Cin actually bounced on her toes, but at least she didn't 'squeeee'.
"------------------------------------------------------"
Kim had always liked missions where she got to dive. She liked it underwater. It was so... quiet, and peaceful. Of course, those dives had always been in broad daylight, and this was early evening, so it was quiet, peaceful, and dark. Below her all she could see was a slate-gray void. She'd been told it was seventy feet down to the lava-tube opening, and that it would take her a good hour in the tube before she reached the Lair – if all went well. Her Kimmuni – her COmmunicator, locked into the "dashboard" of the scooter showed that she was right on target, so she gently lifted both foot-posts until she was heading straight down, at half speed. Into the darkness. Did this thing have lights?
Yes, of course the thing had lights. And something else too – an orange button marked "BLOA". Well, that explained a lot... This was GJ equipment, so God knew what it did. Probably some sort of weapon or something, it couldn't be an emergency thing, or it would be a red button, surely... She wished she had someone to ask.
There was the bottom, emerging out of the darkness. Everything was dark-blue, no other color to be seen. Except for a black hole in the blueness. That must be the tunnel... well, goodbye daylight.
The opening of the tunnel was about fifty feet across, a gaping maw of blackness that lead, eventually, to the heart of the volcano that had created it. Moana Loa. The Island Queen volcano, to which most of the Big Island owed it's existence. 13,680 feet above sea-level, and another 16,400 feet down to the sea floor. All together, one of the largest volcanoes in the world. And it was active. And she was inside it.
She tapped the screen to set her first way point. Upon entering the mouth, she suddenly saw why she needed way points in the first place... it wasn't just one long continuous tunnel: it was a maze of tunnels. Twisting and winding, intersecting and diverging again, it was like a braid, created by millions of years of lava flows, each taking it's own route down the steep-sided slope. If it hadn't been mapped, if Kim hadn't had an inertial-navigation system – or if she lost it – she would be doomed.
Kim was not claustrophobic, but she gained a new respect for those who were. Suddenly she understood what it must be like to feel like the walls were closing in on you, and you couldn't get out. To be trapped here would be nightmarish.
"------------------------------------------------------"
The dining-table was laid out in the main room of the lair. Opposite the table stood a bank of industrial-looking controls of some sort. One of he panels was fire-engine red, and displayed a double-throw knife-switch with large white letters underneath that said "Self-Destruct". Closer to them were six racks of "computer equipment", circa 1958: reel-to-reel tape decks and panels with lots of blinking lights. Orange-suited workers appeared to be busy at various places, some with clipboards. At the far end of the room, the entire wall, thirty feet high, was taken up by a waterfall of red-hot lava, the rumbling of which could be felt through the floor.
"Miss Saychenal will join us shortly," Senor Senior told the others at the table as they waited for the food to be brought in, "I had to make some last-minute... alterations to her wardrobe." He looked at Bonnie and smiled conspiratorially, "I think you will appreciate her attire."
"Whatever" Bonnie replied. She wasn't going to play this game, but she did have to admit that her own "attire" was quite... smexy. A white, midriff-baring blouse with black piping around every edge, and a mini-skirt so short that her matching underwear might as well be considered part of the package, since everyone was going to see it anyway. At least he didn't make us wear go-go boots – I don't think I could've stood that Bonnie thought, I bet Cin's gonna freak at having to wear a mini-skirt. This should be fun... maybe it'll cool her off a little on Mr. Super-villain.
Shortly, Cin appeared from a hallway, and her guard took up his position off to the side of the table. Bonnie's mouth hung open.
Keeping the same style, but in radically different mode, Cin was dressed in suit-pants, double-breasted blazer, and a vest. All with the same black piping at every edge seam, every edge. All she lacked was a gold watch-fob and she could have just walked in from Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Shiny white shoes completed the picture at one end, while her own blonde hair did the same for the other. Cin looked good in that outfit.
Senor Senior got up from his chair at the head of the table and pulled out the chair to his right. "Welcome, number seven. Please join us."
