So far, not a single image had appeared on the screen. The quiet had lasted so long that when a couple of targets did appear for a moment, the guard didn’t see them. He wasn’t even really looking anymore, just trying to fight off the need for sleep.

The images vanished quickly and then appeared for the second time minutes later. Diagonal lines were drawn to them, indicating ranging mode had been activated. At this point the guard became confused. By the time he traced the lines to the targets, the return had disappeared again, replaced by a pop-up box that read contact lost.

The guard straightened in his seat.

A wave of suspicion flowed through him.

Had he just seen something? If so, where had it gone? How had it disappeared? The thought of American Stealth fighters ran through his head.

He looked out the window into the darkness, saw nothing and then returned his eyes to the set.

When the targets failed to reappear, he grew even more suspicious.

He grabbed a pair of large binoculars and stepped out onto the observation wing. Trying to focus in the misty gloom was difficult, and he didn’t see anything. Partly because he spent most of his time scanning the sky for aircraft or helicopters, but also because, even powered down for the night, the lights from the island put a soft glow out into the mist that made anything beyond the reach of the lights impossible to see. Had he looked directly toward the five bamboo rafts, he would not have seen anything but the white veil of the mist.

Frustrated, he went back to the radar and crouched over it, watching it closely like a cat guarding a hole in the wall where a mouse lives.

CHAPTER 52

AS KURT APPROACHED THE COLOSSAL ISLAND OF AQUA-Terra with his fleet of matchstick rafts, it loomed out of the mist like the Rock of Gibraltar. He felt like an ant attacking an elephant.

“It is gigantic,” Tautog said.

“Mostly empty,” Kurt reminded himself.

“What if they brought more people in since we left?” Leilani asked.

He turned to her with pursed lips, not exactly needing the voice of reason at this point. “You really have to meet Joe,” he said. “I think you two were separated at birth.”

Knowing that Marchetti’s brig lay near the aft end of the island, Kurt decided to make for it. He stepped to the bow, easing around the lower spar of the sail and unlashing a tarp from the Pain Maker’s sound box.

“Leilani,” he said quietly, “you and Varu start powering this up.”

She moved to the generator and flywheel near the aft end of the boat. It was a little ungainly to operate the hand-powered generator on the small craft, but once they got the flywheel up to speed the weight of the heavy disc spinning would provide most of the power.

Kurt heard the dynamo begin turning and saw the power needle edge up. They were almost within a hundred yards. He set the range dial, and the aperture of the speakers changed.

They were close enough now that the bulk of the island hid them from the two main towers and the control room and any radar beams. The only thing they had to worry about were guards on patrol. If Kurt spotted any, he would have to hit them with the blast. If that failed, a rifle he’d tested lay close by.

The windows of the lower deck began to appear more clearly. He counted. The last five windows belonged to the brig.

Kurt took out the old binoculars and stared through them. The five windows were dimly backlit. He couldn’t see any activity inside.

He thought about making for the ladder and the gangways near the aft, then changed his mind. If a permanent guard was posted anywhere, that might be a prime spot for it. Instead he’d try something else.

He held up a hand for the other boats to follow, and they angled toward the fifth window. At thirty-five yards, roughly the distance he’d been at when hit with the sound wave on the beach, Kurt flipped the switch to stand by, aimed the speaker box using a lever and locked onto the window.

With Leilani and Varu still providing the elbow grease to give it power, Kurt changed the range setting to thirty-five and flipped the switch from stand by to active. Instantly, the ethereal waves of noise began to issue forth.

With the Pain Maker aimed at the fifth window, Kurt saw the heavy glass begin to vibrate.

“More power,” he said.

Tautog took over for Leilani, and the power needle came up into the red. Kurt kept the beam focused on the target.

“What are you doing?” Leilani asked.

“Ever see the old Memorex commercial?”

She shook her head.

“Just watch that window.”

The window was vibrating, shaking back and forth with the sound waves like the skin of a drum. He could see the ripples catching the light. A strange noise began echoing out over the water like the ringing of a Tibetan Singing Bowl. Kurt worried it would give them away, but it was too late to stop, they were committed now.

“More power,” he whispered again, and then, realizing Varu was sweating and exhausted, he took the young man’s spot and put his own muscle into the effort. The boat drifted, but Leilani kept the Pain Maker focused on the glass.

It looked like they were going to fail, as if the hurricane-proof window was going to hold up against the vibration, when all of a sudden two of the other boats snapped their systems on and focused them on the same window.

The three combined beams of sound shattered the glass instantly. It exploded inward, an effect Kurt hadn’t counted on. He only hoped Marchetti and the Trouts were in the room and had been smart enough to back away from the vibrating windowpane.

INSIDE THEIR CELL, Gamay heard the sound first: a strange resonance that initially seemed only like her ears were ringing.

“WHAT’S THAT?” Paul asked.

Apparently it wasn’t her imagination.

“I have no idea,” she said.

Gamay stood, leaving her post at the door and poking about the dark quarters like a suburbanite looking through a quiet house for a chirping cricket.

The noise grew slowly in intensity, if not volume. Had there been a dog present, it would have been howling at the top of its lungs.

“Maybe we’re being abducted by aliens,” Marchetti suggested.

Gamay ignored him. The noise had brought her to the large window overlooking the ocean. She pressed her face against it. Out in the dark, barely illuminated by the few lights Aqua-Terra was running, she saw a collection of native-looking rafts. She recognized a figure on the lead boat.

“It’s Kurt,” she said.

Paul and Marchetti ran over.

“What on earth is he doing?” Paul asked, gazing at the strange goings-on. “And who are those people with him?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Gamay said.

As they watched, two of the other rafts aligned themselves with Kurt’s, and the strange resonance spiked an octave or two. A crash of shattering glass rang out somewhere to their left.

“I believe he’s trying to rescue us,” Marchetti said.

“Yes,” Gamay replied, proud and sad all at the same time. “Unfortunately, he’s breaking into the wrong room.”

OUT IN THE HALL, the men charged with guarding the prisoners heard the vibration for a moment, but it sounded to them like the massage chair on full tilt once again. The shattering glass was a different story.

They jumped to their feet.

“Check the prisoners,” the lead guard ordered.

Two of his men grabbed their weapons and ran down the hall. As they vanished, he picked up the phone and dialed up to the control room. After four rings, no one had answered.

“Pick up, already,” he grumbled.