031 Trouble in Tahiti

by Carolyn Keene

  Nancy swam desperately, not daring to look back. Fatigue launched painful spasms down her arms and legs. At any moment she expected to feel the slash of a shark's teeth.

  A narrow pilothouse window loomed ahead.

  Suddenly Bree's hand jerked out of Nancy's grip. Turning, she saw Bree thrashing about. Her eyes bulged in horror. There was a shark at Bree's foot.

  The shark had sunk its teeth into Bree's flipper. It shook its head back and forth, chewing the tough rubber the way a puppy tears at a rolled-up newspaper. Bree kicked it savagely in the gills with her free foot. The shark veered away, a semicircular chunk of rubber in its mouth.

  But others were closing in fast.

  Nancy pushed Bree through the open window, then dived through it head-first herself. A huge shark zoomed past the window frame, missing Nancy by mere seconds.

  Nancy and Bree ducked into the ship's inside corridor. Bree pulled the hatch shut. After giving Nancy another breath of air, she led the way down the topsy-turvy corridor.

  Nancy trailed her into a small stateroom. Bree ascended abruptly and Nancy followed.

  To her astonishment, Nancy's head broke water. The air had a saline reek, but it was breathable. The chill stung her face.

  "Where are we?" Nancy gasped.

  Bree removed her mouthpiece. "In an air pocket. When she was torpedoed and sank, air got trapped in a few of the staterooms. Tayo showed me this place."

  "How deep are we?" Nancy asked.

  Bree's face tensed thoughtfully. "Fifty feet, I think. So if I remember my dive tables correctly, we can stay down here for forty minutes without getting the bends."

  "Pierre will be here long before then," Nancy said, teeth chattering. "But maybe we can take him by surprise."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Pierre expects us to stay together. If we split, I might be able to sneak up on him," Nancy explained. "Bree, are you willing to play decoy?"

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Show me how to get to the torpedo hole from here," Nancy suggested. "Then you go aft and make a break for the surface. I'll try to jump him—"

  "Without an air tank?" cried Bree.

  "It's our only chance!" Nancy shook her head stubbornly. "Please, Bree, you've got to make a break for it. Don't worry about me. I've been in tough spots before."

  Maybe never quite this tough, she admitted to herself.

  "What are you going to do for air?" Bree asked. "You'll never make it back here on just one breath."

  "Give me your knife," Nancy pleaded, extending her open palm. "I'll cut Pierre's air hose when I come up behind him and steal my air from him."

  Bree looked at Nancy for a long moment. "I hope you know what you're doing." Then, lifting her leg out of the water, she withdrew her knife from its ankle sheath. Nancy quickly averted her gaze from Bree's savagely torn flipper. No point in adding to her worries now!

  After Bree had ducked beneath the surface, Nancy clutched a salt-caked lampstand and forced herself to relax. Long, slow breaths soothed her quivering muscles. With only one chance at this, she had to do it right.

  Filling her lungs to the brim, Nancy submerged again.

  Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark blue water. Swimming with a rhythmic breaststroke, she left the stateroom and started down the corridor. Tiny bubbles escaped her taut lips.

  All at once Nancy stopped short. Waving her arms to keep her balance, she stayed motionless in the water. Something was moving up ahead. Something huge!

  Nancy watched in horror as an enormous shark emerged from the shadows. It was too big to be a reef shark—then Nancy glimpsed its pale underbelly. A great white!

  The huge predator, ten feet from nose to tail, drifted down the corridor. Its movements told her it hadn't yet sensed her presence.

  Nancy looked desperately in all directions, but solid walls hemmed her in. She was trapped. And the great white shark was headed straight her way.

  Suddenly Nancy's gaze zeroed in on an empty tool locker. She drifted toward it slowly and deliberately, taking care not to stir up the water.

  Slipping inside, she flattened against the locker's back wall, willing her shaking body to keep still.

  As nearsighted as a bat, the giant shark swam by. His heavy body jolted the locker. A fin grazed Nancy's legs.

  Keep going! Nancy wanted to scream. Keep going!

  Her lungs began to burn. Her oxygen was running out fast. Heart beating madly, she watched as the shark's long length glided past.

  The shark disappeared into the corridor's gloom. Relief invigorated Nancy's weary limbs. Plunging out of the locker, she rocketed down the corridor, trying to ignore the fire in her lungs.

  Seconds slipped by. Nancy swam as fast as her limbs would carry her. Pierre's air tank was her only salvation now.

  Nancy was choking. Red mist encircled her field of vision. Her lungs throbbed agonizingly. Only a few seconds of air remained.

  The torpedo hole sent a shaft of turquoise light into the ship. Nancy swam straight for it. She popped out of the hull like a runaway cork, looking everywhere at once.

  Pierre floated several feet away, his back to Nancy, taking aim with his spear gun. Fifty yards away, Bree was soaring to the surface.

  Swimming up behind him, Nancy grabbed Pierre around the head. Bubbles exploded from where her knife severed his air hose. Nancy snatched the writhing hose and helped herself to a life-giving swallow.

  Dropping his spear gun, Pierre tried to push her away. Nancy ripped his face mask off. Pierre's outflung fist knocked Nancy's knife away. They wrestled ferociously, then Pierre brought his strength to bear. Thick-muscled arms hurled Nancy away.

  Nancy drifted backward, hitting the hull. She watched helplessly as Pierre stooped for his spear gun.

  All of a sudden a grayish white torpedo zoomed out of the jagged hole. Nancy blinked in alarm. The shark!

