Treasure (Dirk Pitt 9)

"Jim Gerhart, sir, in charge of-"

"Yes, I know," Nichols interrupted. "Yy'hat's the problem?"

"I think you better come down to the pathology lab at George Washington."

"The University Hospital?"

"Yes, sir."

"What in hell for?"

"I'd rather not say too much over the phone."

"I'm very busy,

Mr. Gerhart. You'll have to be more specific."

There was a short silence. "This is a matter concerning you and the President. That's all I can say."

"Can't you at least give me a clue?"

Gerhart ignored the probe. "One of my men is waiting outside your office. He will drive you to the lab. I'll meet you in the waiting room."

"Listen to me, Gerhart-" That was as far as Nichols got when the snarl of the dial tone struck his ear.

The drizzle had turned to rain and Nichols's disposition rrored the dismal weather as he was led through the University Hospital's entrance to the pathology laboratory. He hated the etherlike smells that permeated the halls.

True to his word, Gerhart waited in the anteroom. The two men knew each other by sight and name but had never spoken. Gerhart came forward but made no effort to shake hands.

"Thank you for coming," he said in an official tone.

"Why am I here?" Nichols asked directly.

"for an identification."

Nichols was suddenly flooded with foreboding. "Who?"

"I'd prefer you tell me."

"I don't have the stomach for looking at dead bodies.

"This isn't exactly a body, but you will need a strong stomach."

Nichols shrugged. "All right, let's get it over with."

Gerhart held the door open and guided him down a long corridor and into a room with large white tiles inlaid on the walls and floor. The floor was slightly concave with a drain in its center. A stainless steel table stood in stark solitude in the middle of the room. A white, opaque plastic sheet covered a long object that rose no more than an inch above the surface of the table.

Nichols looked at Gerhart in bewilderment. "What am I supposed to identify?"

Without a word Gerhart lifted the sheet and pulled it away, letting it drop in a crumpled wad on the floor.

Nichols stared at the thing on the table, uncomprehendingAt first he thought it was a paper outline of a man's figure. Then he shuddered as the gory truth struck him. He leaned over the floor drain and threw up.

Gerhart stepped from the room and quickly returned with a folding chair and a towel.

He steered Nichols to the chair and passed him the towel. "Here," he said without sympathy, "use this."

Nichols sat for nearly two minutes, clutching the towel against his face and dry-retching. At last he recovered enough to look up at Gerhart and stammer.