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Acacia gave a low whistle, and Alex felt her hand tighten on his. The Garners had stopped and spread out.
Downslope was a semicircle of bay. It must have been deeper once. The line of Quonset huts along the sandy shore had once been Navy docking facilities. The docks were high and dry now, and the buildings deteriorated, and the harbor must have been two to three meters deep.
The water was littered with boats and pieces of boats, broken airplanes both military and commercial, ruined machinery of every description. Angular shapes halfway to the horizon might have been the bows of luxury liners sunk almost beneath the water. One of the military aircraft had the gri
The killer had crept past a big airplane on his path to Rice
and the neutral scent. Now, which Gamer was giving undue attention to the mired and broken airplanes? Trouble was, everyone was intently studying the harbor, except the Griffin, who was fruitlessly studying them.
"Now what in the world is a Nazi patrol boat doing in the Pacific?" Holly Frost murmured to Acacia.
Chester was conferring with Maibang. Acacia called, "We want in on this, Ches."
Chester nodded agreement. "That sounds fair. Let's gather round, people." The Garners crowded around the Lore Master, and he tapped Kasan on the head. "You're on."
Kasan Maibang was nodding to himself. "I have heard of this place, but never seen it. Have you, Lady Janet?"
The small blonde nodded her head, then shook it. "Not actually saw, but I think I was brought through here on the way to the Mission. You know, for the sacrifice?"
The little man's eyes were bright, and his grin managed to convey mystery and menace at the same time. "I think that the lady may be right. In truth, this place smells of evil, smells of our enemies. This is the Sea of Lost Cargo, where our enemy lures European transportation and robs them."
"I want a close look at those buildings," Chester said. "Then What's the matter, Fortunato?"
McWhirter had been shaking his head as he studied the harbor. "They don't look quite..."
"The ships and planes? Most of them are holograms. Why not? We can't get to them anyway. There won't be more than one or two solid mockups." Chester pointed. "Like that Nazi ship. Stands out, doesn't it? Almost whistles for our attention. I think we'll search there next. Very carefully."
Gina sidled up to him. "Danger, Ches?"
"You can bet half your points on it. We'll split into groups once we're down there. One group goes in, one guards." He glanced at Holly. "Well, lady, we get to test you out a bit early. Are you up to it?"
She said nothing, but licked her lips eagerly. Mary-em fairly vibrated in place.
Alex nudged his companion. "Looks like Mary-em's met her match."
"That'll take some doing. We'll see."
The Gamers spilled downhill. Griffin felt vaguely surprised to find that the incline was real. Curiously, he was more disoriented than he would have been if everything had been illusion. He looked above himself, at the mountains they had just crossed, and wondered: How much of that was real? And didn't know.
His unease vanished with the childish pleasure of ru
When everyone had reached bottom, Chester began ticking people right and left. "S.J., Oliver, Panthesilea, Griffin, Dark Star,
and... Holly Frost. You come with me. And Maibang. The rest of you stay with Kibugonai and Lady Janet. We're going in."
"Well all right," Holly said, her face deadly serious. Her eyes gleamed as they roamed the aged buildings that lined the docks. She and Griffin were the tallest people in the group, and she gravitated toward him naturally. "You're the Griffin," she said, appraising him. "I saw the spear cast you made on the Nibek. Not bad at all."
"Mildly spectacular. Your name's Holly? This is Panthesilea." Acacia smiled at Holly with an edge of challenge. "This is your first big outing?"
"My first ‘first run'. I've done my share of straight Gaming." The tall black girl noticed the way Acacia moved closer to Alex, and clucked loudly. "No need to get possessive, honey. I haven't even decided if I want him yet."
Acacia couldn't seem to decide how to react to that comment. "As soon as you make up your mind, clue me in, will you?"
"You'll be the second to know." There was a broad flash of teeth, and Holly pivoted on her heel to investigate the other members of the group.
"I'm not sure why," Acacia said softly to Alex, "but I think 1 like her. Or I don't. One or the other."
"What I love about you is your absolutely fearless self-appraisal."
The Garners moved in two clumps toward the docks. Bowan the Black's "Reveal danger!" generated only a wash of green light. Nothing threatened them, then... except the passive danger of the rotted wood they walked on.
The years had not been kind to the long arc of wood-and-concrete docks, nor to the Quonset huts and smaller wooden structures. But Griffin noticed anomalies. Every line and cable was neatly coiled, ready for use and rotting in place. Winch machinery was rust-free, oiled and polished. A riveted metal tank on stilt legs showed freshly painted letters:
AIRCRAFT FUEL
"Chester, this place isn't abandoned."
"I know, Griffin. We'll have to watch for the owners coming back. And ask ourselves why this place isn't guarded. Meanwhile
that building?"
No need to point. Everyone had already noticed that one par-
ticular Quonset hut. It might have been built yesterday. The metal gleamed. In the walk that led to the front entrance, some of the wood planks had been replaced.
Gina cast another Reveal Danger. Nothing.
The first team went in. The rest hovered at the entrance, ready for emergencies.
It had been the Administration Building. Wooden walls had blocked it off into cubicles with desks. Most of the partitions had been torn out. The desks were still there, but most of them had been lined against one long wall. But the papers and coffee cups and ash trays were still on the desks, some neat, some messy; and the desks had been dusted. The great expanse of concrete floor had been swept recently.
The floor was cluttered with... well, stuff. As if children had played here, Griffin thought, while the teacher was gone.
There were big, sweeping patterns drawn on the concrete: a good representation of the dockyard and shoreline, in green paint, and an airfield overlaid in brown paint on the bay itself. There were a dozen malformed little figurines made from gourds and tubers and wood. There were flocks of toy ships and airplanes, a rich variety of them. Some were crude representations with bamboo hulls or gourd fuselages and wings of clipped leaves; but other craft looked like they had been bought in American toy shops, or built for the offices of naval and air force officers. A "table ritual", candles and clean tablecloth and fresh flowers and cans of corned beef and Spam, had been carefully arrayed on a big desk with four desk chairs around it.
"A cargo cult magician's workshop," Holly Frost said. "If we desecrate this place, we'll put them out of business for a while."