"We've got to get back to the others."
"Leave the radio phone on. We'll try to track you down through ... signal."
Trout's reply was cut short by a whispered warning from Gamay. Someone was whistling a mindless tune. He carefully replaced the mike in its cradle and shut off the radiophone. Then he and Gamay dropped to their hands and knees and tried with limited success to
cram their bodies under the console. The whistle came nearer. The whistler paused to peer through the glass pane in the door and apparently saw nothing amiss because the whistling grew fainter.
The Trouts pried themselves out of their hiding place. Paul called Gunn again and told him they were leaving the radio on. He checked the passageway, saw it was empty and they started back the way they came. They moved with even greater caution, keeping their ears cocked for a telltale whistle. They emerged from the deck hatchway, trotted along the catwalk and climbed the ladder that would take them back to the access road.
They returned to the church and were making their way through the graveyard when the night blazed with light. Beyond the blinding glare, several forms could be seen rising from behind the gravestones like restless spirits. Then rough hands grabbed Trout and Gamay and guards hustled them into the church. A tough-looking guard stood in front of the altar, a grin on his face that didn't match the machine pistol held at waist level, its muzzle pointing toward Trout's belly button.
"Hello, mate," the man said, with a quick glance at Gamay. "This is the end of the road for you and your friends."
THE OWL had been perched in a withered tree near the edge of the sea, its keen hearing attuned to the scampering of a mouse darting among clumps of grass. The bird was about to swoop down upon the hapless creature when its round yellow eyes caught a movement on the beach. Something large and shiny had broken from a wave and climbed out onto the wet sand. The owl spread its wings and silently flew inland. The mouse scurried into the grass, unmindful of its reprieve.
A second figure with black skin emerged from the surf like a
primitive creature crawling out of the primordial ooze. Austin and Zavala pushed their face masks up, unzipped their watertight packs and pulled out the SIG-Sauer 9-millimeter pistols the ill-fated SEAL team had left on board the research vessel. Seeing that they were alone, they took off their air tanks and stepped out of their dry suits.
They had slipped over the side of the Spooler as the patrol boat approached, first opening the pet cocks to send the fishing boat to the bottom. They had watched from inside the wheelhouse as the AUV checked out the sunken boat. When the AUV had left, they'd started swimming for land. Currents had thrown them off course, but Austin was reasonably sure they had landed close to where they were supposed to be.
A glance at his watch told Austin they had six hours until daylight. He signaled to Zavala. After a five-minute walk in the sand, their feet crunched hard gravel. Austin took a minicomputer from his pack and examined the image the satellite photo had taken of the island.
"If we stay on this road, we'll come to the compound. It's about two miles through what looks like a pass."
Without another word, they started walking along the darkened road.
THE MAN pointing the gun at Trout had a face like a lizard, all teeth and no lips.
"We've been waiting for you," the man said in an Australian accent.
"How'd you know where we were?" Trout said.
The man laughed. "Guess you didn't know we've got surveillance cameras scattered around the island. If the boys hadn't been so drunk, we might have seen you earlier."
"Sorry to interrupt your party."
"Your friends didn't feel like talking," he said. "Where'd you get Strega's car?"
"The colonel wasn't using it, so we thought we'd take it out for a drive."
The man swung his rifle around and thrust the butt into Trout's midsection. Trout felt as if his heart had stopped. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and dropped to his knees. When the waves of nausea had subsided, he staggered painfully to his feet. The man grabbed the front of Trout's jumpsuit and pulled him close. He reeked of whiskey.
"I don't like wiseass answers," he said. He pushed Trout away and leveled his gun at Gamay. "Where did you get the car?" "Strega's dead," Trout said, still gasping for breath. "Dead!" The eyes narrowed. "How'd he get dead?" Trout knew that even if he told the truth, the man wouldn't believe him. "It's better if I show you." . The guard hesitated.
"What are you up to?" he said, raising his weapon. "Nothing. We're in no position to hurt you." The comment went to the man's ego, as Trout hoped it would. "Right about that, mate."
He and the other guards marched Trout and Gamay around to the back of the church where the Mercedes was parked. Sandy, MacLean and the other scientists were huddled near the vehicle under the watchful eyes of two more armed men. A long-bed pickup truck was parked next to the Mercedes. The prisoners including Gamay were ordered into the back of the truck. Some of the guards went with the truck while two others got into the backseat of the Mercedes. The Aussie told Trout to drive the car. Then he slid in next to Trout and ordered him back to the compound. "This better be good," he said.
"Why don't you simply leave us?" Trout said. "The experiment has been completed."
"Nice try. We leave, and the next day some bloke comes along and finds you waving your undershirts on the beach. Things have a way of catching up with you in my business. Now drive and keep your mouth shut."
Trout did as he was told. When they arrived at the compound, the Aussie ordered Trout to stop. He yanked the keys from the ignition and got out to look around. The other guards jumped down from the truck and stared into the darkness with their weapons at ready.
The Aussie inspected the wreckage of the gate and the overturned gatehouse. There was an eerie quiet about the place. No night bird cries or insects humming. There was no sign of the carnage Trout had witnessed. He thought back to the rat-eating feast Strega had orchestrated and decided he didn't want to know what happened to the bodies.
The Aussie got back into the Mercedes. "What the hell is going on here?" he said.