  The great fish struck Pierre heavily. Limp, he drifted to the seabed, unconscious.

  Nancy swam over and grabbed the spear gun. The threat of attack was still horrifyingly real. She tried not to think of the shark's razor-sharp teeth as she took aim, her forefinger tight on the trigger.

  Her shot grazed the great fish's side. For a terrifying moment, it continued to come toward her, its savage eyes unblinking. Then suddenly it veered away, speeding toward the open sea. The other sharks, scenting fresh blood, followed in a long string.

  Nancy had no time for celebration. Her lungs were throbbing again. Tossing aside the spear gun, she swam over to Pierre and took another breath from his bubbling air hose.

  Then, sipping air from his tank, Nancy hauled the unconscious man to the surface.

  The water shifted color, from turquoise to sapphire to pastel blue. With a gasp of thanksgiving, Nancy broke the surface. Fresh air had never tasted so sweet!

  The rumble of boat engines caught Nancy's

  ear. The Sous le Vent coasted to a stop nearby. Bree appeared at the gunwale. Relief lit up her face.

  "Nancy! You're all right!"

  "More or less!" Nancy spit out a mouthful of seawater. "Give me a hand with Pierre, huh?"

  Together they hauled him on deck. Nancy gave him artificial respiration. After several moments he coughed up seawater. Then, with a soft moan, he began to breathe normally.

  Nancy rolled him over and bound his wrists with a short length of nylon cord.

  "I swam to the boat as soon as I reached the surface," Bree said, covering Nancy's shoulders with a dry towel. "But when I got here, I saw shark fins. I thought—"

  "Please don't," Nancy interrupted. She drew a deep breath. "We'd better call the police."

  "There's a ship-to-shore radio up forward, just above the helm," Bree offered.

  "Thanks!" Dizzy with fatigue, her lungs still aching, Nancy pulled herself to her feet.

  Two days later Nancy stood in the lush garden of Faretaha. Guests crowded around the bonfire as the chef roasted a pig. Nearby a trio of Tahitian women performed t
he tamure, the island's famous hip-shaking folk dance.

  Then Nancy noticed one unsmiling face in the crowd. Bree Gordon stood alone on the terrace, looking sadly out to sea.

  Setting her glass of fruit punch aside, Nancy approached her. "Mind if I join you?"

  Bree gave her a small smile. "Go ahead. You're welcome anytime." She seated herself on the low lava-rock wall. "I hear you were at the gendarmerie today."

  Nancy nodded. "Captain Mutoi took my testimony. It's a busy courthouse. Rupert pleaded guilty to blackmail and extortion and got three years. Pierre goes to trial next month. The captain says he'll probably get life." She sat beside Bree. "I'm glad you and your father decided not to prosecute Manda."

  Taking a deep breath, Bree replied, "Well, Dad and I had a long talk about that—among other things."

  "And?"

  "Dad was a lot more understanding than I thought he'd be," Bree said quietly. "And he's not a bit upset with me at all."

  "Then why do you look so sad?"

  "It's Kristin." Misery filled Bree's brown eyes. "I finally had a chance to apologize to her. She listened to me politely, gave me this cold look, and then walked away. I blew it, Nancy. She's never going to forgive me."

  Nancy smiled in sympathy. "You know the old saying. Try, try again."

  "Come on!" Bree glanced at her sharply. "Do you really think Krissy and I can ever be friends after this?"

  "I don't know," Nancy replied. "Do you want to be friends with her?"

  "I think I do." Bree's voice was thick with emotion. "I've seen how much she means to Dad. And she's not nearly as bad as I thought she was." She smiled sourly. "Know something? I think maybe I wanted Krissy to be guilty, so I could have an excuse to hate her." Looking away, she murmured, "I guess I wasn't that reconciled to their marriage, was I?"

  "I guess not." Nancy put her arm over the girl's shoulders. "But you mustn't cut yourself off from them, Bree. That's the worst thing you could do. Kristin's going to be a part of your family. She needs your love and support just as much as your father does. You've got to be there to welcome her."

  Bree's uncertain gaze traveled from Nancy to Kristin.

  "I don't think she's going to be very pleased to see me."

  "Maybe not at first," Nancy replied. "But give her time." She looked into Bree's eyes. "You two may never be as close as you and your mother were. But I think you can be friends. You just have to work at it."

  "It's not possible."

  "There you go again, jumping to conclusions!" Nancy replied, showing a small smile. "Don't close the case before you've even tried to solve it. Give it your best shot!"

  The black-haired girl burst into laughter.

  "When the advice comes from a real detective, it would be dumb not to listen, right?" Bree squeezed Nancy's hand thankfully. "Excuse me. I've got to go talk to my future stepmother."

  Satisfied, Nancy looked away. Bree and Kristin could patch things up, she had no doubt.

  Soft breezes stirred her hair. Leaning against the wall, she watched the full moon paint a silvery sword on the placid surface of the sea.

  A masculine voice sounded behind her. "Mademoiselle Drew? You have a phone call."

  "Thank you." Nancy followed the servant through the open French windows into the spacious parlor.

  Picking up the receiver, she said, "This is Nancy Drew."

  "Hi, Nancy!" Bess Marvin's voice exclaimed joyously. "I just couldn't wait to hear all about Tahiti!"

  Grinning, Nancy began, "Well, there was this shark—"

  "Nancy!" Bess complained. "I don't want to hear fish stories. I want to hear about the guys!"