Valhalla Rising (38 page)

“You say this ship is in danger?”

“I do,” said Pitt, “and so does Admiral Sandecker and a number of other high officials with the FBI and CIA.”

“Nonsense,” he said distinctly, his knuckles whitening on his chair’s armrest. “Just because one of our liners suffered a disaster doesn’t mean there will be a repeat performance. This boat is as safe as they come. I’ve gone over every inch of her myself. Hell, I even supervised her construction.” He looked around the table in irritation at Pitt, Giordino and the four-man inspection team sent by the shipbuilders. “Do what you think you have to do. But I warn all of you not to interfere with the operation of this boat during the voyage, or I swear I will put you ashore in the next port, regardless of whatever reprimand I receive from management.”

Rand O’Malley, a man every bit as gruff as Baldwin, smiled sardonically. “As head of the inspection team, I can assure you, Captain, we will not get in your way. But I expect you to cooperate if we should find a problem with any of the safety systems.”

“Search all you want,” muttered Baldwin. “I promise that you’ll find nothing that will endanger this boat.”

“I suggest you wait until you receive a report from the divers who are inspecting the lower hull,” said Pitt.

“I see no reason to wait,” Baldwin snapped.

“There is the possibility they may find foreign objects attached to the hull.”

“This is real life, Mr. Pitt,” Baldwin said indifferently, “not some fantasy tale on television.”

For perhaps nearly half a minute, there was silence, total silence. Then Pitt was on his feet, arms outstretched, leaning on the table with both hands, his lips parted in a brisk wintry smile, his eyes boring into Baldwin’s.

Giordino knew all the signs. Here it comes. Good old Dirk, Giordino thought blissfully. Give the arrogant jerk hell.

“It appears that you have no idea of the danger your boat is facing,” Pitt said solemnly. “I’m the only one at this table who witnessed the terrible havoc the fire created on the
Emerald Dolphin.
I saw men, women and children die by the hundreds, some burning alive in agony, others drowning before we could get to them. The sea bottom is littered with ships whose captains thought they were invincible and immune to catastrophe. The
Titanic, Lusitania, Morro Castle,
their captains all ignored the omens and the danger signs and paid a heavy price. When it comes, Captain Baldwin, as it surely will, to this boat and everyone on board, it will come with lightning speed before you and your crew can react. The crisis will strike with overwhelming suddenness from a quarter you never suspected. And then it will be too late. The
Golden Marlin
and everybody on it will have died, and their deaths will be on your head.”

Pitt paused to stand up straight. “The people who are determined to destroy your ship are doubtless already on board as we speak, posing as one of your officers, your crew or perhaps passengers. Do you get the picture, Captain Baldwin? Do you?”

Strangely, Baldwin did not show anger. His expression was remote, without any show of emotion. Then he said tightly, “Thank you for your opinion, Mr. Pitt. I shall take your words under consideration.” Then he came to his feet and walked toward the door. “Thank you, gentlemen. We sail in exactly thirty-seven minutes.”

As soon as the room cleared, except for Pitt, Giordino and O’Malley, Giordino leaned back in his chair and irreverently crossed his feet on the conference table. “ ‘We sail in exactly thirty-seven minutes,’ ” he mimicked Baldwin. “Exacting old bird, isn’t he?”

“Made out of dung and concrete, that one,” observed O’Malley.

Pitt took an instant liking to the man, as did Giordino. “I hope you take us more seriously than Captain Baldwin.”

O’Malley grinned with every tooth. “If you’re right, and I’m not saying you ain’t, I’m not about to die on this extravagant folly to man’s greed.”

“I take it you’re not fond of her,” said Pitt, amused.

“She’s overbuilt,” snorted O’Malley. “More expense and planning went into the palatial decor than into the true guts of the engineering systems. Successful sea trials or not, I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes down and doesn’t come up.”

“Somehow I hate to hear those words from an expert on ship construction,” muttered Giordino.

Pitt folded his arms across his chest. “My primary concern is that the disaster will be caused by human hands.”

O’Malley looked at him. “Do you know how many places a madman could set an explosive that would cause this tub to sink?”