"I am not a number!" Cin replied, smiling but trying to sound angry at the same time, "I am a woman! The Prisoner, except in reverse. I love it!" She walked up to the table and allowed Senor Senior to push her chair in, an odd mixture of chivalry and androgyny. Even Agent Du was smiling. There was no denying that Senor Senior, Senior had Class, with a capital 'C'.
"Hey, Bon" Cin turned to her girlfriend, and began checking out what she was wearing, "What kind of outfit... did... he..." Cin's voice trailed in direct proportion to how low her eyes were gazing. Above what seemed like miles of thigh, the small white triangle of Bonnie's panties showed below the skirt – panties with black piping, of course. "Whoa." Cin had been thinking about little else but food since Senor Senior had mentioned 'dinner' in the tunneler, but now she forgot all about it.
Until he brought it up again, "Ah. Dinner is served. In keeping with out surroundings, I've had a traditional Hawaiian meal prepared. I hope everybody likes poi..." Pints of purplish gelatinous sauce were set in front of each of them. "As I understand it, the idea is to put on everything, and then eat the rest as dessert. I have to admit, I'm rather anxious about it myself – I've never had poi. I'd better like it, or I'll have the cook thrown into the lava pit! Mwahahahahahah! Mwahahahahahah!" Cin was beaming and giggling, Du was smiling, but Bonnie was just giving him a look of "what the fuck?", so he cleared his throat and sat down.
"Mr. Senor Senior, sir? Where's -" Cin began, only to be cut off.
"Please, Cin, just 'Senor Senior'. Saying 'Mr. Senor Senior' is like saying 'Mr. Mr. Senior'. One will do." He said chiding her in a way that could only be labeled 'affectionately'.
"Oh, I'm sorry – Senor Senior, sir – where's... uh, Senor Junior?"
"Yes. Well." He obviously didn't enjoy answering, "I'm afraid he couldn't make it. It seems he had an audition. He claims it's a major entertainment 'happening', as he put it. Something called 'American Idol'. Have you ever heard of it?"
Bonnie snickered, and received an elbow in the side from Cin, "No... no I don't think so... but, I don't really get into tv that much..." Cin lied.
The snicker did not escape the attention of Senor Senior, though, but he decided he'd rather not know, and merely sighed somewhat sadly.
"Uh... this is a wonderful lair, Senor Senior! Is that an actual wall of lava over there?" Cin asked, trying desperately to change the subject she had brought up.
But apparently she asked the wrong question, because Senor Senior shot her a look of disappointment that cut right through her fan-girl heart.
Before Cin could recover, Agent Du asked, "Senor Senior – would it be rude to discuss how you managed to trick me into stealing the OPT for you?"
Senor Senior seemed happy to talk about it, and Cin at her food despondently, in silence.
You idiot! Cin thought, Of COURSE it's not an actual wall of lava! We'd all be roasted alive if it was an actual wall of lava! GAWD how can you be so stupid... Next thing you'll ask him is what those ancient computers are doing... He must think... oh... hell...
"------------------------------------------------------"
Senor Senior, Sr, tapped on his wine-glass with his fork, "And now we have come to the point where I tell you about my evil plan. If you'll watch the screen..." He pressed a button on the arm-rest of his chair.
And steel bands clamped shut around the arm-rests of all the other chairs. Had anyone actually had their arms on the arm-rests, they would have been immobilized.
Senor Senior sighed, "Mr Brown! I thought I said the top left button was to be the chair restraints! That was the top-right!"
One of the orange suited men came abashedly forward, "Oh... I get it, if you're sitting in the chair... y'see, I thought -"
"You are fired, Mr. Brown. Mr. Green? Take him to the lagoon. See that he has one and a half hours of air and let him swim out."
"But, Senor Senior... it takes at least two hours to swim out -" Mr. Brown complained.
"Then I guess you'd better swim fast, eh, Mr. Brown? And Mr. Green? To give Mr. Brown proper motivation, release the Tiger shark!" He paused and thought, then said, "Uhm... and you'd better not tell me we don't have a Tiger shark or you will be joining him."
