Iceberg (Dirk Pitt 3)

"No!" Sandecker interrupted. "No ships. If that thing under the ice is as important as I think it is, I don't want anyone except you and,Hunnewell within fifty miles of it."

"This may come as a surprise, Admiral, but I've never set a copter down on an iceberg before."

"It's very possible no one else has either. That's why I requested you as my Special Projects Director."

Sandecker smiled mischievously. "You have the annoying knack of successfully-shall we say-delivering the goods."

8

"This time," Pitt asked slyly, "do I have the opportunity of volunteering?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Pitt shrugged helplessly. "I don't know why I always give in so easily to you, Admiral. I'm beginning to think you have me pegged as a first-class pigeon."

A broad grin rode across Sandecker's face. "You said it, not me."

The latch clicked and the cabin door swung open.

Pitt lazily opened one eye in time to see Dr. Hunnewell come in. The overweight doctor did a tightrope act trying to maneuver between Pitts cot and Dover's clothes locker before he finally reached a small chair by a writing desk. Audibly, he sighed in chorus with the but Dr. Hunnewell' chair's creaking protest as he cased his bulk past the seats.

"How in God's name does a titan like Dover get into this thing?" he incredulously asked no one in particular.

"You're late," Pitt yawned. "I expected you hours ago.

"I couldn't go sneaking around corners or slithering through ventilators as if I was on my way to a spy convention. I had to wait for an excuse to talk to you."

"Excuse?"

"Yes. Commander Koski's compliments. Dinner is served."

"Why all the subterfuge?" Pitt asked with a cagey grin. "We have nothing to hide."

"Nothing to hide! Nothing to hide! You lie there like an innocent virgin waiting for her first communion and easy say we have nothing to hide?" Hunnewell shook his head hopelessly. "We'll both be in front of a firing squad when the Coast Guard learns we flimflammed them out of the use of one of their new cutters."

"Helicopters have a nasty habit, they won't fly with air in their fuel tanks," Pitt said sarcastically. "We had to have a base of operations and a place to refuel.

"The Catawaba was the only ship in the area with the necessary facilities. Besides, you sent that phony message from the Coast Guard Commandant-you're on the hook for that one."

"That incredible yarn about the missing Russian trawler. You can't deny that's yours from beginning to end."

Pitt placed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "I rather thought everyone enjoyed it."

"I have to hand it to you. That was the slickest con job it's been my misfortune ever to witness."

"I know. There are times when I hate myself."

"Have you considered what may happen when Commander Koski sees through our devious little plan?" Pitt stood up and stretched. "We simply do what any good con man would do."

"And that is?" Hunnewell prompted dubiously.

Pitt smiled. "We siply worry about it when the time comes."

Chapter 2

Of all the oceans, only the Atlantic is totally unpredictable. The Pacific, the Indian, even the Arctic each have their personal idiosyncrasies, but all have one trait in common: they seldom fail to provide a hint of their coming moods. Not so the Atlantic, especially north of the 15th parallel of latitude. In a matter of a few hours a glassy calm sea might be transformed into a foamwhipped cauldron instigated by a Force 12 hurricane, or there are times when the Atlantic's fickle nature works in reverse.

Heavy winds, heavy seas during the night may give every indication of an impending storm, yet when the dawn comes, there is nothing to see but an azure n=or beneath an empty sky. And so it was for the men on the Catawaba as the new sun found them cruising comfortably over a peaceful seascape.