The Mediterranean Caper (Dirk Pitt 2)

A saddened look of absolute de

feat gripped Lewis’ features as he shook his head

from side to side. “My God, my God, it’s not fair, it’s just not. . .“

He was interrupted by a knock on the metal door.

The cabin boy entered, carrying a tray containing three brown bottles.

“Keep them coming,” Pitt ordered. “And, keep them cold.”

“Yes sir,” the boy mumbled. He set the tray down on the desk and hurried from the cabin.

Giordino passed Lewis a beer. “Here Colonel, drink up and forget the damage to Brady. The taxpayers will absorb the cost anyway.”

“In the meantime I’ll probably suffer a coronary,”

Lewis said gloomily. He sat back down in the chair, collapsing like a leaky inner tube.

Pitt held up the ice frosted bottle and rolled its cold surface across his forehead. The red and silver label was stuck on crooked. He stared idly at the reversed printing that proudly proclaimed: BY APPOINTMENT TO THE ROYAL GREEK COURT.

“Where do we go from here?” Giordino said between gulps.

Pitt shrugged, “I'm not sure yet. A lot depends on what Gunn finds in the wreckage of the Albatros.”

“Any idea?’

“None at the moment.”

Giordino mashed his cigarette into an ashtray. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re well ahead of the game, especially compared to this time yesterday. Thanks to you our ghost from World War I is kaput, and we have a pretty good lead on the instigator behind the attacks. All we have to do now is have the Greek authorities pick up von Till”

“Not good enough,” Pitt said thoughtfully. “That

would be the same as a district attorney demanding the indictment of a suspect for murder ‘who had no motive. No, there has to be a reason, not a valid one in our eyes necessarily, but still a reason for all this intrigue and destruction.”

“Whatever the cause, it isn’t treasure.”

Pitt stared at Giordino. “I'd forgotten to ask. Did Admiral Sandecker send a reply to your message?”

Giordino dropped an emptied bottle in a wastebasket. “It came through this morning, just before the Colonel and I left Brady Field for the First Attempt.” He paused, gazing up at a fly walking across the ceiling, Then he belched.

“Well?” Pitt grunted impatiently.

“The Admiral had a crew of ten men pour through the national Archives on a crash research program. When they were finished they all agreed on the same conclusion: there is no recorded document anywhere that indicates shipwrecked treasure near the Thasos coastline.”

“Cargos, could any of the recorded wrecked vessels have carried valuable cargo?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Giordino pulled a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “The Admiral’s secretary dictated over the radio the names of all the ships that were lost on or around Thasos in the last two hundred years. The list isn’t impressive.”

Pitt wiped the salty sting of sweat from his eyes. “Let’s have a sample.”

Giordino set the list on his knees and began reading aloud in a rapid monotone. “Mistral, French frigate, sunk 1753. Clara G., British coal collier, sunk 1856. Admiral DeFosse, French ironclad, sunk 1872. Scyla, Italian brig, sunk 1876. Daphne. British gunboat. .

“Skip to 1915,” Pitt interrupted.

"H.M.S. Forshire, British cruiser, sunk by German shore batteries on the mainland, 1915. Von Schroder, German destroyer, sunk by British warship, 1916. U-19, German submarine, sunk by British aircraft, 1918.”

“No need to continue,” Pitt said yawning. “Most of the lost wrecks on your list were warships. The chances are slim that one of them might have carried a king’s ransom in gold.”