“Come in,” the voice said crisply. Dr. Fraser had changed to another pair of shorts—dark blue ones—and a short, sleeveless light-blue blouse. Now her breasts were tight against the fabric and he had no need to wonder about them. They were softly rounded, full, a woman’s breasts. The biologist leaned back from the microscope on the small table before her.

  “Yes?” she asked, coldly.

  “I’m going to need the ship as far to the east as you can get by morning. About fifty miles would do. I need the added range for the plane. I can’t cover enough territory tomorrow if I have to get back here to refuel.”

  “But we can’t just pick up anchor and sail off,” the girl protested, sitting up and swiveling her chair around, alarm in her eyes. “We’ve made certain soundings here, put down traps and lines. We’re in the middle of our experiments.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t help it,” he said, deciding to be equally cold with her. Besides, he didn’t really have a choice. But the girl’s steely determination asserted itself at once and he found himself smiling admiringly.

  “We have extra fuel tanks we can add to the plane,” she said. “That will more than make up for the range you say you need.”

  “All right,” he agreed. “I’m easy to get along with, honey.”

  He saw her eyes flash at once. “I thought we had put an end to that, Commander,” she said. “I don’t like being called honey.”

  “And I don’t like Dr. Fraser,” Nick said, affably. “You never did tell me your name so I’m still going with honey. Maybe you’d like Dr. Fraser Honey?”

  Her blue eyes were blazing, now. “My name is Danielle,” she said, controlled anger in her voice.

  “That’s a very nice name,” Nick remarked. He eased himself into a chair, his bronzed form filling the small cabin. “You ought to use it more often, Danielle.”

  The girl narrowed her eyes at him. “I think we’d best have an understanding, Commander,” she said, crossing her long, lovely legs. Nick kept his eyes focused on them, unabashedly admiring them, absorbed in examining them, knowing she was watching him. He let his eyes slowly travel up her thighs, linger on the small, exciting swelling just beneath her belly where her shorts pulled tight against her.

  “Commander,” she said, uncrossing her legs. He paid no attention.

  “Commander!” she called out, sharply, this time. He looked up, pleasantly.

  “I’ll begin again,” she said. “I understand your kind of man, Commander. You’re a man of action, not intellect. You are a—well, a physical man, and you’re used to having women fall at your feet. You’re emotionally unable to look at a woman without seeing her in bed with you—typical of the sexually insecure individual who is compensating.”

  “Do go on,” Nick smiled. “I’m fascinated.”

  “I’m not condemning you, Commander,” she continued. “I’m sure you feel you are being complimentary to me. However, I also understand that it is difficult for you to realize there are women who are not physical types such as yourself, who will not respond to your special brand of animal sensuousness. Now, I think the sooner you realize that the better we’ll get along. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You know what I think, Danielle?” Nick asked, idly. “I think you know about fish, not people. What you know about people is right out of books and lectures, and that especially applies to what you know about yourself. You need some field work, Danielle. You basically are what I call an RCA girl—repressed, confused and afraid.”

  “I am none of those things,” she said, evenly. “Just because I don’t come apart at a glance from your piercing, blue-gray eyes, you have to find some excuse. That’s also quite typical. You just can’t understand the trained, scientific mind, completely in control of the emotions.”

  Nick laughed out loud. “And that’s you, is it?” he asked. “I could prove you wrong so very easily.”

  “You could do nothing of the sort,” Danielle flared. “The trained, controlled mind, scientifically applied, exercising the use of reason, can always overcome emotional influences.”

  “Care to put that to a test?”

  “Why not? I’m completely sure of myself.”

  “All right, then,” Nick grinned. “I’m completely sure of you, too. But we’ve got to have some ground rules. I promise no force, of course. You’ve got to promise not to run.”

  “I won’t run, Commander,” Danielle Fraser said, a confident little smile playing around her delicate lips. “I won’t have to run. It will be interesting—amusing, in fact—to watch your ego as it shatters.”

  Nick stood up, stood very close to her, her head almost touching the bare, bronzed skin of his smooth, muscled chest. She took her eyes from his torso and looked up at him.

