The Mediterranean Caper Read online

  Pitt idly glanced at the pictures again. “If this so called living fossil is still floating around in its original form, how could it evolve into an advanced stage?”

  “Any plant or animal species is like a related family,” Gunn replied. “One branch may produce offspring who are uniform in size and shape, while the cousins over on the other side of the mountain produce a race of giants with two heads and four arms.”

  Pitt was getting restless. He opened the door and walked out onto the deck. The hot air struck him like a cloud of steam and he winced. All this expense and all these men sweating their asses off to catch a stinking fish, he thought. Who the hell cares if our ancestors were apes or fish—what difference did it make? At the rate mankind was racing toward self-destruction, it would probably be extinct in another thousand years or less anyway. He turned back to the darkened doorway and faced Gunn.

  “Ok,” Pitt said slowly. “I know what you and your boatload of academic brains are searching for. Now the only question in my mind is where do I come in? If you’re having trouble with broken cables, faulty generators or missing tools, you don’t need me, you need a good mechanic who knows how to take care of his equipment.”

  Gunn’s face looked puzzled for a moment, then he grinned. “I see that you’ve been pumping information out of Dr. Knight.”

  “Dr. Knight?”

  “Yes, Ken Knight, the young fellow who picked you up in the whaleboat this morning. He’s quite a brilliant marine geophysicist.”

  “That’s an impressive description,” said Pitt. “He seemed friendly enough during the boat ride, but he hardly struck me as brilliant.”

  The heat outside was becoming unbearable and the metal railing gleamed ominously. Pitt. not thinking, put his hand on the metal and instantly cursed as a burning sting etched his palm. Suddenly the pain set off an immense feeling of irritation Within him and he returned to the cabin, slamming the door. “Let’s skip all this crap,” Pitt snapped sharply. “Just tell me what miracle I’m supposed to perform that puts a Teaser over your fireplace and I’ll get to work.” He stretched out in Gunn’s bunk and took a deep breath and relaxed as the coolness of the stateroom calmed him once more. He glanced across the room at Gunn. Gunn’s face was expressionless, but Pitt knew him well enough to perceive his discomfort. Pitt smiled and reached over and gripped Gunn on the shoulder. “I don’t wish to appear mercenary. but if you want me to join your little crew of scientific pirates it’s going to cost you a drink. All this talk makes a man pretty damn thirsty.”

  Gunn laughed with relief and called over his intercom for some ice from the ship’s galley. Then he produced a bottle of Chivac Regal and two glasses from his bottom desk drawer. ‘While we’re waiting for the ice, you might scan this report I wrote concerning our equipment malfunctions.” He passed a yellow folder to Pitt. “I’ve covered every incident in detail and chronological order. In the beginning I thought it was merely accidents or bad luck, but now it’s gone far beyond the realm of mere coincidence.”

  “Have you any proof of tampering or sabotage?” asked Pitt.

  “None whatsoever.”

  “The broken cable that Knight mentioned, was it cut?"Gunn shrugged. “No, the ends were frayed, but that’s another mystery. I’ll explain it to you.” Gunn paused and flicked an ash from his cigarette. “We work with a safety margin of five-to-one. For example; if the specifications of a cable state there is a danger of breakage with a stress of twenty-five thousand pounds or above, we will never place a stress on it higher than five thousand pounds. Because of this large safety factor NUMA has yet to have a single fatality on a project.

  Lives are more important to us than scientific discovery. Underwater exploration is a risky business and the list is long with the names of men before us who have died trying to pry new secrets from the seas.”

  “What was the safety margin when your cable Parted?”

  “I was getting to that. It was nearly six-to-one. We Only had a four thousand pound stress on it at the time. It was extremely fortunate that no one was injured from the whiplash of the cable when it snapped”

  “May I see the cable?”

  “Yes, I’ve had the parted ends cut from the main sections and saved for your arrival.”

