Death Island

by Nick Carter

  There was a narrow stretch of beach farther west, and he waited, expecting to see her appear down there. But she did not. After a while he understood that she was either waiting down there somewhere beneath the overhang, or there was a passage within the cliff. He had a fair idea which it was.

  He took out his Luger and worked his way along the cliff until he found the partly natural and partly man-made path, and he started down.

  A hundred feet below, the sea moved in huge swells into what appeared to be one of the larger natural caves cut into the face of the cliff. The path he was on crossed over the top of the cave, then came down on the western edge where it twisted around beneath the overhang.

  Just before he eased around the corner, which would put him in full view of the cave, Carter hesitated and listened.

  At first he heard nothing, but then he thought he heard a snatch of conversation over the roar of the surf.

  He moved a little closer, crouched down, and listened again. He heard a voice. There was definitely someone around the edge. Talking. In Chinese.

  This was evidently the entrance to the Chinese base. It explained to Carter why the previous naval shore parties here had failed to turn up anything other than natives and native villages. Before they arrived, the dish antennae had been taken down, and there would be nothing topside to indicate that a base was located here.

  Carter turned and started back up the path, holstering his Luger. He would hike farther west now, down into the valley and around the island on the beaches if need be, until he found an outrigger. When the storm abated in the morning, he would take off for Hiva Faui. The Starfish would be there by then, and they could come back here and close this place down. Afterward the governor and his wife would be arrested and shipped back to Paris for trial.

  Halfway up the path someone above shouted something in Chinese, and several other men laughed.

  Carter froze where he was. Below, around the twist that led beneath the overhang, were a couple of guards. Above, boxing him in, were are least three or four men.

  He figured he could probably take them out, but then whatever element of surprise he would have tomorrow would be gone. They would know he had been here. They would know he had discovered the entrance to their installation.

  The patrol above was nearly to the path when Carter finally accepted his only alternative. He looked over the edge, down fifty or sixty feet to the big swells roaring like freight trains into the cave. It would be hell swimming back out of there, if swimming were possible. But it would be better than remaining where he was.

  Someone above shouted something else — it sounded like a joke — and the others laughed uproariously as Carter shook his head, then stepped cleanly away from the path, his body plummeting toward the dark water below.

  As he fell he tried to listen for any sounds of an alarm from above, but then he hit the water cleanly at the trough of a swell, plunging deeply, the sea surprisingly warm. He could feel the powerful current pushing his body into the cave as he fought his way back to the surface.

  Then he was clear, and he took deep breaths of the warm, moist air, the incoming swell shoving him up and farther inside the wide cavern.

  Twenty yards away and less than ten feet above the surface of the water within the cavern was a catwalk. Carter was being shoved past two guards leaning over the rail and smoking cigarettes as they stared at the water. They would see him!

  He sank beneath the surface of the water and struggled out of his boots, then swam with the current, his strokes powerful.

  When he came to the surface, he was well past the guards and even the catwalk. Here the ceiling of the cave sloped abruptly down to the water, so that each swell that crashed in from the open sea threatened to smash Carter against the rocks. He could feel the current tugging against his body, pulling him down and toward the inner wall when it should have been rebounding and shoving him back out toward the opening.

  He managed to swim to one side of the cave and clung to the rocks.

  Several yards from the front of the cave the catwalk ended. There was a doorway, and Carter supposed it led back into the hillside.

  He stopped and held his breath, suddenly conscious of a low-pitched hum, more like a deep-throated vibration, through the rocks and the water. Was that what Gabrielle had been listening for? Even from miles away? Then he remembered the rhythmic rumblings he had heard with Tieggs from the helicopter.

  There was something… some machinery just on the other side of the wall forming the back of the cave. That was why the current was acting the way it was. There was another way inside, Carter realized. By water.

  As soon as he felt he was rested enough, he swam back out to the middle of the cave, the current very strong there.

  If the underwater passage was too long, or if it branched off, he would be dead, he realized. There would be no swimming against this current until the tide changed. From what he was able to see from where he swam, the tide was still coming up. He could see shells, algae, and other growth another foot or so up the cave walls.

  But there had been a lot of good people killed on these islands over the past couple of years. And this was his job.

  He took several deep breaths, held one, and dived deep, swimming as strongly as he could with the current toward the back of the cave.

  The current became much stronger at one point, propelling him very fast beneath an opening in the back wall of the cave. There definitely would be no turning back now, he thought.

  He had the impression that the water was very deep beneath him and that the opening was very wide.

  His heart was pounding in his ears and his lungs were beginning to ache when he saw a glow through the water ahead and above him.

  He angled upward toward it, forcing himself to slow down so that when he broke the surface of the water it would not be with a splash.

  His head broke the surface, and he took in great lungsful of air, his mouth wide so that he would make as little noise as possible.

