Dagger Magic

Raeburn could almost feel the force of Kurkar's will outpouring to keep the rolag crew on their feet and under his control. The magnitude of the achievement elicited a grudging admiration.

' 'If you look around you, you will see that this vessel is now fully operational," Nagpo went on. "We must prepare to move out. I trust you to give appropriate orders to the captain. When you have done so, you will please to join me on the bridge."

Nagpo turned without further comment and began to retreat up the ladder into the conning tower. With a nervous glance at the entranced Kurkar, who might or might not be fully aware what went on in the control room, Raeburn cast his glance across the controls. The readouts on the accompanying gauges told him that the sub's diesel and electrical systems were, indeed, flashed up, with power levels restored to maximum. Resigned to the part he must play in Dorje's mad charade, at least for now, he turned to address himself to the rolag captain. He could find it in his heart to pity the man - all these men: soldiers once faithful unto death, now recalled to agony in bodies animated only by the darkest of sorceries.

"Listen carefully," he said in German. "I am aware that you are suffering. If you disobey, those who have commanded you here have the power to imprison you in these bodies until they rot into nothing. However, if you do as you are told, you will be released as soon as this vessel's cargo has been transferred to the flying boat that is coming in to land outside this cavern. Do you understand?"

The rolag captain executed a jerky nod, the eyes luminescent with dread comprehension.

"Good. Then blow all ballast and prepare to move out on my command. And as soon as we're underway," he added, with a darting glance at the oblivious Kurkar, "load both stern torpedo tubes and come to the bridge. I shall give you a target on which to vent your vengeance."

He edged toward the ladder to follow Nagpo, but he paused to watch with morbid fascination as the captain moved, whispering among his rolag crew. Accompanied by a sepulchral chorus of hissing and groaning, the resultant movement was jerky and slow as levers were shifted, switches thrown, valves opened, but with ponderous deliberation the interlocking systems began to engage. A rush of compressed air hissed through the pipes, followed by the start-up hum of the DC generator.

The hum built to a powerful drone as the ballast compressors began blowing air into the ballast tanks. The captain was swaying on his feet, sometimes staggering, his agony apparent, but at a sign from him, the helmsman engaged the rudder, testing, and the planesmen followed suit with the hydroplanes. Satisfied that his orders were being carried out, Raeburn mounted the ladder.

Nagpo was waiting at the aft railing of the conning tower, Phurba already in hand, and bade Raeburn come and stand beside him as he turned purposefully toward the stern. Throwing his head back slightly, he closed his eyes and began to chant, rolling the hilt of the dagger between his palms as he did so. After a moment, still chanting, he slowly raised the Phurba so that the point of it was directed toward the seamed rockfall blocking the sub's egress to the sea. Raeburn found himself almost holding his breath.

Nagpo's chant gained force, waking whispering echoes off the surrounding rocks, the Phurba a blur of motion between his swiftly moving hands. His voice rose sharply to a pitch of command, and in that instant, his hands sprang apart and the Phurba launched from his grasp like a tiny missile.

With only a whisper of displaced air, it raced toward the summit of the seam and struck. Raeburn cringed from the resultant explosion, but none of the falling rubble touched the sub as the rock-face split and separated. With a secondary explosion, he suddenly found himself looking out across open water through a rift like the mouth of a tunnel.

Almost too fast for mortal vision, Nagpo's Phurba returned to his hand. Clasping it to his breast, the Tibetan turned to Raeburn.

"The way is open," he announced. "Instruct the captain to proceed."

Swallowing down his apprehension, Raeburn crouched down to the hatch.

"Both engines, back one-third," he said in German.

There was a brief delay while the message was relayed to the control room. Then with a rumble of propeller blades and a churning of white water under the rudder, U-636 began edging backward through the jagged opening, making for the moonlit sea beyond.

Chapter Thirty-Two

OUTSIDE the cave, the roar of the explosion rocked the cove from end to end. With a heavy rumble of shifting rock, an entire seaward section of the southwest cliff blew itself apart, raining down rubble like an artillery barrage.