  A loud knock echoed from the door and a young red-haired boy, no more than eighteen or nineteen, entered the cabin, carrying a small bucket of ice. He sat it on the desk and turned and faced Gunn. “Can I get you anything else, sir?” “Yes, as a matter of fact, you can,” said Gunn. “Run down to the maintenance deck and find the cable sections that broke recently and bring them back here to me.”

  “Yes sir.” The boy did an abrupt about-face and hurried from the cabin.

  “One of the crew members?” asked Pitt.

  Gunn dropped the ice in the glasses and poured in the scotch. He passed a glass to Pitt. “Yes, we have eight crew members and fourteen scientists on board.”

  Pitt swirled the yellow liquid around the ice cubes.

  “Could any one of those twenty-two men be responsible for your problems?”Gunn shook his head. “I’ve thought about that, I’ve even dreamed about it, and I’ve analyzed each man’s personnel record at least fifty times, and I can’t see what possible motive any of them might have for hindering the project.” Gunn paused to sip his drink. “No, I’m certain my opposition comes from another source. Someone inexplicably wants to stop us from catching a fish that might not even exist.”

  The boy soon returned with the two halves of the broken cable. He handed the braided steel to Gunn and left the cabin, closing the door after him. Pitt took another drink from his scotch and climbed from the bunk. He set the glass on Gunn’s desk’. and lifted the cable in his hands, examining the ends closely.

  It looked like any other greasy steel cable. Each piece was about two feet in length and contained twenty-four hundred strands that were braided into a standard five-eighth-inch diameter. The cable was not broken in a compact area. The breaks were spread over a fifteen inch distance that gave both frayed wires the appearance of a pair of uneven, unwound horse tails.

  Something caught Pitt’s eye. and he took the magnifying glass and peered through the heavy lens. His eyes glinted with intensity and his lips slowly spread into a grin of smug satisfaction. The old feelings of excitement and intrigue began to course through his veins. This might turn out to be an interesting operation after all, he thought.

  “See anything?’ asked Gunn.

  “Yes, a great deal,” replied Pitt. “Somewhere along the line you’ve found yourself an enemy who doesn’t want you fishing around in his territory."

  Gunn became flushed and his eyes opened wide. “What did you find?”

  “This cable was purposely cut,” said Pitt. His voice was very cold.

  “What do you mean: cut,” cried Gunn. ‘Where do you see evidence of human tampering?”

  Pitt held up the magnifying glass for Gunn. “Notice how the breaks spiral down and bend inward toward the core? And see how the strands have a smashed appearance. If a cable of this diameter is pulled at each end until it snaps, the strands are clean and the ends have a tendency to point out and away from the core. That didn’t happen here.”

  Guns stared at the shattered cable. “I don’t understand. What could have caused this?”

  Pitt looked thoughtful for a moment. “My guess is Primacord.”

  Gunn was stunned. His eyes flew wide behind the big glasses. “You can’t be serious? Isn’t that an explosive?”

  “Yes it is,” Pitt said calmly. “Primacord looks like string or rope and can be made in any thickness. mainly, it’s used for blasting down trees and setting off different groups of distantly spaced explosives at he same time. It reacts like a burning fuse except that it moves and bursts rapidly, almost with the speed of light.”

  “But how could anyone plant explosives under the ship without being seen.. The water is crystal clear in this area. Visibility is over one hundred feet. One of the s
cientists or crew members would have seen any intruder. . . Not to mention hearing the sound of an explosion.”

  “Before I attempt to answer that, let me ask you two questions. What equipment was attached to the cable when it parted? And at what time did you discover the break?”

  “The cable was connected to the underwater decompression chamber. The divers have been working at one hundred and eighty feet and it has become necessary to begin decompression underwater for long periods of time to prevent the bends. We discovered the broken cable at about 0700 in the morning right after breakfast.” “I take it that you left the chamber in the water overnight?”

  “No,” replied Gunn. “It’s our habit to lower the chamber before dawn so it’ll be in place and ready to receive the divers in case of an early morning emergency.”

  “There’s your answer!” Pitt exclaimed. “Someone swam under cover of the predawn darkness to the cable and set off the Primacord. Visibility may be one. hundred feet after the sun comes up but at night it’s less than one foot.”