  He had started to sink back into the water when he suddenly focused on two huge shapes floating at the far end of the cave, both of them bathed in lights and swarming with uniformed men.

  Two nuclear submarines were tied to a long cement dock, the big gold star faced by the four smaller gold stars of Communist China painted on the sides.

  One of the submarines was being unloaded. A growing stack of crates was piling up on the dock as two cranes pulled what probably were supplies for this base from the hold of the sub.

  It explained the secrecy. Somehow the Chinese had discovered a natural cavern here in the rocks. Coming in with their construction equipment and supplies, they had built this place.

  Either that, Carter thought, carefully treading water as he caught his breath, or it had been a Japanese installation during World War II. Possibly a sub pen.

  The gallery he was in was very long in comparison to its width. He was facing the subs bow on. They had evidently come in here bow first and then had been warped around so that they faced out again.

  There was nothing to the left. To the right there was only a single narrow catwalk that led, presumably through some passage through the rocks, to the outer cave. Somehow the catwalk in the outer cave would have to be concealed, Carter reasoned, so that the natives did not stumble on it.

  At the far end of the gallery, beyond where the subs were being unloaded, was a large glassed-in area above the level of the docks. It looked like some sort of a control booth. Evidently the subs' operations were directed from there. Directly in front of the glassed-in area was a long balcony upon which several uniformed men were lounging.

  Even at this distance something seemed odd about their dress.

  This base was evidently much more than a simple Communist Chinese installation to harass a U.S. spy satellite receiving station. It was a nuclear submarine hideout.

  The Soviets had them, as did the U.S. Navy. There were spots all around the globe where nuclear submarines could
hide from the increasingly sophisticated detection systems that each government maintained.

  Had the location of this Chinese sub base been known, the problem of the harassment of U. S. personnel on Hiva Faui would have been stopped by a simple diplomatic message.

  It was likely, Carter figured, that the Chinese had had this as a secret base of operations long before the satellite tracking and receiving station was put up.

  And yet he had to wonder why they would risk discovery of this place just to force the closure of a receiving station. The information the Hiva Faui station was gathering from the spy satellite must have been devastating to the Chinese for them to risk so much.

  Very slowly, very carefully, using a gentle breaststroke, Carter swam toward the submarines. There were so many lights on the boats and illuminating the dock area that unless he came too close, no one topside would be able to see him. The entire area of the water was in relative darkness.

  The soldiers on the balcony were dressed, Carter could see now, in some sort of khaki uniforms with sloping caps from which neck cloths were attached. Rifles leaned up against the railing.

  A little closer and it suddenly came to him. They were dressed as World War II Japanese soldiers!

  They were probably the troops who patrolled the islands. If the natives encountered them, after all that had happened here on this island, they would believe they had another religious experience. They would believe they had seen men from forty years ago!

  The light show that the natives were fed, apparently on a regular basis, probably supported this belief as well.

  It was a very sophisticated setup, Carter decided. This base was probably Communist China's major refueling and resupply point for her Pacific nuclear submarine pack.

  He slowly worked his way around the outer submarine, keeping the bulbous hull of the huge boat between himself and the dock. The only way anyone would spot him there would be if a crewman decided to take a stroll on the deck and look down. Not likely, he figured.

  When he came close enough, he reached out and touched the side of the boat. He could feel the hum of machinery through the hull. The boat was alive. He put his ear to the outer hull and could hear an amalgam of sounds, at one point even the sound of someone shouting something.

  The tide was still coming in; its current had driven him inside. Carter figured it would be at least another half hour or forty-five minutes before it was slack tide and he would have any chance of swimming out of there. Meanwhile, he was going to have to make sure he was not detected. And he was going to have to be out of the way in case one or both of the subs had orders to sail. If he was caught swimming this close, he would be sucked down with the boat.

  Quietly he worked his way along the length of the sub, coming to the stern, beyond which the dock extended farther back into the darkness.

  He swam the rest of the way to the back of the cavern, angling toward the dock, and the water on the floor of the cavern suddenly got so shallow he could stand. Rocks were piled up against the cavern walls, and at one spot the rocks met the end of the concrete dock area.

  Carefully Carter scrambled up to the dock and crouched in the darkness as he watched the activity around the submarines at least fifty yards away.

  The unloading activity around the aft submarine continued, but as Carter watched, a dozen men came out onto the balcony above, said something to the soldiers, then tromped down the stairs and across the dock to the forward submarine.

  Several of the men appeared to be officers, and as other crewmen emerged from the sub, the officers issued a string of orders.

  Hatches were closed, and electrical and water lines connecting the boat to the dock were removed and coiled. The submarine was being made ready to depart.

  All hell would break loose, Carter realized, if the presence of the Starfish in these waters was detected. He did not think there would be a fight. But the Chinese would definitely be pressed to do everything within their power to divert the American sub from discovering this place.

  Several other people from inside the base came out onto the balcony and started down the stairs. One of them was Gabrielle. Carter recognized her slight form from where he crouched, and he stiffened.

