“The Explorer, your father’s ship, had outlived her usefulness by the time the scientists had made the seamount livable. Dr. Moran needed money to buy equipment in order to continue underwater construction, so he resorted to the world’s most common con game-taking an insurance company. Screwing the establishment out of a few bucks in the name of science consoled his conscience. And what the hell did he care? He and Lavella and Roblemann had dropped out of society anyway. So he sailed the Explorer to the States, loaded the holds with worthless junk, insured the ship and cargo to the hilt, all this under a different name and registry, of course. Then he sailed the ship back to Kanoli where he opened the sea cocks and became the first victim of the Vortex. He immediately applied for the insurance.
“The scheme worked so smoothly, Delphi, that you couldn’t resist opening up for business in a big way after the good scientists died off and could offer no objections. Only this time, you refined the operation. You used ships that didn’t belong to you. There was more loot in this method, as you weren’t out the original cost of the ship. It must have been one hell of a profitable scheme. And still is, for that matter. It’s almost ridiculously simple. You arrange for a few of your men to sign on as crew members on a merchantman heading west from the mainland to the Indies and the Orient. Why always west? The western steamer lane cuts right over your backyard, and not only does Kanoli lie near its path, but goods stamped MADE IN THE U.S.A. are easier to sell in the backwater black markets. All your clandestine crew had to do was deviate the ship a few degrees off its course, signal ‘All Stop’ to the engine room, and then stand by while you and your merry band of pirates climbed aboard and murdered the loyal crew.
“No trace of the vessel is ever found. How could it be? The bodies were weighted and dumped over the side, the hull was repainted from stem to stem, a few prominent areas of its superstructure were altered, and presto, you had a new ship. Then it was only the small matter of selling the cargo-unless it was easily traceable and too hot to handle, in which case it was expediently dropped in the sea. You made a few honest trade runs under a new registry before you then reinsured it, and then you sunk it on the summit of the seamount so you could always get at the remains for spare parts needed to make phony modifications on future acquisitions to your ill-gotten fleet God, how all the buccaneers of the Spanish Main would have envied your organization, Delphi. Next to you, they were nothing but a gang of muggers. Why hell, you’ve got half the world fooled into thinking there’s almost thirty ships out there on the bottom, when in reality, there’s only half that many. Every one of them was listed as missing twice. Once under their original name, and again when you scuttled them under yours.”
“Very penetrating,” the scoff in Delphi’s tone was belied by the deep absorption in his eyes.
“The Lillie Marlene,” Pitt went on in a quiet voice, “that was a clever hoax. Things were getting a little too hot around the seamount; too many private pleasure crafts cruising about, trying to treasure hunt the missing ships. It was only a matter of time before a Fathometer or sonar picked up the outline of the hulks. So you cooked up the Lillie Marlene affair to get the heat off your operation.
The Coast Guard, the Navy, the Merchant Marine were all taken in by the eerie discovery on board the yacht. You’d make a great press agent, Delphi That description of the dead bodies with green skin and burned faces put the fear of the unknown into every superstitious seaman sailing the Pacific. Ships and crews began avoiding these parts like the plague. You had them all conned. No one considered the notion of a trumped-up facade. You sent that phony message from the Lillie Marlene’s radio. The operator was already dead. The crew of the Spanish freighter, the San Gabriel, had murdered him and everyone on the yacht”
Pitt paused to let his words sink in. “That was a neat touch, having the Lillie Marlene blow herself and the boarding crew to shreds. In reality, there was no explosion; the yacht had been captured and sailed away to the seamount for a complete facelift. She was too pretty a ship to scuttle. You’ve probably got her tied up this minute at one of the Honolulu yacht marinas under a new name and registered to the same outfit, on paper at any rate, that owns your other ships. What’s the name again? The Pisces Pacific Corporation?”
Delphi suddenly stiffened. “You know about Pisces Pacific?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Pitt asked. “I can easily inform you that everything you own outside the seamount is under custody at this moment. Your amphibian aircraft, corporation offices, the radio transmitter on Maui, to mention a few.” Pitt realized that his imagination had hit home. “You had a good thing going, Delphi. Every contingency was covered. Even if one of your victims managed to get off a Mayday signal, your transmitter on the island effectively garbled it and then rebroadcast a confused message that just happened to mention the ship’s position, a position over a hundred miles away from where the actual act of piracy actually took place.”
Delphi’s face was a mask of malevolence. “You should have died, Pitt You should have died in triplicate.”
“Ah yes,” Pitt shrugged. “The slimy crud in the gray panel truck for one. A damnably crude attempt for someone of your finesse. But I suppose you were pressed for time, especially since Cinana had informed you that I was placed on duty with Admiral Hunter and his staff that morning. After the botched job by Summer the night before, it would have been awkward if I’d launched an investigation of my own, or worse yet, if Adrian Hunter let slip a few choice remarks about her affair with Cinana. It all totaled to one conclusion: Pitt had to get flushed, and fast.”
