rays of the sun. The cold was beginning to seep into his blood and mist his mind. He could have sworn the skeletons had all turned and were staring at him through the empty sockets of their skulls.
He hurriedly backed out of the cockpit and turned around when space permitted in the cargo cabin. It was then he spied a skeletal foot behind one of the canisters. The body that belonged to the foot was secured by straps to several of the cargo tie-down rings. Unlike the remains of the crew forward, this one still had remnants of flesh adhering to its bones.
Pitt fought the bile rising in his throat and studied more closely what was once a living, breathing man. The uniform was not Air Force blue but rather a khaki similar to the old Army issue. He went through the pockets, but they were bare.
An alarm began to go off in his head. His arms and legs were losing all feeling and turning stiff from the relentless cold, and his movements came as though he were immersed in syrup. If he did not get some warmth to his body soon, the ancient aircraft would claim another victim. His mind was fogged and for a brief moment he felt the sharp knife of panic as he became confused and lost his sense of direction. Then he spotted his air bubbles, trailing from the cargo cabin and ascending toward the surface.
With great relief he turned from the skeleton and followed the bubbles into open water. Ten feet from the surface he could see the bottom of the boat as it wavered in the refracted light like an object in a surrealistic film. He could even make out Giordino’s seemingly disembodied head peering over one side.
He barely had the strength to reach out and grasp an oar. The combined muscles of Giordino and Steiger then hoisted him into the boat as effortlessly as if he were a small child.
“Help me get this wet suit off him,” Giordino ordered.
46 VIXEN 03p>
“My God, he’s turned blue.”
“Another five minutes down there and he would have entered hypothermia.”
“Hypothermia?” asked Steiger, stripping off Pitt’s jacket.
“Profound body-heat loss,” explained Giordino. “I’ve known divers who died from it.”
“I am not … repeat … am not ready for a coroner’s slab,” Pitt managed between shivers.
The wet suit was peeled off and they rubbed Pitt vigorously with towels and wrapped him in heavy wool blankets. The feeling slowly came back to his limbs and the warm sun added to his sensual comfort by penetrating his skin. He sipped hot coffee from a Thermos jug, knowing its rejuvenating benefits were more psychological than physiological.
“You were a fool,” Giordino said, more out of concern than anger. “You damned near killed yourself by staying down too long. The water must be near freezing at that depth.”
“What did you find down there?” Steiger asked anxiously.
Pitt sat up, pushing the last of the fog from his head. “A folder. I had a folder.”
Giordino held it up. “You still do. It was clutched in your left hand like a vise.”
“And a small metal plate?”
“I have it,” said Steiger. “It fell out of your sleeve.”
Pitt relaxed against the side of the boat and took another swallow of the steaming coffee. “The cargo cabin is filled with large canisters-stainless steel, judging by the negligible degree of corrosion. What they contain is anybody’s guess. There were no markings on them.”
“How are they shaped?” asked Giordino.
“Cylindrical.”
Steiger looked thoughtful. “I can’t imagine what kind of military cargo would call for the protection of stainless-steel canisters.” Then his mind shifted gear and he looked at Pitt piercingly. “What of the crew? Was there any sign of the crew?”
“What’s left of them is still strapped in their seats.”
Giordino gently pried open one end of the vinyl folder. “The papers may be readable. I think I can separate and dry them back at the cabin.”
“Probably the flight plan,” said Steiger. “A few of the old
He hurriedly backed out of the cockpit and turned around when space permitted in the cargo cabin. It was then he spied a skeletal foot behind one of the canisters. The body that belonged to the foot was secured by straps to several of the cargo tie-down rings. Unlike the remains of the crew forward, this one still had remnants of flesh adhering to its bones.
Pitt fought the bile rising in his throat and studied more closely what was once a living, breathing man. The uniform was not Air Force blue but rather a khaki similar to the old Army issue. He went through the pockets, but they were bare.
An alarm began to go off in his head. His arms and legs were losing all feeling and turning stiff from the relentless cold, and his movements came as though he were immersed in syrup. If he did not get some warmth to his body soon, the ancient aircraft would claim another victim. His mind was fogged and for a brief moment he felt the sharp knife of panic as he became confused and lost his sense of direction. Then he spotted his air bubbles, trailing from the cargo cabin and ascending toward the surface.
With great relief he turned from the skeleton and followed the bubbles into open water. Ten feet from the surface he could see the bottom of the boat as it wavered in the refracted light like an object in a surrealistic film. He could even make out Giordino’s seemingly disembodied head peering over one side.
He barely had the strength to reach out and grasp an oar. The combined muscles of Giordino and Steiger then hoisted him into the boat as effortlessly as if he were a small child.
“Help me get this wet suit off him,” Giordino ordered.
46 VIXEN 03p>
“My God, he’s turned blue.”
“Another five minutes down there and he would have entered hypothermia.”
“Hypothermia?” asked Steiger, stripping off Pitt’s jacket.
“Profound body-heat loss,” explained Giordino. “I’ve known divers who died from it.”
“I am not … repeat … am not ready for a coroner’s slab,” Pitt managed between shivers.
The wet suit was peeled off and they rubbed Pitt vigorously with towels and wrapped him in heavy wool blankets. The feeling slowly came back to his limbs and the warm sun added to his sensual comfort by penetrating his skin. He sipped hot coffee from a Thermos jug, knowing its rejuvenating benefits were more psychological than physiological.
“You were a fool,” Giordino said, more out of concern than anger. “You damned near killed yourself by staying down too long. The water must be near freezing at that depth.”
“What did you find down there?” Steiger asked anxiously.
Pitt sat up, pushing the last of the fog from his head. “A folder. I had a folder.”
Giordino held it up. “You still do. It was clutched in your left hand like a vise.”
“And a small metal plate?”
“I have it,” said Steiger. “It fell out of your sleeve.”
Pitt relaxed against the side of the boat and took another swallow of the steaming coffee. “The cargo cabin is filled with large canisters-stainless steel, judging by the negligible degree of corrosion. What they contain is anybody’s guess. There were no markings on them.”
“How are they shaped?” asked Giordino.
“Cylindrical.”
Steiger looked thoughtful. “I can’t imagine what kind of military cargo would call for the protection of stainless-steel canisters.” Then his mind shifted gear and he looked at Pitt piercingly. “What of the crew? Was there any sign of the crew?”
“What’s left of them is still strapped in their seats.”
Giordino gently pried open one end of the vinyl folder. “The papers may be readable. I think I can separate and dry them back at the cabin.”
“Probably the flight plan,” said Steiger. “A few of the old
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