Cradle

by Arthur C. Clarke

  The final frames of the transmission were a close-up of Troy’s head showing more than a hundred probes and inserts connected to his brain. Then the screen went back to snow and static. ‘Wowee,’ said Nick after a moment. ‘Can I have an instant replay?’ He stood up from the bed. ‘You were terrific,’ he remarked to Carol, ‘but I think your scenes will have to be edited if we want a PG rating.’

  Carol looked up at him and blushed slightly. ‘Sorry, Nick, but I don’t think you make a good comedian. We have one already,’ she nodded at Troy, ‘and I think that’s enough.’ She glanced at the clock beside her bed. ‘Now I figure we have fifteen minutes or so to make plans. No more. And I have to dress as well. Why don’t you tell Troy about your decision and what you have concluded about the Santa Rosa loot while I change my clothes.’ She grabbed a blouse and a pair of pants and headed for the bathroom.

  ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ Nick protested. ‘Aren’t we going to discuss who it was that broke into my apartment and your hotel room?’

  Carol stopped outside the bathroom door. ‘There are only two possibilities that make any sense,’ she said. ‘It’s either the Navy or our sicko friends from the Ambrosia. Either way we’ll find out soon enough.’ She stopped a moment and an elfin smile played across her lips. ‘I want you two to see if you can figure out a way to steal Homer’s gold. Tonight. Before we go back to meet with our extraterrestrials tomorrow morning.’

  9

  Carol and Troy went over the details one last time and she checked her watch. ‘It’s eight-thirty already,’ she said. ‘If I’m much later I know they’ll be suspicious.’ She was standing outside Nick’s Pontiac in the parking lot of the Pelican Resort, a restaurant about three-quarters of a mile from the Ashford mansion at Pelican Point. ‘Where is he?’ she fretted. ‘We should have finished with this fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘Just calm down, angel,’ Troy replied. ‘We have to test this new unit first. It could be very important in an emergency and I’ve never actually used it.’ He gave her a reassuring hug. ‘Your friends at MOI originally developed it.’

  ‘Why did I have to suggest such a wild-ass idea?’ Carol said out loud to herself. ‘Where’s your brain, Dawson? Did you leave it in the….’

  ‘Can you hear me?’ Nick’s garbled voice interrupted her. It sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a well.

  ‘Yes,’ Troy answered into a tiny walkie-talkie shaped like a thimble. ‘But not too clearly. How deep are you?’

  ‘Say again,’ said Nick. ‘I did not copy completely.’

  ‘Yes, we can hear you,’ Troy shouted. He carefully enunciated each word. ‘But not very clearly. You must speak slowly and distinctly. How deep are you?’

  ‘About eight feet,’ was the response.

  ‘Go down to sixteen and try it again,’ said Troy. ‘Let’s see if it will work from the deepest part of the cave.’

  ‘How’s he doing that?’ Carol asked, while they waited for Nick to descend.

  ‘It’s a brand-new system, built into the regulator,’ Troy answered. ‘You have to speak while you’re exhaling for it to work. There’s a small transmitter/receiver inside the mouthpiece and an earphone attachment. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work much below ten feet.’

  Almost a minute later Carol and Troy heard something, very faint, not even recognizable as Nick’s voice. Troy listened for a moment. ‘We cannot read you, Nick. There is too much attenuation. Come on back now. I’m going to send Carol on her way.’ Troy pressed a button on the walkie-talkie that would repeatedly transmit this last message.

  He handed the communications unit to Carol. ‘Okay, angel,’ he said, ‘you’re ready. We should be in the water around nine o’clock and out, if all goes well, by half an hour later. Keep them occupied with your questions. You should leave by ten-thirty at the latest and drive directly to Nick’s apartment. We will meet you there with your wagon.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And the gold, I hope.’

  Carol took a deep breath. She smiled at Troy. ‘I’m scared,’ she said. ‘I would rather face a carpet or even one of those warden things than this trio.’ She opened the car door. ‘Do you really think I should go in Nick’s car? Isn’t that certain to make them suspect something?’

  ‘We’ve been through all this twice before, angel,’ Troy laughingly replied. He gently nudged her into the car. ‘They already know we’re friends. Besides, we need your wagon for the diving gear, the backpacks, and the lead and gold.’ He closed the door and planted a light kiss on her cheek through the open window. ‘Be safe, angel,’ he said. ‘And don’t take any unnecessary chances.’