“You’re a cunning man,” Delphi said slowly. “Far more cunning than I gave you credit for. But it makes little difference now. You’ve played a bluffing game. Your guesswork is fairly accurate. You missed target on my father, however. He was a good man. He and his fellow scientists were all killed when a pump failed and they drowned in a flood tunnel shortly before their work was finished. Credit for the missing ships belongs only to me. I planned and conceived the entire operation beginning with the Explorer. I made mistakes, but none that couldn’t be glossed over. Yes, Mr. Pitt, you are bluffing. Captain Cinana kept me informed right up until his unfortunate passing. Admiral Hunter could not possibly have put the entire story together in the last twenty-four hours.”
Delphi passed his hand over his brow and rubbed his closed eyes. It was as though he was trying to erase a past error. “You were my most inexcusable mistake. Three decades of perfect isolation and you nearly destroyed it.”
“Thirty years is a long time to get away with so awesome a crime,” said Pitt. “You destroyed yourself, Delphi. You bit off more than you can chew. Your worst blunder was capturing the Starbuck. It’s one thing to hijack a merchant vessel or pleasure boat. The Coast Guard seldom conducts any more than a surface search in the area of the last-known position of the missing ship. But when a naval vessel vanishes, the Navy never stops scouring the sea, no matter how far or how deep, until they find the remains.”
Delphi stared out the portal for a long moment. “If Commander Dupree had only kept on his original course, instead of deviating and discovering our sanctuary, he and his crew would still be alive.”
Pitt’s eyes were like round chunks of ice. “How did you do it? How did you capture a nuclear submarine while it was underwater?”
“Really quite simple,” Delphi answered. “My men stretched heavy steel cable in the sub’s path, snagging the propellers. When she drifted to a stop, we forced open several of her outside ballast vents, allowing water to enter her air tanks while flooding two interior compartments. As the Starbu
ck sank to the bottom, its low frequency radio signals were jammed and the escape hatches were sealed from the outside. Months later, when the food stocks ran out and the crew were weakened by starvation, my people entered and disposed of them.”
“Really quite simple,” Pitt repeated grimly. “The Starbuck was the greatest prize of the century, the crowning zenith of criminal plunder. And you were home free. The Navy was searching hundreds of miles away. It took only a few days to clean out the flooded compartments, and there sat the Starbuck as good as new in only ninety feet of water. Except you had a problem, Delphi. I couldn’t figure it at first; it didn’t make sense. Here you have the world’s most advanced nuclear submarine, including her missiles complete with warheads, sitting a few hundred yards from your doorstep, and you never moved her as much as an inch because you didn’t know how to operate her. The Starbuck is a highly complex piece of machinery. After your father and the other scientists were killed, you were the only one left with any smattering of intelligence. Your entire organization is built on blind obedience to you. None of your people have one ounce of smarts. That’s why you let Seaman Farris live-hoping he could be tortured into training your men to at least deliver the Starbuck to a Russian or Chinese port where she could be sold. But Farris’s mind was gone. The ordeal of watching his crewmates and officers either die or disappear until he was the only one left, was too much. He snapped. He’ll never fully recover.”
“A minor miscalculation,” Delphi said tiredly.
“What happened to the Andrei Vyborg, Delphi? Did the Russians decide there was no honor among thieves and make a try at hijacking the Starbuck for themselves?”
“This time you are quite wrong, Major Pitt.” Delphi delicately massaged the spot where Pitt had kicked him. “The captain of the Andrei Vyborg had his suspicions aroused when your ship, the Martha Ann, tarried too long in one spot. He came to investigate. I had no choice but to eliminate him as I had the others.”
“It must have broken your heart to lose the Martha Ann,” Pitt said acidly. “She spoiled your record by being the first and only victim to have gotten away.”
“Unfortunately, our losses in capturing the ship were quite heavy,” Delphi said. “The Martha Ann was activated to return to Pearl Harbor before my men could take the necessary steps to stop her.”
“You could have blown her out of the water.”
“Too late. Captain Cinana warned us of a new crew that was already flying from the islands to take command. We only had time to remove our dead and wounded.”
“Nothing seems to go right for you, does it?” Pitt said conversationally.
“You were on the Martha Ann,” Delphi said coldly. “It was you who shot down my men and spirited away the ship’s crew in the helicopter. It has always been you who has corrupted my plans.”
“Get screwed,” Pitt said viciously. “You invited me to the party, remember. I didn’t ask to find that phony message capsule.”
Delphi bared his teeth. “Why did you come here?” he demanded. “What exactly is your mission?”