Denver's expression was one of abject bewilderment "I'don't understand."

"It's brilliant Positively brilliant," Hunter said excitedly. "Delphi would never think to monitor the frequency of a commercial broadcast station, especially a rock 'n roll program. n.o.body but a handful of kids would be tuned in at this time of the morning." He leaned over the radio operator. "Set your frequency to 1250."

At first the concrete walls were greeted by a loud blast of music which a.s.saulted the eardrums of everyone in the bunker. Then, before the confused staff crowded around the radio fully absorbed the shock, a high-pitched voice that spit words like a machine gun broke through the speaker.

"Hi-ho there, you early morning birdwatchers. This is Aloha Willie with the top forty tunes rockin* your way across the tropical airwaves with some really great sounds for you disc hounds. Time now, three-fifty. Okay, are you ready, group? Glue your ears to the transistors and listen now as we play the flip side of the latest comedy record by Big Daddy and His Gang. Take it away Big Daddy."

The radio operator in the bunker pushed the transmit b.u.t.ton and cut in on the program. "Big Daddy calling Our Gang. Come in please. Over."

"This is Our Gang, Big Daddy. Do you read? Over."

Denver leaped to his feet. "That's Crowhaven. He's done itl He's calling from inside the Starbuck"

"We read you, Our Gang. Over."

"Here is the final score. Visitors: one run, one hit, three errors. Home Team: no runs, three hits, four errors."

Hunter gazed emptily at the speaker. "The code for casualties. Crowhaven had taken control of the submarine but it cost him one dead and three wounded."

"We acknowledge the score, Our Gang," droned the radio man. "Our congratulations to the visiting team for their win. When can they leave the ballpark?"

The reply came back without hesitation. "The showers are steaming and the locker room should be emptied in another hour. Will load bus and leave stadium by 0400."

Denver rapped the table with his fist and a big smile widened across his cherubic face. "The reactors are generating steam to the turbines and they'll have the forward torpedo compartment pumped dry in an hour. Thank G.o.d, they're ahead of schedule."

Hunter reached over and took the microphone from the operator.

"Our Gang, this is Big Daddy. Where is the Kid?" "The Kid and his sidekick went over the hill in search of a lost gold mine. No word since then. a.s.sume they became lost in the desert and ran out of water."

Hunter silently set down the microphone. There was no need to translate. The message was all too clear.

"Well bring you up-to-date on the sports at 0500," Crowhaven's voice continued. "Our Gang, out."

Aloha Willie cut back in without missing a beat.

"There you have it, group. Now for number twelve on the charts: Avery Anson Pants singing The Great Bikini Ripoff..."

The radio operator switched off the speaker. "That's it, sir, until 0500."

Admiral Hunter moved slowly away and sank in a chair. He stared dully at the wall.

"A high price to pay," Hunter said softly.

"Pitt should have stayed with Crowhaven," Denver said bitterly. "He should have never gone off in search of your daughter..." Denver caught himself too late.

Hunter looked up. "I'did not give Pitt permission to look for Adrian."

"I know, sir," Denver shrugged helplessly. "I tried to discourage him., but he insisted on making the attempt. He does what he wants to do."

"Did what he wanted to do," Hunter said hopelessly, his voice trailing off softly.

"Welcome back to the land of the walking dead."

Pitt slowly focused his eyes and looked up into the ever-grinning face of Giordino.

"Who's walking?" Pitt muttered. He wished he were unconscious again, wished the burning ache in his gashed arm and the throb from his bruised head belonged to someone else. He didn't move; he just lay there and soaked up the sea of pain.

Tor a while there I thought you'd need a casket,** Giordino said casually.

He held out his hand and Giordino pulled him to a sitting position. Pitt blinked his eyes to remove the sand and salt.w.a.ter. "Where in h.e.l.l are we?"

"An underwater cave," Giordino answered. "I found it right after you blacked out and we escaped from that G.o.d-awful current."

Pitt looked around the small chamber, lit dimly by Giordino's dented dive light. It was about twenty feet wide and thirty feet long, and the ceiling was between five and ten feet high. Three quarters of the floor was water while the remainder consisted of the rocky shelf that he and Giordino rested on. The walls of the semi-flooded gallery were smooth and covered by a score of tiny crabs that scooted about the ledge like frightened ants.

"I wonder how deep we are," Pitt murmured.

"My depth gauge read eighty feet outside the entrance."

Pitt longed for a cigarette. He dragged his sore body across the shelf to one wall and leaned against it, staring in dumb fascination at the blood that splotched his black rubber wet suit

"A pity I'don't have a camera," said Giordino. "You'd make a great human interest story."

"Looks worse than it really is," Pitt lied. He nodded at Giordino's feet "I'm sorry I can't say the same about your bug-crushers."

"Yeah, I'don't think any of my piggies will be going to market for a while." Giordino coughed up mucus and spat it in the water. "Now what?"

"We can't go back outside," Pitt said thoughtfully. "With all this blood, we'd draw every shark within ten miles." He paused, glanced at his watch, and then stared at the water. "We've got nearly two hours before the Monitor cuts loose. What say we spend it looking around?"

Giordino's expression was devoid of enthusiasm. "We're hardly in prime condition to go exploring caves."

"You know how easily I get bored sitting around."

Giordino wearily shook his head. "The things I'do for a friend." He took careful aim at a crab, spat, and missed. "I guess anything beats an evening with these guys."

"What's the status of our equipment?" "Td hoped you wouldn't ask," Giordino said. "All in about the same shape I'm in. Except for our air tanks, which are, if you'll pardon the expression, on their last gasp, we have exactly one face mask, forty feet of nylon line, one flipper, and this light which has just about had it"

"Forget the air tanks. I'll try a free dive first" Pitt slipped the fin on a foot and took the nylon cord, wrapping one end around his waist "You rest easy and hold on to the other end of the line. When you feel three jerks, get out of there fast. Two jerks, pull like h.e.l.l. One jerk, follow me in."

"It'll be lonesome here," Giordino sighed. "Just me and the crabs."

Pitt grinned. "You won't be lonely long."

Pitt picked up the light and sat on the edge of the shelf. He inhaled and exhaled several times, hyperventilating to purge the carbon dioxide from his system. Finally, satisfied that his lungs could hold no more, he slid into the gloomy water and stroked toward the bottom of the cavern.

Pitt was an excellent diver. He could stay underwater, holding his breath, for nearly two minutes. His muscles ached and the b.l.o.o.d.y cuts in his skin smarted from the salt.w.a.ter, but he plunged downward with one hand touching the smooth surface of the wall, while the other gripped and aimed the light. The wall sloped on a broken angle for fifteen feet and then leveled out into a confining shaft Pitt came to a mound of fallen rock that nearly blocked his forward progress, but he managed to snake over the obstacle and found that the walls began expanding away from his line of vision. He pulled his body through into the new chamber and made a gliding ascent, slowly waving the one flipper.

In a matter of seconds, he popped into sweet air and a gallery that was flooded by a soft yellow glow. It was a golden world, a world of yellow where even the shadows were cast in matching hues. The roof was at least twenty feet high and glistened with a ma.s.s of tiny stalact.i.tes which trickled water in small splashing drops throughout the interior.