  Carol started the car and backed into the middle of the car park. She waved at Troy and pulled into the dark lane that led through the marsh to the end of the island. The only light was from the nearly full gibbous moon that was already above the trees. All right, Dawson, she thought to herself. Now you’re in the middle of it. Just stay calm and alert.

  She drove very slowly. She reviewed the plans for the evening several times in her mind. Then she started thinking about Nick. He holds on to things. Like I do. He still hates Homer and Greta for cheating him. He couldn’t wait to dive for the gold. She smiled as she turned into the circular drive in front of Homer Ashford’s house. I just hope there is some left over for him.

  A split second after Carol rang the doorbell, Homer opened the door and greeted her. ‘You’re late,’ he said in a pleasant monotone. ‘We thought maybe you were not coming. Greta is already in the pool. Do you want to change and join her?’

  ‘Thanks, Captain Homer, but I decided not to swim tonight,’ Carol answered politely. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m mostly here on business. I would prefer to start the interview as soon as possible. Even before dinner, if that would be all right with everyone else.’

  Homer led Carol into a gigantic family room and stopped by a large wet bar. A magnificent hand-carved wooden statue of a swimming Neptune, about four feet long altogether, was on the wall above the bar. Carol asked for some white wine. Homer tried without success to talk her into something stronger.

  The family room had a billiards table at one end. On the other side, a sliding glass door opened on to a covered patio that narrowed into a cement walkway. Carol followed Homer in silence, sipping from her white wine every twenty steps or so. The walkway wound past big trees and a lighted gazebo off to the left before it spread out around the huge swimming pool.

  Actually there were two pools. In front of Carol was a classic, rectangular, Olympic-sized pool under strong lights. At one end was a slide and waterfall that ran down an artificial mountain into the swimming area. At the other end, in the direction of the second pool and the ocean, there was a sunken Jacuzzi constructed out of the same decorated blue tiles that rimmed the top of the main pool. The entire complex was cleverly designed to create the impression of moving water. There seemed to be a steady flow from the waterfall, to the large pool, down into the Jacuzzi, and then into a stream that meandered off in the direction of the house.

  The second pool was circular and dark. It was off to Carol’s left at the edge of the property, near what looked like a small cottage for changing clothes. Greta was in the rectangular pool in front of Carol. She was swimming laps, her powerful body moving rhythmically through the water. Carol, who was an excellent swimmer herself, watched Greta for a few seconds.

  ‘Isn’t she something?’ Homer walked over next to Carol. His admiration was obvious. ‘She won’t let herself eat a big meal unless she works out beforehand. She can’t stand fat.’

  Homer was wearing a light brown Hawaiian shirt with a pair of tan slacks. Brown loafers were on his feet, and a big drink, crammed with ice cubes, was in his hand. He seemed relaxed, even affable. Carol thought he could have passed for a retired banker or corporate executive.

  Greta continued to swim relentlessly through the water. Homer was hovering over Carol and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable, as if her space were being invaded. ‘Where’s
Ellen?’ she asked, turning to the large man and moving just slightly farther away from him.

  ‘She’s in the kitchen,’ Homer replied. ‘She loves to cook, especially when we have guests. And tonight she’s making one of her favourite dishes.’ There was almost a twinkle in his eye. He leaned down to Carol. ‘She made me promise not to tell you what we’re having,’ he whispered confidentially, ‘but I will tell you that it’s a powerful aphrodisiac.’

  Ugh, said Carol to herself as she caught a whiff of Homer’s breath and listened to his leering chuckle. How could I have forgotten how repulsive this man is? Does he really think that… Carol stopped her thought. She reminded herself that people with excessive money very often lose touch with reality. Probably some of the women respond. For what he can give them. She almost gagged. The thought of having any kind of sexual liaison with Homer was totally repugnant.

  Greta had finished swimming laps. She climbed out of the pool and dried herself off. Her all-white racing uniform was like a transparent body stocking. Even from a distance, Carol could not avoid seeing the full detail of her nipples and breasts as well as her clump of pubic hair through the thin suit. She might as well have been naked. Homer stood beside Carol, unabashedly staring as Greta strode across the cement.

