Lost City (NUMA Files 5)

The guard took up a position where he could keep a close eye on them, but otherwise didn't interfere.

"This is the control room," MacLean said.

Trout glanced around. "Where's the crew?"

"This vessel is almost entirely automated. There is only a small crew, a contingent of guards and the divers, of course."

"I saw the moon suits in the room near the air lock."

"You're very observant," MacLean said with a nod of his head. "Now if you look at that screen, you'll see the divers at work."

A wall screen showed a picture of a column typical of the Lost City. As they watched, there was movement at the bottom of the screen. A diver clad in a bulbous moon suit was rising up the side of the column, propelled by vertical thrusters built into the suit. He was followed by three other divers, similarly equipped, all clutching thick rubber hoses in the mechanical manipulators that served as their hands.

Soundlessly, the grotesque figures floated up until they were near the top of the screen. Like bees collecting nectar, they stopped under the mushroom-shaped mantle rocks.

"What are they doing?" Trout said.

"I know," Sandy said. "They're collecting bio-organisms from the microbe colonies that live around the vents."

"That's correct. They are removing entire colonies," MacLean said. "The living material and the liquid it grows in are transported through the hoses to holding tanks."

"Are you saying this is a scientific expedition?" Gamay said.

"Not exactly. Keep watching."

Two divers had broken off from the others and moved on to the top of another column; the pair that was left began to dismantle the column itself, using handsaws.

"They're destroying the columns," Sandy said. "This is criminal!

MacLean glanced over at the guard to see if he had noticed Sandy's outburst. He was leaning against the wall with a bored, detached expression on his face. MacLean waved to get the guard's attention and he pointed at a door off the control room. The guard yawned and nodded his approval. MacLean escorted the others through the door, which opened into a room full of large circular plastic vats.

"We can talk here," MacLean said. "These are storage vats for the biological material."

"The holding capacity must be huge," Gamay observed.

"It's very hard to keep the organisms alive away from their natural habitat. That's why they're taking down some of the columns. Only a small percentage of the harvest will be useful by the time we get back to land."

"Did you say land}" Trout said.

"Yes, the collected specimens are ultimately processed in a facility located on an island. We make periodic trips to unload the tanks. I'm not sure where it is."

MacLean saw the guard looking at them. "Sorry. Our babysitter seems to have stirred from his lethargy. We'll have to continue our discussion later."

"Quickly tell me about the island. It may be our only chance to escape."

"Escape? There's no hope of escape."

"There's always hope. What's it like on this island?"

MacLean saw the guard walking toward them and lowered his voice, making his words sound even more ominous. "It's worse than anything Dante could have imagined."

AS AUSTIN'S GAZE swept the steep walls and sturdy battlements that enclosed the Fauchard chateau, he felt an enormous respect for the artisans who had layered the heavy blocks into place. His admiration was tempered by the knowledge that the efficient killing machine those long-dead craftsmen had built to keep attackers at bay worked equally we

ll to prevent those inside from getting out.

"Well," Skye said. "What do you think?"

"If Alcatraz were built on land, it would look something like this."