laddiebuck, and I’ve been listening to a hell of a good scene. Your slimebucket had his radio on
Transmit
. I guess he was nervous, or confused.”
“You’ve made your point,
sir
. I’d suggest you get out here and we’ll look around.”
“Can you believe that’s what I was thinking?”
“I can imagine it’s possible.”
Their two living, securely bound captives in tow, Antonia and Scofield pulled alongside the trawler. “What did you do with the elegant dude named Mikhail?” yelled Pryce.
“He’s absolutely disappeared, young fella,” replied Beowulf Agate. “It’s why we’re a bit late.”
“What are you talking about? If there’s a radio here, they’ve got our coordinates. They’ll find his body!”
“Not likely, Cam,” said Scofield. “We stuffed him with chum, pockets and gullet, and dropped him off at Breeding Sharks Bay, where we keep our boat. As I say, that’s why we’re a little late getting out here.”
“
What?
”
“No one with a brain in his head swims there. Believe me, he’s absolute history, bless the Almighty for those ravenous fish.”
The below-deck cabin was a panoply of computer equipment, lining both the starboard and port walls. “I’ll be hanged if I can understand any of this stuff,” said Scofield.
“To me, it’s all a total mystery,” added Antonia. “Surely one must be a scientist to make them work.”
“Not really,” said Pryce, sitting down in front of a machine. “There are basic insertions that take you step by step to the function you want.”
“Would you mind translating that?” asked the older man.
“It’d take too long and bore you to death,” replied the CIA field agent. “This particular equipment is still on open-line, which means it’s recently been used and was expected to be used again very shortly.”
“Is that good?”
“More than good, a blessing. We can pull up a recall, seewhat’s been sent out.” Pryce began pressing letters and numbers; bright green words instantly appeared on the black screen.
Insert proper code for recall
.
“Damn it!” said Cameron under his breath, getting out of the chair and rapidly heading for the steps of the cabin’s entrance. “I’ll be right back,” he added. “I’m bringing down our skipper, who’s going to unlock this machine for us or he joins fancy Mikhail in shark heaven!”
Pryce ran up the short steps and looked around on the deck in the progressively elusive moonlight. What he saw paralyzed him—it was
impossible
. The captain of the so-called trawler was not there; he had been roped to a gunwale cleat but he was not
there!
Instead, his two companions were a blood-soaked mess, the London cockney obviously dead, the Australian barely alive, his skull crashed open, his eyes losing focus.
“What happened?” roared Pryce to the Australian, grabbing his blood-soaked shoulders.
“ ‘Eee was a bloody fuckin’ bahstard!” whispered the mortally wounded man, “that’s what he was. He wriggled his way out of the rope an’ said he was goin’ to free us. Instead, he picked up a winch handle and bashed us both, one after the other, so fast we didn’t know what was … happenin’. I’ll see him in hell!” The Aussie expelled his last breath; he was dead.
Cameron looked over the gunwale; the motorized life raft was gone. Its new helmsman could be heading to any one of five or six small islands. The immediate trail was ended. Cam raced back into the below-deck cabin. “The son of a bitch got loose, killed the other two, and took the PVC!” he yelled. “I can’t break into the computer.”
“There’s still a telephone over there, young fella,” said Scofield. “I realize it’s not high tech, but I dialed our house and got the answering machine.”
“You’re a simplistic genius in a lousy high-tech world,” said a relieved Pryce, rushing to the phone next to the computer. He pressed the coded numbers he knew would override satellite traffic and
Transmit
. I guess he was nervous, or confused.”
“You’ve made your point,
sir
. I’d suggest you get out here and we’ll look around.”
“Can you believe that’s what I was thinking?”
“I can imagine it’s possible.”
Their two living, securely bound captives in tow, Antonia and Scofield pulled alongside the trawler. “What did you do with the elegant dude named Mikhail?” yelled Pryce.
“He’s absolutely disappeared, young fella,” replied Beowulf Agate. “It’s why we’re a bit late.”
“What are you talking about? If there’s a radio here, they’ve got our coordinates. They’ll find his body!”
“Not likely, Cam,” said Scofield. “We stuffed him with chum, pockets and gullet, and dropped him off at Breeding Sharks Bay, where we keep our boat. As I say, that’s why we’re a little late getting out here.”
“
What?
”
“No one with a brain in his head swims there. Believe me, he’s absolute history, bless the Almighty for those ravenous fish.”
The below-deck cabin was a panoply of computer equipment, lining both the starboard and port walls. “I’ll be hanged if I can understand any of this stuff,” said Scofield.
“To me, it’s all a total mystery,” added Antonia. “Surely one must be a scientist to make them work.”
“Not really,” said Pryce, sitting down in front of a machine. “There are basic insertions that take you step by step to the function you want.”
“Would you mind translating that?” asked the older man.
“It’d take too long and bore you to death,” replied the CIA field agent. “This particular equipment is still on open-line, which means it’s recently been used and was expected to be used again very shortly.”
“Is that good?”
“More than good, a blessing. We can pull up a recall, seewhat’s been sent out.” Pryce began pressing letters and numbers; bright green words instantly appeared on the black screen.
Insert proper code for recall
.
“Damn it!” said Cameron under his breath, getting out of the chair and rapidly heading for the steps of the cabin’s entrance. “I’ll be right back,” he added. “I’m bringing down our skipper, who’s going to unlock this machine for us or he joins fancy Mikhail in shark heaven!”
Pryce ran up the short steps and looked around on the deck in the progressively elusive moonlight. What he saw paralyzed him—it was
impossible
. The captain of the so-called trawler was not there; he had been roped to a gunwale cleat but he was not
there!
Instead, his two companions were a blood-soaked mess, the London cockney obviously dead, the Australian barely alive, his skull crashed open, his eyes losing focus.
“What happened?” roared Pryce to the Australian, grabbing his blood-soaked shoulders.
“ ‘Eee was a bloody fuckin’ bahstard!” whispered the mortally wounded man, “that’s what he was. He wriggled his way out of the rope an’ said he was goin’ to free us. Instead, he picked up a winch handle and bashed us both, one after the other, so fast we didn’t know what was … happenin’. I’ll see him in hell!” The Aussie expelled his last breath; he was dead.
Cameron looked over the gunwale; the motorized life raft was gone. Its new helmsman could be heading to any one of five or six small islands. The immediate trail was ended. Cam raced back into the below-deck cabin. “The son of a bitch got loose, killed the other two, and took the PVC!” he yelled. “I can’t break into the computer.”
“There’s still a telephone over there, young fella,” said Scofield. “I realize it’s not high tech, but I dialed our house and got the answering machine.”
“You’re a simplistic genius in a lousy high-tech world,” said a relieved Pryce, rushing to the phone next to the computer. He pressed the coded numbers he knew would override satellite traffic and
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