United States.”

“Definite?”

“The investigators seemed satisfied. There was no proof of any wrongdoing, but the suspicion was enough. They are still following the lead.”

“What the hell are they after? You can’t prosecute a suspicion.”

“Our man who is handling this thinks a very large loan was made to somebody in the mob.”

“Come on, the mob doesn’t go to banks for money. What would they use for security?”

“Good question.”

“I have a better one,” Hooker offered. “What would they do with it?”

“Tomorrow,” the voice of the director said, “we are flying in a specialist in this operation. He’ll arrive at nine A.M. and check in on the Sentilla. You talk to him.”

“Good deal,” Hooker said.

The connection was broken and Hooker called in Don Watts to tell him what was going on. The captain nodded sagely, wondering just how high Hooker stood in the chain of command. Then he realized that there was no chain of command in Hooker’s line of work. The last man alive was the top dog.

At dawn Alley Ander’s boat sidled in next to the anchored Clamdip. Billy Bright yelled hello and invited him aboard for coffee, and when Hooker came on deck he said, “You’re pretty far from your bar, Alley.”

“Come on, man, I heard there was lots going on down here. Can’t let you old spooks have all the fun. Besides, I need a vacation.” His eyes went to the Tellig, which was riding at anchor an eighth of a mile away. “She been shooting at you any more?”

“She knows better,” Hooker said. “Come on over and get some java.”

Alley rafted up to the Clamdip rather than drop an anchor and Mako shook his head. “Once a city boy...”

“Hey, buddy, I wasn’t a navy man in my war. I was an old jungle rat who walked and climbed and jumped and clawed my way through everything that had stickers, and my best buddy was bug repellent.”

“Then you’ll love it here, pal. All we have are giant manta rays, an invisible eater, and a shark that’s been tailing us for days.”

Suddenly Alley looked concerned. “Don’t kid around, Hooker.”

Mako said, “Tell him, Billy.”

“Yes. It is right. The shark who had his name stolen by my boss man here, he has followed us. I tell my boss, ‘Give him his name back,’ but my boss, he keeps it. Mr. Shark, he stays close so that he can kill my boss and get his name back.”

“Mako...”

“Billy believes it, Alley.”

“You believe it, Hooker?”

With a light shrug, Mako glanced out at the ocean. “I’ve seen him, pal. He’s been with us all the way since we left Peolle.”

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“Hey, if Billy believes it, so do I.”

“Then why the hell don’t you give it back?”

“How, Alley?”

The bartender gave him a sheepish grin and made a face. “Damn, you’re making me think like the islanders.”

“We think pretty good,” Billy put in as he handed Alley his coffee. “And Mr. Shark, he sure be out there, all right. You look hard, maybe you see he.”

Alley turned his head and took in the ships on the port side. “Doesn’t look like much action going on today.”

“Give it another hour, Alley.”

“What’s happening?”

“There’s another showing of the film we took snagging that giant manta. Want to see it?”

“Yeah, man. I heard about that on the radio! But that wasn’t the thing that ate the boats, was it?”

“No way. The eater is still out there looking. It’s a wonder you didn’t run into him, coming down here at night.”

Alley’s eyes squinted again. Facing a raging fire was nothing for him. Climbing up sixty feet on a ladder into an inferno was commonplace. Being alone at night on a great expanse of water that housed some incredible wild creature was a shattering experience.

Hooker hid his grin and said, “If you’re going to see the showing on the cruise ship, how about taking my passenger with you? I have another appointment.”

“Out there?”

“Guy’s flying in. Business.”

“Oh,” Alley said. “Sure. Who’s the passenger?”

Behind him Judy said, “Me, Alley, or do you object to having women on your boat?”

There was no bikini this time, but the sarong did just as well. It revealed everything, yet showed nothing. Even though you knew this vision was real, she was almost too good to be true. Her dark hair had taken on natural sun-streaked glints, her tanned skin alive with the vitality inside her.

Alley said, “Good grief!”

With another grin, Hooker told him, “Watch it, pal, she’s tough. She went down on that dive that got us the manta. Now she wants to nail the eater.”

Alley slid his coffee cup back to Billy, gave everybody a silly smile, and after one more look at Judy said, “I don’t think I can stand this.”