"So there were two of us," he mused aloud to the empty room. "And the other one poisoned the in-flight meal service." Then he shook his head in wonderment. "Poison in the Beef Wellington. My god, how quaint."
At first no one paid any attention to the tiny blur that crept across the outer edge of the sidescan sonar's recording paper.
Six hours into the search they had found several manmade objects. Parts of the downed aircraft that were pinpointed for retrieval, a sunken fishing trawler, bits and pieces of junk thrown over by fishing fleets seeking shelter in the fjord from storms, all were identified by video camera and eliminated.
The last anomaly was not resting on the bottom of the fjord as expected.
It sat inside a small inlet encircled by sheer cliffs. Only one end protruded into clear water; the rest was buried under a wall of ice.
Pitt was the first to realize its significance. He was sitting in front of the recorder, surrounded by Giordino, Commander Knight and the archaeologists. He spoke into a transmitter.
"Swing the fish, bearing one-five-zero degrees."
The Polar Explorer was still stationary in the icebound fjord. Outside on the pack a team led by Cork Simon had augered through the ice and lowered the sensing unit into the water. Very slowly they swung the fish, as they called it, scanning a 360-degree grid. After searching one area, they unreeled more cable and tried again at another site farther away from the ship.
Simon acknowledged Pitts command and twisted the cable until the fish's sonar probes were trained at 150 degrees.
"How's this?" he queried.
"You're right on target," Pitt replied from the ship.
Seen from a better angle the target became more distinct. Pitt circled it with a black felt pen.
"I think we've got something."
Gronquist moved in closer and nodded. "Not much showing to identify.
What do you make of it?"
"Pretty vague," answered Pitt- "You have to use some imagination since most of the object is covered by ice that has fallen from the surrounding cliffs. But the part that shows underwater suggests a wooden ship. There's a definite angular shape coming together at what might be a high, curving sternpost. "
"Yes," said Lily excitedly. "High and graceful. Typical of a fourth-century merchant ship."
"Don't get carried away," cautioned Knight. "She could be an old sail-rigged fisherman."
"Possibly." Giordino looked thoughtful. "But if my memory serves me correctly, the Danes, Icelanders and Norwegians who have fished these waters over the centuries sailed in more narrow beamed double-enders."
"You're right," said Pitt. "The sharp bow and stern were handed down from the Vikings. What we're seeing here might also be a double-ender, but with a broader sweep."
"Can't get a clear picture through the ice-covered section of the hull,"
said Gronquist. "But we could drop a camera back of the stern in clear water for
a better identification."
Giordino looked doubtful. "A camera might confirm the stern section of a wrecked ship, but little else."
"We've plenty of strong male backs on the ship," said Lily. "We could tunnel down through the ice and inspect her at first hand."
Gronquist took a pair of binoculars and walked out of the electronics compartment to the bridge. He returned in half a minute. "I make the ice cover over the wreck to be a good four meters thick. Take at least two days to cut through."
"You'll have to dig without us, I'm afraid," said Knight. "My orders are to get under way before 1800 hours. We've no time left for a lengthy excavation."
Gronquist was taken aback. "That's only five hours from now."
Knight made a helpless gesture. "I'm sorry, I have no say in the matter."
Pitt studied the dark spot on the recording paper. Then he turned to Knight. "If I proved positively that's a fourth-century Roman ship out there, could you persuade North Atlantic command to keep us on station for another day or two?"