Shock Wave dp-13

by Clive Cussler

  There was no room in Pitt’s mind for the suffering of the past five days, for any emotion revolving around the torment of near death, no thought of anything but the primeval obsession for revenge. Revenge or execution, there was no distinction in Pitt’s mind. Dorsett would not, could not be permitted to continue his reign of evil, certainly not after so many deaths. He had to be held accountable.

  Pitt’s mind was fixed on not one but two objectives— the rescue of Maeve’s two sons and the killing of the evil diamond merchant.

  Pitt steered the tiny craft over the vast sea throughout the eighth day. At sunset, Giordino took over the navigation duties while Pitt and Maeve dined on a combination of raw and dried fish. A full moon rose over the horizon as a great amber ball before diminishing and turning white as it crossed the night sky above them. After several swallows of water to wash down the taste of fish, Maeve sat nestled in Pitt’s arms and stared at the silver shaft in the sea that led to the moon.

  She murmured the words from “Moon River.” “Two drifters off to see the world.” She paused, looked up into Pitt’s strong face and studied the hard line of his jaw, the dark and heavy brows and the green eyes that glinted whenever the light struck them right. He had a welt shaped nose, for a man, but it showed evidence of having been broken on more than one occasion. The lines around his eyes and the slight curl of the lips gave him the appearance of someone who was humorous and always smiling, a man a woman could be comfortable with; who posed no threat. There was a strange blend of hardness and sensitivity that she found incredibly appealing.

  She sat quietly, mesmerized by him, until he looked down suddenly, seeing the expression of fascination on her face. She made no movement to turn away.

  “You’re not an ordinary man,” she said without knowing why.

  He stared quizzically. “What makes you say that?”

  “The things you say, the things you do. I’ve never known anybody who was so in tune with life.”

  He grinned, his pleasure apparent. “Those are words I’ve never heard from a woman.”

  “You must have known many?” she asked with girlish curiosity.

  “Many?”

  “Women.”

  “Not really. I always wanted to be a lecher like AI here, but seldom found the time.”

  “Married?”

  “No, never.”

  “Come close?”

  “Maybe once.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was killed.”

  Maeve could see that Pitt had never quite bridged the chasm separating sorrow and bittersweet memory. She regretted asking the question and felt embarrassed. She was instinctively drawn to him and wanted to burrow into his mind. She guessed that he was the kind of man who longed for something deeper than a casual physical relationship, and she knew that insincere flirting held no attraction for him.

  “Her name was Summer,” he continued quietly. “It was a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Maeve softly.

  “Her eyes were gray and her hair red, but she looked much like you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  He was about to ask her about her boys but stopped himself, realizing it would spoil the intimacy of the moment. Two people alone, well, almost alone, in a world of moon, stars and a black restless sea. Devoid of humans and solid ground, thousands of kilometers of fluid nothingness surrounded them. It was all too easy to forget where they were and imagine themselves sailing across the bay of some tropical island.

  “You also bear an incredible resemblance to your great-great-great-grandmother,” he said.

  She raised her head and gazed at him. “How could you possibly know I look like her?”

  “The painting on the yacht, of Betsy Fletcher.”

  “I must tell you about Betsy sometime,” said Maeve, curling up in his arms like a cat.

  “No need,” he said smiling. “I feel I know her almost as well as you. A very heroic woman, arrested and sent to the penal colony at Botany Bay, survivor of the raft of the Gladiator. She helped save the lives of Captain `Bully’ Scaggs and Jess Dorsett, a convicted highwayman who became her husband and your great-great-great grandfather. After landing on what became known as Gladiator Island, Betsy discovered one of the world’s largest diamond mines and founded a dynasty. Back in my hangar I have an entire dossier on the Dorsetts, beginning with Betsy and Jess and continuing through their descendants down to you and your reptilian sisters.”

  She sat up again, a sudden anger in her snapping blue eyes. “You had me investigated, you rat, probably by your CIA.”

  Pitt shook his head. “Not you so much as the chronicles of the Dorsett family of diamond merchants. My interest comes under the heading of research, which was conducted by a fine old gentleman who would be very indignant if he knew you referred to him as an agent with the CIA.”

  “You don’t know as much about my family as you might think,” she said loftily. “My father and his forefathers were very private men.”

  “Come to think of it,” he said soothingly, “there is one member of your cast who intrigues me more than the others.”

  She looked at him lopsidedly. “If not me, who then?”

  “The sea monster in your lagoon.”

  The answer took her completely by surprise. “You can’t mean Basil?”

  He looked blank a moment. “Who?”

  “Basil is not a sea monster, he’s a sea serpent. There’s a distinct difference. I’ve seen him on three different occasions with my own eyes.”

  Then Pitt broke out laughing. “Basil? You call him Basil?”

  “You wouldn’t laugh if he got you in his jaws,” she said waspishly.

  Pitt shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m listening to a trained zoologist who believes in sea serpents.”

  “To begin with, sea serpent is a misnomer. They are not true serpents, like snakes.”

  “There have been wild stories from tourists claiming to have seen strange beasties in every lake from Loch Ness to Lake Champlain, but I haven’t heard of any sightings in the oceans since the last century.”

