Blaine watched the Soviets draw to within a hundred yards. Winds and currents were playing hell with their aim, though the narrowing of the gap would take care of that before long. If they were going to survive, it would depend on Captain Bob’s savvy. The captain was making sharp maneuvers to avoid the reefs; a few times he miscalculated and the shrill grinding sound of reef rubbing against boat frame was frightening to hear.
“Blainey, I sense something,” Wareagle said suddenly.
“Probably just our boat getting a massage.”
“No, a disturbance in the great fields, a large imbalance. Listen close and even you will be able to hear the warnings of the spirits.”
Blaine and the others watched as fifty yards back their pursuers’ boat was jostled steeply to the side, the Soviet gunmen losing their balance. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened. The underside of the Russian boat had hit the reef and a good portion of its underside was probably torn to shreds. The pilot tried to veer aside at the last instant and succeeded only in crashing his stern into a huge reef near surface level. The fishing boat turned lazily, desperately, starting to sink into the sea. Blaine and the others watched in silence. The remaining Russians dropped their weapons in favor of life jackets and inflatable rafts. The boat was dying.
“Told ya, didn’t I?” Captain Bob beamed from the bridge. “Told ya, told ya, told ya so, I did!”
“There’s your imbalance, Indian.”
“No, Blainey, what I feel is still …”
Wareagle stopped when a huge swell of water rose over the dying Russian boat. It came with incredible fury. Then the very ocean seemed to open up beneath it, revealing a huge shape rising claws-first from the depths.
The Dragon Fish had finally arrived.
Chapter 29
Captain Bob began chanting words in a language Blaine couldn’t understand, his grip on the wheel relinquished as he moved forward in a daze. The boat began to spin with the currents as he ripped his shotgun free of its perch. The rest of them watched transfixed, unable to move.
The creature had the look of a giant black crab with twin claws on either side, one of which was swooping down toward the largest concentration of the doomed Russian crew. Their screams almost covered the awful crackling that resulted when the claw splintered what remained of the fishing boat.
Captain Bob rushed to the bow, raised the shotgun, and squeezed off a pair of shots.
“Don’t waste your bullets or your time,” Blaine advised. “You’ll only let him know we’re here.”
“He knows,” Captain Bob said madly. “He knows.” And he fired twice more before pausing to reload.
The creature’s claws continued to sweep the waters for Russians. Blaine estimated the Dragon Fish to be over two hundred feet from claw tips to its strangely shaped tail. Wait a minute, the tail …
His thoughts were interrupted when their ship at last struck the reef, lodging there and pitching all its occupants violently to the deck. Natalya struck the gunwale hard and would have gone over if not for the quick hand of Johnny Wareagle who reached out and grabbed her. Captain Bob was not as lucky. The collision pitched him to the deck on his head. He was plunged into unconsciousness as the creature which devoured his sons loomed close.
Off their stern, the Dragon Fish continued to compress the dying boat and crew within its claws, more interested in pure destruction than dinner. Wareagle concentrated on the regular rhythm with which its claws opened and closed, opened and closed….
“It’s not alive!” he shouted.
With the screeching of the cruiser on the reef, McCracken didn’t hear Johnny, but he was forming his own conclusions. The monster moved too stiffy and its tail — yes, its tail. It remained unexplainably stiff. There were no bends in the monster’s joints, none of the supple motions one would expect from a seagoing beast. It seemed … mechanical.
“It’s a fucking submarine!” Blaine realized.
Which seemed to make little difference as water gushed through the gaping holes in their boat’s bottom. As the deck lowered beneath them, Wareagle propped up Captain Bob against the cabin which was the cruiser’s highest point. The Dragon Fish was swinging toward them now, snapping together its outstretched claws and making the hollow sound of steel meeting steel. Blaine could see the mourn now, could see that the huge teeth, which had looked razor sharp and deadly from a distance, were merely painted on.
It was a submarine all right, and now it was slowing to a drift before them as they clung to whatever parts of the deck remained above water. The body of the beast was a near-perfect sphere, perforated by holes for piston jets to promote drive on the surface. It had oblong windows for eyes and lines in its hull marking hatch points.
Blaine’s eyes returned to the claws, raised high, when a hatch at the top of the Dragon Fish’s head opened and a pair of machine gun wielding guards appeared. Behind them was a figure McCracken recognized all too well. “Please,” said Vasquez, “come aboard.”
“Welcome to the Dragon Fish,” the fat man said politely after the last of them had climbed down into the submarine’s bridge followed by a pair of guards carrying the unconscious Captain Bob. More armed guards watched them from every angle. “I had thought about devouring you, McCrackenballs, but I was worried what you might do to my baby’s digestion.”
“You were never one to turn down a good meal, fat man.”
Vasquez made himself laugh. “You’re too tough for my taste. At least you used to be.”
The belly of the beast was oval shaped and lit by a soft orange glow. Blaine gazed around and saw the most advanced computerized equipment available for any submarine. Diodes and display gauges stood out everywhere, with Vasquez’s technicians manning their stations in neatly starched, lime-green uniforms, totally uninterested in the action around them. A technician moved slightly to his right and the soft green glow of a CRT screen cast a dull light over Vasquez’s expression.
“Steal this from Electric Boat, fat man?”
“No, McCrackenballs, but they were generous enough to furnish most of the parts.”
“Your own private Trident …”
“And then some, as you have already seen.” Not a strand of Vasquez’s slicked back hair was out of place as he patted his cheeks with his ever-present handkerchief. The sweat was starting to soak through his jacket. “Professor Clive was kind enough to reveal your destination. Imagine, coming all the way to the Biminis in search of those mysterious crystals…. ”
“Since you weren’t about to part with the ones you’d already lifted, I didn’t have much choice. Yup, it all makes sense, even those holes Natalya and I found in the old wrecks down there. After that sea quake made their treasures accessible again, you created — or resurrected — the myth of the Dragon Fish to assure yourself of sole salvage rights.”
Vasquez gazed around him fondly. “Far more than a myth, as I’m sure you can see.”
Blaine feigned looking about in order to meet Johnny Wareagle’s eyes. The Indian, never one to give up easily, was obviously gauging methods for a possible turning of the tables. McCracken’s unspoken instructions held him back.
“So the island with no name becomes your exclusive territory, thanks to this contraption here. I guess it doubles as a damn good salvage vehicle.”
The fat man nodded, impressed with the analysis. “Parts of its lower frame are detachable: smaller robot and manned submersibles with incredible range and equipment. We’ve been able to plunder just about every treasure chest.”