Dragon (Dirk Pitt 10)

To him, Pitt was the son he never had. He'd have ordered out an entire army of specially trained men and secret equipment the American public had no idea existed if fate granted him another thirty-six hours.

Admiral Sandecker had that kind of power in the nation's capital. He didn't arrive where he was because he'd answered a help wanted ad in the Washington Post.

He said, "Any chance the batteries can be repaired?"

Giordino nodded over the side at the submersible rolling in the swells twenty meters away, tethered on a stern line to Shanghai Shelly. "Lowden is working like a madman trying for a quick fix, but he's not optimistic."

"If anyone is to blame, it's me," Murphy said solemnly.

"Pitt could still be alive," said Giordino, ignoring Murphy. "He's not a man who dies easily."

"Yes." Sandecker paused, then went on almost absently. "He's proven that many times in the past."

Giordino stared at the admiral, a spark glowing in his eyes. "If we can get another submersible out here. . ."

"The Deep Quest can dive to ten thousand meters," Sandecker said, coming back on keel. "She's sitting on our dock in Los Angeles Harbor. I can have her loaded aboard an Air Force CFive and on her way here by sundown."

"I didn't know a C-Five could land on water," Murphy interrupted.

"They can't," Sandecker said definitely. "The Deep Quest, all twelve metric tons of her, will be air-dropped out the cargo doors." He glanced at his watch. "I'd guess about eight hours from now."

"You're going to drop a twelve-ton submersible out of an airplane by parachute?"

"Why the hell not? It'd take a week to get here by boat."

Giordino stared at the deck thoughtfully. "We could eliminate a mass of problems if we worked off a support ship with launch and retrieval capacity."

"The Sounder is the closest ocean survey ship to our area that fits the picture. She's sonar-mapping the seafloor south of the Aleutians. I'll order her captain to cut his mission and head toward our position as fast as he can push her."

"How can I be of help?" asked Murphy. "After sinking your sub, the least I can do is offer the services of my ship and crew."

Giordino smiled inwardly as Sandecker lifted his arms and gripped Murphy's shoulders. Laying on the hands, Pitt used to call it. Sandecker didn't just ask an unsuspecting subject for a favor, he made his victims feel as if they were being baptized.

"Owen," the admiral said in his most reverent tone, "NUMA will be in your debt if we can use your junk as a fleet command ship."

Owen Murphy was no slouch when it came to recognizing a con job. "What fleet?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"Why, half the United States Navy is converging on us," answered Sandecker, as if his secret briefing by Raymond Jordan was common knowledge. "I wouldn't be surprised if one of their nuclear submarines was cruising under our hull this minute."

It was, Murphy mused, the craziest tale he'd ever heard in his life. But no one on board Shanghai Shelly, excepting the admiral himself, had the slightest notion of how prophetic his words were. Nor were they aware that the rescue attempt was the opening act for the main event.

Twenty kilometers away, the attack submarine Tucson was running at a depth of 400 meters and closing on the junk's position. She was early. Her skipper, Commander Beau Morton, had driven her hard after receiving orders at Pearl Harbor to reach the explosion area at full speed. On arrival, his mission was to run tests on underwater radiological contamination and salvage any floating debris that could be safely brought aboard.

Morton casually leaned against a bulkhead with an empty coffee cup dangling in one hand, watching Lieutenant Commander Sam Hauser of the Naval Radiological Defense Laboratory. The Navy scientist was indifferent to Morton's presence. He was intent on monitoring his radiochemical instruments and computing beta and gamma intensities received from probes trailing behind the submarine.

"Are we glowing in the dark yet?" asked Morton sarcastically.

"Radioactivity is pretty unevenly distributed," replied Hause

r. "But well below maximum permissible exposure. Heaviest concentration is above."

"A surface detonation?"

"A ship, yes, not a submarine. Most of the contamination was airborne."

"Any danger to that Chinese junk north of us?"

Hauser shook his head. "They should have been too far upwind to receive anything but a trace dosage."