"He would probably have digested me and spit you out for tasting bad," Pitt came back.
"We'll never know whether he enjoyed Italian food."
"Let's get a move on before one of his pals comes nosing around."
They continued on but with greater caution than before, feeling a sense of relief as the lights from the docks now provided them with a good thirty feet of underwater visibility. Finally, they reached the pilings under the dock and swam between them before surfacing and staring up at the wooden planking, where they floated, getting their wind and waiting to see if they had set off any security sensors. After a few minutes, no sounds of approaching security guards were heard from above.
Pitt said, "We'll follow the dock until it reaches the shore before we surface again."
This time Giordino moved off into the lead, with Pitt following. The bottom came up sharply and they were relieved to find a sandy beach free of rocks. Crouching under the dock and shielded from the overhead lights, they removed their dive gear and wet suits, opened their waterproof bags and retrieved their Odyssey jumpsuits and hard hats. Slipping on socks and shoes, they checked their ID badges to see they were attached in the proper position before stepping warily into the open.
A single guard sat in a small house at the edge of a paved road that passed by the entrance to the dock. He was eyeballing a TV channel that was running an old American movie in Spanish. Pitt scanned the area but saw only the single guard.
"Shall we test our presence?" he said to Giordino, face-to-face for the first time since they dove in the water.
"You want to observe his reaction when we walk by?"
"Now or never to see if we can freely move throughout the facility."
They walked casually past the guardhouse. The security guard, wearing the male black jumpsuit, caught their movement and came out onto the road. "La parada?" he shouted, a frown on his face.
"La parada?" Giordino repeated.
"It means halt."
"Para qué está usted aqui? Usted debe estar en sus cuartos."
"Here's your chance to flash your Spanish," said Giordino, his fingers tightening around the grip of his gun beneath the jumpsuit.
"What Spanish," said Pitt benignly. "I forgot most of what I learned in high school."
"Take a guess. What did he say?"
"He wants to know what are we're doing here. Then he said we're supposed to be in our quarters."
"Not bad." Giordino grinned. He walked up to the guard as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Yo no hablo el español," he said in a high-pitched voice in a sad attempt to mimic a woman.
"Very good," Pitt complimented him in turn.
"I've been to Tijuana." Giordino approached the guard and shrugged helplessly. "We're Canadian."
The guard frowned as he looked at Giordino. If his mind could be read, it would reveal that the woman inside the white uniform jumpsuit was the ugliest he'd ever seen. Then his frown turned to a smile. "Oh, si, Canadians, I speak English." He pronounced it Englais.
"I know we're supposed to be in the barracks," said Pitt, smiling back. "We only wanted to take a little walk before going to sleep."
"No, no, that is not allowed, amigos," said the guard. "You are not allowed out of your assigned area after eight o'clock."
Pitt threw up his hands. "Sorry, amigo, we were talking and didn't notice we had wandered into the wrong area. Now we're lost. Can you direct us to the barracks?"
The guard came over and shined a flashlight on their badges and studied them. "You from the dig?"
"Si, we're from the dig. Our superior sent us topside for a few days' rest."
"I understand, senor, but you must return to your quarters. It is regulations. Just follow the road and turn left at the water tower. Your building is thirty meters to the left."
"Gracias, amigo," said Pitt. "We're on our way."
Satisfied Pitt and Giordino were not intruders, the guard returned to his little house.