The Storm by Clive Cussler, Graham Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

something else had to cause it. Let’s get samples of the sludge, and anything else that seems odd.”
    “I’ll do that,” Gamay said.
    “And I’ll help Joe get the power back up,” Paul added.
    “Good,” Kurt said smiling. “Leaves nothing for me to do except introduce myself to an attractive young woman.”

CHAPTER 6
     
    GAMAY STARED AT HIM AS IF HE WAS JOKING. “OF COURSE you will,” she said. “You’re Kurt Austin, what else would you do?”
    Despite her gibe, and suspicious glances from the others, Kurt said nothing more. He crossed the gangway onto the jetty but kept his eyes on the guard at the kiosk as if the guard was heading back inside.
    At the last second he turned, locked his gaze on the woman by the tree, and began to march toward her.
    He moved briskly, with long strides. She stared at him for a second and then began to back up. Kurt kept going.
    The woman moved faster, backing toward the street. As she did so, a delivery van came racing down it. A partner coming to whisk her away, Kurt guessed.
    But the woman stopped in her tracks, appearing confused. She stared at the approaching van and then looked at Kurt and then back at the van as it screeched to a stop several feet away.
    The door flew open and two men jumped out. She tried to run, but they grabbed her.
    Kurt didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he knew that wasn’t a good sign. He broke into a run, shouting at the men.
    “Hey!”
    The woman screamed as they dragged her backward. She struggled, but they flung her through the open door and piled in behind her. By the time Kurt reached the street, they were speeding off. The guard from the kiosk raced up behind him, blowing a whistle.
    A whistle wasn’t going to cut it.
    “Do you have a car?”
    “Just a scooter,” the guard said, pulling out a key and pointing to a little orange Vespa.
    Kurt snatched the key and ran for the scooter. It would have to do.
    He threw a leg over the seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and turned it. The 50cc engine came to life with all the power of a bathroom fan.
    “Who doesn’t have a car?” he shouted as he popped the kickstand, twisted the throttle.
    “The whole island is only two miles across,” the guard yelled back to him. “Who needs a car?”
    Kurt couldn’t argue with that logic, and even if he could have, he didn’t have time. He twisted the throttle wide open, and the Vespa accelerated, buzzing like a weed whacker, chasing after the fleeing van.
    A minute ago he’d wondered if the woman was a reporter, then became suspicious that she might be something more dangerous. Now he was trying to save her from kidnappers. It was making for a very interesting morning.
    The van rumbled down the street two hundred yards ahead of him. Its brake lights came on and it turned left, moving inland.
    Kurt followed, nearly taking out a bicyclist and a street vendor selling fish. He swerved and went up onto the sidewalk, nearly dumping the scooter in the process. A moment later he was back on the street.
    The van had widened its lead substantially, and Kurt was afraid he might not be able to catch it on his underpowered ride.
    “Great,” he mumbled to himself as bugs began hitting him in the face. “All those years listening to Dirk tell stories about the Duesenbergs and Packards he borrowed, and I end up on a thirty-horsepower scooter.”
    He ducked down, trying to make himself more aerodynamic, and decided to count himself lucky that the scooter didn’t have tassels on the handlebars or a basket for Toto on the front.
    A group of pedestrians lay ahead, moving along the crosswalk. Kurt’s thumb found the horn.
    Meep-meep.
    The annoying, high-pitched buzz was just enough to part the line of people. Kurt zipped through the gap like a madman and focused in on the van.
    They were racing inland now, traveling along a road with so many letters and vowels in the name Kurt didn’t bother trying to read or remember it. All that mattered was