  “It won’t shatter,” he said, smiling down at her. “Because I can’t lose.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because, whether you know it or not, you don’t really want to win.”

  He saw her mouth open to answer, then clamp shut as he turned and walked out of the cabin. He went to sleep thinking how different women appeared to be, on the surface, at least He thought of Betty Lou, so happy to allow the emotions to rule, and Danielle Fraser, so unwilling to. He was betting, of course, on the theory that they weren’t really so different. She was a disdainful, arrogant creature. He smiled to himself. He would enjoy this—the taming of the beautiful marine biologist. He could dream, at least. He knew there was little time for taming, only for searching… searching… searching.

  CHAPTER IV

  The warm blue of the Caribbean swept under his wingtip as he skimmed low over the water. He was making the second pass over the corner of the morning’s course, scanning a small string of islands. He pulled the plane up sharply as he neared the island again so he could get a better look with altitude beneath him. A few fishing shacks, some native fishermen and their drying nets, that was all. He had sent a one word message to Hawk before taking off at dawn. The one word was “No.” It was as disappointing to send as to receive, and his jaws clenched in determination and frustration. But as he banked the little monoplane off over the water, he thought of the incident that occurred as he’d left his cabin, and he permitted a slow smile to cross his face. The all-purpose shower room had been constructed amidships on the laboratory vessel and he’d heard the water running as he opened the door of his cabin. He remembered being a little surprised, as he thought he’d be tire only one up at that hour. His diving equipment in the plane, he wore only his bathing trunks; as he saw the neatly folded towel outside the shower, he went over to it on shoeless feet to see the name, “Dr. Fraser” stitched in one corner. He picked up the towel and waited for a moment. The water was shut off and a long, lovely arm reached out from behind the shower curtain, groping fingers feeling their way along the floor. The arm reached out further and the hand groped some more. The arm reached out to its very limit and he saw a lovely, rounded shoulder.

  “Looking for this?” Nick asked, placing the towel on top of the arm. The arm stopped groping, drew back and took hold of the towel, but Nick didn’t let go. He ran his hand up along the arm, up to the smooth skin just below the armpit, then pressed his hand under the armpit. He felt the stillness of the body on the other side of the curtain, a complete stillness, the kind of stillness that only happens when someone is holding himself very quiet. He curled his fingers over the shoulder, then let go and shoved the towel through the curtain opening and walked quickly away. He heard the soft rustle of the curtain being parted wider as he went up the companionway to the deck. He had felt her eyes following his broad back, but he had not turned around.

  Now the little plane coughed for an instant, then coughed again. He shot a glance at the instrument panel, but nothing showed there. The islands had held nothing and as he flew the short leg of his triangle, he passed over another uncharted island, profusely covered with palm trees and brush, and small atoll running alongside it. He buzzed it once more, from higher up, and flew on. He was droning monotonously over the unvarying expanse of blue water when he saw the little ketch and headed down for a closer look. She was old, paint-chipped, riding easily on an anchor, sails furled. He flew low across the vessel once, twice, three times and saw no sign of anyone aboard. The lone ketch riding in the easy swells interested him. He was thinking of setting down for a closer look when the engine coughed again, this time the cough turning into a series of sputtering misses. The 180 h.p. Lycoming engine was sturdy, but he had been, he knew, pushing it steadily, beyond normal use. His instruments flashed a warning that something was overheating. Nick zoomed away from the ketch and headed back for the Triton. He reduced speed and babied the engine along through its sputters. The one thing he didn’t want was to have to set down out in the middle of nowhere and lose heaven knows how much precious time.

  Back at the base vessel, he felt certain they could find the trouble quickly enough. When, with a sigh of relief, he finally tied up at the stem of the laboratory ship, he beckoned to Howie Thompson who immediately began to check out the engine. The mechanic was fairly certain it was in the insulation somewhere, perhaps a piece of insulating cable worn off. He estimated it would take over an hour just to check out the engine, then another hour to fix it. Nick left the mechanic with the plane and walked over to where everyone else was clustered amidships at the port rail.