  ‘No suit?’ Greta said just before she reached them. Her eyes were trying to bore holes in Carol’s. Carol shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Greta. ‘Homer had hoped that we might have a race.’ She looked at the captain with an odd expression that Carol did not understand. ‘He loves to see women in competition.’

  ‘It would have been no contest,’ Carol answered. She thought she saw Greta tense. ‘You would have won easily,’ she added. ‘You swim beautifully.’

  Greta smiled, accepting the compliment. Her eyes roamed over Carol’s body. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was doing an appraisal. ‘You have a good body too for swimming,’ Greta said. ‘Maybe a little too fat on the ass and upper legs. I could suggest workout—’

  ‘Why don’t we show Miss Dawson the other pool?’ Homer interrupted. ‘Before you go inside and change clothes.’ He started walking toward the little cottage near the ocean. Without saying another word, Greta turned and followed him. Carol took a sip from her wine. Who knows what goes on here, she thought. Those three have not had to work for eight years. They take people out fishing and diving for amusement. A strange mixture of disgust and depression started to spread in her. So they manufacture entertainment to keep from being bored.

  Moments after Homer entered the cottage, a bank of floodlights down underneath the second pool was illuminated. Homer gestured for her to hurry and Carol skipped into the cottage. They led her down a flight of steps. Under the ground was a walkway that completely encircled the large glass aquarium that had looked, in the darkness, like a second swimming pool. ‘We have six sharks now,’ Homer said proudly, ‘as well as three red occi, a pair of cuttlefish, and of course hundreds of more standard species of fish and plants.’

  ‘Occi?’ inquired Carol.

  ‘That’s the slang plural of octopus,’ Homer responded with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Actually, the correct plural is octopodes.’

  Greta was standing with her face pressed against the glass. A couple of bat rays swam past. She was waiting for something. After twenty seconds or so a greyish shark appeared. The shark seemed to notice Greta and stopped, watching her, its face about five feet away from the glass. Carol could see the long sharp teeth and identified it as a mako, a fierce smaller cousin of the man-eating great white shark.

  ‘That’s Greta’s pet,’ said Homer. ‘His name is Timmy. Somehow she has trained him to recognize her face against the glass.’ Homer watched a few more seconds. ‘From time to time she goes in there to swim with him. When the sharks have finished eating, of course.’

  The shark remained in place, staring blankly in Greta’s direction. She began to drum her fingers against the glass in regular cadence. ‘Now this is exciting,’ Homer said, walking over next to Greta and the aquarium. ‘What you are going to see is what biologists call a typical Pavlovian response. I’ve never seen it quite this way before in a shark.’

  The mako began to be agitated. Greta started increasing the tempo, the shark responding by whipping the water back and forth with its tail. Suddenly Greta disappeared up the stairs. Carol thought she noticed a faraway look in her eyes when Greta zoomed by her. Carol looked at Homer for an explanation. ‘Come down here closer,’ he gestured to Carol. ‘You don’t want to miss this. Greta cares for the rabbits herself. And Timmy always puts on a grand show.’

  Carol wasn’t exactly sure what Homer was talking about. But she was enjoying the lovely aquarium. It contained crystal-clear sea water, obviously filtered and recycled regularly. Carol noticed several species of sponges and coral, as well as urchin and anemone. Someone had gone to great trouble and expense to re-create the conditions in the reefs just offshore from Key West.

  Suddenly a beheaded white rabbit impaled on a long vertical staff, the blood still spurting from its arteries, appeared in the aquarium just opposite where Carol and Homer were standing. It was over in an instant. Driven to immediate frenzy by the blood in the water, the mako attacked, its teeth ripping half the rabbit off the staff with the first bite. The second swoop captured the rest of the rabbit and snapped the rod as well. Carol barely had time to recoil and turn her head. When she jumped back, she spilled wine all over her blouse.

  Trying to appear calm, she reached in her purse for a tissue to wipe her blouse. She said nothing. She had had a perfect view of the shark’s attack and could still feel the adrenaline imbalance that the fright had produced. Great way to start a dinner party, she thought. Why haven’t I ever thought of it. Dawson, these people are weird.

