Abduction Read Online Free Page B

back and, for a time that seemed like an eternity, wouldn't let him out. Occasionally Perry still had nightmares that he was back in that cloth prison with the desperate sensation he was about to smother. Perry stopped and stared at the little submarine, which was sitting on chocks at the very stern of the ship. Angled over it was a large derrick capable of swinging the vessel out over the water and lowering it to the surface. Workers were swarming around the craft like bees hovering around a hive. Perry knew enough to recognize they were participating in the predive check before launch. Perry was relieved that the vessel looked considerably larger than it had when it was in the water, a fact that appeased his recently awakened claustrophobia. The submersible was not as tiny as many were. It was fifty feet long with a twelve-foot beam, and bulbous in shape, like a bloated, HY-140 steel sausage with a fiberglass superstructure. There were four view ports made of eight-inch-thick, conical sections of Plexiglas: two forward and one to either side. Hydraulic manipulator arms, folded up under the bow, made it look like an enormous crustacean. The hull was painted scarlet with white lettering along the sides of the sail. Its name was Oceanus, after the Greek god of the outer sea. "Handsome little devil, isn't she?" a voice said. Perry turned. Mark had come up behind him. "Maybe it'd be better if I didn't go on the dive after all," Perry said, trying to sound casual. "And why is that?" Mark asked.
"I don't want to be a bother," Perry said. "I came out here to be a help, not a hindrance. I'm sure the pilot would prefer not to have the equivalent of a tourist tagging along." "Poppycock!" Mark said without hesitation. "Both Donald and Suzanne are thrilled you're coming. I

spoke with them not twenty minutes ago, and they said as much. In fact that's Donald on that scaffolding,
supervising the connection to the launching crane. I understand you've never met him." Perry followed Mark's pointing finger. Donald Fuller was an African American with a shaved head, a neat pencil-line mustache, and an impressively muscled frame. He was dressed in crisply ironed dark blue coveralls with epaulets and a shiny name tag. Even from a distance Perry could appreciate the man's martial bearing, especially when he heard his deep, baritone voice and his clipped, no-nonsense manner as he called out commands. During the current operation there was no doubt who was in charge. "Come on," Mark urged before Perry could respond. "Let me introduce you." Reluctantly, Perry allowed himself to be led over to the submersible. It was painfully obvious that he would not be able to get out of diving on the Oceanus without a significant loss of face. He'd have to admit to his fears, and he hardly thought that would be appropriate. Besides, he had enjoyed his first ride on the sub even though that had been done in only a hundred feet of water just outside of the harbor on Santa Catalina, a far cry from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Once Donald was satisfied with the submersible's connection to the hoisting cable, he swung down from the scaffolding and began walking around the boat. Although the topside dive team had responsibility for the exterior predive check, Donald wanted to make his own visual check on all the penetrations through the pressure hull. Mark and Perry caught up to him at the bow. Mark introduced Perry as the president of Benthic Marine.
Donald responded by clicking his heels and saluting. Before Perry knew what he was doing, he saluted back. Only Perry didn't really know how to salute; he'd never executed the gesture in his life. He felt as pathetic as he probably looked.
"Honored to meet you, sir," Donald said. He was standing ramrod straight with his lips pressed together and his nares flared. To Perry he appeared like a warrior about to do battle. "Pleased to meet you," Perry said. He gestured toward the Oceanus. "I don't want to interrupt you."