Something’s Down There

Chapter Fourteen

The cruise ship was on no definite schedule. It stayed in safe waters and went where the passengers chose to go. They all wanted excitement, but quiet excitement that they could stand. They weren’t interested in warring nations or poverty-stricken countries, but places where they could play and enjoy themselves out of harm’s way. When the dive team from the navy arrived to blow the submerged mines, one of the ship’s passengers, a former senator, made arrangements for the action to be shown on live television. There was no difficulty with the production. It would be a valuable promotional piece for the party in power, and his was arranging it.

Everyone had comfortable chairs, waiters passed among them handing out drinks, others balancing canapé trays, and a young sailor was delegated to give a running account of what was happening.

Marcus Grey watched them closely, saw his charges happily enjoying themselves, excited, but not too excited. They oohed and aahed at the shots of fish gliding past the lens of the camera, making distraught noises when a squid appeared or a heavily toothed mouth seemed to jump out of the blue-green darkness to swallow up another smaller predator, leaving parts of it and making the water murky with blood.

On the wreck the divers worked slowly, chipping away the coral, then cutting the chains that had held the old mines on the sunken deck. Only two began to rise of their own volition and divers guided them to the surface. The divers attached a small box to the top of each one, then swam to the dive boat and took off their gear. Down below, the other divers had done their work, come up as a team and climbed into the boat.

On the cruise ship, the sailor doing the commentary told the audience that they wouldn’t actually see much, but these old World War II mines posed a threat to shipping and had to be destroyed. Only the two that they could see some way off had enough positive buoyancy to float and these were the dangerous ones. The others most likely had rusted through and seawater destroyed their potency. At any rate, they would see for themselves.

They had all pulled the chairs up and had their eyes glued to the TV. On the navy launch the diver in the bow held up his hand. The sailor at the TV saw it and began counting down, all the voices chiming in with him after three. When he reached ten the diver touched the button in his hand and the first mine blew, just a little eruption from the box on top of it, then the whole shell exploded into pieces and dust particles. The area had hardly cleared when the next and the next disintegrated from the explosive charge. Then one, a maverick, gave off a mighty blast that sent a column of water thirty feet above the surface, and blew another one next to it that gave off a smaller but unexpected blast that left the TV screen a dark, blurry square that gradually lightened as the current cleared away the debris.

The sailor spoke into his microphone and said, “You have just seen explosives that have been underwater eighty-two years go off with enough impact to sink a ship.” He pointed out at the open water where the two floating mines had been dragged. This time when he lifted his arm, the sailor on the launch saw it and did the same. The countdown began again. At “ten” the diver on the launch triggered the blast and the pair of mines tore a hole in the water and sent pieces of coral-encrusted metal into the sky; when the nearest landed a few hundred yards from the cruise ship, the passengers had all the excitement they could stand. The crowd headed back to the bar.

Just before they began their trek the sailor said, “Now you can see what possibly ‘ate’ those boats.” Their eyebrows raised and they all nodded in agreement.

Marcus Grey looked at the sailor and smiled gently. The kid would find a fat envelope delivered to him soon. Hooker and Judy had been standing in the back, watching the show from a distance. When the sailor had intimated that loose mines could be the eater, he said, “Smart move.”

Judy squinted at him, a silent question.

“You have powerful people out there. They can control things. They just saw firsthand what old mines could do, corroborated by the navy, and as far as they are concerned, everything that has happened, the destroyed boats, the dead islanders... all that speculation about an ‘eater’ is rumor.”

“Rumor,” she said softly. “You think it should stay that way?” she asked.

This was a situation Marcus Grey had studied very carefully and his answer was quite direct. “Most of our guests are possibly... and likely persons we will include in financing the Midnight Cruise projects,” he told her.

“And you don’t think rumors would panic them?” There was no accusation in her tone at all, just a simple curious question.

With studied seriousness Marcus shook his head. “Not rumors. Only facts, and the navy has offered us just that... visual facts.”

For several seconds she stared at Marcus Grey, her eyes locked on his. After a long pause she said, “Something has destroyed the boats. There certainly will be a big investigation into what hit the Arico Queen.”

Very solemnly Marcus nodded. “And I’m sure they will agree with the navy’s capable deduction. Pure logic tells us that there is nothing that ‘eats’ boats.” Without waiting for Judy to speculate on his answer he added, “You know how far they’ve gotten with that movie script on the ‘eater’?” He pronounced the last word quietly.

