Though Pitt felt a sensual desire for Deirdre, he felt himself drawn to Maeve. Perhaps it was her engaging smile with the slight gap between the teeth, or the beautiful mass of incredibly blond hair that fell in a cascade behind and in front of her shoulders. He wondered about her shift of manner since he first found her in the blizzard on Seymour Island. The ready smile and the easy laugh were no longer there. Pitt sensed that Maeve was subtly under Deirdre’s control. It was also obvious, to him if to no one else, there was no love lost between them.
Pitt mused about the age-old choice faced by the sexes. Women were often torn between mister nice guy, who generally ended up as father of her kids, and the hellraising jerk who represented offbeat romance and adventure. Men, for all their faults, were occasionally forced to choose between miss wholesome girl-next-door, who generally ended up as mother to his children, and the wild sexpot who couldn’t keep her body off him.
For Pitt there could be no agonized decision. Late tomorrow evening, the ship would dock at the Chilean port of Punta Arenas in Tierra del Fuego, where Maeve and Deirdre would take a commuter flight to Santiago. From there they could book a direct flight to Australia. A waste of time, he thought, to allow his imagination to run amok. He did not dare to hope that he would ever lay eyes on either one of them again.
He slipped a hand below the table and touched the folded fax in his pants pocket. Overcome by curiosity, he had communicated with St. Julien Perlmutter, a close family friend who had accumulated the world’s foremost library of shipwreck information. A well-known partygiver and gourmand, Perlmutter was well connected in Washington circles and knew where most of the skeletons were buried. Pitt had put in a call and asked his friend to check on the ladies’ family background. Perlmutter faxed him a brief report in less than an hour with a promise of a more in-depth account within two days.
These were no ordinary women from common circumstances. If the unmarried men, and maybe even a few of the married, knew that Maeve and Deirdre’s father, Arthur Dorsett, was head of a diamond empire second only to De Beers and the sixth richest man in the world, they might have pulled out all stops in begging the ladies’ hand in marriage.
The section of the report that struck him as odd was a drawing of the Dorsett corporate hallmark that Perlmutter included. Instead of the obvious, a diamond on some sort of background, the Dorsett logotype was a serpent undulating through the water.
The ship’s officer on duty came up alongside Pitt and spoke softly. “Admiral Sandecker is on the satellite phone and would like to talk to you.”
“Thank you, I’ll take the call in my cabin.”
Unobtrusively, Pitt pushed back his chair, rose and left the dining room, unnoticed by all except Giordino.
Pitt exhaled a deep breath, removed his shoes and unlimbered in his leather chair. “Admiral, this is Dirk.”
“About time,” Sandecker grunted. “I could have written my next speech before a congressional budget committee.”
“Sorry, sir, I was attending a party.”
There was a pause. “A party on a NUMA vessel dedicated to scientific research?”
“A farewell get-together for the ladies we rescued from Polar Queen,” Pitt explained.
“I’d better not hear of any questionable actions.” Sandecker was as open and receptive as the next man, but discussing anything less than scientific procedure on board his fleet of research ships was not his strong point.
Pitt took great joy in needling the admiral. “Do you mean hanky-panky, sir?”
“Call it what you may. Just see that the crew plays it straight. We don’t need any exposure in the scandal rags.”
“May I ask the nature of this call, Admiral?” Sandecker never used the phone simply to reach out and touch someone.
“I require the services of you and Giordino here in Washington damned quick. How soon can you fly off Ice Hunter for Punta Arenas?”
“We’re within the helicopter’s range now,” said Pitt. “We can lift off within the hour.”
“I’ve arranged for a military jet transport to be waiting for your arrival at the airport.”
Sandecker was never one to let the grass grow under his feet, Pitt thought. “Then Al and I will see you sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“We have much to discuss.”
“Any new developments?”
“An Indonesian freighter was found off Howland Island with a dead crew.”
“Did the bodies show the same symptoms as those on Polar Queen?”
“We’ll never know,” answered Sandecker. “It blew up and sank while a boarding party was investigating, killing them as well.”
“That’s a twist.”
“And to add to the mystery,” Sandecker continued, “a Chinese junk luxury yacht owned and sailed by the movie actor Garret Converse is missing in the same area.”
“His legion of fans won’t be happy when they learn he died from unknown causes.”
“His loss will probably get more coverage from the news media than all the dead on the cruise ship,” Sandecker acknowledged.
“How has my theory on sound waves played?” Pitt asked.
“Yaeger’s working it through his computers as we speak. With luck, he’ll have gleaned more data by the time you and Al walk through the door. I have to tell you, he and Rudi Gunn think you may be onto something.”
“See you soon, Admiral,” Pitt said and hung up. He sat motionless and stared at the phone, hoping to God they were on the right track.
The dishes were cleared and the party in the ship’s dining room had become loud with laughter as everyone competed in telling shaggy dog stories. As with Pitt, hardly anyone noticed that Giordino also had departed the festivities. Captain Dempsey entered into the humor of the evening with an old, old joke about a rich farmer who sends his ne’er-do-well son to college and makes him take along the old family dog, Rover. The kid then uses the old mangy dog to con his old man out of spending money by claiming he needs a thousand dollars because his professors claim they can make Rover read, write and talk. By the time he came to the punch line, everybody laughed more from sheer relief it was over than from the humor.
On one wall nearby, a ship’s phone rang, and the first officer answered. Without a word, he nodded in Dempsey’s direction. The captain caught the gesture, came over and took the call. He listened a moment, hung up the receiver and started for the open passageway leading to the stern deck.
“Are you all joked out?” Van Fleet called after him.
“I have to stand by for the helicopter’s departure,” he answered.
“What’s the mission?”
“No mission. Pitt and Giordino have been ordered back to Washington by the admiral, posthaste. They’re flying off to the mainland to catch a military transport.”
Maeve overheard and grabbed Dempsey by the arm. “When are they leaving?”
He was surprised by the sudden strength of her grip. “They should be lifting off about now.”
Deirdre came over and stood next to Maeve. “He must not care enough about you to say good-bye.”
Maeve felt as if a giant hand had suddenly reached inside her and squeezed her heart. Anguish filled her body. She rushed out the door onto the deck. Pitt had only lifted the helicopter a scant three meters off the pad N hen she came running into view. She could clearly see both men through the helicopter’s large windows. Giordino looked down, saw her and waved. Pitt had both hands busy and could only respond with a warm grin and a nod.
He expected to see her smile and wave in return, but her face seemed drawn in fear. She cupped her hands and cried out to him, but the noise of the turbine exhaust and thumping rotor blades drowned out her words. He could only shake his head and shrug in reply.