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ur business！ J。R。； you and Murphy got a hull…scrapin' to finish up！ Percy； you done paintin'？ e on； let's get back！〃
Kip clapped the man on the shoulder and made his way out。 But even in the fierce sun； his eyes aching from the glare； he saw the image of a dark form standing on that conning tower； as silent and motionless as Death itself。 Keep it up； he told himself； starting the jeep's engine。 You'll be seeing jumbies in your soup。 He drove out of the boatyard； heading for the fishermen's shanties。 Like it or not； he had to pay a call on the Kephas woman。 There was work to be done； and a sorry task it was indeed。
But before his jeep had made a hundred yards more he felt that chill again； like a premonition。 He had a wall inside him； cutting him in half； blocking off a dark place where he feared to look。
That boat had been built to destroy； it had been baptized in blood and fury； and God only knew how many ships and good men had gone down in the wake of its torpedoes and guns。 Boniface's words haunted him： Take it out of the harbor。 Sink it。 Sink it。 Sink it。
〃How； by God？〃 he said aloud。
Abruptly the bright colors of Coquina village came up around him； and his mind had just begun to wonder how he could soothe the Kephas woman when he felt the first slow scrape of jagged nails across the wall inside his soul。
Seven
HE PAUSED IN the darkness； took from a back pocket a flask and uncapped it； tilted it to his lips； and let the good strong Blackjack rum flow down。 Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve； returned the flask to the pocket； and continued walking the road。
The darkness was absolute； the midnight breezes thick。 They clung around him。 No lights burning in the village。 Everyone asleep。 No； no…there was a light burning up at the Indigo Inn。 A single square of light in an upstairs window。 He didn't know the white man； but he'd seen him around the village before。 It was the white man found the submarine。
The jungle grew wild just beyond the road； cicadas were singing like sawblades in the trees； and every now and then a bird skreeled。 It was just enough noise to unnerve him。 Out at sea there was only the blackness； he could hear the surf on the coral and he knew the beach was near； but he couldn't see it。
He'd gone back to the naval shelter three more times that day to look at the U…boat； to think about what might be waiting for him inside。 The gold bars found in Cayman waters had flamed his greed。 Of course； he didn't know if the stories were true or not…he'd heard them from a rum…rag in a bar…but if it was true！ It was。 It had to be true。 He quickened his pace。 The boatyard was around the next curve in the road； and he had hard work to do。
Something about that vessel had eaten into Turk； there was a strangeness to it； he had a weird feeling about it。 He'd spent all day thinking about it； wondering what treasures it could be hiding。 Maybe that damned policeman knew more than he was saying； too。 Why else would he have wanted to put it away inside that shelter？ Why not just let it rot in the harbor？ No； somethin' was real strange。 The policeman was hidin' somethin'。 And nobody had ever hid any secrets from Turk Pierce。
The whitewashed wooden gates to the boatyard entrance were straight ahead。 It would be easy to either slip under them or climb over。 Hell； who was going to know？ He had almost reached them when a shadow detached itself from the other jungle shadows and stepped out into the road。
Turk stopped； frozen； his mouth half…open。
In the darkness the apparition was huge； a hulking form with wide bare shoulders； its chest covered by the thinnest cotton shirt。 He took a step back before he realized it was real…it was a man。 He was bald…headed； his flesh a tawny color instead of pure ebony； he had a white beard and mustache； cropped close to his shadow…covered face； and Turk caught the sudden gleam of a small gold ring hanging from one earlobe。 The man was carrying a crate of some kind； and Turk could see the muscles defined on his forearms。 The figure stood perfectly still； watching。
〃Hey； you scared the fuck out of me；〃 Turk said easily； trying to control his voice。 Christ！ He didn't want any trouble； especially not with a bastard as big as this。 〃Who are you？〃
The man said nothing。
Turk stepped forward； trying to see the face； but the figure had vanished； swallowed up by the foliage。 A knot had caught in Turk's throat； he thought he'd seen one side of the face； and it had been a hideous mass of scars。 He stood still for a long time； then took his flashlight from his belt and shined it into the jungle； cautiously。 Nothing there。 If the man was still around； he was moving silently。 Turk shivered； fighting off a cold wave of nameless fears。 What was that thing； a damn jumbie walking the road maybe hunting a soul？ Something lookin' for a little child to suck the blood out of？
He kept the light on； moving it from side to side before him。 When he reached the gates； he saw there was enough room for him to slide beneath them on his belly。 Crossing the yard； moving through discarded piles of machinery； empty oil barrels； around beached boat hulks； he saw the naval shelter。 He paused for a moment； standing against a mountain of cable； and switched off his light。 He'd heard a noise； like the sound of someone walking along wharf planking。 A goddamn night watchman？ There was the noise again； and then Turk realized it was just the breeze； slapping the weathered boatyard sign against its support posts。 He could hear the sound of the clangers in the far distance； and the bass rumble of breaking waves。 Turk snapped his light on again； still uneasy from his encounter with that figure on the road； and approached the shelter。 Cochran hadn't put a chain or padlock on the door； thank God； it was closed； a few crates blocking it。 A handpainted sign read： Keep out。 Cochran。
Turk pulled the crates away； scowling when he found they'd been filled with heavy odds…and…ends…bolts and broken tools。 He opened the door； shined the light around inside； then entered。 It smelled like a burial vault and the stench was almost overpowering； but he swallowed and tried to keep his mind off it。 Light reflected off the water and rippled across the walls； undulating beneath the thing's hull。 Strange shadows moved away from the beam of light； like phantoms scurrying for the safety of darkness。 He worked the light over the conning tower； up to the tops of the shafts； and then back along the superstructure。 You ain't so much hell now； are you？ he asked the thing。 Something clattered sharply behind him； and Turk sucked in his breath； he flashed the light into a corner； his heart hammering。 It was only a rat； panicked by the unfamiliar light； squeezing among a clutter of oil cans and rag scraps。
There was a gangplank between the concrete walkway and the U…boat's deck； and Turk crossed it； careful of his footing。 He had already climbed to the bridge and examined the main hatch there during the day； water and sand more than an inch deep still swirled over it。 There was another hatch on the aft deck； covered with the tendrils of cables； and he couldn't work them away a