Cradle. Part 17

"I thought you knew what was going to happen, Troy," Carol replied, pointing at his bracelet. "Don't they tell you everything?"

"They tell me a lot. And I'm getting better at understanding their messages. But how do I know if they're telling the truth?"

"We have had the same problem with you at times," Nick interjected from under the canopy. The boat was almost out in the open ocean. The lights from Key West were receding behind them. "In the final a.n.a.lysis, particularly when nothing makes sense anyway, it comes down to a question of trust. If I were to ask myself logically why I am going out into the Gulf of Mexico in the middle of the night to take lead and gold and information to some extraterrestrials who stopped here on the Earth to make repairs - "

Carol laughed and interrupted. "But there's no logical way to discuss this entire series of events. Troy already pointed that out. We're not operating on logic. And I don't even think it's a question of trust so much." She paused and looked up at the stars. "It's more like faith."

Troy put his arm around Carol and smiled. "I agree with you, angel. After all, we don't know s.h.i.t. Only they know."

Carol yawned. There was silence on the boat. Everyone was very tired. After the security men had surrounded Homer and Greta at the Miyako Gardens, the police had of course been called. They had arrived within ten minutes but it had seemed as if their questions were going to last forever. Carol, Nick, and Troy had each been required to file a separate written statement. Homer and Greta admitted nothing, despite the fact that the security men had taken two handguns from them and matching bullet fragments were found inside Troy's car. Homer had phoned his lawyer and was expecting to be out on bail within four to six hours.

When the trio did finally reach the marina (they had to walk from the hotel because the police impounded Troy's car as evidence) carrying the backpacks, Troy remembered that he had not yet connected the new navigation equipment. Maybe it was because Troy was tired or perhaps having his two friends watch him part of the time over his shoulder made him nervous; whatever the reason, Troy was very slow in installing and verifying the new navigation processor.

Meanwhile, Carol and Nick had been checking to ensure that there were three complete sets of diving apparatus...o...b..ard the boat. The diving gear the men had used earlier in the evening was still out at the base in the possession of the United States Navy. Nick thought he recalled putting enough extra equipment on the boat to handle the large party from Tampa that had originally chartered the Florida Queen for the weekend. He was correct, but one of the regulator systems did not function properly during the checkout and had to be exchanged for a spare.

During the walk from the hotel to the marina, Nick and Carol and Troy had come to the unanimous conclusion that they would all three keep the underwater rendezvous with the superalien s.p.a.ceship. There was no other reasonable solution. The boat could certainly be safely anch.o.r.ed. And none of the three of them could bear to think of missing the climax to their adventure.

Nick entered the ocean coordinates of the dive site into the navigation processor and put the boat on autopilot. He saw Carol yawn again. It was infectious. As he opened his mouth for a long, relaxing yawn, Nick realized how exhausted he was. He walked around behind the canopy and found two light air mattresses in a jumbled pile of supplies. He started inflating one of them by blowing into a valve at the end.

Carol came around to the back of the boat when the first mattress was almost inflated. The light on top of the canopy gave her face a glow. She's even beautiful when she's tired, Nick thought. He motioned to the other mattress. Carol bent down to pick it up and started inflating it. And very capable. I've never met a woman who was so good at so many things.

Nick finished with his air mattress and laid it down on the bottom of the boat. Carol was tiring, so he helped her inflate the rest of her mattress. He grabbed some towels and wadded them up like pillows. "We all have to sleep some," he said to her as an explanation. "Otherwise we'll be punchy when we try to dive."

Carol nodded and walked back to the edge of the canopy. "Is it all right with you if Nick and I take a short nap?" she said to Troy. He smiled his a.s.sent. "Wake one or both of us in an hour," she continued, "if you want to use one of the air mattresses." She turned around and started to leave. "Uh, Troy," she asked, before she left the side of the canopy.

"Yes, angel?" he answered.

"Do you know where they came from?" She pointed at the sky. Not too many stars were visible because of the brightness of the gibbous moon. It was well past its zenith and already into its western descent.

Troy looked up at the heavens and thought for almost a minute. "No, angel," he responded at length. "I think they've tried to tell me, maybe even twice, but I can't understand what they're saying. But I do know that they come from another star."

Troy now walked over beside Carol and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite," he said. "And maybe you can ask them yourself after you wake up."

