Atlantis Found (Dirk Pitt 15)

"It doesn't seem possible," said Giordino, shaking his head.

"You and I aren't seeing the same thing," said Cussler. "You see a pile of junk. I see a magnificent machine that will one day be admired by millions of people at the Smithsonian." His blue-green eyes gleamed as he spoke. "What you don't realize is that you took a mechanical failure and turned it into an astonishing success. Before, the Snow Cruiser's only distinction was that it was a fiasco and didn't come close to achieving what it was designed to do. And that was to carry a crew in comfort five thousand miles over the ice of the Antarctic. It floundered almost immediately after coming off the boat in 1930 and lay buried for seventy years. You two not only proved her a triumph of early-twentieth-century engineering by driving her sixty miles across the ice shelf in the middle of a blizzard, but you used her brute size and power to prevent a worldwide cataclysm. Now, thanks to you, she's a priceless and treasured piece of history."

Pitt gazed at the huge mutilated vehicle as if it were a wounded animal. "But for her, none of us would be standing here."

"Someday, I hope you'll tell me the entire story."

Giordino looked at the old man oddly. "Somehow, I think you already know it."

"When she's put on display," said Dad, slapping Pitt on the back, "I'll send you both invitations to the ceremony."

"Al and I will look forward to it."

"That reminds me. Could you point out

whoever is in charge here. During our crossing from the ice station, my crew and I ran across three frozen bodies about a half a mile from the runway. It looked like they were trying to cross over the security fence before the cold caught up with them. I'd better report it so the remains can be recovered."

"A man and two women?" Pitt asked innocently.

Dad nodded. "Funny thing. They were dressed more like they were going to a football game in Philadelphia than to survive the Antarctic."

"Some people just don't respect the hazards of frigid climates."

Dad lifted an eyebrow, then reached in his pocket and pulled out a red bandanna half the size of a pup tent and blew his nose. "Yeah, ain't it the truth."

Aircraft were landing with frequency, unloading scientists and military personnel, then loading Cleary's wounded along with the injured Wolf security guards and airlifting them to hospitals in the United States.

Not to be left out, the nuclear submarine Tucson navigated her way through the cavern into the ice-enclosed harbor and moored next to the old Nazi U-boats.

Captain Evan Cunningham was a bantam cock of a man, short and wiry, who moved his arms and legs as if jerked on strings. He had a smooth face with a sharp chin and Prussian blue eyes that seemed constantly in motion. He met with Colonel Wittenberg and General Bill Guerro, who had been sent to Okuma Bay from Washington to take command from Wittenberg and oversee the growing complexity of the discovery. Cunningham offered the services of his ship and crew as authorized by the naval chief of staff.

Wittenberg had described Pitt to Cunningham, and the commander had sought out the man from NUMA. He approached and introduced himself. "Mr. Pitt, we've talked over the radio, but haven't actually met. I'm Evan Cunningham, captain of the Tucson."

"A privilege to meet you, Captain. Now I can properly express my thanks for your timely rescue of the Polar Storm and everyone on board."

À lucky case of being in the right place at the right time." He grinned broadly. "Not every sub commander in today's navy can say he sank a U-boat."

"Certainly not unless they've retired to a nursing home."

"Speaking of U-boats, did you know there are four more docked in the ice harbor?"

Pitt nodded. "I took a quick look at them this morning. They're as pristine as the day they came out of the factory."

"My engine-room crew went on board to study them. They were mighty impressed with the high quality of engineering created when their grandparents were still in junior high school."

"To anyone born after 1980, World War Two must seem as distant as the Civil War was to our parents."

Pitt excused himself as he glanced at the passengers stepping down the boarding ladder of a Boeing 737 that had taxied up to the hangar. A woman wearing a knit cap with red hair flowing from under it like a fiery waterfall stopped for a moment and looked around the hangar, marveling at the busy activity. Then she looked in his direction and her face lit up.

Pitt began to walk toward her, but was overtaken by Giordino, who ran past him, took Pat O'Connell in his muscular arms, lifted her off the ground as easily as if she were a down pillow, and swung her around in a circle. Then they kissed passionately.

Pitt watched them, mystified. When Giordino set Pat on her feet again, she looked over and waved.

Pitt kissed her lightly on one cheek, stood back, and said, "Have I been missing something or do you two have a thing for each other?"

Pat laughed gaily. "Al and I looked into each other's eyes when we were in Buenos Aires and something beautiful happened between us."

He looked at Giordino dryly. "Like what?"