Part 25 (1/2)

Rick and Scotty got back to the hole as often as they could, but there was much doing elsewhere. The Hot Springs Hotel swarmed with scientists and observers, and there were heated conferences and late evaluation sessions. The Spindrift scientists were always in demand, and their faces grew gaunt as the days pa.s.sed.

The hole gave its own location because of the shock waves it sent through the earth to the recorders, and even Rick's untrained eye could see the traces slowly closing with the magma front.

Earthquakes increased in frequency until Rick and Scotty felt as though the ground never ceased shuddering.

The air became noisy with planes as the Military Air Transport Command began ferrying in troops. Flight after flight of huge transports roared in for a landing at the Calor airport, discharged the soldiers, and took off again at once.

And still the diamond hunt continued.

Then, at one o'clock in the afternoon, Hartson Brant called a halt.

”The magma's moving up through the dike,” he reported. ”It's now or never. Captain Montoya, we will ask the troops to clear the area.

Commander Jameson, withdraw all men and equipment except those necessary for the final packing. Dr. Cantrell, please be ready to place the charge at dawn tomorrow.”

The final phase of the operation swung into action. The troops gathered at Redondo and marched shoulder to shoulder southward along the mountain slopes. They herded the diamond seekers before them, sometimes with enough roughness to overcome protests, but mostly with little difficulty. They herded the population entirely around El Viejo, and established a perimeter from Calor northward, with the population confined to a narrow segment of the island along the seaward side.

Loud-speaker trucks roamed along the perimeter, rea.s.suring the people.

Military disaster units cooked huge quant.i.ties of food and prepared thousands of gallons of coffee and reconst.i.tuted milk. American soldiers played with cute little San Luzian kids and--after the diamond seekers became convinced they had never had a chance to find diamonds--the whole affair became one big picnic.

But it was a picnic with overtones of fear.

Rick and Scotty watched the placement of the nuclear explosive--a simple steel can, from the outside--in the big hole. They watched the remaining handful of Seabees load tons of rock in after it. Only the wires connecting the device to a radio firing unit on the beach gave evidence that an explosion equal to ten thousand tons of TNT was about to take place.

Rick asked, ”Won't all those rocks keep the volcano from erupting?”

Hartson Brant smiled. ”Rick, compared with the force of the volcano, that atomic device is like a firecracker compared with a hurricane. But even to the nuclear explosion those rocks won't mean much. They're just to confine it a little.”

The night pa.s.sed. San Souci was empty of people. The Seabees were back aboard s.h.i.+p. The scientific instruments were in place. Only a small group of scientists remained, their helicopter standing by. They checked out the radio firing unit, threw switches according to their check list, then announced:

”We're ready!”

CHAPTER XIX

The Old One Yields

Rick banked the Sky Wagon over the fleet. Scotty, in the front pa.s.senger seat, had the camera ready. Hartson Brant, in the rear seat, had a motion-picture camera poised. Governor Montoya, the fourth in the party, even had his personal camera along.

Their cameras were not the only ones. Nearly every s.h.i.+p had its official photographers, and there were photography planes in the air.

Directly under the Sky Wagon now was a U. S. destroyer. Aboard her was the nuclear firing party from Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory, and the UN Observer Group. On other s.h.i.+ps of the fleet were the representatives of the interested nations and the Seabees.

Rick turned up the volume of his plane radio. By agreement, the countdown was to be broadcast to all aircraft over one of the airport frequencies.

”Thirty seconds!” the voice said.

”Won't we need dark gla.s.ses?” Scotty asked.

”No,” Hartson Brant replied. ”The nuclear fireball won't emerge. If it gets a little too bright, squint and turn your head.”