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It didn't take him long to find it. The aircraft was resting on its belly, broke in two, evidence of the impact from the crash.
His breathing became harder now, signaling him that it was time to go on reserve. He pulled the valve and headed for the top.
The watery ceiling over his head slowly became brighter as he rose along with his air bubbles. At thirty feet he stopped and searched for The Grimsi's keel; it was important that he break water out of sight from shore. She sat like a fat duck with her props tucked into her bottom, rolling drunkenly with the swells. He stared upward at the sun to get a direction. The Grimsi had drifted around her anchor lirie on a hundredand-eighty-degree arc so that her starboard side now faced the coast.
He pulled himself over the port freeboard and, dropping his air tank, crawled across the deck into the wheelhouse.
Sandecker, without looking up, slowly placed his rod against the railing and just as slowly walked over and leaned in the doorway.
44
"I hope you've had better luck than I have."
"She's lying a hundred and fifty feet off the starboard beam," Pitt said. "I didn't have time to search the interior; my air was scraping bottom."
"Better get out of that suit and have a cup of coffee. Your face is as blue as a windmill on a Delftware saucer."
"Keep the coffee hot. I'll relax as soon as we've got what we came for." Pitt started for the door.
Sandecker's eyes were set. "You're not going anywhere for the next hour and a half. We still have plenty of time. The day is young. It's senseless to overdo your physical resources. You know the repetitive dive charts as well as any diver alive. Two dives to one hundred and forty feet within thirty minutes invites a case of the bends." He paused, then drove the point home.
"You've seen men scream their lungs out from the agony of pain.
You know the ones who lived and the ones who were paralyzed for life. Even if I pushed this old scow to the hilt, I couldn't get you to Reykjavik before two hours.
Then, add another five hours on a jet to London and the nearest decompression chamber. No way, my friend.
You go below and rest up. I'll tell you when you can go down again."
"No contest, Admiral; you win." Pitt unzipped the front of his wet suit. "However, I think it would be wiser to sack out above deck so that all three of us are in view."
"Who's to see? The coast is deserted, and we haven't another boat since
we left the harbor."
"The coast isn't deserted. We have an observer."
Sandecker turned and gazed across the water toward the cliffs. "I may be getting old, but I don't need glasses yet. Damned if I can detect any obvious glitters."
"Off to the right just beyond that rock that projects from the water."
"Can't see crap from this distance." He stared sideways at the point Pitt described. "It'd be like looking through a keyhole and seeing another eye if I picked up the binoculars and stared back. How can you be sure?"
"There was a reflection. The sun flashed on something for a moment. Probably a pair of lenses."
"Let them gawk. If anybody should ask why only two of us were on deck, Tidi was seasick and in misery on a bunk below."
"That's as good an excuse as any," Pitt said, smiling. "So long as they can't tell the difference between Tidi and me in that wild set of duds."
Sandecker laughed. "Through binoculars from a nine away, your own mother couldn't tell the difference."
"I'm not sure how I should take that."
Sandecker turned and stared into Pitts eyes, his lips twisting from the laugh to a wry smile. "Don't try. Just get your ass below. It's nappy time. I'll send Tidi down with a cup of coffee. And, no hanky-panky. I know how horny you get after a hard day's dive."
An eerie, yellow-gray light showed through the hatch when Sandecker shook Pitt awake. He woke slowly, mind blurred, more groggy from a catnap than from an eight-hour sleep. Pitt could feel the drop in the wave action; The Grimsi was barely rocking, even in the low even swells. There was no hint of a breeze. The air was damp and heavy.
"A change in the weather, Admiral?"