“If the boat is deep underwater, a rupture almost anyplace on the hull would do the trick.”

“That and a puncture in the ballast tanks.”

“I haven’t had time to study the plans and specifications of the boat, except very briefly last night,” said Pitt. “But there must be an underwater system for evacuation.”

“There is,” answered O’Malley, “and a good one. Instead of lifeboats, the passengers enter their assigned pods; they can hold fifty people. Then the entry door is closed and sealed. At the same time, the outer doors open, a stream of air is sent into the ejection system and the pods shoot free of the ship and float to the surface. Take my word for it, the system is efficient. I know, I consulted on the project.”

“If you wanted to make the evacuation system inoperable, how would you go about it?”

“Not a pretty thought.”

“We’ve got to cover all the bases.”

O’Malley scratched his head. “Causing a failure in the air-ejection system would be the way I’d go.”

“I’d be grateful if you and your team would check out any tampering with the system very carefully,” said Pitt.

O’Malley looked at him with his eyes half closed. “I wouldn’t do a sloppy job of inspection if my life depended on it.”

Giordino studied the fingernails on one hand objectively. “Truer words, I hope, were never spoken.”

•   •   •

T
he mooring hawsers were lifted off the bollards by the dock crew and reeled aboard the
Golden Marlin
seconds before the starboard thrusters were activated and the boat began slipping sideways from the dock. Over a thousand people had come to the dock to watch the maiden voyage of the first underwater cruise boat. On a reviewing stand, the governor of Florida and other officials and celebrities made mundane speeches. The University of Florida band played a medley of sea tunes and were followed by a Caribbean marimba-and-steel-drum band. As the ship began to edge from the dock, both bands and the boat’s orchestra combined to play the traditional sailing song, “Until We Meet Again.” Streamers and confetti were thrown as the passengers and people onshore waved and shouted. The scene was very moving. Pitt was amazed at how many women wiped away tears. Even Kelly was swept up by the rousing
bon voyage.

Pitt saw no sign of the divers. His calls to Captain Baldwin on the bridge were not answered or returned. He felt extremely restive, but there was no way he could stop the ship from sailing.

The boat was still in the channel, heading toward the open blue-green sea off Florida, when all passengers were asked to be seated in the theater, where First Officer Paul Conrad lectured on the operation of the submarine cruise boat and explained the evacuation system. Kelly sat on one side of the theater in the front while Pitt sat on the other side near the rear. There were six black families on board, but none of the men remotely resembled Omo Kanai. As soon as the lecture was over, a series of gongs rang and the passengers were directed to their evacuation pod stations.

Giordino worked with the team of inspectors, searching for explosives or signs of damaged equipment, while Pitt and Kelly cooperated with the purser in matching up the passengers with their names and staterooms. The search went slowly. By lunchtime, they were less than halfway through the passenger list without getting to the crew members.

“I’m beginning to doubt he’s on board,” said Kelly wearily.

“Either that or he’s stowed away,” Pitt said, as he studied the pictures of the passengers that had been taken by the ship’s photographer when they’d come on board. He held up a photo to the light and studied the features of the image. Then he passed it to Kelly. “Look familiar?”

She looked at the photo for several seconds, read the name and then she smiled. “There’s a definite resemblance. The only problem is that this Mr. Jonathan Ford is white.”

Pitt shrugged. “I know. Well, back to the drawing board.”

At four o’clock in the afternoon, chimes sounded over the speakers throughout the boat playing the song “By the Sea, By the Beautiful Sea.” It was the signal that the boat was about to submerge. The passengers all hurried to find chairs in front of the viewing ports. There was no noticeable vibration or decrease in speed as the boat slowly began to slip beneath the surface. The sea seemed to rise as the boat descended in a maelstrom of bubbles that quickly faded away as the bright sun and sky transformed into a deep blue liquid void.

The magnetohydrodynamic engines ran silently, without tremor. Except for the water passing outside the view ports, the passengers had no sensation of movement. The air regenerators scrubbed out the carbon dioxide and refreshed the breathable air inside the boat.

