Then the light went on. It was right there in front of him. Or maybe Summer had willed him the answer.

A knowing beam crossed his face as he turned to Dahlgren.

"Not a raft, Jack," he said with a confident smile. "A catamaran."

The gray-and-white herring gull flapped off the water with a loud squawk, angry at nearly being run over. Circling overhead, the bird warily eyed the offending watercraft skimming along the surface, then flew down and settled in its wake. The bird had never seen a sailing craft quite like it before. Nor had many people, for that matter.

Dirk's brainchild had been to construct a catamaran from his and Summer's surfboards, and the two men turned the crackpot idea into a workable design. The buoyant fibergla.s.s boards made for a perfect pair of pontoons. Dahlgren came up with the idea of using their sleeping cots to attach as cross-members. Stripped of their fabric covering, two of the aluminum frames were laid crossways and secured to the boards with looped ropes, then sealed in duct tape for good measure.

"If we could drill or knock a small hole in the center of the boards, we could run a safety line through to ensure that the cross-members don't go dancing off in the first head wave," Dahlgren suggested.

"Are you crazy? These are vintage Greg Noll boards. Summer would kill us both if we damaged her board."

They took the third cot frame and rigged it into a mast supported by several guylines. Along with the fabric from the first two cots, they fashioned a sail from the bright blue material. In less than two hours, they had completed a miniaturized, b.a.s.t.a.r.dized version of a sailing cat.

"I wouldn't take her on the Sydney-to-Hobart yacht race, but I do believe she'll get us back to the Big Island," Dirk said, admiring the finished product.

"Yep," Dahlgren drawled. "Ugly as sin, yet perfectly functional. You have to love it."

The two men slipped back into their wet suits and attached a satchel of food and water to the mast, then launched the craft over the side. Cautiously climbing aboard, they checked its stability, then Dahlgren let loose a towline to the barge. The barge quickly floated away as the two men kicked their feet to angle the cat's sail against the wind. Dirk pulled the makeshift sail taut and tied it down to the rear cross-member. To his surprise, the tiny little craft nearly jumped ahead through the waves under the force of its rectangular blue sail.

The men each lay on one of the surfboards until they were satisfied that the cot frames would hold fast. Their rope work had been effective and the two boards attacked the waves as one, while the cross-members showed very little movement. Rising to a sitting position on each board, the men still got doused by the head waves.

"Feels like I'm water-skiing in a lawn chair," Dahlgren grinned as a large wave rolled over them.

The little cat held steady and skimmed quickly along, held true in part with the aid of a paddle that Dirk had rigged to the stern member as a rudder. Steering was limited, however, so they held a steady line for an hour or two before tacking. Dirk would drop the sail and then the two men would kick the nose of the craft around ninety degrees, then pick up the breeze on the opposite side of the sail.

"You might want to rethink that Sydney-to-Hobart race, ol' buddy. She sails like a dream," Dahlgren chided.

"True enough. Though I think I might want to pack a dry suit for that run."

They were both amazed at the crude efficiency of the craft. It wasn't long before the barge had completely disappeared from sight, while the Big Island appeared to grow larger on the horizon. As they settled in for the ride, Dirk's thoughts returned to Summer. As fraternal twins, they shared a close-knit bond that most siblings couldn't grasp. He could almost feel her presence, and he knew with certainty that she was alive. Just hang on, he silently willed her. Help will soon be on the way.

The dark lava slopes of Mauna Loa shimmered purple in the setting sun as they drew near the southwest sh.o.r.eline of Hawaii. The jagged section of coast was largely uninhabited, the lava cliffs too foreboding for sea access but for the occasional black sand beach. Dahlgren pointed to a rocky point a mile or two to their south that protruded into the Pacific like a balled fist.

"Isn't that Humuhumu Point?"

"It sure looks like it," Dirk agreed, trying to identify the landmark in the fading light. "Which means Keliuli Bay is not far around the other side. We nearly hit the coast at the point we departed."

"A fine bit of surfboard navigation," Dahlgren said. He then peered up the coastline in the other direction. "That means that the nearest spot to pull in and contact the authorities would be Milolii."

"Which is roughly six miles away."

"A healthy ride. Unless one is of the mind to go the other direction and visit the boys that sent us on our merry ride."

Dahlgren knew the answer from the gleaming look in Dirk's eyes. Without saying a word, they tacked the catamaran to the southeast and headed down the coast toward Keliuli Bay.

-47-

TRAPPED INSIDE THE tiny storeroom, Summer languished as the afternoon crept by at a snail's pace. After scouring the room unsuccessfully for any tools or objects that might aid an escape, there was little to do but sit and wonder about the fate of Dirk and Jack. She finally pushed an empty crate beneath the porthole and fashioned a crude chair out of the rope coil, which allowed her to gaze out to sea in some comfort while capturing the ocean breeze on her face.

