The Bikini Break
VI- Preposterous Operations
Gary and Gadget put on air tanks, flippers and the other accouterments necessary for the descent, as well as readying the waterproof Geiger counter. Gadget declined a diver’s face mask in favor of her own goggles. Gordon, relenting to Gary’s reasoning, would stay on the raft as a back-up. Gadget braced her goggles and regulator against her face and stepped backwards off the raft, letting her tank absorb the impact. Gary, in frogman fashion, took a forward step off the raft and plunged in like an arrow. Giving each other a quick thumbs up, they swam downward, where darkness was the norm and light a distant curiosity.
They swam a lazy zigzag search pattern, Gary constantly checking the Geiger reading. After a few minutes, Gary pointed off toward the reef and they took a straight course. Gadget peeked at the meter and watched it slowly rise. Then she noticed something on the sea bottom. At first it seemed just an odd shape in the sand. Soon it became clear in the gloom. A gleaming steel object, tapered from bottom to top like a huge truncated traffic cone. The Geiger began to click rapidly and Gary grasped Gadget’s arm to stop her. He signaled with brief, clear hand signs, and she answered in kind.
<HOLD IT. DANGEROUS.> he signed.
<LET ME SEE.> Gadget responded.
<NO. HOT.>
She wasn’t happy with that. <UNDERSTOOD. GOING TO SEE.>
Gary reached for her and grasped her regulator, making clear he wasn’t going to let her go near the object. Gadget reached up and took hold of his hand. She didn’t have very long fingernails, but what she had she set firmly in the back of his hand. He let go and glared at her. She frowned right back.
<DON’T PUSH ME.> Gadget signed. <CAN’T WORK. LET ME SEE.>
<NO. FIRE-HOT. STAY AWAY.>
Even with the regulator in her mouth, Gadget’s scowl was clear. She signed back with vigor reserved for shouting.
<DON’T FENDER ME. JOB TO DO LIKE YOU. GET GOING.>
She folded her arms defiantly. Gary guessed that “fender” stood in for “protect,” given the limitations of the diver’s signs. He decided this was an argument not worth winning.
<WE LOOK AROUND. GO NO CLOSER THAN ME.>
Gadget nodded in agreement, and Gary led them closer to, then around the massive shape. It towered over them, rising more than five feet above the sea floor. The base of it was nearly six feet in diameter, and it tapered to about three feet around at the top. There were no barnacles, mud or any other sign of being on the bottom for any length of time. After circling the nearly featureless metal casing, Gadget started to swim upwards. Gary pulled her back forcefully.
<LOOK INSIDE.> Gadget signed.
<NO NO NO. DANGEROUS. FOLLOW ME.>
Gary, with Gadget close beside him, swam a short distance away from the object, unlimbering the Geiger counter’s long pick-up cord as he went. Then he ascended to about fifteen feet above the sea floor. Puzzled, Gadget followed him as he swam back toward the object, lowering the pick-up as he went. The Geiger began a merry, rapid clicking, like someone chatting in bad Morse code. As they came to a stop directly above the object, Gadget learned why Gary had been so cautious. The steel object was a container, an enormous one. It’s top was open and Gadget could, at last, see inside. For the interior was neither empty nor dark. The contents came to within a foot of the opening and burned with the blue-white glow of Chrenkov radiation. Gary allowed the Geiger pick-up to swing over the opening and the device, far from clicking, skreeled with a banshee-like death wail. Gary hauled in the pick-up as Gadget studied the distant container as best she could. When Gary pointed to the surface, she acknowledged with vigorous nodding.
Even taking time for decompression, they ascended quickly. Gadget’s placement of the dive raft proved ideal, as they were pushed towards it by the freshening westerly breeze. They clambered aboard and Gordon began to assist them with removing their gear.
“What’d you find?” he asked.
“Hell in a soda can,” Gary groused.
“Gary, watch your language,” Gadget scolded automatically.
