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datatime: 2022-12-04 19:53:05 Author:vttCXxkS

What about sharks?

The operator ignored the radar screen and stared intently at the enhanced computer display.Okay, I have a tiny object that's a possible. Nine miles southwest, bearing two-two-two degrees.

The tide is running in our favor, so let's get moving before it turns.

What state?

All the more reason to make shore and find cover.

What about sharks?

Funny man.

Still nothing.

What about sharks?

I didn't know Wyoming had a swimming pool.

They set off with the elementary backstroke, arms thrown back, legs thrusting in a whip kick. The incoming tide pushed them along at close to a knot, and they made good time. Jessie was a strong swimmer. She matched Pitt stroke for stroke, staying right alongside him. He marveled at her endurance after all she had been through the past six days and felt pity for the aches and exhaustion he knew she was suffering. But he could not allow her to slack off now, not until they reached shore and found a small measure of safety.

They never breakfast before six o'clock, he said impatiently.Now come on, no more talk.

The tide is running in our favor, so let's get moving before it turns.

I didn't know Wyoming had a swimming pool.

How's your backstroke? he asked.

The radar operator shook his head.Not unless they're blind or plain stupid. The skies are clear as crystal. Any tenderfoot Boy Scout knows where the North Star lies.

What state?

Go to ten.

The tide is running in our favor, so let's get moving before it turns.

She had not offered a reason for forcing him to turn for Cuba, and Pitt had not asked. He didn't have to be clairvoyant to know she had a definite purpose in mind that went beyond mere insanity. This lady had very definite ideas and the stubbornness to back them up. He could have disarmed her by capsizing the Dasher during a fast turn on the down slope of a wave, and he was also reasonably certain she wouldn't have pulled the trigger if he had refused.

They set off with the elementary backstroke, arms thrown back, legs thrusting in a whip kick. The incoming tide pushed them along at close to a knot, and they made good time. Jessie was a strong swimmer. She matched Pitt stroke for stroke, staying right alongside him. He marveled at her endurance after all she had been through the past six days and felt pity for the aches and exhaustion he knew she was suffering. But he could not allow her to slack off now, not until they reached shore and found a small measure of safety.

Why? he asked dumbly.Why would they deliberately go to Cuba?

I didn't know Wyoming had a swimming pool.

Pitt and Jessie evaded a prowling Cuban patrol boat and were within a thousand yards of the Cuban shoreline when the battery on the Dasher died. He pulled the drain plugs, and they swam away as the little sport craft slipped under the sea and sank to the bottom. His combat boots were a tight fit and allowed little water to seep inside, so he left them on, well aware they would be essential once he stepped on shore.

Pitt stopped and dove straight down, touching bottom at what he reckoned was ten feet. He reached out and accidentally brushed one of Jessie's legs as he surfaced. She shrieked, thinking she was being attacked by something big with a triangular fin, unseeing eyes, and a mouth that only a dentist could appreciate.

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