  “Sightings at sea do not receive the publicity they used to. Wars, natural disasters and mass murders have pushed them out of the headlines.”

  “That wouldn’t stop the tabloids.”

  “Sea routes for powered ships are fairly well fixed,” Maeve explained patiently. “The early sailing ships moved in unfrequented waters. Whaling ships, which sailed after whales rather than the shortest distance between ports, often reported sightings. Wind-driven ships also sailed silently and were able to approach a serpent on the surface, while a modern diesel vessel can be heard underwater for kilometers. Just because they’re large doesn’t mean they aren’t shy, retiring creatures, indefatigable ocean voyagers who refuse to be captured.”

  “If they aren’t illusions or snakes, then what are they, leftover dinosaurs?”

  “Okay, Mr. Skeptic,” she said seriously, a touch of defiant pride in her tone. “I’m writing my Ph.D. thesis on the subject of cryptozoology, the science of legendary beasts. For your information there are 467 sightings confirmed after faulty vision, hoaxes and secondhand reports have been eliminated. I have them all categorized in my computer at the university; nature of sightings, including weather and sea conditions in which sightings took place; geographical distribution, distinguishing characteristics, color, shape and size. Through graphics-rendering techniques I can backtrack the beasts’ evolution. To answer your question, they’ve probably evolved from dinosaurs in a manner similar to alligators and crocodiles. But they are definitely not `leftovers.’ The Plesiosaurs, the species most often thought to have survived as present-day sea serpents, never exceeded sixteen meters, far smaller than Basil, for example.”

  “All right, I’ll reserve judgment until you convince me they truly exist.”

  “There are six primary species,” she lectured. “The most sightings have been of along-necked creature with one main
hump and with head and jaws similar to that of a large dog. Next is one that is always described as having the head of a horse with a mane and saucer-shaped eyes. This creature is also reported to have goatlike whiskers under its lower jaw.”

  “‘Goat whiskers,’” Pitt repeated cynically.

  “Then there is the variety with a true serpentine body like that of an eel. Another has the appearance of a giant sea otter, while yet another is known for its row of huge, triangular fins. The kind most often pictured has many dorsal humps, an egg-shaped head and big doglike muzzle. This serpent is almost always reported as being black on top and white on the bottom. Some have seal— or turtlelike flippers or fins, some do not. Some grow enormously long tails, others a short stub. Many are described as having fur, most others are silky smooth. The colors vary from yellow-gray to brown to black. Almost all witnesses agree that the lower part of the bodies is white. Unlike most true sea and land snakes, which propel themselves by wiggling side-to-side, the serpent moves by making vertical undulations. It appears to dine on fish, only shows itself in calm weather and has been observed in every sea except the waters around the Arctic and Antarctic.”

  “How do you know all these sightings were not misinterpreted?” asked Pitt. “They could have been basking sharks, clumps of seaweed, porpoises swimming in single file, or even a giant squid.”

  “In most cases there was more than one observer,” retorted Maeve. “Many of the viewers were sea captains of great integrity. Captain Arthur Rostron was one.”

  “I know the name. He was captain of the Carpathia, the ship that picked up the Titanic survivors.”

  “He witnessed a creature that appeared in great distress, as if it were injured.”

  “Witnesses may be completely honest, but mistaken,” Pitt insisted. “Until a serpent, or a piece of one, is handed over to scientists to dissect and study, there is no proof.”

  “Why can’t reptiles twenty to fifty meters in length, with snakelike features, still live in the seas as they did during the Mesozoic era? The sea is not a crystal windowpane. We cannot see into its depths and scan far horizons as on land. Who knows how many giant species, still unknown to science, roam the seas?”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Pitt said, his eyes smiling. “What category does Basil fall into?”

  “I’ve classified Basil as a mega-eel. He has a cylindrical body thirty meters long, ending in a tail with a point. His head is slightly blunt like the common eel’s but with a wide canine mouth filled with sharp teeth. He is bluish with a white belly, and his jet-black eyes are as large as a serving dish. He undulates in the horizontal like other eels and snakes. Twice I saw him raise the front part of his body a good ten meters out of the water before falling back with a great splash.”

  “When did you first see him?”

  “When I was about ten,” Maeve answered. “Deirdre and I were sailing about the lagoon in a little cutter our mother had given us, when suddenly I had this strange sensation of being watched. A cold shiver shot up my spine. Deirdre acted as if nothing was happening. I slowly turned around. There, about twenty meters behind our stern, was a head and neck rising about three meters out of the water. The thing had two glistening black eyes that were staring at us.”

  “How thick was the neck?”

  “A good two meters in diameter, as big as a wine vat, as father often described it.”

  “He saw it too?”

  “The whole family observed Basil on any number of occasions, but usually when someone was about to die.”

  “Go on with your description.”

  “The beast looked like a dragon out of a child’s nightmare. I was petrified and couldn’t say a word or scream, while Deirdre kept staring over the bow. Her attention was focused on telling me when to tack so we wouldn’t run onto the outer reef.”

