Shock Wave (Dirk Pitt 13)

"What kind of ship do you suppose he's pulled out of his hat?"

"A fair question. I have no idea."

"It'd better be a winner," Gunn muttered, "or we'll have to close the show."

There was no moon, but the sea flamed with spectral blue-green phosphorescence under the glint of the stars that filled the sky from horizon to horizon like unending city lights. The wind had veered and swept in from the south, driving the Marvelous Maeve hard to the northwest. The green-and-yellow beech-leaf sail filled out like a woman's tattooed breast, while the boat leaped over the waves like a mule running with thoroughbreds. Pitt had never imagined that the ungainly looking craft could sail so well. She would never win a trophy, but he could have closed his eyes and envisioned himself on a first class yacht, skimming over the sea without a care in the world.

The swells no longer had the same hostile look nor did the clouds look as threatening. The nightly chill also diminished as they traveled north into warmer waters. The sea had tested them with cruelty and harshness, and they had passed with flying colors. Now the weather was cooperating by remaining constant and charitable.

Some people tire of looking at the sea from a tropical beach or the deck of a cruise ship, but Pitt was not among them. His restless soul and the capricious water were one, inseparable in their shifting moods.

Maeve and Giordino no longer felt as though they were struggling to stay alive. Their few moments of warmth and pleasure, nearly drowned by adversity, were becoming more frequent. Pitt's unshakable optimism, his contagious laughter, his unrelenting grasp of hope, his strength of character sustained and helped them face the worst that nature could throw at them. Never did they perceive a bare hint of depression in his perspective, whatever the situation. No matter how strained he appeared as he sighted his sextant on the stars or warily watched for a sudden change of the wind, he was always smiling.

When she realized she was falling deeply in love with him, Maeve's independent spirit fought against it.

But when she finally accepted the inevitable, she gave in to her feelings completely. She continually found herself studying his every move, his every expression as he jotted down their position on Rodney York's chart of the southern sea.

She touched him on the arm. "Where are we?" she asked softly.

"At first light I'll mark our course and figure the distance separating us from Gladiator Island."

"Why don't you give it a rest? You haven't slept more than two hours since we left the Miseries."

"I promise I'll take a nice long siesta when we're on the last leg of the voyage," he said, peering through gloom at the compass.

"Al never sleeps 'either," she said, pointing at Giordino, who never ceased examining the condition of the outriggers and the rigging holding the boat together.

"If the following wind holds and my navigating is anywhere near the mark, we should sight your island sometime early morning on the day after tomorrow."

She looked up at the great field of stars. "The heavens are lovely tonight."

"Like a woman I know," he said, eyes going from compass to the sails to Maeve. "A radiant creature with guileless blue eyes and hair like a shower of golden coins. She's innocent and intelligent and was made for love and life."

"She sounds quite appealing."

"That's only for starters. Her father happens to be one of the richest men in the solar system."

She arched her back and snuggled against his body, feeling its hardness. She brushed her lips against the mirth lines around his eyes and his strong chin. "You must be very smitten with her."

"Smitten, and why not?" he said slowly. "She is the only girl in this part of the Pacific Ocean who makes me mad with passionate desire."

"But. I'm the only girl in this part of the Pacific Ocean."

He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Then it's your solemn duty to fulfill my most intimate fantasies."

"I'd take you up on that if we were alone," she said in a sultry voice. "But for now, you'll just have to suffer."

"I could tell Al to take a hike," he said with a grin.

She pulled back and laughed. "He wouldn't get far." Maeve secretly sensed a flow of happiness at knowing no flesh-and-blood woman stood between them. "You're a special kind of man," she whispered. "The kind every woman longs to meet."

He laughed easily. "Not so. I've seldom swept the fair sex off their feet."

"Maybe it's because they see that you're unreachable."

"I can be had if they play their cards right," he said jokingly.

"Not what I mean," she said seriously. "The sea is your mistress. I could read it in your face through the storm. It was not as if you were fighting the sea as much as you were seducing it. No woman can compete with a love so vast."