After skimming the mesa, the Sea Hound veered to the north. Tom watched the lights and output scopes on the tracker’s control board. Evidently, after being looted, the liner had been towed away from the guyot-but where?
About fifty miles northward, Tom nosed the Sea Hound downward. He turned on her search beam and switched to manual control to ease the descent. Down, down they plunged with the yellow glare of their beam carving a hole of light through the darkening waters.
Minutes later, the seacopter’s crew gasped in awe. Below, on the sea floor, lay the foundered liner. It was toppled on one side and slightly upended-its nose buried in silt-so that the name Centurion was readable across the stern.
A gaping hole in the hull showed where the bomb had exploded. Another hole-smaller and neater-was visible farther forward.
“The sub’s frogmen must have cut that other hole to remove the gold,” Bud remarked.
114 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
“Probably so,” Tom agreed. “That may be the location of the hold where the bullion was stored. The Apollo statue was stowed there, too, I’d say, since both valuables had to be kept under guard.”
“Wonder why the ship was dumped here?” Arv said, after a moment of grim silence.
Tom rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “My guess is they weren’t taking any chances. That electric trawler spotted us prying around the guyot, so they probably decided to remove the evidence in case we came back later to investigate.”
Tom landed the Sea Hound near the sunken liner. Then he and Bud squirmed into Fat Man suits, geared for deep-sea work. The boys waddled out through the air lock and made their way to the Centurion. Tom paused to inspect the bomb damage, which had occurred at the ship’s engine room. Then he and Bud moved cautiously over the hull toward the other hole. This clearly had been cut with a torch.