It was dark when the driver finally turned into a quiet residential street in Georgetown. Five blocks later he eased the car onto a gravel drive and stopped beneath the portico of a red-brick Victorian mansion.
In the entrance hall a short gamecock of a man stepped across the carpet dressed in a tailored silk suit with a vest. He moved in rapid, energetic steps like a cat sneaking through a door crack. His features were sharp and always rem-linded. Pitt noticed the deep red hair on his head connected to a meticulously ed Van Dyke beard. His eyes seemed filled with spit and vinegar.
Admiral James Sandecker was not the kind to creep into a room; he took it by storm.
"Good to see you boys back," he snapped in a tone more official than friendly. "I hear your ancient ship discovery may change the history books. The news media is giving it a big play."
"We had a few lucky breaks," said Pitt. "May I present Dr. Lily Sharp.
Lily, Admiral James Sandecker."
Sandecker beamed like a lighthouse when he was in the presence of an attractive woman, and he went luminous for Lily. "Doctor, you have to be the loveliest lady to ever honor these walls."
"I'm happy to see your club shows no discrimination against females."
"Not because the membership is open-said Giordino slyly. "Most women would rather get a tetanus shot than come here and hear old derelicts rehash the wars."
on toward Sandecker shot Giordino a withering stare.
Lily looked at the two men, puzzled. She thought perhaps she was caught in the middle of a long-standing feud.
Pitt forced back a laugh, but couldn't suppress a smile. He'd witnessed the give-and-take for ten years. Everyone close to them knew Giordino and Sandecker were the warmest of friends.
Lily decided to make a tactical retreat. "If one of you gentlemen will point out the ladies room, I'll freshen up."
Sandecker gestured up a hallway. "First door on the right. Please take your time." As soon as she had left, the admiral motioned Pitt and Giordino into a small sitting room and closed the door. "I have to leave for a meeting with the Secretary of the Navy in an hour. This will be our only chance to talk in private so I'll have to make it quick before Dr. Sharp returns. Let me begin by saying you did a damned fine job finding the Soviet sub and then clamping a lid on it. The President was most pleased when he received the news and asked me to thank you."
"When do we start?" asked Giordino.
"Start what?"
"A covert underwater salvage operation on the sub."
"Our intelligence people insist it be put on hold. Their scheme is to feed Soviet agents misleading information. Make it appear any further search is a waste of taxpayers' money, and we've written it off as a lost cause."
"for how long?" Pitt asked.
"Maybe a year. Whatever time it takes for the mission project people to draw up plans and construct the equipment for the project."
Pitt stared at the admiral suspiciously. "I get the feeling we won't be included."
"Dead on," Sandecker said flatly. "As they say at the police precinct, you're off the case."
"I have a more important job for you two characters."
"What could be more important than stealing the secrets of the Soviet Navy's deadliest submarine?" Pitt asked guardedly.
"A skiing holiday," Sandecker replied. "Nothing like the invigorating air and the powder snow of the rockies. You're booked on a commercial flight to Denver tomorrow morning at ten forty-five. Dr. Sharp will accompany you.", Pitt looked at Giordino, who merely shrugged. He turned back to Sandecker. "Is this a reward or exile?"
"Call it a working vacation. Senator Pitt will explain the details."
"My dad?"
"He's expecting you later this evening at his home." Sandecker pulled a large gold pocket watch from his vest pocket and read the ivory face.
"We must not keep a pretty lady waiting."
Sandecker started for the door while Pitt and Giordino stood dumbly rooted to the room's faded carpet.
"Don't hold back, Admiral!" Pitts voice was sharp. "Unless you play it straight, there's no way in hell I'll be on that plane tomorrow."
"Accept my regrets too," Giordino said. "I feel an attack of Borneo jungle fullgus coming on."
Sandecker paused in mid-stride, Mined, lifted an eyebrow and stared directly at Pitt- "You don't fool me for a Minute, mister. You don't give a damn about the Soviet sub. You want to find the relics of the Alexandria Library so bad you'd give up sex."
Pitt said with forbearance, "Your insight is flawless, as usual. So is your underground grapevine. I intended to turn over the transcription of the Serapis's log to you on our return to Washington. Apparently someone beat me to it."
"Commander Knight. He radioed Dr. Redfem's translation in code to the Navy Department, who turned it over to the National Security Council and the President. I read a copy before you left Iceland. You opened Pandora's box and didn't know it. If the cache exists and can be found, it will cause a political upheaval. But I'm not about to go into it.
That job was given to your father for reasons he's better qualified to explain. "
"How does Lily fit in the picture?"
"She's part of your cover. A backup in the event there's a leak or the KGB suspects their sub was actually found. Martin Brogan wants to Make it clear you're working on a legitimate archaeological project. That's why I'm meeting you at the club, and your father will brief you at home.
Your movements must look routine should you be tailed."
"Sounds like an ove I to me."
"The bureaucracy works in mysterious ways," said Giordino resignedly. "I wonder if I can get tickets to a Denver Bronco game."
"I'm glad we see eye to eye," Sandecker said with some satisfaction.
"Now let's find our table. I'm starved."
