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Slowly, moving with painful stiffness from the bandages and struggling for breath, Pitt rose to his feet and peered Into the expanding cloud for signs of the Albairos. Shaken for a moment, his eyes darted too high, and he could see nothing but curling smoke; the plane and Its pilot were gone. Then he realized what had happened. The brief lag between his shouted signal and the actual explosion saved the plane from instant disintegration. Swinging his gaze down to the horizon he spotted it The craft was gliding clumsily through the air, its engine dead.
Pitt snatched at the binoculars and quickly sighted them on the Albatros. It was trailing smoke and fiery fragments in a meteoric frail. He watched in morbid fascination as one of the lower wings suddenly folded backward and fell away, causing the plane to tumble in a series of wild gyrations, like a piece of paper thrown from a high office building. Then It seemed to bang suspended for a moment before plunging into the sea, leaving a signature of smoke melting into the warm air.
“It’s down,” said Pitt excitedly. “We’ve scored.”
Gunn was lying against the far bulkhead corner.
He crawled across the deck and lifted his head dazedly.
“How far and what heading?”
“About two miles abaft the starboard beam,” replied Pitt He lowered the glasses and looked at Gunn’s pale face. “Are you all right?”
Gunn nodded. “Just lost a little wind, that’s all.”
Pitt smiled, but there was little humor in his eyes. He was smugly satisfied with himself, very pleased with the outcome of his plan. “Send the double-ender and some men out there to dive on the wreck. I’m anxious to find out what our ghost looks like.”
“Of course,” said Gunn. “I’ll personally lead the diving party. But, only on one condition. .. you get your ass down to my cabin immediately. The doc hasn’t finished with you yet.”
Pitt shrugged, “You’re the captain.” He turned back to the rail and looked again at the spot that marked the grave of the yellow Albatros.
He was still at the rail ten minutes later when Gunn and four of the First Attempt's crew loaded their diving gear on the double-ender whaler and cast off. The little boat made no attempt to circle and search the general surface area but moved straight to the spot where the plane disappeared. Pitt waited until be could see the divers drop into the sparkling blue water at intervals to converge together underwater at the final resting place of the wreck.
“Come along. Major,” said a voice at his elbow.
He slowly turned and looked into the face of the bearded doctor. “It’s no use chasing me Doc. I won’t marry you.” Pitt said, a wide grin riding his face.
The blue-eyed old ship’s surgeon did not grin back. He merely pointed down the ladder at Gunn’s cabin.
Pitt had no choice but to wearily resign himself and turn his battered body over to the doctor's care. In the cabin he fought a half-hearted battle against unconsciousness, but the administered sedatives won a beachhead, and soon he was sheathed in a deep sleep.
9
Pitt stared at the gaunt and repulsive face that echoed his image from a small mirror, hanging in the cabin’s head. The black hair dangled down his face and ears, adding an unkempt crown above the deep green eyes that were circled and etched with jagged red blood vessels. He had not slept long; his watch showed a time lapse of only four hours. It was the heat that woke him, the morning blanket of hot air, drifting across the sea from Africa and digging its burning fingers into his skin. He discovered the ventilator that was closed, and he opened it, but the damage was already done. The hot dry air had a head start and the air conditioning would never catch up and cool the cabin, at least not until early evening. He pushed the tap and splashed water over his face, letting the coolness soak into his pores as it dribbled down his back and shoulders.
He briskly dried his damp skin and tried to recall in sequence what had happened the night before. Willie and the Maybach-Zepplin. The villa. Drinking with von Till. Teri’s beauty, her paled features. Then the labyrinth, the dog and the escape. Athena; did her owner ever find her? The dory, this morning, the yellow Albatros and the explosion. Now the waiting for Gunn and his crew to salvage the plane and find the body of its mystery pilot. What was the connection with von Till?
What was the old kraut’s motives. And Teri. Did she know about the trap? Was she trying to warn him? Or, did she bait him into being used and pumped for information by her uncle?
He shook all thoughts and questions from his mind. The bandages itched and he fought the agonizing urge to scratch. . . God, it was hot. . . if only he had a nice cold drink. The only item of clothing the doctor hadn’t cut off his body was his shorts. He rinsed them out in the basin and put them on wet. Within minutes they were completely dry.
A light knock came from the door. It slowly swung open and the red-haired cabin boy poked his head around the bulkhead. “Are you awake, Major Pitt?” he queried softly.
“Yes, but just barely.” Pitt replied.
“I . . . I didn’t mean to bother you,” the boy said hesitantly. “The doc asked me to check on you every fifteen minutes to make sure you were resting comfortably.”
Pitt threw a withering stare at the cabin boy. “Who the hell can rest comfortably in this furnace with the air conditioning turned off?”
A lost bewildered look crossed the young sunburned face. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry sir. I thought Commander Gunn left it on.”
“What’s done is done,” Pitt said shrugging. “How about something cold to drink?”
“Would you like a bottle of FIX?”
Pitt’s eyes narrowed sharply. “A bottle of what?
“FIX. It’s a Greek beer.”
