Trojan Odyssey by Clive Cussler Page A

message typed out by the operator’s voice printer and reread it thoughtfully before handing it to Specter. “A weather warning from Key West. They report that a hurricane is heading in our direction and suggest we evacuate everyone in the hotel.”
    Specter scanned the warning message and lumbered to a large view window and gazed toward the east across the sea. The sky was free of clouds and the water surface looked quite calm, the wave crests reaching no more than a foot or two in height. “We’ll make no hasty decisions. If the storm follows the usual hurricane track, it should veer north and miss us by hundreds of miles.”
    Morton was not so sure. A cautious and conscientious man, he preferred to be safe rather than sorry. “I do not believe, sir, it would be in our best interest to risk the lives of our guests or employees. I respectfully suggest that we instruct everyone to begin evacuation procedures and arrange transportation to a safe haven in the Dominican Republic as soon as possible. We should also alert the tugboats to launch an operation to tow us from the worst of the storm.”
    Specter stared out the window again at the serene weather as if reassuring himself. “We’ll wait another three hours. I do not wish to harm the image of Ocean Wanderer with stories of a mass flight the news media will blow out of proportion and compare to the abandonment of a sinking ship. Besides,” he said, throwing up his arms as if embracing the magnificent floating edifice like a balloon with long thin ears, “my hotel was built to resist any violence the sea can throw at her.”
    Morton briefly considered mentioning the Titanic, but thought better of it. He left Specter in the penthouse suite and returned to his office to begin preparations for the evacuation he was sure would come.
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    F IFTY MILES NORTH of Ocean Wanderer, Captain Barnum studied the meteorological reports coming in from Heidi Lisherness and unconsciously stared toward the east the way Specter had. Unlike landsmen, Barnum was wily to the ways of the sea. He was aware of the slowly increasing breeze and the rising waves. He had weathered many storms during his long career at sea and knew how they could creep up on an unsuspecting ship and crew and engulf them in less than an hour.
    He picked up the phone and hailed Pisces. An indistinct, garbled voice answered from under the water. “Summer?”
    â€œNo, this is the brother,” Dirk replied humorously as he adjusted the frequency. “What can I do for you, Captain?”
    â€œIs Summer inside Pisces with you?”
    â€œNo, she’s outside, checking the hydrolab oxygen tanks.”
    â€œWe have a storm warning from Key West. A Category Five hurricane is coming down our throats.”
    â€œCategory Five? That’s a brutal one.”
    â€œAs ferocious as they come. I saw a Category Four in the Pacific twenty years ago. I can’t imagine anything worse.”
    â€œHow much time do we have before it’s on us?” asked Dirk.
    â€œThe center predicted six in the morning. But updates show it’s coming on much faster. We have to get you and Summer out of Pisces and onto Sea Sprite as soon as possible.”
    â€œI don’t have to tell you about saturation dives, Captain. My sister and I have been down here four days. It will take us at least fifteen hours of decompression before we can be re-compressed to ambient water pressure and come to the surface. We’ll never make it before the hurricane is on us.”
    Barnum was well aware of the threatening situation. “We may have to terminate our topside support and run for it.”
    â€œAt this depth, we should be able to weather the storm comfortably,” Dirk said confidently.
    â€œI don’t like leaving you,” Barnum spoke grimly.
    â€œWe may have to go on a diet, but we have generating power and enough oxygen to last us four days. By then the