"Time remaining?" Pitt asked tersely without lifting a hand to glance at his Doxa dive watch.
"Fifty-seven minutes to rendezvous with the Oregon's launch," replied Giordino.
"This trip definitely wasn't worth the effort. If Qin Shang is sneaking aliens on and off the United States, it isn't by means of an underwater passage or submarine-type vessel."
"Doesn't figure he'd do it topside in the open," said Giordino. "Not in enough numbers to make it pay. Immigration agents would tag the operation ten minutes after the boat hit port."
"Nothing more we can do here. Let's wrap up and head home."
"That may present a problem."
Pitt glanced sideways at Giordino. "How so?"
Giordino nodded through the canopy. "We have visitors."
Ahead of the submersible, three divers materialized out of the green void, swimming toward them like evil demons in their black wet suits.
"What do you think the fine is for trespassing in these parts?"
"I don't know, but I'll bet it's more than a slap on the wrist."
Giordino studied the divers who were approaching, one in the center, the other two circling from the flank. "Most odd they didn't spot us earlier, long before we made our last run just under the waterline."
"Somebody must have looked over the side and reported a funny green monster," Pitt said facetiously.
"I'm serious. It's almost as if they sat back observing us until the last minute."
"Do they look mad?"
"They ain't bringing flowers and candy."
"Weapons?"
"Looks like Mosby underwater rifles."
The Mosby was a nasty weapon that fired a missile with a small explosive head through water. Though devastating against human body tissue, Pitt didn't believe it could cause serious damage to a submersible able to withstand the pressures of the deep. "The worst we can expect is scratched paint and a few dents."
"Don't get cocky just yet," said Giordino, staring at the approaching divers as a doctor might study an X ray. "These guys are making a coordinated assault. Their helmets must contain miniature radios. Our pressure hull may take a few good knocks, but one lucky shot into the impellers of our thrusters and we'll end up desecrated."
"We can outrun them," said Pitt confidently. He banked the Sea Dog II in a tight turn, set the thrusters on HIGH, and steered for the stern of the liner. "This boat can travel a good six knots faster than any diver encumbered with air tanks."
"Life isn't fair," Giordino muttered, more annoyed than fearful as they unexpectedly found themselves confronting another seven divers hovering in a semicircle beneath the ship's mammoth propellers, blocking off their avenue of escape. "It seems the goddess of serendipity has turned her back on us."
Pitt switched on his microphone and hailed Cabrillo over the radio. "This is Sea Dog II. We have a total of ten villains in hot pursuit."
"I read you, Sea Dog, and will take appropriate steps. No need to contact me further, out.""Not good," said Pitt grimly. "We might dodge past two or three but the rest can get close enough to do us real damage." Then a notion struck him. "Unless ..."
"Unless what?"
Pitt didn't answer. Orchestrating the handgrip controls, he threw the Sea Dog II into a dive, then leveling out less than a foot off the bottom and began a search pattern. Within ten short seconds, he found what he was looking for. The deck grate he'd seen earlier loomed up out of the silt.
"Can you lift that thing out of the muck with the manipulator arm?" he asked Giordino.
"The arm can handle the weight, but the suction is an unknown. It depends on how deep the grate is buried."
"Try."
Giordino nodded silently and quickly slipped his hands over the ball-shaped controls to the mechanical arm and tightened his fingers.