Joe called his attention to movement at the top of the cliffs. Human specks could be seen lining the bluff. Austin didn't feel like answering questions for the local authorities. The fishermen were happy to head back to the ship. The deck was practically clear as they pulled up next to the Sea Robin. The ship was close to its normal pitch. Austin borrowed some money from Contos and tried to pay the fishermen for their services, but the brothers refused the cash. Juan explained through Zavala that showing them the hole in the fence was a service for which he would accept payment, but saving men from the sea was a moral duty. Austin thought about it, then persuaded the fishermen to accept a gift of friendship. After discussing it with Contos, they presented the happy fishermen with an outboard motor soon to be retired from service but in excellent shape.
The engines were started, and the ship slowly headed for open water. No leaks were detected. Contos set a course north. They left just in time. As they cruised along, a dark green helicopter appeared out of nowhere, circled the inlet several times, then dashed off to the north as quickly as it had come. They mingled with the boat traffic around Ensenada, where they spotted a Mexican coast guard boat steaming at full speed in the opposite direction. With the Sea Robin safely on its way, the NUMA
men hit the showers and got into dry clothes. They rejoined Contos on the bridge. He had a fresh pot of coffee waiting.
"Okay, gentlemen," he said, pouring two hot steaming mugs. "As skipper of this vessel, which you commandeered for what turned out to be a commando mission, I'd appreciate it if you would fill me in."
Austin took a sip of the high-octane brew and decided he had never tasted anything more delicious.
"The explosion was a surprise to us," he said. "Our basic mission was pretty simple. We wanted to check out the source of the heat that may have killed those whales. We think we found it." He described the underwater structure as they first saw it, filling Contos in on the approach, the fake hazard buoys, the fishing net, and the high water temperature. Then he turned the narrative over to Joe.
Putting himself back underwater in the moments before the explosion, Zavala curled his hands as if he were clutching an in visible steering wheel.
"Everything's fine. We figure the high temperature readings are coming from the installation. You set off for a closer look, and I put the sub on the bottom to wait. The temps start to go off the charts, and I suggest you get back to the Brogan."
Austin reached into his memory. "I had just looked through a skylight on the top of the structure when I got your call. There were people and machinery inside. I headed back to the sub. Then boom!"
"You said the structure was full of piping," Zavala said. "Some of it would have been high-pressure conduits, hence the potential for explosion."
"I don't know. There could have been a flaw in the piping, but this was a sophisticated operation. They would have had layers of safety valves and shutoffs to prevent a pressure buildup. From what I could see there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nobody was rushing around in a panic. No indication of any thing wrong."
"What about the water temperature buildup?"
"Good question, although the satellite photos indicate this isn't the first time there has been a high-temperature water discharge into the cove, so it probably didn't have a direct link to the explosion." Austin had brought a plastic bag with him. He opened it and produced the metal cylinder. "We found this floating in the cove. Any idea what it is?"
Contos examined the object and shook his head. "I'll try to track down the manufacturer when we get back to Washington."
"Guess your instincts were right, Kurt. Remember, back at Hussong's, when you said you had the feeling a big bad-assed something was watching us."
Austin's coral eyes hardened. "If you'll remember, I made an other astute observation."
"What was that?"
"I said that whatever it is lurking in the shadows, the damned thing is as hungry as hell."
"You two are spooky," Contos said. "It sounds as if you're talking about Godzilla."
Austin said nothing. He stared out at the bow cleaving the waves as if the answers to the questions whirling around in his head could be found beneath the blue-green of the sea.
Chapter 12
THE HAND OF GOD
The airship glided over the rain forest like a huge, elongated Japanese lantern, pulsating with a soft blue-and-orange light as twin tongues of flame from the propane burners heated the air inside the big sausage-shaped envelope. Except for the occasional burner blast, the only evidence of the craft's existence was a silent shadow that blotted out the moon and stars like a passing cloud.
What Paul and Gamay thought to be a blimp was actually a thermal airship, an ingenious cross between a hot-air balloon and a dirigible. Hot-air burners provided lift, but unlike a balloon, which goes where the wind takes it, the thermal airship had an engine and could be steered under power. The more streamlined zeppelin silhouette had replaced the customary pear-shaped air bag known as the envelope. The envelope kept its shape with internal air pressure instead of a rigid blimp skeleton.
The Trouts sat side-by-side at the front of the aluminum frame gondola, held in their comfortable padded seats by full harnesses. From their perspective, slung under the belly of the envelope, the blimp looked enormous. The polyester fabric bag was one hundred feet long and half that in height. It had a full rudder at the back end for steering and large, thick fins for stability. Behind the passenger seats were the propane tanks that fueled the burners, the fuel containers for the Rotex two-stroke power plant, the engine itself, and the three-blade propeller that provided lateral thrust.
Paul and Gamay had taken turns acquainting themselves with the airship's controls. Both Trouts had ridden in balloons and knew the principles of hot air. The airship's operation was relatively simple. A foot-operated valve controlled the stainless steel burners that kept hot air flowing through a metal chute into the envelope. The instrument panel had only half a dozen gauges. The Trouts watched the altimeter with gimlet eyes, keeping the airship at about two thousand feet, an altitude that would give them a reasonable safety margin.
Keeping the airship aloft had drained the propane from one tank, and they were operating on reserve. They had been waiting for daylight to use the power plant, so a plentiful fuel supply remained for the propeller drive. A pearl-gray glow in the east announced the coming of dawn. Soon the sky turned rose-petal pink. Even after the sun rose the visibility was obscured by fog. The vapors rising off the tree canopy absorbed the sky's hue, and a roiling, reddish sea of mist stretched off to the horizon. While Paul operated the airship Gamay rummaged around in a storage box between the two seats. "Time for breakfast," she announced cheerfully.
"I'll have mine over easy," Paul replied. "Crisp on the bacon, please, and the home fries burned around the edges."
Gamay offered Paul a choice of granola bars. "You can have raspberry or blueberry."
"I'll try room service." He flicked on the radio, but all they heard was the crackle of static. "Bet Phineas Fogg never had to rough it like this," Paul said with a frown. "Aw hell, I'll take blue berry."
She handed him a bar and a bottle of warm mineral water. "That was quite a night."
"Yes, I would say that having a brush with ruthless bio pirates, witnessing a cold-blooded murder, and escaping from savage Indians would certainly qualify as quite a night."
"We owe our lives to Tessa. I wonder how she got hooked up with Dieter."
"She's not the first woman to show poor judgment in men. If you had married a lawyer or a doctor instead of a fisherman's son, you would be floating in your backyard pool instead of being up here."