  Homer was still excited. ‘Wasn’t that spectacular? Such raw, savage power in those jaws. Driven by pure instinct. I never get tired of it.’

  Carol followed him up the stairs. ‘Good show, Greta,’ she heard Homer say when they walked out of the cottage. ‘It was right in front of us. Two bites. Wham, wham, and the rabbit was gone.’

  ‘I know,’ said Greta. She was holding a diving mask. What was left of the staff was on the ground beside her. ‘I could see from up here.’ Greta was staring at Carol, obviously trying to discover her reaction. Carol averted her eyes. She was not going to give Greta the satisfaction of knowing she had found it repulsive.

  ‘Greta has the whole thing down to split-second timing,’ Homer continued as they walked back through the gardens to the house. ‘She prepares the live rabbit on the chopping block an hour early. Then, when Timmy is ready, she…’

  Carol tuned his gruesome story out of her mind. I don’t want to hear this, she thought. She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes after nine. Come on guys. Be swift. I’m not certain I can stand these people for another hour.

  Nick and Troy swam silently along the shoreline in the moonlight. They had carefully rehearsed the plan. No additional light until they were in the cove beside Homer’s property and at least ten feet under water. Troy would lead, searching for alarm systems he could disable with the tools stuffed in the pockets of his wet suit. He would also keep a lookout for the infamous robot sentries. Nick would follow with the buoyancy bags they would use to carry the gold.

  They had walked along the beach from the Pelican Resort car park, wearing their heavy diving suits as well as the backpacks, until they were only about a hundred yards from the thick fence that marked Homer’s property. Then they had set down the packs containing their clothes and eased into the water. During the walk Troy had had several problems with his tools, and a decision to reduce his arsenal of gadgets had delayed their arrival at the embarkation point by five minutes. Just before they went into the water, Nick had given an uncharacteristic squeal of excitement and grabbed Troy by the shoulders. ‘I hope that fucking gold is there,’ he had said. ‘I cannot wait to see their faces after we steal it.’

  It was time to submerge. H
olding hands in the darkness, Nick and Troy dropped about five feet under the water. They stopped, equalized the pressure in their heads, and repeated the procedure. When they were down about ten feet, Troy turned on the searchlight. They quickly worked out their directions and headed around the corner, deeper into the cove adjoining Homer’s estate.

  Troy was in the lead. He had no trouble finding the entrance to the natural tunnel that led to the subterranean cave. As they had planned, Nick waited outside the tunnel while Troy went inside to look for alarms. The rock cliffs closed over his head. The watery entryway was about five feet across and four feet high. Troy immediately found a metal box affixed to the left wall, where it was partially hidden from view. When he examined the box, he discovered that it was emitting two laser beams separated by about three feet.

  On the other side of the natural tunnel were the receiving plates for the beams as well as the alarm electronics. Troy swam over carefully, pulled out his screwdriver, and dismantled the housing. The system was very simple. Failure of either plate to receive a beam would trigger the opening of a relay. When both relays were open, current could flow to the alarm. Thus an object had to be large enough to break both beams simultaneously to set off an alarm. Troy smiled to himself as he validated the operating principle by passing his hand in front of one of the beams. Then he jerryrigged one of the relays permanently closed. Satisfied with his work, he swam back and forth in the tunnel, breaking both beams at the same time, reassuring himself that he had rendered the alarm system ineffective.

  He swam back out to meet Nick and gave him the thumbs-up sign. The two men passed through the fifty yards of natural tunnel into the subterranean cave. Where the narrow passageway widened, Troy again gestured to Nick to remain behind while he, Troy, went into the cave to check for boobytraps. Nick let his feet fall to the bottom of the tunnel and switched on his own small flashlight. He was in a perfect place for an ambush. The tunnel was so small here that there was virtually no manoeuvring room. He wondered what an underwater sentry would look like. What a place to die, he thought suddenly. Fear swept over him as he turned off his flashlight and looked down at his illuminated diver’s watch. He watched the glowing second hand sweeping around the face. He tried to calm himself. It had been three minutes since Troy had left. Why is he taking so long? he asked himself. He must have found something. Another minute passed. Then another. Nick was having a hard time quelling the onset of panic. What do I do if he doesn’t return?