Where do you come from? Carol was thinking. And why did you land here, in this place, at this time? She shaded her eyes from the glare of the moon and concentrated her attention on Sirius, the brightest true star in the sky. Do you have a home there, around another star? With mothers and fathers and brothers? Do you have love and oceans and mountains and music? And longing and loneliness and fear of death? For reasons she could not understand, tears found their way into Carol's eyes. She dropped her gaze and walked back to the air mattresses. Nick was already stretched out on one of them. He was on his back and his eyes were closed. Carol lay down on the mattress beside him. She reached out and put her hand in his. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissed it softly, and dropped it on his chest.

Nick's dream was confusing. He was in the main lobby of a huge open library with twenty floors of books. He could see the spiral staircases ascending to the stacks above him. "But you don't understand," he said to the clerk standing behind the long counter. "I must read all these books this weekend. Otherwise I won't be ready for the test on Monday."

"I'm sorry, sir," the diffident clerk replied quietly after scanning Nick's list a second time. "But all copies of these books are currently checked out."

Nick started to panic. He looked up at the enormously high ceiling and the floors of shelved books above him. He saw Carol Dawson up on the third floor, leaning against the railing and reading a book. His panic subsided. She'll know the material, he thought to himself in the dream. He raced over to the staircase and bounded up the two flights of curving stairs.

He was out of breath when he reached Carol. She was reading one of the books that had been on his list. "Oh, good," he said between gasps, "I knew as soon as I saw you that there was no worry."

She looked at him quizzically. Without warning she thrust her hand down into the top of his jeans and grabbed his p.e.n.i.s. He responded immediately and leaned forward to kiss her. She shook her head and backed up. He pursued her, pushing her against the railing. She fought him. He pressed hard against her body and succeeded in kissing her. The railing gave way and they were falling, falling. He woke up before they hit the floor in the lobby of the library.

Nick shuddered himself awake. Carol was watching him intently. Her head was resting on her hands, propped up by her elbow. "Are you all right?" she asked as soon as he opened his eyes.

It took Nick a few seconds to acclimate after the vivid dream. His heart was still racing out of control. "I think so," he said. Carol continued to stare at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Well," she began, "I woke up because you were talking. I even thought I heard my name a couple of times. Maybe I imagined it. If you don't mind my asking, do you often talk in your sleep?"

"I don't know," Nick answered. He laughed a little. "n.o.body has ever mentioned it to me before."

"Not even Monique?" Carol said. Her eyes did not leave Nick's. She could tell that he was trying to decide what kind of answer to give to her question. You're pushing again, a voice inside her said. Let the man do things at his own pace.

Nick looked away. "We did not sleep together that much," he said softly. There was a long pause. "Besides," he said, now turning back to Carol, "that was ten years ago. I was very young. And she was married to someone else."

While they had been sleeping Troy had switched off the light on the top of the canopy. The only light on their faces now was the reflection from the moon. They continued to look at each other in silence. Nick had not said very much to Carol about Monique, but it had been more than he had ever told anyone else, including his parents. Carol knew how much of an effort it had been for him to answer her question honestly. She rolled over on her back again and extended her hand to Nick.

"So here we are, Mr. Williams. Two solitary voyagers on the sea of life. Both of us are now past thirty. Many of our friends and cla.s.smates have already settled down into that house in the suburbs with the two kids and a dog. Why not us? What's different about us?"

The moon was accelerating its downward arc through the sky above them. As it descended, more stars could be seen on the opposite horizon. Nick thought he saw a shooting star. There would be no way to hide from feelings. Nick was jumping ahead of the conversation, imagining for the moment that he was going to be involved with Carol. She would not permit it. At least I would not have any doubts about where we stood.

"When I was over at her house on Friday morning," Nick finally replied to her question, "Amanda Winchester told me that I'm looking for a fantasy woman, someone absolutely perfect. And that mere mortals always come up short in my estimation." He propped his head up and looked at Carol. "But I think it's something else. I think maybe I'm not willing to make a commitment because of fear of rejection."

Did I really say that? wondered Nick, shocked at himself. Instantly he felt as if he never should have shared the thought. His defenses began to build and he braced himself for a flippant or insensitive reply.

But it did not come. Instead Carol was quiet and thoughtful. At length she spoke. "My protection is different from yours," she said. "I always play it safe. I pick men I admire and respect, intellectual pals if you will, but for whom I do not have any pa.s.sion. When I meet a man who sets off the banjos and bells, I run the other way."

Because I'm afraid, she thought. Afraid that I might love him as much as I did my father. And I could not survive if I were abandoned like that again.

