Part 41 (2/2)

Cora suggested. ”They have three to five large pois- onous spines. We can break them off at the base. The spines are pretty tough. Even if their toxicity fades after separation, they'll make serviceable knives.”

Mataroreva smiled thinly at her. ”I didn't think you'd notice such bloodthirsty details.”

”Part of my job. And I'm not bloodthirsty. I'm

mad.”

An orange sun hung just above the water, fire bal- ancing on a sheet of silvered clay, when they started toward the nearest foil. Mataroreva and Merced led the underwater procession. All eyes turned anxiously, seeking the telltale glow of another approaching diver.

None came near.

They could not know how many of the crew re- mained aboard, but the craft offered little room in which to hide. Each was built for speed, with only a single modest forward cabin. Most of the area was open rear deck and cargo hold.

177.

Two boarding ladders dipped like straws info the water on either side of the s.h.i.+p, one forward and one astern. The swimmers intended to mount the forward ladder, nearest the central cabin and the transmitter.

That would also keep them away from the region of greatest activity near the stem, where salvage was be- ing loaded.

Each of them carried a twenty-centimeter-long blue spine, four-sided, taken from an unlucky bottom- dweller. The spines would not stand repeated use.

Mataroreva felt that if each spine found a throat, it would more than have served its purpose.

He articulated that desire at every opportunity, run- ning his hand along the sides of his own weapon and making repeated stabbing gestures as they swam. Cora couldn't share his l.u.s.t for killing, despite the ghastly crime that had been committed here. But she was quite prepared to wound.

They reached the hull of the suprafoil without a challenge, hovered beneath its bow. Gestures served in place of words. Merced moved upward and grabbed the bottom rung of the fore port ladder. Still there was no challenge.

As soon as he was clear of the water he removed his suit fins, but did not drop them. If he appeared on deck without them, he would attract immediate at- tention, whereas if he acted and looked like a normal diver, he might escape curiosity for a precious second or two longer. It was possible the divers on one boat kney those on the other only casually. And it was dark.

A minute pa.s.sed while those remaining in the wa- ter waited nervously. Then Merced reappeared, lean- ing over the side and gesturing frantically. Mataroreva started up the ladder. Cora was right behind him, fol- lowed by Dawn and Rachael.

Then they were all standing on deck alongside the

178.

CACHALOT.

CACHALOT.

179.

only cabin. Lights glowed from within. They were not interrupted by moving shapes.

The only sign of habitation was a limp figure on the deck at their feet. Its head was twisted around at an unnatural angle and blood trickled lazily from the gaping mouth. Merced's spine-knife was unstained.

Mataroreva glanced curiously from the corpse to

Merced.

”I broke his neck. The opportunity presented it- self,” the smaller man whispered. Then he turned and moved on, crouching like a spider.

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