“Pell seems to think they were pretty well along. There’s very big money ready to go into this if they can get a decent story out of it.”

A small, satisfied smile creased Marcus Grey’s mouth. He said, “Well, if the story, the real thing, isn’t all that big or threatening, they can still go into the studio labs and make a film about it. The publicity is as big as the Bermuda Triangle story, and they’ve made a half dozen films about that. But if the eater actually exists and their footage is real, that’s where the big money is. Right now the public is on the edge of their seats waiting to see what happens next. Tomorrow everything shot on those mines will be national news.”

“Featuring Midnight Cruise lines.”

“Can’t help that.”

“With Lotusland standing by, ready to shoot. In the background lending dramatic authenticity is the Tellig, featuring super-secret electronics, representing our government’s interest in this affair. All this with the Sentilla proudly doing a public works favor, very nonbelligerent.”

“That really bothers you,” she asked Hooker, “doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. Everybody is after the money. The setup and the cast came naturally. The threat is still there. Nobody cares what it’s really all about.”

“Mako, you’re wrong.”

He looked at her, his eyes tight.

“We care, don’t we?”

The fury left his eyes and the grin touched his lips. She touched them with her forefinger and said, “Let’s go find a phone.”

It was the odd tone of her voice that made Hooker stare at her. “Something important?” he asked her.

“I want to speak to Pell,” she said.

Mako narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering what she was thinking of. When Judy turned he followed her back to the communications room and watched while she dialed. “You want me to leave?” he asked her.

Judy just shook her head.

In about twenty seconds somebody brought Pell to the line, and even though Judy had the receiver to her ear Mako could hear the snarl of Pell’s voice when he answered. But as soon as he recognized Judy the voice got syrupy again.

Judy was cold and direct when she said, “Anthony, I’ve been thinking that this picture we’re considering producing could be a detriment to the Midnight Cruise lines. I’ve discussed it with some of the principals, and they seem to agree with me.”

This time Anthony Pell’s voice lost all its syrup. He quietly exploded with, “Dammit, Judy, we’re not about to dump this feature! You realize how much we have invested already? Hell, I even have distributors banging away at each other to get the release before we even shoot a foot of film. With all this publicity there’s no way we can dump this film!”

Judy was just as fiercely quiet when she said, “I’m part of this deal too, Anthony.”

“Baby, you’re on the money end. Or maybe you didn’t read our contract yourself. Don’t give me a hard time on this or we’ll wind up in court, and I’ll win hands down.”

From the expression on her face Mako knew Judy had let something slip by her. Somebody else had scanned the contract and she had okayed it, probably while she was tied up with some other project.

Pell’s voice came back on the phone and he asked, “Who you been talking to, kiddo?” And this time it was the old Brooklyn Tony Pallatzo voice Mako remembered so well. He grinned and waved at Judy, making a throat-slicing gesture that meant to cut off the call.

This time, quietly, Judy gave in with, “Well, you’re probably right. We’ll go ahead with it.”

“Real good, baby. All we need is that big—and I mean BIG ending—and we have the world in our pocket.” He paused, said, “Take care, kiddo,” and hung up.

Judy cradled the phone and looked up at Hooker. “He’s a snake, isn’t he?”

“A real live one.”

“So how do I protect myself?”

“I’ll think of something,” Hooker told her. He had a tight grin on his face that she couldn’t quite read and she felt a shudder cross her shoulders.

Back on the deck the portable bars were busy again. The men were sipping gently at drinks that were more flowery than potent. Some had miniature Japanese parasols spouting out of the glass and others looked more like fruit punches than highballs. At least there were no sloppy drunks mouthing off and Hooker let a little grin crease his mouth.

“Self-control is why they’re rich,” Judy said.

“What?”

“You were wondering, weren’t you?”

“Damn, can you read my mind?” Hooker blurted.

“Sometimes.”

This time Hooker grinned. “Then watch it,” he said. “I might just embarrass the hell out of you.”

“Good,” Judy answered, then gave his hand a squeeze. Without letting go she turned and started to walk toward the stern of the ship. There the area was empty, the hum of voices from the bow barely audible. No personnel monitored the passageways and the only sound was that of the waves slapping against the hull.

Judy sidled toward the rail, leaned on it and stared out over the water for a long minute before she turned and said to Mako, “I want to hear more about Anthony Pell.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

A few seconds flicked by and she said, “Yes, I do. But I want to know more.”

