The Sting of the Silver Manticore by P.J. Lozito

Author:P.J. Lozito [Lozito, P.J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Publisher: Pro Se Press
Published: 2014-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

***

On board the Neptune, Hanoi Tsin addressed Siam Khan, “You foolishly led them to us. That is forgotten now. Your attempt to save me has redeemed you in my eyes.” The devil doctor was wrapped in a blanket, stooped over. “However, in your veins flows a radioactive substance our opponents tracked you with,” claw-like hands grasped Siam Khan’s wrist and turned it, presenting a minute needle mark.

“Soon it will leave your bloodstream. You must take yourself to the lead-lined decompression chamber and wait there,” Hanoi Tsin continued.

“Radioactive substance? Am I to die?”

“Quite the contrary, Dr. Lauriston Taylor survived a large dose of radiation some dozen years ago. He is well to this day,” Hanoi Tsin reached for the radio handset. “Dismantle my device before all else. Throw the parts overboard. We shall rendezvous for pickup.”

“Marqui, the Coast Guard approaches,” blurted out the submarine captain, a turbaned, bearded Indian.

“So they do. Thank you, Dakkar, you earn your wage.”

Hanoi Tsin considered the new information and then pointed to the Sally Bell. Seconds later, the parting of waves indicated another invisible energy beam was shooting out from the super sub. In an ear-splitting crash, the ship was rent apart. The Neptune, no longer interested in any rendezvous, turned away.

Trixie Wylie, too high up in the slowly circling autogiro muttered, “That’s it!”

She did not know the sound weapon had just swung up towards her. The girl began dropping depth charges on the Neptune. The boat submerged. Coast Guard, Trixie and all the witnesses on Pier 88 could see the coning tower of the sub speed away in a southerly direction, descending deeper as she went.

Doc Wylie treaded water, and placed an unmoving Longjohns on to a floating piece of Albatross wreckage. Chuck was swimming beside them, for once without his ever-present cane, still in his fancy duds. He had taken over piloting the sub when Doc, Levvy and Longjohns got into their underwater suits and never got to one of his own.

“Doc, we thought you was done for sure,” exclaimed Levvy, relieved to see his friend Chuck unharmed. He just wouldn’t give the lawyer the satisfaction of seeing it. Rather, Levvy pretended to be concerned only with the health of Doc and Longjohns. Allred had shucked off the white jacket and silver mask. “Longjohns,” he began. “Is he…?”

“This would have been wholesale slaughter if there had been a full crew,” Wylie responded grimly. “Longjohns is seriously hurt as it is.”

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