Trojan Odyssey

Pitt said, "We'll follow the dock until it reaches the shore before we surface again."

This time Giordino moved off into the lead, with Pitt following. The bottom came up sharply and they were relieved to find a sandy beach free of rocks. Crouching under the dock and shielded from the overhead lights, they removed their dive gear and wet suits, opened their waterproof bags and retrieved their Odyssey jumpsuits and hard hats. Slipping on socks and shoes, they checked their ID badges to see they were attached in the proper position before stepping warily into the open.

A single guard sat in a small house at the edge of a paved road that passed by the entrance to the dock. He was eyeballing a TV cha

"Shall we test our presence?" he said to Giordino, face-to-face for the first time since they dove in the water.

"You want to observe his reaction when we walk by?"

"Now or never to see if we can freely move throughout the facility."

They walked casually past the guardhouse. The security guard, wearing the male black jumpsuit, caught their movement and came out onto the road. "La parada?" he shouted, a frown on his face.

"La parada?" Giordino repeated.

"It means halt."

"Para qué está usted aqui? Usted debe estar en sus cuartos."

"Here's your chance to flash your Spanish," said Giordino, his fingers tightening around the grip of his gun beneath the jumpsuit.

"What Spanish," said Pitt benignly. "I forgot most of what I learned in high school."

"Take a guess. What did he say?"

"He wants to know what are we're doing here. Then he said we're supposed to be in our quarters."

"Not bad." Giordino gri

"Very good," Pitt complimented him in turn.

"I've been to Tijuana." Giordino approached the guard and shrugged helplessly. "We're Canadian."

The guard frowned as he looked at Giordino. If his mind could be read, it would reveal that the woman inside the white uniform jumpsuit was the ugliest he'd ever seen. Then his frown turned to a smile. "Oh, si, Canadians, I speak English." He pronounced it Englais.

"I know we're supposed to be in the barracks," said Pitt, smiling back. "We only wanted to take a little walk before going to sleep."

"No, no, that is not allowed, amigos," said the guard. "You are not allowed out of your assigned area after eight o'clock."

Pitt threw up his hands. "Sorry, amigo, we were talking and didn't notice we had wandered into the wrong area. Now we're lost. Can you direct us to the barracks?"

The guard came over and shined a flashlight on their badges and studied them. "You from the dig?"

"Si, we're from the dig. Our superior sent us topside for a few days' rest."

"I understand, senor, but you must return to your quarters. It is regulations. Just follow the road and turn left at the water tower. Your building is thirty meters to the left."

"Gracias, amigo," said Pitt. "We're on our way."

Satisfied Pitt and Giordino were not intruders, the guard returned to his little house.

Giordino said, "Well, we passed the first test."

"Best we hide out somewhere until daylight. Not healthy to wander around here in the dead of night. Too suspicious. The next guard who stops us might not be so friendly."

They followed the guard's directions until they came to a long row of buildings. They moved in the shadows through the edge of a grove of palm trees, studying the entrances to the living quarters for the employees of Odyssey.

All but the fifth and last building were free of guards. That building had two guards stationed at the entrance, while another two patrolled the perimeter outside a high surrounding fence.

"Whoever lives there must not be popular with Odyssey," said Pitt. "It looks like a prison."

"The occupants must be held captive."

"Agreed."

"Then we break into one that's open."

Pitt shook his head. "No, we enter this one. I want to talk to those who are held inside. We may learn more from them about Odyssey's operation."

"No way we're going to bluff our way in."

"Looks like a small shed next door. Let's move around, keeping the trees as cover, and check it out."

"You never take the easy path," Giordino groaned at seeing that Pitt's face held a remote and thoughtful expression under the glow of the lights lining the street.

"No fun if it's simple," Pitt said seriously.

Like burglars slinking through a residential neighborhood, they moved through the trees, taking advantage of the thin curling trunks until they reached the edge of the grove. Crouched and ru

Pitt could see Giordino's teeth spread in a smile in the dim light. "I think we struck the mother lode."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I am," said Pitt. "We start up the sweeper and send it down the street, but with one refinement to get the guard's attention."

"Which is?"

"We set it on fire."

"Your devious mind never ceases to amaze me."

"It's a gift."

In ten minutes, they had siphoned three gallons of gas into a five-gallon can they found in the garage. Pitt climbed into the cab of the street sweeper and turned on the ignition, while Giordino stood ready to swing the doors open. They were both thankful the engine started with a single cough and turned over smoothly without an abundance of exhaust noise. The sweeper had standard four-speed transmission, and he stood outside the open door, ready to shift it into second gear, skipping first so the big vehicle would gain speed faster. Waiting until the last minute to avoid an explosion inside the garage from the gas fumes, he turned the steering wheel of the big vehicle so that it would angle down the road toward a row of parked trucks. Giordino opened the double doors and trotted back to the fuel can. He doused the gas into the empty cab and stood holding the flame starter for an acetylene torch.

"Showtime," he said briefly.

Pitt, standing on the doorframe just outside the cab, jammed the shifter into gear and leaped, as Giordino turned the oxygen and acetylene valves full open and squeezed the handle of the flame starter, sending a two-foot flame bursting from the tip of the torch. There was a loud whoosh as a combustion-produced ball of fire enveloped the cab of the sweeper before it accelerated through the doors.

Roaring down the road like a comet, the sweeper, with its brushes spi