She felt Nick's hand on her cheek. He was caressing her gently. She reached up, took his hand, and squeezed it. He pulled himself up on his side where he could see her better. She could tell that he wanted to kiss her. She squeezed his hand again. Slowly, tentatively, he dropped his mouth on hers. It was a tender, adoring kiss, without pressure or overt pa.s.sion, a subtle, artful question that could have been either the beginning of a love affair or the sole kiss exchanged between two people whose paths just happened to cross in life. Carol heard banjos and bells.

2.

WINTERS stood on the deck by himself, smoking quietly. It was not a large boat, this converted trawler, but it was very fast. They had not left the dock until after four o'clock and they had almost caught up with their prey already. The commander rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was tired. He blew smoke out over the ocean. On the eastern horizon there was just a faint suggestion of dawn. To the west, in the direction of the moon, Winters thought he saw the dim light of another boat.

These young people must all be crazy, he thought to himself as he reflected back on the events of the evening. Why the h.e.l.l did they leave? Did they push Todd down those stairs without his knowing it? It would have been so much easier if they had just stayed there until we returned.

He remembered the look on Lieutenant Ramirez' face when he had interrupted the telephone conversation that Winters had been having with his wife, Betty. "Excuse me. Commander," Ramirez had said. He had been out of breath. "You must come quickly Lieutenant Todd is injured and our prisoners have escaped."

He had told his wife that he had no idea when he would be home and then joined Ramirez for the short walk back to the administration annex. On the way Winters had been thinking about Tiffani, about the difficulty he had had in explaining to the seventeen-year-old why he could not just drop everything and meet her at the party. "But you can work any day or night, Vernon," she had said. "This is our only time to be together." She had already drunk too much champagne. Later in the conversation, when Winters had made it clear to her that he almost certainly would not make it to the party at all, and that he would probably ask Melvin and Marc to take her home, Tiffani had become petulant and angry. She had stopped calling him Vernon. "All right, Commander," she had said, "I guess I'll see you at the theater on Tuesday night."

The phone had clicked off and Winters had felt an ache tearing through his heart. Oh f.u.c.k, he had thought for a moment, I've blown it. He had imagined himself jumping in the car, forgetting Todd and Ramirez and the Panther missile, and driving over to the party to sweep Tiffani into his arms. But he had not done it. Despite his incredible longing, he was not able to pull himself away from his duty. If it was meant to be, he told himself consolingly, then those flames of pa.s.sion will burn again. But even with his limited romantic experience Winters knew better. Timing is everything in a love affair. If momentum is lost at a critical moment, especially when the rhythm of the pa.s.sion is heading for a climax, it will never be regained.

Ramirez had already called the doctor on the base and he had arrived at the annex just after the two officers. While they were standing there together, Ramirez had insisted to Winters that it must have been foul play, that Todd could not have fallen so hard unless he had either been pushed or thrown down the concrete steps. The lieutenant had begun to stir during the doctor's examination. "He has a bad concussion," the doctor had said after he first checked Todd's eyes. "He'll probably be all right but he'll have a ferocious headache in the morning. Meanwhile, we'll take him over to the infirmary and sew up that gash in his head."

To Winters it didn't make sense. While he was waiting patiently in an adjoining room for the doctors and nurses to finish the st.i.tches in the lieutenant's head, Winters tried to figure out what possible motive Nick and Carol and Troy could have had for attacking Todd and then escaping. The Dawson woman is smart and successful. Why would she do it? He wondered if perhaps the trio might have been involved in some kind of big drug transaction. That would at least explain all the gold. But Todd and Ramirez did not find any indication of drugs. So what the h.e.l.l is happening?

Lieutenant Todd had been kept awake during the procedure in the emergency room. He had been given only a local anesthetic to reduce his pain. But he had not been very lucid in response to the doctor's simple questions. "That sometimes happens with a concussion," the medical officer had told Winters afterward. "He may not be very coherent for the next day or two."

Nevertheless, around two o'clock, immediately after Todd's head had been shaven, st.i.tched, and bandaged, Commander Winters and Lieutenant Ramirez had decided to ask him about what had occurred at the annex. The commander could not accept Todd's answer, even though the lieutenant repeated it twice verbatim. Todd had insisted that a six-foot carrot with vertical slits in its face had hidden in the bathroom and had jumped him while he was trying to take a p.i.s.s. He had escaped that first a.s.sault, but the giant carrot had then followed him into the main room at the annex.

"And just how did this thing - "

"Carrot," interrupted Todd.