  Bill Headwin was perched on the rail, leaning over to operate a small derrick which swung out from the side of the ship. It was poised over what appeared to be a large, oval, steel ball that bobbed easily in the water alongside the Triton. The derrick was just lifting a tape recorder out of the opening in the center of the object, which was, at first glance, a diving bell. But as he peered at the diving bell, painted a bright yellow, he could see long, tubular, hinged appendages jutting out from the sides and bottom, giving it the appearance of a huge, fat spider. Danielle, wearing a two-piece bathing suit, was standing with one foot on the ship, the other atop the diving bell.

  “Where did this come from?” Nick asked.

  “It’s been here all along, resting on the bottom of the ocean,” Bill Headwin said. “We’ve had it down there for three days, gathering sound data on tapes. Dr. Fraser’s going to take her down, now, to gather surface sediments and other undersea samples. Our Sea Spider, as we call it, can do remarkable things when manually operated.”

  “Going to be down long?” Nick asked, looking up at Danielle.

  “An hour, maybe two,” she answered, returning his gaze with cool, noncommittal eyes. She hadn’t forgotten the incident at the shower, he was certain.

  “I’d like to come along,” Nick said, smiling affably at her. “The Navy is always interested in this kind of thing.”

  Nick saw her hesitate, casting about for some way to refuse him. But he had her cornered. The Sea Spider was undoubtedly built to hold two people and to refuse him with everyone looking on would be embarrassing.

  “I’ll go in first,” she said, unsmiling. “You will follow. Please be careful. It’s crowded inside.”

  Nick nodded pleasantly, watched her lower her long, lovely body through the hatchway and then followed. He had been right, the Sea Spider was built for two and now he saw another reason for her reluctance. Once inside, he saw the undersea craft was not round but oval; the occupants lay down on their backs, with head rests which allowed them to look out through a curved, slot-like window that went halfway around the front of the craft. Two sets of metal sliding rods with handles jutted into the craft, and Danielle had placed herself before them, grasping each handle firmly. He heard the hatch being tightened above them, felt cables begin to give, lowering the craft into the water. He watched the water gurgle and swirl around the slitted window and heard the hiss of oxygen entering the sphere, equalizing outside pressures. Though their shoulders were touching, Danielle was busy checking out the sliding rods, moving them back and forth. A soft bump told him they had reached the sea floor. Danielle pressed a button and the soft whirr of motors sent the manmade undersea spider moving across the ocean floor, its motion amazingly smooth as it crawled on its spindly legs. Nick saw a group of rainbow parrotfish bump into the glass of the window, pause and move on. A yellow and blue-striped porkfish swam by, followed by a huge snook, its silver body contrasting with its lemon-yellow fins and tail. The Sea Spider’s arms were busy scooping up bits of ocean floor and coral rock which Nick could see were then deposited into steel canisters built onto the sides of the craft.

  “Oh, damn!” Danielle suddenly exploded, struggling with one of the aluminum rods. “It’s jammed.”

  Nick glanced along the length of the rod and saw that one of the rods had slipped out of its track.

  “Maybe I can reach it from where I am,” he said, sliding his body down as far as the cramped quarters would allow. The damned thing was in an awkward position to reach, but he managed to squeeze down fairly close to it. Then he turned, leaning over onto Danielle’s legs, his face pressed into the hollow between her thighs, and reached out for the rod. Working by feel, he tried to place the rod back onto its track with his hands. It was tricky and difficult to get into position. His head pressed down harder onto Danielle’s thighs, and her skin was smooth and warm. He could feel the rise and fall of her belly as her breath increased. Leaning his head backwards, he could look up the length of her torso, over the rise where her legs joined, the small swell of her belly, the high, twin peaks of her breasts. He saw her lips tighten as she looked down at him, small spots of color on her cheeks again. He grinned at her and put his head down again, pressing harder into her thighs as he concentrated on his task. Suddenly he felt the rod move freely on its track again. He began to straighten up, bringing his body up over hers, letting the bare hardness of his muscled chest move over her skin, feeling the response of her skin quivering. As he reached her breasts, he lifted himself on his arms and hung over her, his face up to hers now.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice coming out in a kind of half-strangled sound. He stayed there, his chest just touching the tips of her breasts under the swim suit. She kept her jaw set, her lips tight, her eyes desperately trying to keep a cool, noncommittal expression. Only the quickened tempo of her breathing gave her away, that and the desire hidden behind the electric blue of her eyes. She was waiting for him to kiss her, steeling herself, trying to exert that control of her trained, scientific mind. Instead, Nick suddenly swung over and sat back on his half of the double seat. He heard her breathe in a sudden rush of relief, saw her jaw relax, and he grinned to himself.

