White Death (NUMA Files 4)

"As you recall, I whined the whole trip up here because I couldn't go play with Kurt and Joe."

"You don't have to remind me. You sounded as if you hadn't been picked for the Little League team."

"Dr. Throckmorton is a fine fellow, but I wasn't prepared to baby- sit him away from the action."

"And now you think the action may have moved to our doorstep."

Paul nodded and said, "Got a Loony?" Gamay dug out a Cana- dian dollar coin with the picture of a loon on one side.

Paul tossed it in the air and caught it on the back of his cast. Heads. I lose. You get to choose which watch you want."

"Okay, you can take the first two-hour shift, starting as soon as the fest of the crew turns in."

"Fine with me." He extracted himself from the bunk. "I wouldn't get much sleep in this torture rack." He lifted his injured arm in the air. "Maybe I can use this cast as a weapon."

"No need," Gamay said with a smile. She dug into her duffel bap- and pulled out a holster that held a.22 caliber target pistol. "I brought this along in case I wanted to brush up on my target shooting."

Paul smiled. As a girl, his wife had been taught by her father to shoot skeet, and she was an expert marksman. He took the pistol and found that he could aim it if he propped up the cast with his other hand.

Gamay looked at his shaky aim. "Maybe we should both stand watch."

The ship dropped anchor about a mile from shore. The silhouettes of rooflines and a communication tower marked the Oceanus facil- ity, which was located on a rocky hill overlooking the water. The Trouts had dinner in the small galley with Throckmorton, his stu- dents and some crew. Time went by quickly, hastened by talk about Throckmorton's work and the Trouts5 NUMA experiences. Around eleven, they called it a night.

Paul and Gamay went to their cabin and waited until the ship was quiet. Then they crept up onto the deck and took a position on the side facing land. The night was cool. They stayed warm with the heavy sweaters under their windbreakers and blankets borrowed from their bunks. The water was flat calm, except for a lazy swell. Paul sat with his back to the cabin housing, and Gamay lay on the deck beside him.

The first two hours went quickly. Then Gamay took over and Paul stretched out on the deck. It seemed he was asleep only a few minutes before Gamay was shaking him by the shoulder. He came awake quickly and said, "What's up?"

"I need your eyes. I've been watching that dark smudge on the water. I thought it might be a patch of floating seaweed, but it's come closer."

Paul rubbed his eyes and followed the pointing finger. At first, he saw nothing but the blue-blackness of the sea. After a moment, he saw a darker mass, and it seemed to be moving in their direction. There was something else, the soft murmur of voices. "That's the first time I ever heard a patch of kelp talking. How about firing a shot across their bow."

They crawled forward, and Gamay assumed a prone firing position with her elbows resting on the deck, the pistol clasped in two hands. Paul fiddled with a flashlight, but finally got it into position. When Gamay gave him the go-ahead, he flicked the light on. The powerful beam fell upon the swarthy faces of four men. They were dressed in black and were sitting in two kayaks, their wooden paddles frozen in mid-stroke. Their almond eyes blinked with surprise in the light.

Crack!

The first shot shattered the paddle held by the lead man in one boat. There was a second shot, and a paddle in the second boat flew into pieces. The men in the rear of the kayaks back-paddled furiously, and the others dug their hands into the water to help. They got the boats turned around and headed back toward land, but Gamay wasn't about to let them off so easily. The boats were almost out of range of the light when she shot out the other two paddles.

"Good shootin', Annie Oakley," Paul said.

"Good spottin', Dead-Eye Dick. That should keep them busy for a while."

The gunfire wasn't loud by itself, but in the stillness of the night it must have sounded like cannon barrages, because Dr. Throck- morton and some of the crew came on deck.

"Oh, hullo," he said, when he saw the Trouts. "We heard a noise. My goodness-" he said, spying the pistol in Camay's hand.

"Just thought I'd do some target practice."

They could hear voices out on the water. One of the crew went to the ship's rail and cocked his ear. "Sounds as if someone needs help. We'd better get a boat over the side."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Paul said, in his usual soft- spoken manner but with an unmistakable steeliness in his voice. "The folks out there are doing fine on their own."

Throckmorton hesitated, then said to the crewman: "It's all right. I want to talk to the Trouts for a moment."

After the others had shuffled back to their cabins, Throckmorton said, "Now if you wouldn't mind telling me, my friends, exactly what is going on?"

Gamay said to her husband, "I'll go get some coffee. It could be a long night." Minutes later, she returned with three steaming mugs. "I found a bottle of whiskey and poured in a few shots," she said. "I thought we might need it."

Taking turns, they laid out their suspicions of the Oceanus plot, backing them up with evidence gleaned from several sources.