The tall man stuck out his hand. "Kurt, it must have been three months since we've seen each other."
Dirk Pitt, NUMAs special projects director, and his able assistant, Al Giordino, were legends within the agency. Their exploits in the many years since NUMA was launched by Admiral Sandecker were the stuff of which adventure novels were written. Though Pitt's and Austin's tracks seldom crossed, they had become good friends and had often gone sport diving together.
Austin matched the firm grip. "When will you two be free for lunch so we can catch up on your latest escapades?"
"Not for a couple of weeks, I'm afraid. We're taking off in an hour from Andrews Air Force Base."
"Where are you headed?" asked Zavala.
A project the admiral has laid on us in the Antarctic," Giordino answered.
"Did you remember to pack your testicle sock?" Zavala said with a glint in his eyes.
Giordino grinned. "I never leave home without it."
"How about you and Joe?" asked Pitt.
"We're meeting with the admiral to find out what he has in mind for us."
"I hope you're going into tropical waters."
Austin laughed. "So do I"
"Call me when you get back," said Pitt. "We'll all have dinner at my place."
"I'll do that," said Austin. "It's always a pleasure to view your car collection."
The next elevator arrived, and the doors opened. Pitt and Giordino stepped in and turned around. "So long, guys," Giordino said. `Best of luck on wherever you're going." Then the doors closed and they were gone.
"This has to be the first time I haven't seen Dirk and Al limping, bleeding, or covered with bandages," said Austin.
Zavala rolled his eyes. "Thank you for unnecessarily reminding me that working for NUMA can be hazardous."
"Why do you think NUMA has such generous healthcare benefits?" Austin said as they entered a large waiting room whose walls were covered by photos of the admiral hobnobbing with presidents and other luminaries from the worlds of politics, science, and the arts. The receptionist told them to go right in.
Sandecker lounged behind the immense desk made from the refinished hatch cover salvaged from a sunken confederate blockade runner. Dressed in razor-creased charcoal-gray slacks and an expensive navy blue blazer with an embroidered gold anchor on the breast pocket, Sandecker would have needed only the addition of a white cap to complete his sporty image. But Sandecker was no yacht club commander. He radiated a force field of natural authority forged by thirty highly decorated years in the navy and tempered in the sometimes bruising job as head of a maritime government empire he had built from scratch. Washington old-timers said Sandecker's commanding presence reminded them of George C. Marshall, general and secretary of state, who could walk into a room and without saying a word make it known that he was in charge. Compared to the burly general, Sandecker was short and slight of build from his daily five-mile jogs and strict exercise regimen.
He leaped up as if he had steel springs for legs and came around to greet the two men.
"Kurt! Joel How good to see you," lie said effusively, grasping their hands in a knuckle-crushing grip. "You're looking well. Glad you both could make the meeting."
Sandecker appeared trim and fit as usual, looking far younger than his mid-sixties. The sharp edges of a Van Dyke beard whose fiery red color matched his hair, and sometimes his' temperament, could have been trimmed with a laser.
Austin raised an eyebrow There was simply never any doubt that he and Joe would show up. The feisty founder and director of NUMA wasn't known to take no for an answer.
Mustering a grim smile, Austin said, "Thanks, Admiral. Joe and I are fast healers."
"Of course you are," Sandecker replied. "Swift recovery is a prerequisite of employment with NUMA. Ask Pitt and Giordino if you don't believe me."
The scary thing, Austin knew, was that Sandecker was only half joking. Even more frightening was the fact that Austin and Zavala were eager to take on a new assignment.
"I will be sure to compare contusions with Dirk over tequila on the rocks with lime the next time I see him, sir."
Zavala couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little fun. Keeping a straight face, he said, A couple of invalids like us can't be of much use to NUMA."
Sandecker chuckled and gave Zavala a hearty slap on the back. "I've always admired your sense of humor, Joe. You could do well as a comic on the nightclub circuit, where, I understand, you've been spending your evenings in the company of young women. I imagine they've been assisting in your recovery?"
"Private duty nurses?" Zavala answered with an angelic expression that didn't quite cut it.