Deep Six (Dirk Pitt 7)

"She's alive," said Pitt, staring out the window.

"I don't doubt it," Sandecker concurred. "Probably an oversight her name isn't on the survivor list. Maybe she requested anonymity to avoid the press."

"Loren had no reason to hide."

"She'll turn up," Sandecker said. "Now, suppose you tell me how you managed to be present at the worst maritime tragedy in fifty years.

Pitt marveled at how the admiral could twist a conversation in another direction with the abruptness of leaping from a sauna into the snow.

"In the brief time we had together on the Leonin Andreyev," Pitt began, "Loren told me she was strolling on the deck on the first night of the cruise when the lights around the exterior of the ship went out, followed by the landing of a helicopter. Three passengers were taken off, two of them roughly handled. Loren thought she recognized one of them in the dim light as Alan Moran.

Not certain whether her eyes were playing tricks, she called her aid Sally Lindemann over ship-to-shore phone and asked her to locate Moran's whereabouts. Sally turned up false trails covered over by vague reports and no Moran. She also discovered he and Marcus Larimer were supposed to be together. She then related the negative results to Loren, who told her to contact me. But the call was cut off. The Russians had monitored her calls and learned she'd accinentally stumbled into the middle of a delicate operation."

"So they made her a prisoner along with her congressional pals, who were on a one-way trip to Moscow."

"Except that Loren was more risk than asset. She was to be conveniently lost overboard."

"And after Lindemann contacted you?" Sandecker probed.

"Al Giordino and I drew up a plan and flew south, catching up with the ship in San Salvador and boarding there."

"Over two hundred people died on the Leonin Andreyev. You're lucky to be alive."

"Yes," Pitt said meditatively. "It was a near thing."

He went quiet, his mind's eye seeing only a face-the face of the steward who stood in the lifeboat leering down at him with the look of a man who enjoyed his work: a murderer without a shred of remorse.

"In case you're interested," said Sandecker, breaking the spell, "we're going direct to a meeting with Secretary Oates at the State Department."

"Make a detour by the Washington Post," Pitt said abruptly.

Sandecker gave him a negative look. "We can't spare the time to buy a newspaper."

"If Oates wants to hear what I've got, he'll damn well have to wait."

Sandecker made a sour expression and gave in. "Ten minutes is all you get. I'll call Oates and say your plane was delayed."

Pitt had met the Secretary of State previously, during the North American Treaty affair. The neatly trimmed hair was slate-colored, and the brown eyes moved with practiced ease as they read Pitt.

Oates wore a five-hundred-dollar gray tailored suit and highly polished black custom shoes. There was a no-nonsense aggressiveness about him, and he moved well, almost like a track and field athlete.

"Mr. Pitt, how nice to see you again."

"Good to see you, Mr. Secretary."

Oates wrung Pitts hand, then turned to the other men in the conference room and went through the introductions. The inner sanctum had turned out. Brogan of the CIA, Emmett of the FBI, National Security's Alan Mercier, whom Pitt also knew, and Dan Fawcett representing the White House. Admiral Sandecker remained at Pitts side, keeping a wary eye on his friend.

"Please sit down," Oates said, waving them all to a chair.

Sam Emmett turned toward Pitt and regarded him with interest, noting the drawn lines in his face. "I've taken the liberty of pulling your packet, Mr. Pitt, and I must confess your service with the government reads like a novel." He paused to scan the dossier.

"Directly responsible for saving innumerable lives during the Vixen operation. Instrumental in obtaining the Canadian merger treaty. Heading the project to raise the Titanic, with subsequent discovery of a rare element for the Sicilian project. You have an uncanny knack for getting around."

"i believe the word is 'ubiquitous,"' Oates injected.

"You were in the Air Force before joining NUMA," Emmett continued.

"Rank of major. Excellent record in Vietnam." He hesitated, a strange inquisitive look growing on his face. "I see here you'received a commendation for destroying one of our own aircraft."