Adrienne knew he would make good the threat, so she went off to find him clean clothes, brought them back and helped him dress.
The early morning sun was streaming through the plate glass windows of the operations centre when they entered. Franklin Richards was pleased to see Porter, but by mutual consent they postponed a discussion of anything other than the pressing business at hand.
‘The submersible has descended a little more than a mile,’ Richards said, speaking over the steady hum of the hydroelectric generator, ‘and there are no hitches.’
‘When do you expect to reach the target?’ Porter wanted to know.
‘By noon, if all continues to go well. We must. This freak storm promises to be one of the worst in years. All aircraft will be grounded, and even our escort will have to scatter. I’ve got to have the Zoloto on board by sundown, at the latest.’ Richards turned back to his instrument panel.
Porter made the rounds of the centre with Adrienne, and was struck by the quiet. A few of the expedition’s scientists and technicians chatted in low tones, their voices drowned by the steady drone of the generator. Men smoked and drank coffee, and some were eating a second breakfast at their duty stations. All appeared relaxed, but the calm was deceptive. Everyone present knew he was taking part in an enterprise that was unique, and many pairs of eyes maintained a watch on every quivering needle and gauge.
Suddenly an alarm bell broke the silence, and a dark mass appeared on a radar screen.
‘A Russian submarine!’ Adrienne exclaimed. ‘It slipped through our net!’
Porter shook his head. ‘Impossible. The escort ships would have picked it up on their sonar long before this.’
Richards apparently felt the same way, and they followed him on to the deck, hurrying aft as the alarm bell continued to sound.
Porter caught a glimpse of a silver-grey flash off the starboard side. ‘Shark!’
‘I’m afraid you’re right,’ Richards said. ‘A whole school of grey-fins.’ There was no need for him to mention that if the sharks cut any of the vital lines to the submersible, Project Neptune would be ruined.
Plans had been made for even this contingency, and several men ran below, returning quickly with cylinders that looked like hand-operated fire extinguishers. Hurrying aft on the starboard side they aimed these at the sharks, at least a dozen of which were circling the lines directly below the surface. Thin streams of a colourless liquid squirted out, and began to boil and foam as they hit the sea.
The sharks thrashed wildly, and dark shapes darted away. Within minutes the crisis seemed to have been averted.
As the foam subsided, however, one huge creature, at least twenty-five feet long, remained near the hydroelectric cables, its powerful tail breaking the surface repeatedly.
It appeared to be staying in one place.
‘My God!’ Richards was pale beneath his tan. ‘The creature is caught on the lines!’
Even as he spoke, three divers were hastily donning their scuba gear. Every member of the Project Neptune team had been drilled so thoroughly that it was unnecessary to give orders.
Suddenly the three divers were joined by a fourth.
Porter blinked in astonishment. ‘Marie Richards!’
Adrienne stared at the slender girl who was heading towards the rail, where a ladder had already been lowered over the side. Marie’s participation was unnecessary and a trifle absurd. The professional divers knew their business, and didn’t need the help of the society wife of one of the world’s wealthiest, most talented men.
Others in the company obviously agreed with Adrienne, and several ran to the rail.
‘Come back, Mrs Richards!’ one shouted. ‘That’s a killer shark!’
Only Richards himself was unperturbed. ‘Marie can handle herself in the water with greater ease than anyone I know,’ he said to no one in particular, and raced aft for a word with his wife before she vanished down the ladder.
Adrienne closed her eyes for an instant. Marie’s gesture was sheer bravado, useless and foolish. But even millionaires were entitled to express their emotions. In their own ways.
Porter came to the same conclusion, smiled wryly and shook his head.
‘I don’t like this,’ Adrienne said, ‘but I don’t know how we can stop her.’
Porter shook his head. ‘To think I didn’t trust her,’ he murmured.
Marie was the first in the water, and approached the shark warily.
The creature became aware of her proximity, and thrashed more violently.
The other divers hit the water and spread out in a semi-circle, swimming slowly.
Marie approached the imprisoned shark from the left, two others drew nearer on the right, and one diver, acting as a decoy, remained several yards from the creature’s snout.
‘Now!’ Marie called, disappearing below the surface with a long knife in her hand.
Almost simultaneously the divers on the shark’s right went under the water, and only the decoy stayed on the surface.
It was difficult for those on the deck to see what was happening. The sea foamed almost as heavily as it had when the repellent had been poured in, and it was evident that the shark was straining to break loose.
A thin trickle of blood that spread on the surface to the shark’s left indicated that Marie had been the first to attack.
The maddened shark made a supreme effort and broke free of the cables.
Marie was its obvious target, but she faced it valiandy, not retreating, and struck at it repeatedly with her knife.
The other divers came to her aid, and all three of the men slashed and stabbed at the grey-fin until their arms were weary.
The boiling sea grew even more agitated, and Adrienne, who could look into the muzzle of a gun without fear, leaned against Porter, afraid she would be sick.
All at once the sea grew calm, and the divers hastily swam to the ladders. Marie was the first to ascend. There was a long rip in her rubber diving suit, but she appeared to be unharmed.
Even as the divers left the water other members of the expedition harpooned the dying shark and hauled it on board the Neptune before its still-spreading blood attracted the rest of the pack and it became necessary to use more repellent.
Marie embraced her husband. Then, finally sheathing her knife, she looked at the ugly foe she had killed. Reverting to her role of the giddy society hostess, she spoke lightly. ‘I’ve always wanted a pair of genuine shark’s tooth earrings,’ she said, and went off to the master suite to change her attire.
Shortly before noon the sonar system was activated, and an intermittent buzzing sound indicated that the submersible was on target. The volume of the sound increased, its duration lengthening, and when the float’s rate of descent picked up speed as it reached a depth approaching three miles, the atmosphere in the operations centre crackled with suspense.
The underwater television cameras still revealed little other than an occasional fish, but the monitors assigned to these units peered more intently at their screens. The sonar operators fine-tuned their listening devices, adjusting and readjusting the knobs on their auditing sets. The hydroelectric generator, working at full capacity, hummed loudly, and no one spoke.
High clouds appeared overhead, moving from south to north, and gradually they thickened until, at about i.oo p.m., the sun vanished behind a thick, grey blanket. Adrienne noticed the ominous change, and silently called it to Porter’s attention. If Franklin Richards was aware of the approaching storm he gave no indication, and concentrated his full attention on the control panel.
Stewards brought sandwiches and cold meats, coffee, and soft drinks to those who wanted to eat, but few were interested. The hour of climax was at hand, and food would have to wait.