The old Korean was right about one thing. His trunks turned out to be seaworthy. They weren't heavier or seeping water as they were hauled up the side of the sub.

Chiun scurried up beside them. The old man's movements were so quick and graceful he looked like some form of seafaring spider. In a trice he was across the deck and up the conning tower. He disappeared through the hatch.

Sitting in the wave-tossed raft, Conrad MacCleary shook his head. "It's worth every penny to get you on our side," he grumbled, dropping the oar at his feet.

The sailors helped the big man from the rubber raft.

Chapter 3

Phil Rand had no idea why this particular job was so special. But it had to be special to at least someone at AT e the extra attention?

Try as he might, Phil couldn't see this as anything other than the usual mundane scut work. Just another day at the office. For Phil, the office this day was a gloomy waterside street in New Rochelle, New York.

His crew had arrived at a little after five in the morning. When the telephone company trucks rolled to a stop on Shore Road, a supervisor was already waiting for them.

The predawn gloom seemed tailor-made for the mysterious company rep. The guy looked as though he lived in shadows. He stood there like an eager vampire as Phil and the others climbed out of their trucks.

"You're late," the supervisor said. His tone was chilly in the damp October air.

Phil checked his watch. It was only six minutes after five. "We got caught in traffic," he said, half-joking.

Of course the supervisor was kidding. After all, the guy couldn't be serious. However, the look of displeasure never left his angular face.

"That is unlikely, given the hour," the supervisor said. "And I am on a tight schedule. I would appreciate it if you got to work as quickly as possible."

Phil sighed deeply. Another day, another hassle. "Whatever you say," he muttered.