"And how did this carrot attack you?" continued Winters. Jesus, he had thought, this man has cracked. One b.u.mp on he head and he has finally flipped.

"It's hard to describe exactly," Lieutenant Todd had answered slowly. "You see, it had four doodads hanging out of these vertical slits in its head. They were all mean looking - "

The doctor had come up and interrupted. "Gentlemen," he had said with a perfect bedside smile, "my patient desperately needs rest. Surely some of these questions can wait until tomorrow."

Commander Winters remembered an overpowering sense of bewilderment as he watched the gurney take Lieutenant Todd from the emergency operating room to the infirmary. As soon as Todd was out of earshot, the commander had turned to Lieutenant Ramirez. "And what do you make of all this, Lieutenant?"

"Commander, sir, I'm no medical expert . . ."

"I know that, Lieutenant. I don't want your medical opinion. I want to know what you think about the, uh, carrot business." d.a.m.n him, Winters had thought. Does he have so little imagination that he can't even react to Todd's story?

"Sir," Ramirez had replied, "the carrot business is outside my experience."

To say the least. Winters smiled to himself and flipped his cigarette into the water. He walked over to the little wheel-house and checked the navigator. They were only seven miles from the target boat and converging rapidly. He pulled back on the throttle and put the boat into neutral gear. Winters did not want to draw any closer to the Florida Queen until Ramirez and the other two seamen were awake and in position.

He estimated that it was still about forty minutes until sunrise. Winters laughed again about Ramirez's unwillingness to venture a comment on Todd's carrot story. But the young Latino is a good officer. His only mistake was following Todd. Winters remembered how quickly Ramirez had organized all the details of their current sortie, picking the high-tech converted trawler for speed and stealth, rousting the two bachelor seamen who worked for him in Intelligence, and establishing a special link between the base and the trawler so that the whereabouts of the Florida Queen would be known at all times.

"We must follow them. We really have no choice," Lieutenant Ramirez had said firmly to Winters after they had verified that Nick's boat had indeed left the Hemingway Marina just after two o'clock. "Otherwise there's no way we could ever justify our having taken them into custody in the first place."

Winters had reluctantly agreed and Ramirez had organized the chase. The commander had told the younger men to get some sleep while he formulated the plan. Which is simple. Okay, you guys, come with us and answer the questions or we'll charge you under the sedition act of 1991. Now, after putting the boat in idle, Winters was ready to wake Ramirez and the other two men. He intended to apprehend Nick, Carol, and Troy as soon as it was daylight.

The wind around the boat changed direction and Winters stopped a minute to check the weather. He turned his face toward the moon. The air suddenly felt warmer, almost hot, and he was reminded of a night off the coast of Libya eight years earlier. The worst night of my life, he thought. For a few moments his resolve to carry out his plan wavered and he asked himself if he was about to make another mistake.

Then he heard a trumpet blast, followed maybe four seconds later by a similar but quieter sound. Winters looked around him in the placid ocean. He saw nothing. Now he heard a group of trumpets and their echo, both sounds distinctly coming from the west. The commander strained his eyes in the direction of the moon. Silhouetted against its face he saw what appeared to be a group of snakes dancing out of the water. He went inside the wheelhouse to fetch a pair of binoculars.

By the time the commander returned to the railing a magnificent symphony surrounded him. Where is this incredible music coming from? he asked at first, before he succ.u.mbed completely to its mesmerizing beauty. He stood powerless against the railing, listening intently. The music was rich, emotional, full of evocative longing. Winters was swept away. not only into his own past where his deepest memories were stored, but also onto another planet in another era where proud and dignified serpents with blue necks called to their loved ones during their short annual mating rite.

He was spellbound. Tears were already flooding into his eyes when he at last mechanically lifted the binoculars and focused on the strange, sinuous shapes underneath the moon. The ghostlike images were completely transparent; the moonlight went right through them. As Winters watched what was a thousand necks dancing above the water, cavorting back and forth in perfect rhythm, and as he heard the music build toward the concluding crescendo of the Canth.o.r.ean mating symphony, his tired eyes blurred and he swore that what he saw across the water in front of him, calling to him with a song of longing and desire, was an image of Tiffani Thomas. His heart was devastated by the combination of the music and the sight of her. Winters was aware of an intense sense of loss unparalleled in his life.