“There’s a container on the bottom,” Gary said. “It’s chock full of radioactive material, hotter than a two-dollar pistol with a three-dollar bullet. We better think of some way to make it safe.”
“Hold everything,” Gordon said. “If it’s really bad, we’ll get Chucky or Robertson in Washington on it.”
Gary turned and gazed at the horizon, as if something had just come into view. Gadget and Gordon both looked as well, but the sea and sky were clear.
“We don’t have any time to waste,” Gary’s voice was distant. “We’ve got to deal with this ourselves. Check the weather as soon as we get ashore.”
“Will do,” Gordon said. “We better get in before it gets dark. We’ll hash out the problem over dinner.”
Gary guided the powerboat to shore and beached it safely above the surf line. Gadget assumed the domestic duties of setting up camp and preparing dinner over a crackling driftwood fire. Gordon returned from the Bullet just as the color began to fade from the sunset.
“The ‘Iole are watching us,” Gadget said, nodding inland. A small, grim party stood on a rise overlooking their camp. It was clear they weren’t going to approach, but they weren’t about to leave.
“I know,” Gordon said. “The women are packing up their belongings and some of the men are preparing their canoes. They know something serious is going on.”
“None of us told them,” Gadget said, poking the contents of the frying pan. “How do they know?”
“Beats me. Some kind of special awareness of their environment, I suppose. Where’s my lazy-tail partner?”
“He’s not being lazy,” Gadget said, defending the absent squirrel. “He’s getting some more firewood.”
“Well, he was right about the weather. Have a look.” He offered a satellite photo showing a tight circular mass of clouds. “It’s Typhoon Sebastian. It’s a surprise this late, but the weather’s been weird all year. Still building strength, and the forecast puts us right in it’s path.”
“How much time do we have?” she asked, concerned.
“Two days. Maybe a little more, if it doesn’t gain surface speed. It’s a good thing Gary had me check.”
“He sounded positive. How’d he guess?”
“Now and then, he has flashes of insight. He can’t tell exactly what will happen, but he knows when something’s up. It’s saved our bacon more than once.”
“Maybe he’s the one who reads minds,” she said uneasily.
“Naaw,” Gordon drawled. “But don’t be surprised if he knows things and can’t remember where he learned about them. It’s just a knack he has.”
“If you’re telling her I have a knack with cards, it’s all lies,” Gary said as he stepped into the firelight. He dropped a double armload of wood near the fire and stoked up the flames. Gadget served up their meal from a skillet.
“Smells good,” Gary said. “What’s in it?”
“What I could find in your supplies,” she answered. “Instant potatoes, bacon bits, vacuum packed cheese, some freeze-dried mixed vegetables. You have a well provisioned aircraft.”
“It’s out of hard experience,” Gary said, holding out his plate. “We can never be sure how long we’ll be in the field, so we pack for the long haul.” They chowed down as they talked over the situation.
“Okay, lets have it,” Gordon said around a mouthful. “What did you find that’s got you so worked up? I take it it’s not something trivial.”
“It’s a high level storage cylinder,” Gary replied. “One of those big Mark 44 types for fissionables...”
“Whoa, whoa,” Gordon said, waving his fork. “You just surpassed my technical education. What is it?”
“It’s a radioactive materiel container and it’s been opened. It’s chock full of highly energetic metal. The Geiger counter sounded like it was giving a Bronx cheer. Did it look to you like the contents had been ground up?”
“Yes,” Gadget answered. “Almost like talcum powder. I could see it shifting in the current.”
“Okay,” Gordon said. “It’s an open container. We’ll close it.”
“I didn’t see the cap anywhere,” Gary said. “Did you?”
“It would be a steel cylinder with interrupted threads?” Gadget asked. Gary nodded. “No. Nothing even close.”
