Pacific Vortex! (Dirk Pitt 1)
“You’ve built a ruthless and efficient organization. You’ve concocted one of the great mysteries of the age. Thousands of seamen lie dead from your hands. And for what?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Pitt. This isn’t a play where the arch villain tells all before he does away with the hero. No theatrics, no prolonged climaxes, no suspenseful divulgence of unnecessary secrets. It’s a waste of time to explain my motives to anyone with less intellectual understanding than a Lavella or a Roblemann.”
“How do you mean to do it?”
“An accident. Since you love the water, you shall die from the water, drowned in your own bathtub.”
“Won’t that appear ridiculous?”
“Not really. I intend to make it convincing. The police will simply assume you were shaving with your electric razor while taking a bath. Admittedly a stupid thing to do. The razor slipped from your hand and into the water. The resulting voltage was sufficient to render you unconscious; your head slips beneath the water and you drown. The investigators will report it as an accidental death, and why not? Your name will be printed in the obituary columns of the newspapers, and in time, Dirk Pitt will become a distant memory among his relatives.”
“Frankly, I’m astounded I’m worth all the effort.”
“A fitting end for the man who came unnervingly close to destroying an undertaking that has been brilliantly designed and executed for over thirty years.”
“Spare me the ego,” Pitt growled. “What about Adrian? It might look funny if we both drowned while shaving in the tub.”
“Ease your mind. Miss Hunter is not destined to be harmed. I’m taking her as a hostage. Admiral Hunter will think twice before he continues his
quest for the Pacific Vortex.”
“That won’t stop Hunter for more than two minutes. Duty takes priority to family in his book. You’re wasting your time. Let her go.”
“I’m also a man of discipline,” said Delphi. “I never deviate once I’ve drafted my plans. My goals are elementary. I simply wish to be free from the destructive designs of the Communist countries and the imperialistic impulses of the United States. Between them they will destroy civilization. I intend to survive.”
Time, Pitt thought. He had to keep the giant talking. Another few minutes and Hunter’s men would be at the door. Talk was his only weapon.
“You’re insane,” Pitt said coldly. “You’ve gotten away with mass murder for decades in the name of survival. Spare me the old trite phrases about communism and imperialism. You’re nothing but an anachronism, Delphi. Your kind went out of style along with Karl Marx, slicked-down hair, and buggy whips. You’ve been buried half a century and don’t know it.”
Delphi’s studied calm cracked slightly at the edges; a taut flush touched the wide cheekbones, but he immediately gained control again.
“Philosophical detachment is for the ignorant, Major. In a few minutes your irritating harassment will be mine no longer.” He nodded. One of the guards went into the bathroom to turn on the water in the bathtub. Pitt tried moving his hands. Although his wrists were wrapped many times, they were loose enough so as not to leave telltale bruises on the skin.
Then, suddenly, Pitt thought his senses were deceiving him; the sweet, fragrant smell of plumeria began to envelope him. It was impossible, yet he knew she was there. Summer was in the room.
Delphi silently pointed to Adrian, and the man who had tied Pitt pulled a small case from his pocket, inserted a needle into a hypodermic, and then lifted the the hem of Adrian’s short muumuu, unceremoniously jabbing the needle into one well-rounded buttock’s cheek. She stirred slightly, sighed, frowned, and then within seconds went into a sleep bordering on a coma. Quickly, Delphi’s assistant placed the hypodermic case back in his pocket and lifted Adrian up in his arms, waiting expectantly for new orders from his master.
“I’m afraid this is good-bye,” said Delphi.
“You’re leaving before the main event?”
“There is little to see that interests me further.”
“You’ll never get her out of the building.”
“We have a car waiting in the basement garage,” Delphi said smugly. He stepped over to the door, opened it a crack, and peered into the hall. As Delphi was halfway through the doorway, Pitt yelled out
“One final question, Delphi”
The giant hesitated, turned and glared at Pitt.
“The girl who called herself Summer, who is she?”
Delphi grinned evilly. “Summer is my daughter.” He waved a salute. “Good-bye, Major.”
Pitt desperately tried one last parting shot “Give my regards to the gang on Kanoli.”
Delphi’s eyes hardened. Some unformulated doubt seemed to cloud his mind for a moment, then it quickly dispersed as he stared at Pitt.