They dropped Lily off at the Jefferson Hotel. She gave them both a hug and entered the lobby, followed by a porter with her bags. Pitt and Giordino directed the driver to the ten-story solar-glass building that was the headquarters for the National Underwater & Agency.
Giordino went directly to his office on the fourth floor while Pitt remained on the elevator and rode up to the
communication-and-information network on the top level. He left an attached case with the receptionist and removed an envelope, slipping it in his coat pocket.
He wandered around the seemingly endless rows of electronic equipment and computer hardware until he found a man sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor contemplating a miniature tape recorder dissected from a large kangaroo doll.
"Does it sing 'Waltzing Matilda' off-key," Pitt asked.
"How'd you know?"
"A lucky guess."
Hiram Yaeger looked up and grinned. He had a droll face with straight blond hair tied in a ponytail. His beard, curled in long ringlets, looked as if he had borrowed it from a costume rental. He peered through a pair of granny spectacles and was dressed like a down-and-out rodeo performer in old Levi's and boots a bag lady would throw away.
Sandecker had pirated Yaeger away from a computer-design company in California's Silicon Valley and had given him free reign to create NUMA's data complex from scratch. It was a perfect mamage between human gemus and central processing unit. Yaeger supervised a vast library of information containing every known report and book written about the world's oceans.
Yaeger studied the doll's recording and speaker unit with a critical eye. "I could have designed a better system than this with kitchen utensils."
"Can you fix it?"
"Probably not."
Pitt shook his head and gestured around the computer complex. "You set up all this but can't repair a simple cassette player?"
"My heart isn't in it." Yaeger rose, walked into an office and stood the stuffed kangaroo on one corner of his desk.
"Maybe someday when I'm inspired I'll modify it into a talking lamp."
Pitt followed him and closed the door. "Feel in the mood for a more exotic project?"
/>
"Along what lines?"
"Research. "
"Lay it on me."
Pitt removed the envelope from his pocket and gave it to Yaeger-NUMA's computer wizard slouched in a chair, opened the envelope flap and withdrew the contents. He rapidly scanned the typed transcript, then read through it again more slowly. After a long silence, he peered over his spectacles at Pitt.
"This from that old ship you found?"
"You know of it?"
"Have to be blind and deaf not to. The story has been all over the newspapers and TV."
Pitt nodded at the papers in Yaeger's hand. "A translation from Latin of the ship's log."
"What do you want from me?"
"Take a look at the page with the map."
Yaeger held it up and studied the uniabeled lines. "You want me to make a match with a known geographical location?"
"If you can," Pitt acknowledged.
"Not a hell of a lot to go on. What is it?"
"An ocean shoreline and a river."
"When was it drawn?"
"A.D. 391."
Yaeger gave Pitt a bemused look. "You might as well ask me to name the streets of Atlantis."
"Program your electronic playmates for a projection of the ship's course after the fleet left Cartagena. You might also try working backwards from the shipwreck site in Greenland. I've included the position."
"You realize this river may not exist any more."
"The thought entered my mind."
"I'll need authorization from the Admiral."
"You'll get it first thing in the morning."
"All right," Yaeger said glumly- "I'll give it my best shot.
What's my deadline?"
"Just stay with it until you have something," Pitt replied. "I've got to go out of town for a while. I'll check in with you the day after tomorrow to see how you're doing."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Is this really important?"
"Yes," Pitt said slowly, "I think it is. Maybe more important than you and I can ever imagine."
When Pitts father opened the door to his colonial home on Massachusetts Avenue in Bethesda, Maryland, he wore a faded Pair Of khaki Pants and a well-snagged pullover sweater. The Socrates Of the Senate was noted for his expensive and fashionable suits, always embellished with a California golden poppy in the lapel. But out of the public eye he dressed like a rancher camped out on the range.
"Dirk!" he said with pleasure, giving his son a warm bear hug. "I see you too infrequently these days."
Pitt put his arm around the Senator's shoulder, and they walked side by side into a paneled den with rifled bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling. A fire flickered under an ornate mantel carved from teak.
The Senator motioned his son to a chair and walked behind a wet bar.
"Bombay gin martini with a twist, isn't it?"
"A bit cool for gin. How about a Jack Daniel's straight up."
"Every man to his own poison."
"How's Mom?"
"She's at some highfalutin spa, a fat farm in California on her annual crusade to lose weight. She'll be back day after tomorrow, two pounds heavier."
"She never gives up."
"It keeps her happy."
The Senator passed Pitt a bourbon and then poured himself a port. He raised the glass. "Here's to a fruitful trip to Colorado. "
Pitt didn't drink. "Whose bright idea was it to send me skiing?"
"Mine."
Pitt calmly took a swallow of Jack Daniel's and gave his father a hard stare. "What is your involvement with the Alexandria Library artifacts?"
"Very heavy if they truly exist."
"Are you speaking as a private citizen or a bureaucrat?"
"A patriot."
"All right," Pitt said with a deep sigh. "Fill me in. How are classical art and literary works and the coffin of Alexander so vital to United States interests?"