From her nook, she could detect a flurry of activity on the ship's stern deck. A rubber boat was lowered over the side, and she watched as several divers investigated the wreck site. Summer took small satisfaction in knowing they wouldn't procure any artifacts from the exposed portion of the wreck, which had already been picked clean during the survey and excavation.

After the divers returned to the ship, she saw and felt the drill ship be repositioned. Then around sundown the activity picked up again, as shouting voices and the whir of a crane drifted up from the deck below. She was startled when the door to the storeroom suddenly burst open and she was greeted by a bullnecked thug with crooked teeth. At his prodding, Summer followed him onto the bridge and over to a chart table, where Tong was examining a diagram under a bright swivel light. He looked up and gave her a condescending sneer as she approached.

"Miss Pitt. My divers have confirmed that your excavation was most thorough. And you did not lie. Most of the ship lies under the lava. There is work ahead to confirm her true designs."

He waited for a response, but Summer just gave him a cold stare, then raised her hands, still tied together at the wrist.

"Ah, yes. Very well, I suppose there is no place for you to run now," he said, nodding at Bull Neck. The underling pulled out a knife and quickly sliced through the ropes. Rubbing her wrists, Summer casually looked around the bridge. A lone helmsman stood by the forward window, gazing at a radarscope. The rest of the bridge was empty, save for her two immediate companions. Tong motioned for her to take a seat next to him, which she did hesitantly.

"Yes," Summer spoke quietly. "As we told you aboard the Mariana Explorer, which is due back any minute now, we have removed all of the artifacts from the lava-free sections of the wreck, which were in fact a fairly small quant.i.ty."

Tong smiled at Summer, then leaned over and put his hand on her knee. She wanted to slap him and run from the table, but she did neither. Instead, she just gave him an icy glare, fighting her hardest to hide her fear and revulsion.

"My dear, we pa.s.sed the Mariana Explorer outside of Hilo," he leered. "She should be near her destination of Leleiwi Point by now, on the opposite side of the island," he added, laughing with a wicked grin.

"Why is this wreck so important to you?" she asked, hoping to steer his attention away from her.

"You really have no idea, do you?" he replied incredulously. Then he removed his hand from her knee and turned back to the chart of the table. It was a sonar image of the seabed, showing the site of the wreck excavation and the adjacent lava field. An X was marked on the chart near the center of the lava flow.

"Have you penetrated the lava field in your excavations?" he asked.

"No, of course not. I don't know what you are after, Dr. Tong. The artifacts have been removed and the rest of the wreck is sealed under lava. There is nothing you or anyone else can do about that."

"Oh but you see there is, my dear, there is."

Summer stared at Tong with fear and curiosity, wondering what these mercenary looters had up their sleeve.

Tong left Summer under the guard's eye and marched onto the bridge wing and down a flight of stairs. Moving aft, he opened a side hatch and entered a large open bay. Racks of computers and electronic panels lined the walls, in a quant.i.ty that duplicated the test chamber at the family compound in Mongolia. A short man with steely eyes stood next to a large desk lined with color monitors, gazing over the shoulder at the chief operator's display. He was the same man who had headed up the aborted search efforts in the Khentii Mountains after killing the Russian seismic survey team. He nodded as Tong approached.

"We have identified a minor fault and have the coordinates targeted," he said in a husky voice. "It is in close proximity, but may not be sufficient to create the desired fissure in the lava field. What you ask for is an impossible request, I'm afraid. We should not waste time here but proceed to Alaska as your brother requested."

Tong did not let the affront bother him. "A day or two's delay is worth the gamble. If we are successful and it is in fact the royal Yuan vessel, then the mission to Alaska will appear a mere trifle in comparison."

The short man nodded in deferral. "I recommend four or five incremental detonations, then send the dive team down to check the results. That should tell us if there is any hope of rupturing the lava."

"Very well, proceed with the acoustic bursts. We will work through the night. If there is no success, then we will abandon the site in the morning and proceed to Alaska."

Tong stood back and let the technicians take over. As in the Persian Gulf, a seismic acoustic array was lowered through the ship's moon pool to the lava field below, where the framed and weighted device stood upright on the seafloor. A nearby subterranean fault was pinpointed and targeted, then the computer processors and signal amplifiers activated. With a click of the computer, the first ma.s.sive electrical pulse went shooting through the three transducer arrays five fathoms below. A second later, the m.u.f.fled blast of the acoustic shock wave resonated up to the ship with a subtle vibration.

Tong stood watching the blast with an expectant grin, hoping the voyage would bring two successes.