  “And the noise from the blast?”

  “Elementary my dear Gunn,” Pitt grinned. “I should guess that a small amount of Primacord detonating at approximately eighty feet of depth would sound very similar to a sonic boom from one of Brady Field’s F-105 Starfires.”

  Guns looked at Pitt with respect. It was basically a sound theory, and obviously there was little he could think of to debate about His forehead creased, “Where do we go from here?”

  Pitt downed the scotch and banged the glass onto Gunn’s desk. “You just stay in the briny and fish for your Teaser. I’m going back to the island and try my hand at a little hunting. There may be a tie-in with your disruptions and the attack on Brady yesterday, and the next step will be to find who’s behind this mess and what their motives are.”

  Suddenly the door burst open and a man leaped into the cabin. He wore only a pair of abbreviated swim trunks and a wide belt, containing a knife and a nylon net bag. His wet, sun-bleached hair was streaked with whitish yellow and freckles dotted his nose and chest.

  As he stood there, the water dripped to the carpet around his feet in spreading dark stains. “Commander Gunn,” he shouted excitedly. “I’ve seen one! I’ve actually seen a Teaser, not more than ten feet in front of my mask.”

  Guns jumped to his feet. “Are you sure? Did you get a close look at him?”

  “Better than that, sir, I took a picture of him.”

  The freckle-nosed man stood there, grinning with every available tooth. “If only I had a spear gun, I might have got him, but I was shooting coral formations with my camera instead.”

  “Quick,” snapped Gunn. “Get that film to the lab and have it developed.”

  “Yes sir.” The fellow turned and dashed out of the door, spraying Pitt with a few drops of saltwater as he passed.

  Guns’s face had a happy but determined look.

  ‘My God. To think I was about to give up, throw my tail between my legs and set a course for home. Now, dammit, I’m going to stay anchored here until I die of old age or catch a Teaser.” His eyes twinkled as he glanced at Pitt. ‘Well, Major, what do you think of that?”

  Pitt merely shrugged. “Personally, I prefer angling for girls.” With very little effort his mind dropped the business at hand and formed a tantalizing picture of Teri standing on the beach in her red bikini.

  4

  It was a few minutes past five when Pitt arrived back at his quarters on Brady Field. Within seconds of discarding his sticky clothing, he was firmly entrenched on his back in a narrow shower stall. It was a tight fit; his head was crooked into one corner, his back pressed flat on the wet tile floor, and his hairy legs and feet thrust upward on a ninety degree angle in the opposite corner.

  To anyone who might have peeked, it looked like a contorted and bone torturing position, but Pitt found it thoroughly comfortable and immensely satisfying. When time allowed, he always relaxed in the shower in this manner. Sometimes he dozed off, but mostly he used the simulated rainy atmosphere and the solitude to think. At this moment his mind simmered with a multitude of perplexing questions.

  He mentally juggled the facts and unknowns together, seeking a pattern and trying to concentrate on the most important problems. It was no use. His mind eluded his grasp and stubbornly chewed on the minor and inconsequential riddle of the noiseless truck by the beach.

  For some inexplicable reason the riddle irritated him and he endeavored vainly to shake it, but it remained. Finally he gave in to it and closed his eyes and recreated the scene, hoping to visualize a sign or solution.

  Suddenly a blurred form appeared on the other side of the shower door.

  “Hello in the shower,” Giordino’s voice rumbled over the running water. “You’ve been in there nearly half an hour. You must be thoroughly water-logged by now.”

  Pitt resigned himself to the interruption and reached up and turned the faucet to off.

  “You better hurry,” Giordino shouted. Then it occurred to him that the water was no longer running. He lowered his voice. “Colonel Lewis is on his way over— he’ll be here any second.

  Pitt sighed. Pushing his body to a sitting position, he awkwardly struggled to his feet, nearly slipping on the slick tile floor. A towel sailed over the shower door, falling in folds around his head. The mere thought of being prodded and pushed in order to impress a higher ranking officer made the hairs on his neck bristle. He glared through the fuzzy glass panel.