"None of the above," said the Senator. "The prime meat of the inventory is maps showing geological resources of the ancient world. The lost gold mines of the Pharaohs, the forgotten emerald mines of Cleopatra, the fabled but mystic land of Punt that was famous for its riches of silver, antimony and unusual greenish gold; locations known two and three thousand years ago but buried in the oblivion of time. There was also the fabulous land of Ophir and its recorded wealth of precious minerals. Its location still remains a tantalizing mystery. The mines of King Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and Sheba, the queen of Saba, whose fabled land today is only a biblical memory. The legendary wealth of the ages still lies hidden under the sands of the Middle East."
"So it's found, so what? How can precious-mineral deposits belonging to other countries concern our government?"
"As bargaining chips," answered the Senator. "If we're able to point the way, negotiations can be opened for joint ventures in the exploitation. We can also make points with national leaders and spread a little badly needed goodwill."
Pitt shook his head and considered. "News to me Congress has turned to prospecting for good foreign relations. Must be more to this than meets the eye."
The Senator nodded, marveling at his son's insight. "There is. Are you familiar with the term 'stratigraphic trap'?"
"I should be." Pitt smiled. "I found one in the Labrador Sea off Quebec Province a few years ago."
"Yes, the Doodlebug project. I remember."
"A stratigraphic trap is one of the toughest oi'l deposits to discover.
Normal seismic exploration won't detect it. Yet they often prove out to have incredibly high yields."
"Which leads us to bitumen, a hydrocarbon-like tar or asPhatt that was used in Mesopotamia as long as five thousand years ago for waterproofing buildings, canals, clay drainage pipes and caulking boats. Other uses included roads, treatment Of wounds, and adhesives. Much later the Greeks mention springs along the North African coast that bubble with oil. The Romans recorded a site in the Sinai they called Petrol Mountain. And the Bible tells of God ordering Jacob to suck oil out of flintlike rock, and describes the vale of Siddim being frill of slime pits, which can be interpreted as tar pits."
"None of these areas has been relocated or drilled?" Pitt asked.
"There has been drilling, yes, but no significant strikes to date.
Geologists claim there's a ninety percent probability of finding five hundred million barrels of crude petroleum under Israel alone.
Unfortunately, the ancient sites have been lost and covered over through the centuries due to land upheavals and earthquakes."
"Then the main goal is to find a massive oil bonanza in Israel."
"You have to admit it would solve a multitude of problems. "
"Yes, I guess it would."
The Senator and Pitt sat in silence for the next minute, staring into the fire. If Yaeger and his computer banks didn't pick up a lead, the chances were, at best, hopeless. Pitt was suddenly angered that the power brokers in the te House and Congress were more interested in oil and gold than in the art and literature that could fill in the missing gaps of history.
It was, he thought, a sad commentary on the affairs of state.
The silence was broken by the ring of the telephone. The Senator walked over to a desk and picked up the receiver. He said nothing, merely listened for a moment. Then he hung up.
"I doubt if I'll find the lost Library in Colorado," Pitt said dryly.
"Everyone concerned would be surprised if you did," the Senator came back. "My staff has arranged a briefing for you by the leading authority on the subject. Dr. Bertram Rothberg, a professor of classical history at the University of Colorado, has made the study of the Alexandria Library his life's work. He'll fill you in on background data that could help your search."
"Why do I have to go to him? Seems to me it would be more practical to bring him to Washington."
"You met with Admiral Sandecker?"
"Yes. "
"Then you know it's vital to dist
ance yourself and Al Giordino from the discovery of the Soviet submarine. That phone call a minute ago was from an FBI agent who is talking a KGB agent who is talking you."
"Nice to know I'm popular."
"You're to make no move that would cause suspicion."
Pitt nodded approvingly. "Fine and dandy, but suppose the Russians get wise to the mission? They have as much to gain by laying their hands on the Library data as we do."
"The possibility exists but is extremely remote," the Senator said guardedly. "We've taken every precaution to keep the wax tablets secret."
"Next question."
"Shoot."
"I'm under surveillance," said Pitt. "What's to stop the KGB from following me to Dr. Rothberg's doorstep?"
"Nothing," the Senator answered. "We have every intention of sitting on the sidelines and cheering them on."
"So we put on a show of status quo."
"Exactly."
"Why me?"
"Because of your L-29 Cord."
"My Cord?"
"The classic car you had restored in Denver. The man you hired called here last week and said to tell you the job is finished and she looks beautiful."
"So I travel to Colorado under a spotlight to pick up my collector car, get in a little ski time on the slopes, and party with Dr. Sharp."
"Exactly," the Senator repeated. "You're to check into the Hotel Breckenridge. A message will be waiting explaining where and when you'll make contact with Dr. Rothberg."
"Remind me never to trade horses with you."
The Senator laughed. "You've been involved, with some pretty devious schemes yourself."
Pitt finished the bourbon, stood, and placed his glass on the mantel.
"Mind if I borrow the family lodge?"
"I'd prefer you stay away from it."
"But my boots and skis are stored in the garage."
"You can rent your equipment."
"That's ridiculous."
"Not so ridiculous," the Senator said in an even voice, when you consider that the instant you open the front door, you'll be shot."
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