“Why?”

“It’s nice to have confirmation. Wouldn’t you?”

“Will you believe me? I mean, totally believe me without reservations?”

Her answer was quick and direct. “Yes.”

Hooker stared into her eyes and told her. “His name is Tony Pallatzo and he started as a street bum in Brooklyn.”

For a full ten minutes he filled her in on what he knew and what he thought of Anthony Pell, speculating on what could have been when he was out of the jurisdiction of his own outfit. His information was sketchy about Pell’s later life, but one thing he was sure of was that Anthony Pell hadn’t changed a bit. Right now he was rich and important with an attitude of being well educated, but Hooker knew that he was still a street bum at heart underneath the facade.

Judy let it all sink in, then asked Mako, “Daddy was a pretty shrewd judge of character. I remember some pretty heavy operators trying to con him in business situations and he took them to the cleaners. In fact, several wound up in prison.”

“Your dad could have been good, doll, but there are others who can be just as good and sometimes even better.”

“But Anthony Pell never tried to cheat my father!”

“Not yet,” Hooker said simply.

“Everything they did together was successful,” she insisted. “Do you know they made millions? Even Anthony’s lesser share has made him rich.”

“No doubt.”

With a touch of exasperation, Judy said, “Then what are you getting to?”

“How much was his employer getting?”

“Anthony Pell worked for himself. He had no employer.”

Mako just looked at her. There were taut lines around his mouth. Finally he said, “Pell had a boss. He couldn’t walk away from him, he couldn’t be retired from him and no way could he quit. His boss is one hell of a big businessman with enough power and money to control governments and an army big enough to back up his demands. In plain words it’s called the mob. Organized crime.”

“But...”

He anticipated her question and shook his head. “I don’t care what you read or hear. They made a big deal of stopping the Gambino family and they put on a show when Colombo got hit. When John Gotti did his thing it took all the heat off the background action, and when Gotti got sent up you’d think crime had gone down the drain.”

“But...,” she started.

“Judy, don’t fool yourself. The lawyers and the bright boys have control of things these days. The lesser rackets they give over to their street people, but where the heavy dough is, there they are. Industry is fleeced out of billions, tonnages of merchandise diverted into their channels of disposal, wars fought and religions invaded to suit their demands. Their needs never cease and keep on getting bigger. You think they can’t get choice personnel to pull off their stunts for them?”

“And you think Pell is one of them?” she demanded.

Hooker didn’t answer her. He simply nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Not yet,” he told her.

“When will you know?”

“Pell is a smart one. He thinks. He knew that street mobs get knocked off by other mobs or the law itself. It didn’t take him long to see that big money on the streets is pocket change to the real bosses. One thing they know is how to spend it. The heads of families still had homes in old ethnic neighborhoods, living by old European standards, and rarely got past the capitals of their crime industry. Oh, maybe a run to Vegas or a side trip to Atlantic City, and all very hush-hush with bodyguards beside them and damn near a midnight military approach to a hotel they probably own.”

“How did Pell do it?”

Mako glanced down at her, reading the expression on her face. “You don’t believe all this, do you?”

“You’re describing a world I’ve never been part of.”

Hooker took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. For a few seconds they watched the activity in the water below, listening to the delicate splashes as a predator snapped up a surface meal, flipping its tail in a dive.

“You’ve been part of it, Judy. At least you were on the fringes of it.”

“Are you telling me Daddy was inside things like that?” Her loyalty to her father was showing in her face and she let her fingers fall away from his forearm.

“I don’t think your dad knew anything of what was really going on.”

“Mako, he was a brilliant businessman!”

“In his own field, yes.”

“If Anthony Pell was doing anything illegal he would have known about it!”

“That’s the point. Pell wasn’t doing anything illegal. He was working the best kind of con game of all... one where everybody made a pile, business expanded and the future looked great from every angle.”

“Then what’s the catch?”

“Someplace along the line somebody was really going to hit the big time. Legally.”

Hooker felt her fingers go around his arm again, then she asked, “That’s the good part?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s the bad part?”

Hooker spit down into the ocean. Even thinking about all this had given him a bad taste in his mouth. “Somebody always has to die,” he told her.

It took her the better part of a minute to see what he was driving at. Very quietly, she whispered, “Daddy?”

“He was one.”

“Mr. Becker...?”

“Yes. He was another.”

Judy clenched her lower lip in her teeth and her face looked drawn.

