“I've seen it before off New Guinea. We were doing some research when an undersea slide generated a tsunami thirty to sixty feet tall, and a series of waves lifted our boat off the water just like what I felt today. The people were warned and many made it to high ground when the waves hit, but even so, more than two thousand people were lost.”

The chief gulped. “That's more than live in this town.” He pondered the professor's words. “You think that an earthquake caused this mess? I thought that was something that happened in the Pacific.”

“Normally, you'd be right.” Jenkins furrowed his brow and stared out to sea. “This is absolutely incomprehensible.”

“I'll tell you something else that's going to be hard to figure. How am I going to explain that I evacuated the motel for a bomb scare?”

“Do you think anyone will care at this point?”

Chief Howes surveyed the town and the crowds of people cautiously making their way down the hill to the harbor and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don't guess they will.”

NUMA 3 - Fire Ice

-2- THE AEGEAN SEA

THE MINIATURE RESEARCH submarine NR-1 rocked gently in the waves off the coast of Turkey, almost invisible except for the bright tangerine color of the conning tower. Captain Joe Logan stood with his legs wide apart on the sea-washed deck, holding on to one of the horizontal wings that protruded from the sides of the conning tower. As was his custom before a dive, the captain was making a last minute visual check.

Logan let his eye range along the 145-foot length of the slender black hull whose deck was only inches above the surface of the water. Satisfied all was shipshape, he removed his navy baseball cap and waved at the cream-and-orange Carolyn Chouest a quarter of a mile away. The superstructure of the muscular support ship rose several levels, like the floors in an apartment house. A massive crane capable of lifting several tons jutted out at an angle from the port side.

The captain climbed to the top of the tower and squeezed through the thirty-one-inch-diameter opening. His flotation vest made for a tight fit and he had to wriggle to get through. He ran his fingers along the seal to make sure it was clean, then secured the hatch cover and descended into the confined control area. The space was made even more cramped by the dials, gauges and instruments that covered every square inch of the walls and overhead.