Yes, he said to himself as Tiffani continued to beckon in the distance, I'm coming. I'm sorry Tiffani darling. Tomorrow I will come to see you. We will . . . He stopped his interior monologue to wipe his eyes. The music had now entered the final crescendo. signaling the actual mating dance of the pairs of Canth.o.r.ean serpents. Winters looked through his binoculars again. The image of Tiffani was gone. He adjusted his gla.s.ses. Joanna Carr came into focus, smiled briefly, and disappeared. A moment later the little Arab girl from the Virginia beach seemed to dance just under the moon. She was happy and gay. She too was gone in an instant.

The music was all around him. Bursts of sound, powerful, full, expressing pleasure no longer antic.i.p.ated but now being experienced. He looked through his binoculars one more time. The moon was setting. As it fell into the ocean the image created against its illuminated disc by the dancing serpents was unmistakable. Winters clearly saw the faces of his wife, Betty, and his son, Hap. They were smiling at him together with a deep and abiding affection. They remained there in his vision until the moon sank completely into the ocean.

3.

CAROL struggled to adjust her diving equipment. "Do you need some help, angel?" Troy asked. He came over and stood beside her in the predawn dark. He was already fully prepared for the dive.

"I haven't worn anything like this since my first set of scuba lessons," she said, fidgeting uncomfortably with the old-fashioned gear.

Troy tightened the weight belt around her waist. "You're scared, aren't you, angel?" Carol didn't answer right away. "Me too. My pulse rate must be twice normal."

Carol's equipment seemed to please her finally. "You know, Troy, even after the last three days my brain is having a hard time convincing the rest of me that all this is really happening. Imagine writing it down for someone to read. "As we were preparing to return to the alien s.p.a.ceship . . .' "

"Hey, you guys, come here," Nick called from the other side of the canopy. Carol and Troy walked around to the front of the boat. Nick was staring out across the ocean to the east. He handed a small pair of binoculars to Carol. "Do you see a light out there in the distance, just to the left of that island?"

Carol could barely make out the light. "Uh huh," she said to Nick. "But so what? Isn't it reasonable that somewhere out in the ocean there would be another boat?"

"Of course," Nick answered. "But that light hasn't moved for fifteen minutes. It's just sitting there. Why would a fishing boat, or any other kind of boat, be - "

"Sh," interrupted Troy. He put his fingers to his lips. "Listen," he whispered, "I hear music."

His companions stood quietly on the deck. Behind them the moon disappeared into the ocean. Above the gentle lapping of the waves all three of them could hear what sounded like the climax of a symphony, played by a full orchestra. They listened for thirty seconds. The music reached a peak, faded slightly, and then ceased abruptly.

"That was beautiful," Carol remarked.

"And weird," Nick said, walking over beside her. "Where the h.e.l.l was it coming from? Is someone out there testing a new stereo system? My G.o.d, if the sound travels five or ten miles, it must be deafening up close."

Troy was standing off to the side by himself. He was concentrating on something. Suddenly he turned to his companions. "I know this sounds crazy," he said to Nick and Carol, "but I think the music was a signal for us to dive. Or perhaps a warning."

"Great," said Carol. "That's what we need to rea.s.sure us. A warning of some kind. As if we're not nervous enough."

Nick put his arm around her. "Hey, lady," he said, "don't wimp out on us now. After all those brave comments about a once in a lifetime experience . . ."

"Really, let's go," Troy said impatiently. He looked anxious and very serious. "I'm definitely getting the message that we should dive now."

Troy's solemnity changed the mood of the trio. The three of them worked together in silence to secure the two buoyancy bags containing the lead, the gold, and the information discs. The eastern sky continued to brighten. It was only about fifteen minutes until sunrise.

While they were working, Carol noticed that Nick seemed a little distracted. Right before they left the boat she walked up beside him. "Are you all right?" she said quietly.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm just trying to figure out if I've completely lost my mind. For eight years I have been thinking about what I would do if I ever had my full share of the treasure. Now I'm about to give it all away to some extra-terrestrials from G.o.d knows where." He looked at her. "There's enough gold here to last three people a long time."

"I know," she said, giving him a little hug. "I must admit that I've thought about it too. But in reality, part belongs to Amanda Winchester, part to Jake Lewis, most of it to the IRS . . ." She grinned. "And it's only money. That's nothing when you compare it to being the only humans to interact with visitors from another planet."

"I hope you're right," he said. "I hope I don't wake up tomorrow and feel as if I've made a terrible mistake. This entire episode has been so bizarre that I suspect my normal faculties aren't working properly. We don't even know for sure if these aliens are friendly . . ."

