Cyclops (Dirk Pitt 8)

"Watch me."

Pitt picked up the phone and asked the operator for Martin Brogan's office. In a few seconds Brogan's private secretary came on the line.

"My name is Dirk Pitt. Please inform Mr. Brogan that if I don't get the use of a telephone in one minute I'm going to cause a terrible scene."

"Who is this?"

"I told you."

Pitt was obstinate. Stoutly refusing to take no for an answer, it took him another twenty minutes of cursing, shouting, and generally being obnoxious before Brogan consented to a call outside the building, but only if Alice stood by and monitored the conversation.

She showed him to a small private office and pointed to the phone. "We have an internal operator standing by. Give her your number and she'll put it through."

Pitt spoke into the receiver. "Operator, what's your name?"

"Jennie Murphy," replied a sexy voice.

"Jennie, let's start with Baltimore information. I'd like the number of Weehawken Marine Products."

"Just a sec. I'll get it for you."

Jennie got the number from the Baltimore information operator and placed the call.

After explaining his problem to four different people, Pitt was finally connected to the executive chairman of the board-- a title generally bestowed on old company heads who were eased out of the corporate mainstream.

"I'm Bob Conde. What can I do for you?"

Pitt looked at Alice and winked. "Jack Farmer, Mr. Conde. I'm with a federal archeological survey and I've discovered an old diving helmet in a shipwreck I hope you might identify."

"I'll do my best. My grandfather started the business nearly eighty years ago. We've kept fairly tight records. Have you got a serial number?"

"Yes, it was on a data plate attached to the front of the breastplate." Pitt closed his eyes and visualized the helmet on the corpse inside the Cyclops. "It read, 'Weehawken Products, Inc., Mark V, Serial Number 58-67-C.' "

"The Navy standard diving helmet," Conde said without hesitation. "We've been making them since 1916. Constructed of spun copper with bronze fittings. Has four sealed glass viewports."

"You sold it to the Navy?"

"Most of our orders came from the Navy. Still do, as a matter of fact. The Mark V, Mod 1 is still popular for certain types of surface-supplied-air diving operations. But this helmet was sold to a commercial customer."

"If you'll forgive me for asking, how do you know?"

"The serial number. Fifty-eight is the year it was manufactured. Sixty-seven is the number produced, and C stands for commercial sale. In other words, it was the sixty-seventh helmet to come out of our factory in 1958 and was sold to a commercial salvage company."

"Any chance of digging back and finding who bought it?"

"Might take a good half hour. We haven't bothered putting the old records on computer disks. I'd better call you back."

Alice shook her head.

"The government can afford the phone service, Mr. Conde. I'll hang on the line."

"Suit yourself."

Conde was as good as his word. He came back in thirty-one minutes. "Mr. Farmer, one of the bookkeepers found what you were looking for."

"I'm ready."

"The helmet along with a diving suit and hose equipment were sold to a private individual.