the slope for a short way below the hotel balcony on which he was standing and ended in a jumble of boulders and rocks leading to a sheer drop down to the narrow slice of land fronting the harbor below. He breathed deeply, inhaling the fragrance of the tropical sea breeze that mingled with the odors of fuel oil, rotting fish, and just plain Singapore.
To the east, barely visible around the jutting headland, was the electrified fence of the big naval base that climbed halfway up the slope before turning inland. Where the outcropping rock dipped inward, he had a clear view of the almost empty piers. While he watched, a flight of F-14's blasted across the harbor, hauled up, and disappeared around the headland. Moments later, a lone Canberra with British markings trundled across the harbor and slowly disappeared out to sea. Further out, past the harbor entrance, a giant Australian aircraft carrier was working around to the north to patrol along the New Guinea coast. Its escort of three destroyers and a guided-missile frigate flanked her on either side like ladies-in-waiting. A destroyer frisked ahead and he could just make out the foaming bow wave, curling back along the flanks of the leading frigate.
With a great deal of satisfaction he watched the busy scene in the harbor. Almost a week had passed since they had returned to Singapore and every day, signs of military activity had been decreasing. Rawingson had told him the day before that the U.S. Seventh Fleet was in the process of withdrawing from the straits area and standing down from the Red Alert imposed as soon as the scientists had confirmed the presence of a nuclear bomb in the research station.
Curiously enough, nothing had come of the entire affair, it seemed. The various governments involved had clamped a lid of tight secrecy on and so far it seemed to be holding except for some slight speculation in the world press. Nothing had been heard from the Vietnamese government, officially or unofficially, in response to the strong notes of protest passed secretly to them through the Kremlin. The Soviets had seemed to ignore
the rebuke and had remained silent as well. Rawingson had reported with some glee that the Soviet probes into Sinkiang and along the Manchurian border which had been increasing in past weeks had stopped abruptly the day after the station was secured. He had taken this to mean that the Russians considered themselves checked.
Keilty straightened his broad, lanky frame and walked slowly back into the suite. He pulled off his shorts and went into the bathroom, plugged in his shaver and ran it over his long, muscular face, grinning at himself the entire time.
He was well pleased. A cablegram had come earlier from his Miami bank, notifying him that the one hundred and fifty thousand dollar fee had been promptly paid by the Department of Defense. He had picked up the phone happily and called the cable office and sent off a cable instructing the bank to pay off the long, long overdue bills. His last talk with the Secretary of Defense before he had left for Honolulu, a quiet, top-secret meeting, had resulted in a promise of new research contracts and the directorship of a newly established Dolphin Research Institute in the Florida Keys with a salary of $30, 000 a year. He and Admiral Rawingson both had insisted it be put in writing immediately and he had his 'stated' copy in his bags. Rawingson was learning quickly too, he grinned.
Keilty took a quick shower and padded into the bedroom, toweling his sunburned body.
He winced as the rough towel scraped across the plastic valve set into the skin between his spine and the right shoulder blade. As he dressed in a dark blue pair of slacks and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, he worried his damaged tooth with his tongue. It seemed to have reset itself properly, as the Bradley's medical officer had told him it would. He knotted a thin blue tie, pulled on a madras jacket, and then stepped into a pair of
To the east, barely visible around the jutting headland, was the electrified fence of the big naval base that climbed halfway up the slope before turning inland. Where the outcropping rock dipped inward, he had a clear view of the almost empty piers. While he watched, a flight of F-14's blasted across the harbor, hauled up, and disappeared around the headland. Moments later, a lone Canberra with British markings trundled across the harbor and slowly disappeared out to sea. Further out, past the harbor entrance, a giant Australian aircraft carrier was working around to the north to patrol along the New Guinea coast. Its escort of three destroyers and a guided-missile frigate flanked her on either side like ladies-in-waiting. A destroyer frisked ahead and he could just make out the foaming bow wave, curling back along the flanks of the leading frigate.
With a great deal of satisfaction he watched the busy scene in the harbor. Almost a week had passed since they had returned to Singapore and every day, signs of military activity had been decreasing. Rawingson had told him the day before that the U.S. Seventh Fleet was in the process of withdrawing from the straits area and standing down from the Red Alert imposed as soon as the scientists had confirmed the presence of a nuclear bomb in the research station.
Curiously enough, nothing had come of the entire affair, it seemed. The various governments involved had clamped a lid of tight secrecy on and so far it seemed to be holding except for some slight speculation in the world press. Nothing had been heard from the Vietnamese government, officially or unofficially, in response to the strong notes of protest passed secretly to them through the Kremlin. The Soviets had seemed to ignore
the rebuke and had remained silent as well. Rawingson had reported with some glee that the Soviet probes into Sinkiang and along the Manchurian border which had been increasing in past weeks had stopped abruptly the day after the station was secured. He had taken this to mean that the Russians considered themselves checked.
Keilty straightened his broad, lanky frame and walked slowly back into the suite. He pulled off his shorts and went into the bathroom, plugged in his shaver and ran it over his long, muscular face, grinning at himself the entire time.
He was well pleased. A cablegram had come earlier from his Miami bank, notifying him that the one hundred and fifty thousand dollar fee had been promptly paid by the Department of Defense. He had picked up the phone happily and called the cable office and sent off a cable instructing the bank to pay off the long, long overdue bills. His last talk with the Secretary of Defense before he had left for Honolulu, a quiet, top-secret meeting, had resulted in a promise of new research contracts and the directorship of a newly established Dolphin Research Institute in the Florida Keys with a salary of $30, 000 a year. He and Admiral Rawingson both had insisted it be put in writing immediately and he had his 'stated' copy in his bags. Rawingson was learning quickly too, he grinned.
Keilty took a quick shower and padded into the bedroom, toweling his sunburned body.
He winced as the rough towel scraped across the plastic valve set into the skin between his spine and the right shoulder blade. As he dressed in a dark blue pair of slacks and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, he worried his damaged tooth with his tongue. It seemed to have reset itself properly, as the Bradley's medical officer had told him it would. He knotted a thin blue tie, pulled on a madras jacket, and then stepped into a pair of
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