"Oh, yes sir, we have a Tiger shark. Came in yesterday. Big one too! All the way from-"
"Yes yes, Mr. Green... very well. See to it at once."
"------------------------------------------------------"
Kim could see a glow ahead. Lights. Her map confirmed she was close to the void that must be the lair. Just whose lair it was, she didn't yet know. She shut off the scooter's headlamps and slowed to two knots.
From the entrance into the lagoon the glow resolved into individual flood lights above the surface of the water, and she could some sort of dock. Some sort of boat – strike that – it would have to be a submarine – was tied up to it. Should she disable it? Should she hide in it? Should she destroy it? No, that would give her away. Best for no one to know she was there. Best to sneak in. She couldn't see activity going on above, so she slowly maneuvered the scooter out into the lagoon itself.
Those floodlights were bright! She could see every detail of everything around her, every rock on the bottom, every bolt in the submarine's hull, but she had to hold her hand over the top of her mask to cut the glare. She could even see her own shadow on the lagoon floor, ten feet below.
That's when she saw the other shadow. Her scooter was twelve feet long – the other shadow was easily twenty, probably twenty-five. She looked up.
Not all sharks are created equal. Nurse sharks only eat shellfish and squid, although they look suitably "sharkey". Dogfish aren't even called "sharks", although technically they are. The largest sharks in the world – Whale sharks – eat nothing but microscopic plankton and shrimp. But of all sharks, three stand out: Great Whites, Bulls, and Tigers. Everything about them screams "mean and ugly". They are large, they are aggressive, they have big mouths. They are man-eaters. A Tiger shark was looking at Kim.
She twisted the throttle all the way back – top speed 30 knots – and aimed for the vertical wall of the lagoon. The Tiger followed. The scooter built up speed at an agonizingly slow rate , but the shark seemed to be in no hurry. It would wait until it's prey reached the surface, and then come up from underneath, as sharks are wont to do. Sharks seldom hurry. They seldom need to.
Kim and her scooter breached the surface of the lagoon like a marlin, flying out of the water and landing with a bone-jarring fiber-glass crunch! on the solid rock, then sliding another ten feet on the flat ledge.
Probably the last thing Kim had needed was a 'bone-jarring crunch'. Her eyes squeezed shut with pain.
When she opened them, she saw four men in orange jump-suits – three of them with rifles – staring at her. SO not the sneaking in she thought.
"------------------------------------------------------"
Senor Senior, Sr., explained his evil scheme to the table: using the OPT, explosive charges were to be set along a fault-line along an undersea ledge along the slope of the Moana Loa volcano. The resulting displacement of water would set up a pressure-wave perpendicular to the slope, and aimed at Tokyo, Japan. Upon reaching the shelf-slope of that tectonic plate, the pressure-wave would assume the character of a tsunami. That's what tsunamis were. That's what all tsunamis were.
Such events happened naturally from time to time. Oceanographers were still debating which tsunami had resulted from the last great earthquake in Hawaii, and just which part of which island slid to create it. Fairly recent research with side-scanning sonar showed that at some point in the past – but no one knew how far back – pieces of slope the size of Rhode Island had broken free and rolled down to the sea floor, probably creating a tsunami a hundred feet high on some unlucky coast.
The actual destruction from this slide would not be so great. For one thing, an extensive network of P-wave detectors at random places in the open ocean (the Pacific Tsunami Warning Network) would provide Japan with warning ahead of time, if they chose to listen to it. So far, the network had never had an opportunity to show what it could do, so it was likely that when it did go off, it would be ignored – as most such alarms are. But Japan had a long history of earthquakes, volcanoes, and tsunamis. They were about as prepared as any nation could be for natural disaster. Japan is unlucky that way.
But while the real damage might not be so spectacular, the perception of doom would be overwhelming to the financial markets. Because Senor Senior had timed his disaster to just after the closing of the Japanese stock market. By the time the Nikkei Index went back up the next morning, it would be too late. If you knew about such a thing ahead of time, there were myriad ways to make a killing. Senior Senior, Sr, only knew of a few thousand... but that would be enough.
At least, that's what he said.
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