"I'm counting on it," said Pitt, smiling.
"If they operate like they did in World War Two against isolated transport ships, they're jamming our satellite transmissions."
"I think we can count on that, too."
They still had another half mile to go to reach the ship. Gillespie pressed the transmit switch on his radio. "Bushey, listen to me carefully" He then told his first officer what to say and do, certain the sub was listening to their transmission.
Bushey did not question his senior officer's orders, nor did he show the slightest hesitation. "I understand, Captain. I will contact the vessel immediately and warn them."
"You've got a good man," said Pitt admiringly.
"The best," Gillespie agreed.
"We'll wait ten minutes, then come up with another cock-and-bull story and hope the sub's commander is gullible."
"Let's pick up the pace," urged Gillespie.
Pitt turned to Evie Tan, who was pantin
g heavily. "Why don't you at least let me carry your camera equipment?"
She shook her head vigorously. "Photographers carry their own gear. I'll be all right. Go ahead. I'll catch up to you at the ship."
"I hate to be a cad," said Gillespie, "but I've got to be on board at the earliest possible moment."
"Push on," Pitt told him. "We'll see you on board."
The captain took off at a dead run. Pitt had insisted Evie use his skis at the ice cave, but she had indignantly refused. Now, with little coaxing, she allowed him to strap her feet into the bindings. Then he handed her the poles. "You go ahead. I want to get a closer look at the sub."
After sending Evie on her way, Pitt moved off on an angle until he was fifty yards astern of the ship. He stared across the ice floe at the submarine. He could clearly see the crew manning the deck gun and the officers leaning over the coaming of the conning tower. They did not appear to be wearing the standard Nazi unterseeboot crew uniforms. They were all dressed in black single-piece, tight-fitting, cold-weather coveralls.
Pitt stood where he could clearly be seen by the crew. He pressed the transmit button on his portable radio. "I am speaking to the commander of the U-2015. My name is Pitt. You can see me standing off the stern of the Polar Storm." He let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "I am fully aware of who you are. Do you understand?"
Static rasped out of the radio, then was replaced by a friendly voice. "Yes, Mr. Pitt. This is the commander of the U-2015 speaking. How may I help you?"
"You have my name, Commander. What's yours?"
"You need not know."
"Yes," Pitt said calmly, "that figures. Your cronies from the New Destiny, or should I say Fourth Empire, have a mania for secrecy. But not to worry, I promise not to whisper a word about your slimy band of killers, provided you take your geriatric pile of junk from nostalgia land and be on your way."
It was a long shot, pure guesswork at best, but the long silence told Pitt he had struck a chord. A full minute passed before the U-boat commander's voice came over the little radio.
"So you are the ubiquitous Dirk Pitt."
"I am," Pitt answered, feeling a sense of triumph at pressing the right button. "I didn't know my fame traveled so quickly."
"I see you wasted no time in arriving in the Antarctic from Colorado."
"I would have been here sooner, but I had several of your buddies' bodies to dispose of."
"Are you testing my patience, Mr. Pitt?"
The conversation was becoming inane, but Pitt egged on the U-boat commander to gain time. "No, I only wish for you to explain your weird behavior. Instead of attacking a helpless unarmed ocean research ship, you should be in the North Atlantic torpedoing impotent merchant ships."
"We ceased hostilities in April of 1945."
Pitt did not like the look of the machine gun mounted on the forward section of the conning tower and pointing in his direction. He knew time was running out and was certain the U-boat meant to destroy the Polar Storm and everybody on it. "And when did you launch the Fourth Reich?"