The Mediterranean Caper by Clive Cussler Page B

screwing it up. And I can begin by telling you that the attack on Brady Field failed to achieve its intention. The National Underwater Marine Agency’s ship is staying right where it’s anchored until its scientific research activities are completed.”
    Von Till’s hands trembled but his face remained impassive. “Thank you, Major. That is a bit of information I did not expect quite so soon.”
    At last, the old kraut is dropping his guard, Pitt thought. There could be no doubt about it now, it was von Till who had plotted to get rid of the First Attempt . But why? The question still remained unanswered. Pitt tried a shot in the dark. “You’re wasting your time, von Till. The divers of the First Attempt have already discovered the sunken treasure. They’re in the act of raising it now.”
    Von Till broke out in a broad smile, and Pitt knew immediately the lie was a mistake.
    â€œA very poor attempt, Major. You could not be more wrong.”
    He drew the Luger from under his armpit and pointed the dark blue barrel at Pitt’s neck. Then he opened the corridor door. “If you please?” he said, beckoning with the gun toward the threshold.
    Pitt took a quick glance through the darkened doorway. The corridor beyond was dimly lighted with candles and seemed completely deserted. He hesitated. “Please express my thanks to Teri for the excellent dinner.”
    â€œI shall pass on your compliment.”
    â€œAnd thank you, Herr von Till,” Pitt said sarcastically, “for your hospitality.”
    Von Till smirked, clicked his heels and bowed. “It was my pleasure.” He placed a hand on the head of the dog, whose lip curled, showing a prodigious white fang.
    The door’s archway was low and Pitt had to stoop to enter the tunnel-like entrance. He took a few cautious steps.
    â€œMajor Pitt!”
    â€œYes,” Pitt replied, turning and facing the fat shadow at the entryway.
    There was a sadistic anticipation in von Till’s voice. “It is a pity you will not be able to witness the next flight of the yellow Albatros.”
    Before Pitt could answer the door slammed shut and a heavy bolt dropped into its catch like a thunderclap and echoed ominously toward the unseen reaches of the dim corridor.

7
    A spasm of anger swept over Pitt. He was half tempted to slam his fist against the door, but one look at the heavy planking changed his mind. Turning again to the corridor, he found it still empty. He shivered unconsciously. He had no illusions as to what lay ahead. It was certain now that von Till never meant for him to leave the villa alive. He remembered the knife and felt a tinge of assurance as he slipped it out of his sock. The flickering yellow light from the candles, mounted in rusted metal holders high on the walls, glinted dully on the blade and made the tiny pointed knife look woefully inadequate for the job of self-defense. Only one comforting thought ran through Pitt’s mind: however small, the knife was better than nothing.
    Suddenly a blast of heavy, chilling air blew through the corridor like an invisible hand and snuffed out the candles, leaving Pitt standing in a sea of suffocating blackness.
    His senses strained to penetrate the gloom, but could detect no sound, no glimmer of light.
    â€œNow the fun begins,” he murmured, bracing his body for the unknown.
    Pitt’s spirits touched zero and he could feel the first terror-striking symptoms of panic edging rapidly into his mind. He remembered reading somewhere that nothing is more horrifying or uncomprehending to the human mind than total darkness. To not know or be able to perceive what lies beyond one’s sight or touch acts on the brain like a short circuit in a computer; it runs amok. What the brain cannot see, it creates, usually some nightmarish event that is grossly exaggerated or embellished like a delusion of being bitten by a shark or run over by a locomotive while