“Is this... just the beginning?” she asked him.

“Things this big just don’t happen suddenly. It’s a planned operation that was laid out with a lot of thought. There was money to back up every move and it wasn’t being done for a minimum return.”

“Why, Mako? Why would they go to so much trouble?”

“Simple. It’s legitimate. They could get all the money they could ever want without having cops breathing down their necks or knowing the Feds were planting listening devices in their houses or business offices.”

“And Anthony Pell is part of it.” It was a statement this time.

Hooker nodded again.

“Do you think... he’d try to kill you?”

“I think he already has.” He watched the frown form on her forehead but didn’t explain any further. Instead he said, “Don’t worry about me, Judy. I’ve been down that road more than he has and he’s not about to catch me off base.”

The tone of his voice was too light to please her at all. “What would you do, Mako?”

“You don’t want to know, Judy.”

“Yes,” she insisted, “I really do.”

“I’d kill him,” he told her.

Down below him Mako saw the sea bathed in the soft glow from the open portholes of empty staterooms. There was no movement of the surface, no fish feeding, just some gentle swells reacting to the pressure of the ocean around the area. For those few moments it seemed placid again, peaceful and quiet with no indication of death and destruction at all. A quiet, empty sea.

Unnaturally quiet.

Judy’s eyes had been following his and slowly she pointed her finger to the minor disturbance astern that was angling toward them, the rigid dorsal fin of a large, deadly shark that rolled slightly when he was beneath them, and Mako knew that black eye in the sleek body was staring straight up at him.

“Mako...,” she started to say.

“Are you talking to me or to him?”

“Do you think... could that be the one Billy Bright...”

“It’s just a fish, Judy.”

“But it was a mako shark.”

“Yes.”

“We were diving in waters with those around us!”

“Sharks have a deadlier reputation than they deserve, honey. People are not on their menu. Most attacks are because they were mistaken for something lower on the food chain.”

“But Billy thinks...”

“Sometimes Billy lets all that beach talk get involved with real life. Do you really think that shark is annoyed because I have his name?”

She looked at him very gravely, then shuddered slightly and grinned. “Maybe I’ve been in the islands too long,” she said to him.

“Maybe.”

“But don’t take me away from them.”

She turned under his arms and her hands came up behind his head. In the semidarkness he saw her mouth glisten, her lips part slowly, then he lowered his mouth to meet hers and they melted together, their bodies tense, each knowing what their emotions were demanding, each realizing that they had walked to the edge of the cliff and there was no way back and they had to jump, not knowing if they would land in the soft snow or on the jagged rocks.

Mako pushed Judy away gently and said, “Careful, lady, be careful.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” He smiled.

“Why?”

“Because we’re still in the middle of some crazy game that can have some pretty damn mean implications, that’s why.”

“Can we get out of it?”

Mako shook his head. “No way. We’re in this to the end and it’s not just us. We have a big, silent crowd on our islands who don’t know what’s happening at all, but if we don’t do something to control it, their lifestyles are going to come apart. They own land and they have a government of sorts, but the one thing they don’t have is money. They deal in fish and crabs and conchs and spend their wages on nets and engine parts. They’re poor as dirt, but happy as hell, and knowingly they wouldn’t give up their way of living for anything.”

“But what can we do?” Judy asked him.

A few seconds passed, then Mako said, “We stay in the game and win it, kiddo.”

Their eyes met, searching the other’s thoughts, Judy’s asking, Mako already knowing the answer.

Mako said, “You can direct any operation on Lotusland, can’t you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Judy bobbed her head. “Most likely. There could be objections, but nothing that I couldn’t handle.”

“Good. That’s going to be a major point here.”

“But where does Lotusland come in?”

“That ship is the Trojan horse.”

“I remember the story, but it doesn’t fit.”

“It will, doll, it will.” He ran his fingers through her hair and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the party, okay?”

In the shadows beside the nested forms of two inflatables, Chana Sterling watched them leave. When Lee Colbert took the miniature receiver out of his ear she said, “Anything important?”

Colbert totally disliked surveillance of personnel on his own team and only went along with Chana’s idea to keep her quiet. He switched off the microphone disguised as a camera, glad to remember that he had forgotten to drop a tape in to record the conversation. “You want to know what guys whisper in a girl’s ear while they’re in the dark on the stern of a ship?”

Chana almost snarled. “Forget it!”

Lee wanted to tell her that she never would know, either. But he didn’t.