“And we need the original plug,” Gary said. “The threads are quarter-cut, like the breech of a cannon. And with this type of container, each quarter is a different thread size and pitch so only the original plug will fit. It’s so they don’t get mixed up in use.”
“Could you make a replacement?” Gordon asked Gadget.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, her brow furrowing as she considered the possibility. “If I’m off with the thread size even a little, it won’t fit. If I could get close enough to measure the threads...”
“That’s out,” Gary insisted. “No one is getting within ten feet of that thing. Do you have any idea how radioactive it must be to glow that brightly?”
“I have some idea,” Gadget said. “Enough to be a health hazard?”
“Enough to kill you on the spot, like Prof. Nimnul’s Hyper-Frazzelator,” Gary said grimly. “Even ignoring the alternative. A slow, ugly death from radiation poisoning.”
“Let’s just pass it up the string, then,” Gordon suggested. “If nothing else, Chucky’s staff can leave a memo on the right human’s desk to get it taken care of.”
Gary looked up at the sky, so far still starlit. “If that typhoon comes in it could scatter the materiel. Maybe we can just top off the container with birdshot or something.”
“You two really don’t know the sea,” Gadget said, setting aside her plate. “The storm surge from a typhoon that size is like a flood on the Colorado River. It could drag that container right up on the beach. We have to seal it for good.”
“How about glue?” Gordon recommended. “We might be able to find some RTV or epoxy around here.”
“No good,” Gary shook his head. “That stuff is putting out so much energy, it would be like exposing a polymer to five hundred years of sunlight. It could crack and fail before we even get back to the surface.”
“I’ve done underwater welding,” Gadget offered, her tail waggling eagerly. “I could weld a plate on top of it.”
“You are just determined to roast your tush, aren’t you?” Gary said, exasperation evident. “No one is going near that thing, understood?”
Gadget frowned, but decided she wasn’t going to sneak anything past the guys, and let the matter drop. She brightened at once with a better idea. “If the storm surge can move it, maybe we can too. I could patch together an underwater balloon and we could tow it out to the deep water where it won’t hurt anything.”
“Can you make a balloon to lift something that heavy?” Gordon asked.
“I think so. What does it weigh? A thousand pounds?”
“I love your optimism,” Gary smiled. “Try about three tons. It’s mostly lead with a steel shell.”
“Oh.” she said quietly. “I don’t think I could build anything to lift that much in the time we have.”
“We have to do something,” Gary said, finishing his plate. “If that stuff contaminates the beaches, the islanders will never be able to return, neither the mice or the humans.”
“Whatever we do,” Gadget said, “we’re not going to be able to do it with scuba gear at that depth. We need a submarine.”
Gordon made a quick frisk of his clothes. “Darn it. I left my submarine in my other suit.”
“Is that a dig for me forgetting my swimsuit?” Gadget said crossly.
“You didn’t forget,” Gordon said, edging close to her. “I planted a subconscious suggestion so Gary and I could get a free swimsuit show.”
“You what?” Gadget whispered, her eyes growing wide.
“And tonight,” Gordon said darkly, “when the moon is at its zenith, the second hypnotic suggestion will take hold, and you’ll completely lose control of yourself and BAWHAHAHAHAHA!” He gave in to a belly laugh that was anything but villainous. “Look at that face, Gary! Got ‘er hook, line and sinker! HAHAHAHAHA!”
Gadget’s expression had given over to complete shock, her eyes darting between the two guys as if they were cats about to pounce on her. She made a visible effort to regain her composure and failed completely. Her voice was still shaky as she spoke. “I have been hypnotized. I have been zombiefied. I’m scared to death of what awful things I might do and then not remember.” She shook her finger in Gordon’s face. “You stay out of my brain!”
“Gordo isn’t a mind reader or a hypnotist,” Gary assured. “But he will pull almost any scam in the book for laughs.”
The distant sound of many voices raised in song suddenly caught their attention. They fell silent as a mournful melody drifted across the sands from the direction of the village.
