Medusa (NUMA Files 8)

JUST KIDDING!

The last panel read

I’M IN THE CONTROL ROOM.

Chang crumpled the paper and ordered his men to search the complex. They came back a few minutes later and reported that the complex appeared deserted and that wires had been torn from all the C-4.

Chang stormed off to the control room, only to pause at the door. Suspecting that the room had been booby-trapped, he sent his men in first.

They scoured the room and reported back to Chang that it too was deserted and that nothing was amiss. He stepped in to see for himself. He glanced around, his scowl deepening. He wanted somebody to take his fury out on. He saw Dr. Wu filming the room.

“Not now, you fool!” Chang shouted. “Can’t you see there’s nobody here?”

A metallic voice issued from the wall speakers.

“You’re right, Chang. You and your pals are the only ones on the lab.”

Chang wheeled around, the stock of the machine pistol tight against his chest.

“Who’s that?”

“SpongeBob SquarePants,” the voice said.

“Austin!”

“Okay, I confess, Chang. You got me. It’s Kurt Austin.”

Chang’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“What happened to the scientists?” he asked.

“They are no longer on the lab, Chang. They left in the minisubs.”

“Don’t toy with me, Austin. I destroyed the subs’ power circuits.”

A different voice came on the speaker: Phelps.

“Those were backup circuits you stomped on,” he said. “The subs were fully operable, boss.”

“Phelps?” Chang exclaimed. “I thought you were dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Chang. Austin ain’t jerking you around. Dr. Mitchell and all the other scientists are long gone.”

“I’ll find them,” Chang shouted. “I’ll find you and Austin and kill you!”

“That’s not very likely,” Austin said. “By the way, the vaccine cultures they gave you are useless. The real ones are with the staff.”

THE VOICES IN CHANG’S HEAD began to rise in volume and number, reaching an evil cacophony. A white hate flowed through his bull-like body like a power surge. He ordered his men back to the shuttle. As it rose from the lab, he radioed the freighter, giving orders to start scouring the depths with sonar. A minute later, he got a reply. Sonar had picked up four shapes moving away from the atoll. Chang ordered the freighter to be on hand when the minisubs surfaced.

The shuttle went full speed toward the tunnel. Chang allowed a smile to cross his face, anticipating the looks on the scientists’ faces when they saw the freighter bearing down on them. He was savoring the scene, imagining how they would react when he rose from the deep like Neptune, when he heard the pilot call out. Chang leaned forward in his seat and stared out the cockpit window.

A huge black shadow was bearing down on the shuttle.

The pilot recognized the massive blunt bow of the Typhoon hurtling right at them and he yelped like a frightened puppy. Chang yelled at him to turn, but the pilot’s hands were frozen on the controls. Uttering a feral snarl, Chang grabbed the pilot by the shoulders, pulled him out of his chair, and took his place. He yanked the wheel hard to starboard.

The shuttle’s turbines continued to drive it forward, but after a few seconds the front came around to the right, narrowly edging the shuttle out of the way of a head-on collision with the six-hundred-foot torpedo hurtling its way. But the Typhoon was moving at twenty-five knots, and it clipped the tail end of the shuttle, demolishing its rudder and sending the shuttle into a wild spin. The violent impact caused the cargo door to fly open, and water began flowing in.

The weight of the inrushing sea dragged the shuttle’s tail down, and the front of the shuttle angled upward like a dying fish. Chang’s men grabbed onto the seats and pulled themselves up the slanting deck toward the cockpit.