Though there was little to see at first, they remained absorbed in viewing a different world below the one to which they were accustomed. Soon, fish began to appear, taking little interest in the huge vessel as it trespassed into their kingdom. Brilliantly colored tropical fish in fluorescent purples, yellows and reds swam past the view ports. The saltwater inhabitants were far more dazzling than their cousins in freshwater lakes and river. They soon faded above the sub as it sank into deeper water.

A school of barracuda, their long sleek bodies radiating as if coated with silver glitter, swam lazily alongside the boat, their dead black eyes peering for a meal, their lower lips protruding. They swam effortlessly, keeping pace with the boat. Then, in the blink of an eye, they darted away and were gone.

The passengers on the port side of the boat were treated to the sight of a huge sunfish, often called a Mola Mola. There was a white-and-orange metallic luster to its huge oval body, which was ten feet long and nearly as high and probably weighed in the neighborhood of two tons. A strange-looking fish with high dorsal and anal fins, its body looked as if it had forgotten to grow in length. The great tail was attached just behind the head. A friendly giant of the depths, the sunfish soon fell behind the boat.

Marine biologists brought on board by the cruise line described the fish and explained their characteristics, behavior and migration patterns in the sea. The sunfish was followed by a pair of small hammerhead sharks no more than five feet in length. The passengers marveled that a fish could have developed with such a large foil across the front of the head with its eyeballs perched on the ends. The sharks were curious and swam alongside the view ports, peering with one eye aimed at the strange creatures on the other side. Like the other fish, they soon tired of the giant intruder, swayed their tails gracefully and propelled their sleek bodies into the gloom.

Digital meters that read out the submarine’s depth were mounted beside every view port. First Officer Conrad announced over the speaker system that they were at six hundred feet and approaching the bottom. As one, the passengers leaned closer to the view ports and peered downward as the seabed slowly materialized and spread below the boat, a landscape that once had held coral before the oceans had risen and was now covered with ancient shells, silt and jumbled lava rock encrusted with sea life. Because vivid colors were lost at this depth, along with reds and yellows, the sea floor took on a greenish-brown tint. The barrenness was garnished by the myriad fish that inhabited the bottom. The passengers watched in wonder at seeing this alien world with a visibility of more than two hundred feet.

In the forward dome that served as the bridge and control room, Captain Baldwin was carefully guiding the
Golden Marlin
fifty feet above the ocean floor, keeping a steady eye out for any unexpected change in the terrain. Radar and side-scan sonar read the bottom half a mile ahead and to the sides, giving the operators ample time to change course and ascend in the event of a sudden rise of rock. The course for the next ten days had been laid out with extreme care. A privately hired oceanographic survey had studied the sea floor through the channel islands and marked the depths for the voyage. The boat now steered the set course with her onboard computers.

The seabed suddenly fell away as the boat soared out over a deep trench that dropped three thousand feet into the depths, two thousand feet deeper than the limits set by the boat’s architects for the hull. Baldwin gave the helm to his third officer and turned as the communications officer approached and handed him a message. He read it, his face taking on a questioning expression.

“Find Mr. Pitt and send him to the bridge,” he ordered a seaman, who stared entranced by the sight outside.

Pitt and Kelly had not taken the time to enjoy the underwater scenery. They were still holed up in the purser’s office, studying the personnel records of the crew. When he was notified that the captain wished to see him, he left Kelly and walked to the bridge. He’d no sooner stepped through the door than Baldwin thrust the message at him.

“What do you make of this?” he demanded.

Pitt read the message aloud. “Please be advised that the bodies of the divers engaged to inspect the bottom of your ship have been found tied to the dock pilings beneath the surface of the channel. Initial investigation shows they were murdered by person or persons unknown who stabbed them both from the back, the knife blade penetrating their hearts. Await your reply.”

It was signed Detective Lieutenant Del Carter, Fort Lauderdale Police Department.

Pitt was suddenly stricken with guilt, knowing it was he who had unwittingly sent Frank and Caroline Martin to their deaths.

“What’s our depth?” he demanded sharply.

“ ‘Depth’?” echoed a startled Baldwin. “We’ve passed the Continental Shelf and are in deep water.” He pointed at a depth gauge mounted above the windows. “See for yourself. The bottom is two thousand four hundred feet below our keel.”