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"Captain Wheeler of the Mistral Oil Company boat Pegasus. Do you have a doctor on board?"
"Affirmative. What is your complication?"
"We have a badly injured man."
"Come alongside and I'll send over our ship's doctor."
"Better we bring him aboard your ship. We have no medical facilities or supplies."
Burch looked at Delgado. "You heard?"
"Most odd," said Delgado.
"My thoughts also," agreed Burch. "Having no doctor on a work boat is understandable, but no medical supplies? That doesn't figure."
Delgado began to step toward the companionway. "I'll have a crew standing by to hoist a stretcher on board."
The work boat came to a stop about fifty yards away from the survey ship. A few minutes later, a launch was lowered, with a man covered with blankets on a litter and laid across the seats. Four men also entered the launch, and it was soon rising and dropping in the waves next to the Deep Encounter's, hull. Unexpectedly, three of the work boat's crew jumped on board and helped lift the injured man onto the work deck, rudely pushing the Deep Encounter's crew aside.
Suddenly, the visitors threw back the blankets and snatched up automatic weapons that had been hidden beneath them and turned them on Burch's survey crew. The man on the stretcher leaped to his feet, took an offered gun and ran toward the starboard stairway leading to the bridge.
Burch and Delgado realized immediately that it was a hijacking. On a commercial ship or private yacht, they'd have rushed to a gun locker and begun passing out weapons. But under international law, survey ships were not allowed to carry arms. They could do nothing but stand helpless until the intruder stepped onto the bridge deck.
The hijacker did not look like a pirate, no peg leg, parrot or eye patch. He had more of an executive air about him. The hair was prematurely gray, the face dark. He was of medium height with a stomach slightly larger than his waist. He wore the appearance of a man comfortable with authority, and he was smartly dressed in a golf shirt and Bermuda shorts. Almost as an act of courtesy, he did not aim the muzzle of his automatic rifle at either Burch or Delgado, but held it casually pointed toward the sky.
For a moment, they inspected one another warily. Then the intruder ignored Delgado and turned to Burch, speaking politely in American English. "Captain Burch, I presume."
"And you are?"
"My name is of no consequence," the pirate said in a tone that rasped like a file against iron. "I hope you will offer no resistance."
"What in hell are you doing on my ship?" Burch demanded.
"We are confiscating it," replied the intruder, with a hard edge in his tone. "No one will be harmed."
Burch stared at him incredulously. "This ship is the property of the United States government. You don't have the authority to simply walk on board and confiscate her."
"Oh, but we can." He held up the gun. "This is our authority."
As he spoke, the three armed gunmen on the work deck began rounding up the survey ship's crew. The workboat's launch soon returned with ten more armed men, who stationed themselves throughout the ship.
"This is madness," snarled Burch indignantly. "What do you hope to accomplish by this criminal act?"
The tall, dark man smiled deprecatingly. "You can't begin to comprehend the purpose."
An armed hijacker approached. "Sir, the ship is secure and all crew members and scientists are under guard in the dining area."
"The engine room?"
"Awaiting your orders."
"Then prepare to get under way. I want full speed."
"You won't get anywhere fast enough not to get caught," said Delgado. "She won't do more than ten knots."
The hijacker laughed. "Ten knots? You shame your ship, sir. I happen to know you made twice that in speeding to the Emerald Dolphin's rescue. However, even twenty knots is too slow." He paused and motioned to the bow, where the workboat was moving into position in preparation for taking the survey ship in tow. "Between the two of us, we should be able to make over twenty-five knots."
"Where are you taking us?" demanded Delgado, as angry as Burch had ever seen him.