  “Tell Colonel Lewis he can play with himself while he waits.” His voice had a nice frost to it. “I’ll come out when I damn well feel like it,” he said succinctly. “Now get the hell out of my bathroom, you bastard, before I cram a bar of soap up your anal canal.” Abruptly, Pitt felt his checks heating. He hadn’t really meant to be rude to his old friend. Immediately sorry. he felt a wave of guilt “I’m sorry, Al. My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Forget it.” Without another word Giordino shrugged and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Pitt briskly dried his lean body and then shaved. After he finished, he blew the tiny black hairs out of the Cordless electric shaver and patted his face with British Sterling after shave lotion. When he stepped into the bedroom, Giordino and Colonel Lewis were waiting.

  Lewis sat on the edge of the bed and twisted one end of an immense red handlebar moustache. His large rosy face and twinkling blue eyes along with the large bush on his upper lip gave him the appearance of a jolly lumberjack. His movements and his speech were rapid, almost jerky, giving Pitt the impression that the Colonel had a pound of ground glass in his crotch.

  “Sorry to break in on you like this,” boomed Lewis. “But I’m interested in knowing whether or not you’ve run onto anything substantial concerning the attack yesterday.”

  Pitt was nude, but he didn’t give a damn. "No, nothing positive. I’ve several hunches and a couple of ideas, but very few absolute facts to build an airtight case with.”

  “I was hoping you might have stumbled on a lead. My Air Investigation Squadron has struck out.”

  “Have you found any remains of the Albatros?’ asked Pitt.

  Lewis rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead. “If that old crate crashed into the sea, it left no trace; not even a small oil slick. It and its pilot must have vanished into thin air.”

  "Maybe it reached the mainland,” said Giordino. “Negative,” replied Lewis. “We can’t find a soul over there who saw it going or coming.”

  Giordino nodded in agreement. “An old plane painted bright yellow with a top speed of only one hundred and three miles an hour couldn’t help but be noticed if it crossed over the strait into Macedonia.”

  Lewis took out a package of cigarettes. “What really confuses me is the fact that the attack was well planned and executed. Whoever raided the field knew no aircraft were scheduled to land or take off during his strafing runs.”

  Pitt buttoned his shirt and adjusted the gold oak leaves on his shoulders. “Obtaining information w
ould be easy since everyone on Thasos probably knows that Brady Field becomes a ghost town on Sundays. Actually this whole affair is very similar in strategy to the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese down to the detail of sneaking in through a pass in the island mountain range.”

  Lewis lit his cigarette, being careful not to singe his moustache. “You’re right, of course but there’s no doubt that your unexpected arrival in the flying boat: caught our attacker, as well as ourselves, off guard. Our own radar failed to track your Catalina because you flew the last two hundred miles on the deck.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I can’t begin to tell you what a welcome surprise it was to see your old bird come thundering down out of the sun.”

  “It must have surprised our friend in the Albatros too,” Giordino grinned. “You should have seen his jaw drop when he turned and saw us for the first time.”Pitt finished knotting his tie. “No one expected us because my flight plan did not include Brady Field. I originally planned to set down in the sea next to the First Attempt. That’s why our flying ghost and Brady Control were both unaware of our ETA.” He paused, reflecting as he looked down at Lewis. “I strongly suggest, Colonel, that you take extreme defensive measures. I’ve a feeling we haven’t seen the last of the yellow Albatros.”

  Lewis stared up at Pitt curiously. “What makes you so certain he’ll return?”

  Pitt’s eyes glinted. “He had a definite purpose for attacking the field, and it wasn’t to kill men or destroy aircraft belonging to the United States. His plan was simply to throw you into a panic.”

  “What would he gain by that?” asked Giordino.

  “Stop and think about it for a moment.” Pitt glanced at his watch, then to Lewis. “If this situation looked truly threatening and perilous, Colonel, you’d have to evacuate all American civilians to the mainland.”