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They stared at him in astonishment. Salazar stood shaken. Stacy and Deerfield rushed toward the bed to calm Knox as he feebly tried to lift himself to an upright position.
"Hang the bastards!" Knox repeated with a vengeance. It was as though he was uttering a curse.
"They'll murder again. Hang them!"
But before Deerfield could inject him with a sedative, Knox stiffened, his eyes glistened for an instant, and then a misty film coated them and he fell back, gave a great heaving sigh, and went limp.
Deerfield swiftly applied cardiopulmonary resuscitation, fearful that Knox was too devastated by acute radiation sickness to bring back. He continued until he was panting from fatigue and sweating streams in the humid atmosphere. Finally he acknowledged sadly that he had done everything within his limited power. No man or miracle could bring Jimmy Knox back.
"I'm sorry," he murmured between breaths.
As if under a hypnotic spell, Stacy and Salazar slowly walked from the cabin. Salazar remained quiet while Stacy began to softly cry. After a few moments, she wiped away the tears with her hand and straightened.
"He saw something," she murmured.
Salazar looked at her. "Saw what?"
"He knew, in some incredible way he knew." She turned and looked through the open doorway to the silent figure on the bunk. "Just before the end, Jimmy could see who was responsible for the horrible mass death and destruction.
You could tell from his body, slim almost to the state of emaciation, that he was a fitness and nutrition fanatic. He was short, chin and chest thrust out like a banty rooster, and nattily dressed in a light blue golf shirt with matching pants and a Panama straw hat pulled tight over closely cropped red hair to keep it from blowing away. He had an exactingly trimmed red Vandyke beard that came to a point so sharp you'd swear he could stab flesh with it if he lunged suddenly.
He stormed up the gangway of the junk, a huge cigar poked in his mouth throwing sparks from the breeze, as regally as if he was holding court. If style awards were handed out for dramatic entrances, Admiral James Sandecker, Director of the National Underwater and Marine Agency, would have won hands down.
His face looked strained from the grievous news he'd received from Giordino while in flight. As soon as his feet hit Shanghai Shelly's deck, he raised his hand at the pilot of the flying boat, who gave an acknowledging wave. The aircraft turned into the wind and bounced forward over the crests of the waves until it was airborne and soaring in a graceful bank southeast toward the Hawaiian Islands.
Giordino and Murphy stepped forward. Sandecker focused his gaze on the junk's owner. ,
"Hello, Owen. I never expected to meet you out here."
Murphy smiled and shook hands. "Likewise, Jim. Welcome aboard. It's good to see you." He paused and pointed to the grimfaced NUMA team who were crowded around them on the open deck. "Now maybe someone will tell me what that big light and thunder show was on the horizon yesterday, and why all these people are popping up in the middle of the ocean."
Sandecker did not reply directly. He looked about the deck and up at the draped sails. "What have you got yourself here'?"
"Had it custom built in Shanghai. My crew and I were sailing her to Honolulu and then on to San Diego, where I plan to dock her."
"You know each other?" Giordino asked finally.
Sandecker nodded. "This old pirate and I went to Annapolis together. Only Owen was smarter. He resigned from the Navy and launched an electronics company. Now he's got more money than the U.S.
Treasury."
Murphy smiled. "Don't I wish."
Sandecker suddenly turned serious. "What news of the base since you briefed me over the radio?" he asked Giordino.
"We're afraid it's gone," Giordino replied quietly. "Underwater phone communications from our remaining sub have gone unanswered. Keith Harris thinks the major shock wave must have struck shortly after we evacuated. As I reported, there wasn't enough space to evacuate everybody in two subs. Pitt and a British marine scientist volunteered to stay below."
"What's being done to save them?" Sandecker demanded.
Giordino looked visibly cast down, as though all emotion had been drained away. "We've run out of options."
Sandecker went cold in the face. "You fell down on the job, mister. You led me to believe you were returning in the backup submersible."
"That was before Lowden surfaced with shorted batteries!" Giordino snapped back resentfully. "With the first sub sunk and the second inoperable, we were stonewalled."
Sandecker's expression softened, the coldness was gone, his eyes saddened. He realized Giordino had been dogged by ill luck. To even suggest the little Italian had not tried his best was wrong, and he regretted it. But he was shaken by Pitt's apparent loss too.