  They walked across the ocean floor a while longer, and then Danielle pressed a button at the side of the shell. He felt cables tighten and the Sea Spider being lifted toward the surface.

  Back on the deck of the Triton, he smile down at the girl. “That was great,” he said, using his most affable tone. “I learned a lot, didn’t you?” Dr. Fraser turned on her heel and strode off, her back held stiffly. Nick grinned. The scientific mind in control of the emotions at all times, he grunted to himself. When I’m through with you, sweetie, you may be a lot of things, but in control won’t be one of them.

  Howie was gesturing to him that the plane was ready for use. “Piece of insulation had come loose,” the mechanic explained. Nick thanked him and took the little plane into the air at once. He flew down the first leg of the triangle again, buzzed over the little ketch, took an accurate bearing on her and sought again for some sign of life aboard the ship. There was none and he banked and flew off on the other leg of his course. He wouldn’t have fuel enough to recheck the little vessel when he’d finished his self-assigned course, but he’d check her out tomorrow. Maybe it was abandoned, but some inner voice told him this wasn’t the case.

  It was dark when he tied up to the stem of the laboratory ship, his eyes tired and strained from peering at the glare of the water. He sat down and again sent the one-word message to Hawk. Then he stretched out on the cot and closed his eyes, wondering if finally he was to taste the bitter cup of failure. Indeed, he had the taste in his mouth already. He dozed off, his powerful body relaxing, muscles cramped from hours in the pilot’s chair stretching out once again. He was hungry when he finally awoke. He slipped on trousers and a shirt and went to the galley, made himself a sandwich and walked back along the quiet passageway. Light crept out from beneath the door to Danielle’s cabin. He knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked again, leaning against the door. It swung open to reveal an empty cabin. He went up on deck under the star-studded night sky, the ship rolling lazily, soothingly on the swells. The deck was deserted. He could hear Howie, Ray Anders and Consuela playing cards in the cabin below deck. Bill and Cynthia’s cabin aft was dark; naturally, he smiled. The Sea Spider floated lazily alongside the vessel, the hatch closed. But Danielle was nowhere aboard the Triton. Nick’s watch told him it was ten-thirty. How long had she been gone from the ship? She might have been gone when he returned but somehow, he didn’t think so. Most important, where had she gone out here in the middle of the Caribbean? He sat down in a dark space beside the ship’s lifeboat, atop a coiled length of line. He sat quietly, waiting, and then his ears, keen as those of a stag, heard the faint sound of a paddle cutting through water. Raising on one knee, he saw the small rubberized raft approach, saw Danielle Fraser’s blond hair pulled tight atop her head. She wore the two-piece bathing suit and paddled expertly. Nick stayed in the shadows as she clambered up the side of the Triton, using a rope ladder hanging there, and then pulled the raft up after her. She let the air out of it at once, picked up the collapsed pile of rubber and hurried down to her cabin.

  Nick rubbed his hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble of a new beard growing. His mind, alert and on edge now, turned over a number of thoughts. It didn’t seem possible, and yet long ago he had learned that the impossible was often very possible. Years of experience had taught him that the only thing certain was uncertainty. Could Hawk have been caught in a double-plant? Judas was unquestionably a satanic chess-player, a Machiavellian mind of fantastic proportions. He would have foreseen AXE being brought into the picture at once. He could have foreseen their narrowing down the search area. He could, he just could have had Dr. Fraser’s application in, hoping Hawk would do exactly what he had done, seized upon it as a cover. Nick sat quietly, thinking. It was too pat, too chancy a set of coincidences—and yet, he’d seen stranger things. It couldn’t be overlooked. Nothing could be. He would keep a watch on the beautiful marine biologist tomorrow night.