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"Are you certain about the height of the waves?" she asked, disbelieving his description.
"Believe me. I'm sitting a hundred feet above the waterline of the hotel and every ninth wave sweeps over the roof of the hotel."
"It's unheard-of."
"Take my word for it."
"I will," said Heidi, now in deep concern. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just keep me informed as to when you think the sea and winds will decrease."
"According to our storm-hunter aircraft and satellite reports, not anytime soon."
"If you don't hear from me again," said Morton, finally turning and staring through a wall of water outside, "you'll know the worst has happened."
Before Heidi could reply, he switched off as another call came in. "Mr. Morton?"
"Speaking."
"Sir, this is Captain Rick Tapp of the Odyssey tug fleet."
"Go ahead, Capt
ain. The storm is causing interference, but I can hear you."
"Sir, I regret to inform you that the tugs Albatross and Pelican cannot come to your aid. The seas are far too rough. No one has ever experienced a storm of this magnitude. We could never reach you. As sturdy as our vessels are, they weren't built to make way through a sea this violent. Any attempt would be inviting suicide."
"Yes, I understand," Morton said heavily. "Come when you can. I don't know how much longer our mooring cables can withstand the strain. It's a miracle the hotel structure has stood up to the waves as long as it has."
"We'll do everything humanly possible to reach you the minute the worst of the storm passes the harbor."
Then as an afterthought, "Have you received any instructions from Specter?"
"No, sir, we've heard no word from him or his directors."
"Thank you, Captain."
Can it be that Specter, with a heart of cold stone, has already written off the Ocean Wanderer and all the people inside her? Morton could not help wondering. The man was a bigger monster than he ever imagined. He could envision the fat man meeting with his advisors and directors to make plans distancing the company from a disaster in the making.
He was about to leave his office and inspect the battered hotel and to reassure the guests that they would survive the storm. He had never acted on a stage but he was about to give the performance of his life.
Abruptly, he heard a loud ripping sound and felt the floor lurch beneath his feet as the room twisted on a slight angle.
In almost the same instant, his portable communicator buzzed.
"Yes, yes, what is it?"
The familiar voice of his chief maintenance superintendent came over the little speaker. "This is Emlyn Brown, Mr. Morton. I'm down in the number two winch room. I'm looking at the frayed end of the mooring cable. It snapped a hundred yards out."
Morton's worst fear was rapidly becoming a reality. "Will the others hold?"
"With one gone and the rest taking up excess stress, I doubt if they can anchor us for long."
Each time a huge wave struck, the hotel shuddered, was buried in green raging waters and emerged like a fortress under siege, rock steady and immovable. Gradually, morale among the guests escalated as their confidence grew in the Ocean Wanderer when she emerged seemingly unscathed after every gigantic wave. The guests were mostly affluent and had reserved their holiday on the floating resort in search of adventure. They all became mentally attuned to the menace threatening them and appeared to take it all in stride. Even the children eventually shook off their initial fright and began to enjoy watching the colossal mass of water smash into and flow over the luxury hotel.
Rising to the occasion, the chefs and kitchen workers somehow managed to turn out meals, served by waiters with impeccable manners throughout the crowded theater and ballroom.
During the ordeal, Morton could feel a growing sickness inside him. He became convinced that disaster was only minutes away and there was nothing any mere human could achieve against the incredible onslaught nature had created.
