There was nothing else left to say. Pitt had led these five men into a trap from which they might never escape alive. All emotion left him, he was conscious now only of time. On cue, Pitt raised his hands over his head and slowly turned around.

"Major Pitt, you are an uncommonly aggravating young man."

Bruno von Till stood on the deck of the submarine, grinning like Fu Manchu about to feed a victim to the crocodiles. His eyes were narrowed slits beneath the skin-topped head, and he seemed, at least to Pitt, to radiate a personal and long-practiced repulsiveness. But something was wrong, terribly wrong. The old German had both hands in his jacket pockets; he carried no gun. It was the man beside him who held the gun—a mountain of a man with a face of carved stone and a torso like a tree trunk. Von Till's eyes fully opened, and his voice rose in a mocking tone.

"Forgive me for not offering introductions, Major." Von Till gestured toward his companion. "But I understand that you and Darius have already met."

17

17

"You seem surprised to see me, Major," Darius murmured satanically. "I can't tell you what a great pleasure it is to meet you again under more favorable terms." He jammed the nasty looking Luger against Pitt's throat. "Please do not move and force me to kill you prematurely. Your quick and sudden death would only cheat me out of a great deal of personal satisfaction and pleasure. I said I had an account to settle with you and your ugly little friend; now the hour has arrived to repay my debt for the pain I have suffered at your hands or, more correctly, feet."

Pitt did his damnedest to look casual. "Sorry to disappoint you but Giordino stayed home this trip."

"Then his punishment shall be added to yours."

Darius smiled pleasantly, then lowered the gun and calmly shot Pitt in the leg. The sharp crack of the Luger amplified to a thunderclap within the rock-walled cavern. A blow—like the thrust of a red-hot poker—jerked Pitt sideways and knocked him backward two steps. Somehow, he never really knew how, he managed to remain on his feet. The nine millimeter bullet had torn through the fleshy part of his thigh, missing the bone by a scant quarter of an inch and leaving a neat little reddish hole at the entrance and a slightly larger one at the exit. The burning sensation quickly left, and his leg became numb with shock; the real pain, he was sure, would soon follow.

"Come now, Darius," von Till spoke reprovingly. "Let us not overindulge ourselves in crudity. We have more important matters to resolve before you pursue your little 'eye-for-an-eye' sport. My apologies, Major Pitt, but you must admit, you have only yourself to blame. Your well-aimed kick in such a delicate location will require Darius to limp for at least another two weeks."