Right after they went into the gray-green water, he and everybody else still on the Explorer had something else to worry about. The SB-10 buzzed around the American ship like an angry bumblebee, sometimes coming within fifty yards of her. Captain Gresham signaled to the Russian tug that the Glomar Explorer couldn’t maneuver at all. As usual, the SB-10 ignored the signal.

Jerry watched the tug’s antics from the helipad. So did Jack Porter. The bearded security director was biting his lip with worry. “If they put a diver in the water, they can find out what we’ve got here,” he said, perhaps more to himself than to Jerry. “Wouldn’t that just screw everything to the wall?”

“Oh, maybe a little,” Jerry said. Jack sent him a startled look—yes, he had been talking to himself. More quietly, Jerry went on, “We have some guns aboard? Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah. Some of ’em are in a chest under my bed, in fact,” Jack answered. “Only we can’t use ’em. That would be an act of war, or close enough, and sure as the devil they’d get off a signal before we could take them all out.”

“Uh-huh.” Jerry made himself nod and smile. He got the feeling that, had Jack owned a death ray that could have vaporized the SB-10 without leaving a trace, he would have fired it without thinking twice.

If we get inside the starship, maybe he will get a ray like that, Jerry thought uneasily. Do I want him to?

While that was going through his head, the SB-10 hove to, still no more than fifty yards astern of the Glomar Explorer. Most of the crew lined the starboard rail, the one nearer the U.S. vessel. Jerry didn’t see the woman or women aboard the tug. He understood why a moment later. In unison, the Russians spun around, bent over, and dropped their pants.

Laughing fit to bust, Jerry mooned the Soviet sailors right back. Jack Porter and the rest of the Americans on the helipad did, too. “Turn the other cheek,” Jack said. “It’s in the Bible, you know?”

“It sure is.” Straightening, Jerry pulled up his cords.

The Russians also covered themselves. They waved to the Americans. “Urra! Urra! Urra!” they shouted. The SB-10’s whistle blew three long blasts. The tug’s engine growled to busier life. The little ship headed off to the northwest, as the Chazhma had earlier.

“Do you think it’s gone for good?” Jerry asked.

“Christ, I hope so!” Jack answered. “But I hoped so the last time it disappeared, too, so we just have to wait and see.”

“No divers, anyway,” Jerry said.

“Yeah!” Porter crossed himself, whether ironically or for real Jerry couldn’t guess.