  Any lingering doubts he had that she had stumbled accidentally on this place, or that she was a captive, dissipated as he watched her come across the dock and shake the hands of the officers by the sub.

  She was shown aboard and helped down one of the hatches. Within the next few minutes the final preparations for departure were finished, and the crew and officers clambered aboard, the hatches were closed, and a siren sounded a brief warning.

  The sub. no longer attached to the dock, had begun to drift toward the back of the cavern, but suddenly it eased away from the dock toward the center of the cavern and slowly sank out of sight as it moved forward toward the front wall. Then it was gone, leaving behind only a few ripples in its wake.

  Gabrielle was aboard. If the sub was on a war mission, or if it was heading out to divert the Starfish, they would never allow a civilian aboard. They were taking her somewhere. Possibly to a rendezvous with a boat from Hiva Faui.

  Several other soldiers came from the glassed-in control area, and they also walked down the stairs to the dock. They slung their rifles over their shoulders and quick-stepped along the dock to the door that led to the catwalk in the outer cavern.

  Carter figured they would be going out to look for the American who had come with Gabrielle and who had upset the natives. He didn't think Gabrielle knew that he had gotten to the cliffs. She had probably told them to begin their search well inland.

  * * *

  The unloading of the other submarine was still going on an hour later when Carter, who had remained hidden in the darkness at the end of the dock, slipped back into the warm tropical water and swam toward the underground passage to the open sea.

  The tide was at slack; there was no longer any current to move the water. He would not have to fight against it on the way out, but there would be no ebbing flow to help him either.

  At the end of the cavern, Carter treaded water for a few minutes to catch his breath. He watched the Chinese soldiers unloading the sub. There were a lot of supplies piled up on the dock already. A huge pile, in fact. Enough to supply a large contingent of men. He suddenly got the uncomfortable feeling that this installation was a hell of a lot bigger than he first suspected it was.

  He took several deep breaths in quick succession, hyperventilating slightly, then plunged powerfully down through the pitch-black water. This time there were no lights at the other side to guide him upward. He swam as rapidly as he could, his heart exploding in his chest, his lungs screaming for oxygen, until finally he started upward in a long curve.

  He broke the surface of the water about five yards beyond the rock wall. There were no soldiers on the catwalk above, but even if there had been, they would not have been able to hear Carter's gasps for air over the noise of the wind and crashing waves.

  Cautiously he swam toward the entrance of the cavern. The wind had shifted in the hour or so he had been inside, and now the waves did not roar directly into the cavern. But just outside he could hear the surf crashing angrily against the rocks.

  There would be absolutely no way for him to survive swimming out there. He would be instantly dashed against the rocks and killed.

  He quickly swam to the side of the cavern, then scrambled up on the rocks, over the rail, and onto the catwalk. The walkway was damp with moisture, so he would leave no wet footprints for someone to discover.

  He took out his stiletto and hurried along the catwalk to where it ended fifty or sixty feet from the mouth of the cavern. From there he picked his way along a well-concealed path to the outside, where he crouched down and looked around.

  The sea was wild. There was no rain yet, but in the distance there was thunder and lightning as the storm developed toward Hiva Faui. It could be hours before it developed its full strength. He was going to h
ave to beat that storm to Hiva Faui.

  Outside, there were no guards at the overhang nor did he see any on the path above. They had apparently joined the patrol that had been sent out to look for him.

  He quickly made his way up the path to the top of the cliffs. The wind was becoming quite strong now out of the west. It was not going to be easy to get back to the other island. If he could make it at all.

  He picked his way down the steep incline to the west, then headed up the island parallel to the rocks along the shoreline.

  Within an hour Carter had reached the end of the cliff area, and the rocks gave way to the wide sand beach. After a half hour's walk, he came upon the outriggers pulled well above the beach and tied to palm trees.

  He ducked back into the protection of the jungle as he watched for any sign that the natives had posted guards. There were none. Somewhere inland, probably not too far, was one of the native villages.

  The waves marched onto the beach at an angle from the west. If he could get the outrigger past the breakers, Carter figured he would have at least a chance to make it over to Hiva Faui.

  Carter picked out one of the smaller outriggers, designed for only four or five men, cut it loose from the trees, found a couple of paddles, and dragged the boat down to the crashing waves.

  The canoe was surprisingly light and flimsy, but it seemed to handle the water very well as he waded into the first breaker.

  He was shoved off his feet and almost lost his grip on the canoe, but then he scrambled back up, pushing the boat ahead of him before the next wave hit, knocking him over.

  By degrees he finally managed to get the canoe into chest-deep water. After the next wave he flopped into the boat, and despite his exhaustion, he paddled as fast as he possibly could.

  The next gigantic wave nearly flipped him up and over, but then he was roaring down the back of the wave as the next breaker began looming above him.