“Oh, golly, that sounds sad,” Gadget said softly. “What could have happened?”
“It’s a song of farewell,” Gary advised. “It’s the ‘Iole version of ‘Aloha Oi.’ They’re saying goodbye to their home.” They listened a few moments more before Gary abruptly stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and walked down the beach into the dark.
Gordon still sniggered to himself. “Zombiefied,” he said, disbelieving.
“It’s true,” Gadget insisted. “We were in South America. We were shot full of an ancient Mayan zombie recipe that this crazy chocolate chef discovered.”
“Wait a minute,” Gordon said, turning serious. “Phenoxolyne? Made from the gorba berry?”
“That sounds right. I didn’t research it thoroughly. The chef had us working like slaves at night. Then he made us chase down Dale since he wasn’t under his control and kept trying to wake us up.” She sighed wistfully at the memory. “We’d have all ended up as chocolate-covered cat treats it if weren’t for Dale.”
“I remember reading that phenoxolyne had to be injected to be effective. The human tribes in the Amazon region used blowguns. How did that chef ever manage to hit you?”
“He fed the concoction to mosquitoes. They caught up with the rest of us pretty easily, but Dale was too fast and nimble for them. All in all, I felt kinda picked on. When I came to, I must have had a hundred mosquito bites, and Monty and Chip only had one apiece.”
“That figures. They went for the tender, tasty one. Did you get any help with the calamine lotion?”
“I can take care of myself,” she said pointedly. “But we almost killed Dale, and ourselves before we snapped out of it. If you’d ever gone through anything that scary, you wouldn’t be eager to have someone put you through a repeat performance either.”
Gordon picked up a canteen and poured a cup of clear violet liquid. “Before we closed that tin of ex-syrup, I pinched a bit and watered it down. You were right, it is like blueberry schnapps. Try some?”
“I probably shouldn’t if we’re going to dive tomorrow. Gary was right about me being a lightweight.”
“You were a bit cross-eyed working inside that syrup tin. Didn’t you ever drink alcohol?”
“I’m not a child,” she said defensively. “I’ve had egg nog at Christmas and champagne at New Years and toasted at weddings and anniversaries.”
“But you’ve never been really drunk, have you?” he teased.
“What would make you think that?” she said evasively.
“There are moments, Gadget, when you’re an open book.”
“I think I’d rather hear that you really do read minds.”
“I don’t read minds,” Gordon said firmly, “but I’m pretty good at observing how others move and react and express themselves. It’s one reason I minored in psychology.”
“This time you’re wrong,” she confessed reluctantly. “I was drunk, just once. It was the anniversary of the Rescue Rangers, and the first time I was old enough to drink. We got to toasting each other’s health and I toasted a bit too much and... Then I don’t know what. I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember a thing that happened the next morning. It was as bad as that business in South America. Monty told me I was up on top of the piano, singing. I know he’d had too much to drink because he said I sounded good. I’m lucky I was among friends. Anything might have happened to me. Since then, I won’t have more than one glass, period.”
She looked into the darkness beyond the light of the campfire. “Where did Gary go?”
“He walked down the beach.”
She peered into the gloom. “Is that him? By the water?”
“No. He’s sitting by the ferns about twenty yards down.”
“Golly, it got dark quickly. How can you see him?”
“I can’t see him. I know him. Trust me, he’s there.”
“He hasn’t seemed like himself since the dive.”
Gordon put the dishes in a pile and picked up a bar of soap. “I’m going to clean up and lay out our bedrolls. He could probably use some company. Why don’t you go talk to him?”
Gadget nodded and walked down the beach. Even with her eyes adjusted to the dark, she nearly walked past the motionless squirrel.
“Out for an evening stroll?” he asked softly. Gadget noticed his tail tip was curled in a tense loop even though he was stretched out flat.