Carol pulled her diving mask over her face. "We'll never have all the answers," she said. She took his hand. "Let's go, Nick."

Troy was first into the water. Nick and Carol followed. It had been agreed before the dive that Carol would take the searchlight and lead the group. She was the most mobile of the threesome because each of the men was dragging a buoyancy bag. The trio had been concerned that they might have difficulty finding the ship and had discussed an elaborate set of contingency plans for locating it. They needn't have worried. Thirty feet under the Florida Queen, in virtually the exact place where the fissure had been on Thursday, there was a light in the water. Carol pointed at it and the two men swam up behind her. As they drew closer, they saw that the light was coming from a rectangular area about ten feet high and twenty feet wide. They could not see anything except what looked like some kind of material or fabric with a soft light behind it.

Carol hesitated. Troy swam right on by her, into the lighted area, his buoyancy bag trailing behind him. Everything disappeared. Nick and Carol waited. Carol felt herself tightening up. Come on now, Dawson, she thought, it's your turn. You've been here before. She took a deep breath and swam into the material. She felt something like plastic touch her face and then she was in a covered tunnel. A swift current was pulling her to the right. She went down a small water slide and was deposited in a shallow pool at the bottom. She clambered out of the pool and began removing her diving equipment.

Troy was standing on the floor about ten feet beyond the end of the pool. Next to him a warden had already taken the buoyancy bag, opened it, and adroitly separated the gold bars and the lead weights from the information discs. As Carol's eyes adjusted to the dim light around her, she saw that the warden was now loading the gold on a small platform sitting on top of tank treads about a foot above the floor. Immediately thereafter, the warden placed the information discs and the lead weights on two other platforms. A carpet that had been lying inconspicuously over against the wall on the left then rose up, apparently activated the treads under the platforms, and directed them toward a nearby hallway leading out of the room.

Carol pulled off her mask and finished removing her diving gear. She was in a medium-sized room somewhat like the ones she and Troy had encountered at the beginning of her last dive. The curved wall part.i.tions were colored black and white. There was a small window to the ocean next to the splash pool on her left. The ceilings were low and tight, only a couple of feet above her head, giving her a feeling of claustrophobia. So here I am again, she thought, Back in Wonderland. This time I will take plenty of pictures. She photographed the procession of the carpet and three platforms just as it disappeared from the room. She then changed lenses and took a dozen quick close-up pictures of the warden standing next to Troy. It had the same amoebalike central body as the one she had confronted the day before, but there were only five implements sticking out of its upper half. The warden had probably been customized for its particular job of taking the objects from the trio.

Troy walked over beside her. "Where's Nick?" he asked. My G.o.d, Carol thought as she turned around and looked back at the slide and splash pool. I almost forgot. She chastised herself for not having waited for Nick. After all, he's never been down here . . .

Nick's big body careened out of control against the sides of the slide and he hurtled into the splash pool. The heavy buoyancy bag came down behind him and hit him hard, just above the kidneys. He stumbled to his feet, fell down in the pool, and then stood up again. In his diving apparatus with the thin plastic material from the bag tied around his wrist, it was he who looked like the visitor from outer s.p.a.ce.

Carol and Troy were laughing as Nick climbed out of the splash pool. "All right. Professor!" exclaimed Troy. He reached forward to give him a hand. "Good show. It's a shame we don't have that entry on tape."

Nick removed his mouthpiece. He was out of breath. "Thanks a lot for waiting, team," he stammered. He looked around him. "What is this place, anyway?"

The warden meanwhile had approached him from the side and was already tugging at the bag with one of its appendages. "Just a minute, weirdo," Nick said, suppressing his fright. "Let me get my bearings first."

The warden didn't stop. A knifelike appendage cut the bag below where it was attached to Nick's wrist. Next the warden took the entire bag, including its lead and gold contents, and somehow pushed it through its own semipermeable outer skin. The bag could be seen intact, adjacent to the rectangular control boxes, as the warden turned and hurried across the floor. It went through the same exit that the carpet and platforms had used earlier.

"You're welcome," Nick managed to say as he watched the strange creature disappear with the loot. He finished taking off his diving gear and walked over to Troy. "Okay, Jefferson, you're the main man here. What do we do now?"

"Well, Professor," he answered, "as far as I can tell, our job is finished. If you guys want, we can suit up again and jump through that window wall over there. We'd be back in the boat in less than five minutes. If I've read the messages right, these alien dudes will be ready to leave very shortly."