Gunn nodded. "Will do."
"If that's the Cyclops," said Giordino happily, "you made a damned good guess."
"A lot of luck mixed with a small amount of hindsight," Pitt admitted. "That, and the fact Raymond LeBaron and Buck Caesar aimed us toward the ballpark. The puzzle is why the Cyclops lies outside the main shipping lane."
Giordino gave a helpless tilt to his head. "We'll probably never know."
"Coming back on target," Jessie reported.
Gunn set the distance on the clinometer and then sighted through the eyepiece, measuring the length of the shadowy object under the water. He managed to hold the instrument steady as Jessie fought a masterful battle against the wind.
"No way of accurately measuring her beam because it's impossible to see if she lies straight up or on her side," he said, studying the calibrations.
"And the overall length?" asked Pitt.
"Between five hundred thirty and five hundred fifty feet."
"Looking good," Pitt said, visibly relieved. "The Cyclops was five hundred and forty-two feet."
"If we drop down closer, I might be able to get a more precise reading," said Gunn.
"One more time, Jessie," Pitt called out.
"I don't think so." She lifted a hand from the controls and pointed out the forward window. "A welcoming committee."
/> Her expression appeared calm, almost too calm, while the men watched in mild fascination as a helicopter materialized out of the clouds a thousand feet above the blimp. For several seconds it seemed to hang there, fastened in the sky like a hawk eyeing a pigeon. Then it swelled in size as it approached and banked around on a parallel course with the Prosperteer. Through the binoculars they could clearly see the grim faces of the pilots and the two pairs of hands grasping the automatic guns that poked through the open side door.
"They brought friends," Gunn said succinctly. He was aiming his binoculars at a Cuban gunboat about four miles away that was planing through the swells, throwing up great wings of sea spray.
Giordino said nothing. He tore the holding straps from the boxes and began throwing the contents on the deck as fast as his hands could move. Gunn joined him as Pitt began assembling a strange looking screen.
"They're holding up a sign in English," Jessie announced.
"What does it say?" Pitt asked without looking up.
" `Follow us and do not use your radio,' " she read aloud. "What should I do?"
"Obviously we can't use the radio, so smile and wave to them. Let's hope they won't shoot if they see you're a woman."
"I wouldn't count on it," grunted Giordino.
"And keep hovering over the shipwreck," Pitt added.
Jessie didn't like what was going on inside the control car. Her face noticeably paled. She said, "We'd better do what they want."
"Screw them," Pitt said coldly. He unbuckled her seat belt and lifted her away from the controls.
Giordino held up a pair of air tanks and Pitt quickly adjusted the straps over her shoulders. Gunn handed her a face mask, swim fins, and a buoyancy compensator vest.
"Quickly," he ordered. "Put these on."
She stood there baffled. "What are you doing?"
"I thought you knew," said Pitt. "We're going for a swim."
"We're what?" The dark gypsy eyes were wide, not so much from alarm as astonishment.
"No time for the defense to make a closing argument," Pitt said calmly. "Call it a wild plan for staying alive and let it go at that. Now do as you're told and lie down on the deck behind the screen."