"P. J. Plauger - Dark Lantern" - читать интересную книгу автора (Plauger P J)

DARK LANTERN
P. J. Plauger
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The light was elusive. Matacek strove to keep his legs moving rhythmically in time to his breathing. The
water around him seemed filled to overflowing with the sounds of inrushing and out bubbling air. But the
dancing light disrupted his wordless chant and broke into the regular succession of thrust and sweep.

A flicker to one side. He turned to look and his flippers tangled momentarily. Phosphorescence played
mockingly about in the turmoil his legs created. Suck in, kick,. kick. Bubble out, kick, kick. The
compressed air tasted cold and damp, yet burned at his dry throat. His jaw ached from biting
continuously on the regulator mouthpiece, and his wetsuit had a definite chill.

Ten meters overhead the setting quarter moon shattered across a thousand tiny wavelet. That must be the
source of all the teasing glimmers, he knew, but the knowledge could not keep his keyed-up reflexes
from responding to each dart as a new threat. This underwater world glowed with menace.

Up there lay a subtropical paradise, a composition of islands, sea and moonlight straight out of an airline
travel poster. The air had been warm when he left the beach, as warm as the previous night when he had
lain there with Maria, their naked bodies caressed by the gentle sea breeze. It was hard to accept the
existence of these two such different environments in close proximity.

But Matacek had planned as carefully as ever. He had spent a week with the scuba instructor from the
dive shop, exploring the reefs and covertly studying the passage out to the DevilтАЩs Rocks. He went skin
diving among the shallows, to perfect his surface dive and improve his breath-holding ability. Clad only in
trunks under the baking sun, he could still appreciate the need for thermal insulation on a long night swim,
and had insisted on a sweaty wetsuit practice session over the instructorтАЩs protests. The man probably
thought him another daft tourist. But MatacekтАЩs specialty was survival, and he knew his business well.

He would have liked to surface and check his bearings, for the currents were tricky around the Rocks. A
lot of good men had already died making this swimтАФthe natural hazards were surely responsible for a
number of the casualties. Statistics, however, proclaimed loud and clear that there was a human element
involved that was far more malicious than tide and rocks. Matacek chose to face the natural dangers
head-on and remain hidden from searching eyes for as long as possible.

The bottom was definitely begining to rise in front of him. He must be on course. Mentally he conjured up
the map of the Devils Rocks and the placement of the castle relative to the few known soundings. The
landing was straight ahead, with its protecting jetty off to the right. It would be safest to enter the little
harbor crested by the jetty, so safe that he had early ruled that possibility out entirely. Any traps or
warning systems must surely be concentrated there.

No, it would have to be on the seaward side or not at all. He cringed at the memory of wave after wave
attacking those rocks. There was a whirlpool visible almost continually just two hundred meters from the
jetty. That portended vicious side currents and undertows in places unpredictable from the surface.

For three nights he had maintained a constant surveillance of the Rocks, in all stages of the tide, before he
saw his approach.

Through binoculars, it was just a narrow band of calm water, and it only appeared for about half an hour
midway through the flood of the tide, but it would serve his needs. He must literally sail between Scylla