“No, I don’t.”
Contos gazed out at the sailboats peacefully gliding across the lake, then turned to Paul, who had joined them at the table.
“Do you think your wife is in there?”
“Yep. I have every intention of getting her out.”
Contos noted Trout’s arm in its sling. “I’d say you could use an extra hand. And your friends here will need some help launching the SeaBus.”
“I designed it,” Zavala said.
“I’m well aware of that, but you haven’t been the one testing it, so you don’t know the quirks. For instance, the batteries are supposed to be good for six hours. They barely make it past four. From what you say, this facility is quite a way from here. Have you given any thought to how you’re going to get it to the launch point?”
Austin and Zavala exchanged an amused glance.
“As a matter of fact, we have already lined up a delivery system,” Austin said. “Would you like to see it?”
Contos nodded, and they got up from the table and walked through the parking lot to the dock. The closer they got to the water the more puzzled was the expression on Contos’s face. Used to NUMA’s state-of-the-art equipment, he was looking for something like a high-tech barge fitted out with cranes. There was nothing like that.
“Where’s your delivery system?” he said.
“I think I see it coming in now,” Austin said.
Contos looked out at the lake, and his eyes grew wider as the old-fashioned paddle-wheel tour boat made its way in their direction. The vessel was painted red, white, and blue and decorated with bunting and fluttering flags.
“You’re kidding,” he said. “You’re going to launch from that? It looks like a waterborne wedding cake.”
“It is pretty festive. The old girl makes the trip from one end of the lake to the other every day. No one gives it a second look anymore. It’s the perfect cover for a covert operation, don’t you think, Joe?”
“I’ve heard they serve a pretty good breakfast aboard,” Zavala said with a straight face.
Contos stared grimly at the approaching vessel. Then, without warning, he wheeled about and headed for the parking lot.
“Hey, captain, where are you going?” Austin called after him.
“Back to the truck to get my banjo.”
36
FRANCESCA STOOD ON the deck of the Viking ship taking in its long, sweeping lines, its graceful, upturned bow and stern, the painted square sail. Even with the thick planking and massive keel it seemed almost delicate in its construction. She looked around at the huge chamber, with its vaulted ceiling, the flaming torches, and high stone walls hung with medieval weapons, and she wondered how anything so beautiful could be in a setting so bizarre and ugly.
Standing by the tiller, Brynhild Sigurd mistook Francesca’s silence for appreciative awe.
“It’s a masterpiece, isn’t it? The Norsemen called this a skuta when they built the original nearly two thousand years ago. It was not the biggest of their boats, like the dragon ship, but it was the fastest. I have had her duplicated in every way, from the oak planking to the spun cow’s hair that was used as caulking. She is more than seventy-nine feet long and sixteen feet wide. The original is in Oslo, Norway. An earlier replica actually sailed across the Atlantic. You must be wondering why I went through the trouble to have her built and placed in the great hall.”
“Some people collect old stamps, others old cars. There’s no accounting for tastes.”
“This goes beyond a collector’s whim.” Brynhild took her hand off the tiller and came over to stand before Francesca, who shuddered at their physical proximity. Although Brynhild’s towering body was hard and muscular, the menace she projected went beyond the physical. She seemed capable of reaching up and wringing the power from a lightning bolt. “I chose this ship as the symbol of my vast holdings because it embodies the Viking spirit. It was sailed by those who seized what they wanted. I come here often for inspiration. So shall it be with you, Dr. Cabral. Come, I will show you where you will be working.”
Francesca had been escorted back to Brynhild’s aerie after the brief visit with Gamay. Brynhild had led the way through a bewildering maze of passageways that reminded Francesca of being on a cruise ship. They were unguarded at all times, but the thought of escape never crossed Francesca’s mind. Even if she were able to disable the giant woman, an unlikely prospect, she would have become lost in minutes. And she suspected the guards were not far away.
Now they got into an elevator that dropped with knee-bending swiftness. The door opened on a room where a monorail car awaited. Brynhild motioned for Francesca to get into the front, then got in the back, sitting in a space especially made for her tall form. Their weight activated the accelerator. The tram went through an opening and sped along a lighted tunnel. When it seemed the car would go rocketing out of control the computers controlling its speed decelerated it to a comfortable stop in a room very much like the one they had just left.
This room, too, had an elevator, but unlike the more conventional box on a cable, its transparent plastic walls were egg-shaped. There were seats for four people of ordinary stature. The door hissed shut, and the elevator passed through blackness, then descended into a deep blue. Watching the fluid interplay of light and shadow through the transparent walls, Francesca realized they were sinking into water. The blue became darker until, all at once, it was as if they were caught in the beam of a searchlight.
The door opened, and they stepped out. Francesca could hardly believe her eyes. They were in a brightly lit, circular space hundreds of feet across. A curving roof arched overhead. The exact size of the room was difficult to estimate because it was filled with thick pipes, coils, and vats of all sizes. A dozen or so white-frocked technicians moved quietly among the conduits and tanks or were bent over computer monitors.
“Well, what do you think?” Brynhild said with obvious pride.