“I was wondering what happened to you. You’ve been brooding all afternoon.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Thinking is trying to find a solution to a problem,” Gadget said, settling herself on the warm sand next to him. “Brooding is when you know the answer and don’t like it.”
“Everyone looks like they’re brooding when it’s dark,” Gary evaded.
“You’re really brooding. You haven’t smiled or cracked a joke since we came ashore. What’s the matter?”
He sat up and grimaced in evident frustration. “Does it count as brooding when the answer is no answer? You saw that canister. It wasn’t lost or left over from some test. It’s brand new and the cap was missing. Someone placed it there deliberately, opened it, and took the cap so no one could close it again. What I can’t figure out is, why? Why drive a bunch of peaceful, defenseless islanders from their homes? Why do it so secretly? It doesn’t even make sense as terrorism.”
“I don’t understand why anyone wants to hurt or dominate anyone else,” Gadget said. “Stealing I can understand. It’s just greed. I can sorta see why someone would want power. But I can’t understand why anyone wants to hurt others, or the love of violence. Not at all.”
“Untouched by evil,” Gary said softly, almost too softly.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing. I just... NNNggghhh!!” He flinched in pain, then his face contorted in pure agony.
“Gary!” Gadget grabbed his arm. “What is it?”
“I’m okay,” he gritted. He clearly wasn’t. Gadget could hear his teeth grinding as he spoke.
“I’ll get Gordon.”
“No! It’s okay I tell ya.” His expression began to relax. It had been only a few seconds. Gadget watched him closely.
“You have migraines?” Gadget said. “Can’t you take something for them?”
“They’re not migraines. And they’re too brief and intense for painkillers to help.”
“What does your veterinarian say about them?”
“The vets don’t know. I haven’t told ‘em..”
“Garr-eee! And here you give me grief for not wearing shoes! It could be something serious!”
“We get annual physicals. They never find anything wrong. It only happens when I’m trying to relax or off duty. It’s never happened while we’re working.”
“Does Gordon know about this?”
“Of course he knows. Look, don’t worry. I made him a promise. If it ever happens while we’re on an operation, or while I’m flying, I’ll quit. Resign. I’m not going to endanger him. Or you.”
Gadget sighed. It bothered her that there were still things that troubled her friends but that she had no power to fix. “Why don’t you come on back to the fire? It’s warmer there.”
“It must be 80 degrees, Gadget. It’s not cold.”
“I know. Sometimes the campfire’s warm because that’s where your friends are.”
“Okay, you’re right. I have been brooding and that’s not going to help matters any.”
He rolled to his feet and offered his hand to help her up. She didn’t let go of him as they walked back toward the campfire.
“I hope we can find something to cap that container with tomorrow,” Gadget said, “And some parts for a submersible.”
“We’ll manage. If not, I’ll go down and try gluing it shut like Gordo suggested.”
Gadget stopped. “You said no one was going near it.”
“Correction. No one else is going near it.”
“Gary, you could be killed. It’s not that important. You said yourself there’s plenty of time to evacuate everyone off the island.”
Gary looked away. The sound of the ‘Iole song still floated on the tropical air.
“Look around this place. Look at the ‘Iole. This is the only home they know. There’s no one else to protect them from this kind of danger. When I took this job, Gadget, I made up my mind that the goals were worth a little bit more than my life.”
Gadget stood there, unable to find words to respond to this simple declaration. He just smiled and changed the subject.
“When we get back, how about I take you to dinner?” he asked. “You deserve a nice evening out for all the help you’ve given us.”
“If I say yes, will you be sure to get home safe?”
“Well, a pending date would be a powerful incentive. I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Then, yes,” she said distantly. “Dinner. I’d like that. Just don’t stand me up by getting hurt or...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.
They walked on, hand in hand, Gadget letting him lead her back to the firelight. It was something she’d done a thousand times before, holding the hand of a troubled friend, but she had never felt such foreboding doing it. She never before felt she might be holding her friend’s hand for the last time.
* * *