  “Did it make a move toward you?” Pitt asked.

  “No. It just stared at us and made no attempt to molest the boat as we sailed away from it.”

  “Deirdre never saw it.”

  “Not at that time, but she later sighted it on two different occasions.”

  “How did your father react when you told him what you had seen?”

  “He laughed and said, ‘So you’ve finally met Basil.’”

  “You said the serpent made itself known when there was a death?”

  “A family fable with some kernel of truth. Basil was seen in the lagoon by the crew of a visiting whaler when Betsy Fletcher was buried, and later when my great-aunt Mildred and my mother died, both in violent circumstances.”

  “Coincidence or fate?”

  Maeve shrugged. “Who can say? The only thing 1 can be sure of is that my father murdered my mother.”

  “Like Grandfather Henry supposedly killed his sister Mildred.”

  She gave him a strange look. “You know about that too.”

  “Public knowledge.”

  She stared over the black sea to where it met the stars, the bright moon illuminating her eyes, which seemed to grow darker and sadder. “The last three generations of Dorsetts haven’t exactly set virtuous standards.”

  “Your mother’s name was Irene.”

  Maeve nodded silently.

  “How did she die?” Pitt asked gently.

  “She would have eventually died, brokenhearted from the abuse heaped upon her by the man she desperately loved. But while walking along the cliffs with my father, she slipped and fell to her death in the surf below.” An expression of hatred became etched on her delicate face. “He pushed her,” she said coldly. “My father pushed her to her death as sure as there are stars in the universe.”

  Pitt held her tightly and felt her shudder. “Tell me about your sisters,” he said, changing the subject.

  The look of hatred faded, and her features became delicate again. “Not much to tell. I was never very close to either of them. Deirdre was the sneaky one. If I had something she wanted, she simply stole it and pretended it was hers all along. Of the three, Deirdre was Daddy’s little girl. He lavished most of his affection on her, I guess because they were kindred spirits. Deirdre lives in a fantasy world created by her own deceit. She can’t tell the truth even when there is no reason to lie.”

  “Has she ever married?”

  “Once, to a professional soccer player who thought he was going to live out his life as a member of the jet set with his own set of toys. Unfortunately for him, when he wanted a divorce and demanded a settlement that equaled Australia’s national budget, he conveniently fell off one of the family yachts. His body was never found.”

  “It doesn’t pay to accept invitations to go sailing with the Dorsetts,” Pitt said caustically.

  “I’m afraid to think about all the people Father has eliminated who stood in his way in fact or in his imagination.”

  “And Boudicca?”

  “I never really knew her,” she said distantly. “Boudicca is eleven years older than me. Soon after I was born, Daddy enrolled her in an exclusive boarding school, or so I was always told. It sounds odd to say my sister was a total stranger to me. I was nearly ten years old when I met her for the first time. All I really know about her is that she has a passion for handsome young men. Daddy isn’t pleased, but he does little to stop her from sleeping around.”

  “She’s one strong lady.”

  “I saw her manhandle Daddy once, when he was striking our mother during a drunken rampage.”

  “Odd that they all have such a murderous dislike for the only member of the family who is loving and decent.”

  “When I escaped the island, where my sisters and I were kept virtual prisoners after Mother died, Daddy could not accept my independence. My earning my own way through university without tapping the Dorsett fortune angered him. Then, when I was living with a young man and became pregnant, instead of opting for an abortion I decided to go the whole nine months after the doctor told me I was having twins. I refused to marry the boy, so Daddy and my sisters severed all my ties to
the Dorsett empire. It all sounds so mad, and I can’t explain it. I legally changed my name to that of my great-great-great grandmother and went on with my life, happy to be free of a dysfunctional family.”

  She had been racked by wicked forces over which she had no control, and Pitt pitied her while respecting her fortitude. Maeve was a loving woman. He looked into the guileless blue eyes of a child. He swore to himself that he would move heaven and earth to save her.

  He started to say something, but out of the blackness he caught sight of the seething crest of a huge wave bearing down on them. The giant swell appeared to break across his entire field of vision. A cold dread gripped the nape of his neck as he saw three similar waves rolling behind the first.

  He gave a warning shout to Giordino and flung Maeve to the floor. The swell curled down on top of the boat, inundating it with foam and spray, rolling over and pressing down the starboard quarter as it struck. The opposite side was flung into the air, and the boat twisted sideways as it fell into a deep trough, broadside to the next wall of water.

  The second wave rose and touched the stars before surging over them with the force of a freight train. The boat plunged under the black tempest, completely submerged. Overwhelmed by the maddened sea, Pitt ’s only option for staying alive was to grip a buoyancy tube as tightly as possible in a replay of the earlier typhoon. To be cast overboard was to stay overboard. Any legitimate bookmaker would have preferred the odds covering the sharks over drowning.

  The little boat had somehow struggled to the surface when the final two waves struck it violently in succession. They wrenched it around in a writhing inferno of raging water. The helpless passengers were plummeted under the liquid wall and immersed again. Then they were sliding down the smooth back of the final wave, and the sea went as calm as if nothing had happened. The tumultuous combers raced past and swept into the night.