"E.Voiskunsky, I.Lukodyanov. The Crew Of The Mekong (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

the existence of the mysterious knife. A drop of common sense in a barrel of
nonsense.
Opratin finished equipping the boat, started up the motor, and chugged
out of the bay.
The sea heaved lazily beneath the hot August sun. The red cone of the
fairway buoy with a big white "18" painted on it rocked on the surface. The
TV mast was at Opratin's stern and the refrigeration plant on the left. He
turned the boat a few degrees to starboard.
Now this must be the place. This was where Benedictov's wife had fallen
overboard after the knife had dropped into the sea. An interesting woman, no
doubt about that. Had she fallen or had she jumped?
An empty boat bobbed in the water about twenty metres away. Where was
the owner? Had he drowned? Or had the boat torn free of its moorings and
drifted out of the bay? Opratin was not in the least interested. He pushed a
lever which switched the motor's drive from the propeller to a generator to
which the cable with the electromagnet was attached. The cable wound off the
drum into the water. Opratin wondered how soon his particular fish would
bite.
At the end of the cable was an electromagnetic underwater probe
connected with an ultrasonic range-finder. The zigzagging green line on the
oscillograph screen would show the shape of metallic objects on the sea
floor. If Opratin wanted some object he could switch on the electromagnet
and pick it up.
Using the oars, Opratin slowly moved the boat back and forth, combing
the place. Suddenly the cable jerked. Bubbles rose to the surface, then a
huge hand was thrust out of the water, followed by a head, the face covered
by a mask. The mask was connected by a hose to a cylinder on the man's back.
The diver closed the valve of the aqualung and pushed the mask up onto
his forehead, revealing a broad face with a heavy jaw. Opratin recognized
him at once. He was the man who had tried to take the knife from Benedictov
aboard the Uzbekistan. It was obvious why he was at this particular spot in
the sea. An unpleasant situation.
While the diver coughed and spat out water Opratin decided to take the
offensive.
"Hey you, there!" he shouted. "Why the devil did you pull my cable?"
"You'll soon find out!" came the answer in a threatening tone. The man
swam over to Opratin's motorboat, reached up to grip its side, and let loose
a stream of obscenities that set Opratin's teeth on edge. The substance of
Bugrov's monologue was that law-abiding citizens could not go in for
skin-diving on their day off because "others"-a word which Bugrov proceeded
to define-played all kinds of dirty tricks on them.
Bugrov had been combing the area in circles. He would anchor his boat,
dive down and swim around in a circle, studying the firmly-packed sandy
bottom. His supply of air was almost half used up when he saw a black
cylinder suspended from a cable slowly moving over the bottom. He swam up to
the cylinder and tugged at it, gripping the place where it was attached to
the cable. An electric shock galvanized him, and he tore his hand away with
difficulty. Dazed and angered, he headed for the surface.
Bugrov had been having bad luck with electricity lately.
"Get going, quick-before I turn your tub upside down!" he roared.