Vixen 03

"I pray the old guy makes it," Steiger said. "At least he had the satisfaction of knowing the monstrosities were retrieved. Now all that's left is to dump them in the ocean. End of horror story."

"No, I'm afraid it's only the begi

"You're talking in riddles."

"According to Admiral Bass, Vixen 03 did not depart Buckley Field carrying twentyeight warheads filled with the Quick Death agent."

Steiger sensed an icy dread in Pitt's tone. "But his inventory… the count came to twenty-eight."

"He should have tallied thirty-six," Pitt said ominously. "Eight warheads are missing."

42

The National Underwater and Marine Agency building, a tubular structure sheeted in green reflective glass, rose thirty stories above an East Washington hill.

On the top floor Admiral James Sandecker sat behind an immense desk made from a refinished hatch cover salvaged from a Confederate blockade ru

"Sandecker."

"Pitt here, sir."

Sandecker pushed a switch on a small console that activated a holographic TV camera. Pitt's lifelike image materialized in three-dimensional depth and color in the middle of the office.

"Raise the camera from your end. " said Sandecker. "You've chopped off your head."

Through the miracle of satellite holography Pitt's face seemed to grow from his shoulder, and his projected self, including voice and gestures, became identical to the original. The major difference, which never ceased to amuse Sandecker, was that he could pass a hand through the image because it was totally lacking in matter.

"That better?" asked Pitt.

"At least you're whole now." Sandecker wasted no more words. "What's the latest on Walter Bass?"

Pitt looked tired as he sat on a folding chair beneath a large pine tree, his ebony hair tossed by a stiff breeze.

"The heart specialist at the Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Denver reports his condition as stable. If he survives the next fortyeight hours, his chances for recovery look good. As soon as he's strong enough for the trip, they're going to transfer him to Bethesda Naval Hospital."

"What about the warheads?"

"We trucked them to a rail siding in Leadville," Pitt answered slowly. "Colonel Steiger volunteered to arrange shipment to Pier Six in San Francisco."

"Tell Steiger we're grateful for his cooperation. I've ordered our Pacific Coast research ship to be standing by. Instructions were given to the skipper to dump the warheads off the continental shelf in ten thou sand feet of water." Sandecker hesitated at posing the next question. "Did you locate the missing eight?"

Pitt's negative expression answered him even before the image spoke.

"No luck, Admiral. A thorough search of the lake bed failed to turn up a trace."

Sandecker read the frustration on Pitt's face. "I fear the time has come to inform the Pentagon."

"Do you honestly think that a wise course?"

"What other options do we have?" Sandecker came back. "We don't have the means at our disposal for a largescale investigation."

"All we need is a lead Pitt said, pressing on. "Odds favor the warheads' being stored somewhere, gathering dust. It's even possible the thieves don't know what they really have on their hands."

"I'll accept that," Sandecker said. "But who would want them in the first place? Christ, they weigh nearly a ton each, and they're easily recognizable in exterior appearance as obsolete naval shells."

"The answer will also lead us to the murderer of Loren Smith's father."

"No corpus delicti, no crime," Sandecker said.

"I know what I saw," Pitt said evenly.

"It won't alter present circumstances. The dilemma staring us all in the face is how to get a tag on those lost warheads and do it before someone gets it in his head to play demolition expert."

Suddenly the exhaustion seemed to drop from Pitt. "Something you just said jogged a thought. Give me five days to flush out the warheads. If I turn up nothing, then it's your ball game."

Sandecker smiled tightly at Pitt's sudden show of intensity. "This happens to be my ball game, any way you look at it, " he said sharply. "As the senior government official involved in this mess, it became my unwanted responsibility the day you hijacked a NUMA aircraft and underwater camera system."

Pitt stared back across the room but remained discreetly silent.

Sandecker left Pitt stewing for a moment while he rubbed his eyes. Then he said, "All right, against my better judgment I'll take the gamble."

"You'll go along, then?"

Sandecker caved in. "You've got five days, Pitt. But heaven help us if you come up empty-handed."

He hit the switch to the holograph and Pitt's image faded and disappeared.

43

It was just before sunset when Maxine Raferty turned from her clothesline and spied Pitt walking up the road. She continued her chore., pi

"Mr. Pitt, how nice to see you."

"Mrs. Raferty."

"Loren with you up to the cabin?"

"No, she had to remain in Washington." Pitt looked around the yard. "Is Lee at home?"

"In the house, fixing the kitchen sink." A brisk breeze was sweeping down the mountains from the west and Maxine thought it odd that Pitt was carrying his Windbreaker over his right hand and arm. 'Just go on in."

Lee Raferty was sitting at the kitchen table, filing burrs from a length of plumbing pipe. He looked up as Pitt entered.

"Mr. Pitt. Hey, sit down; you're just in time. I was about to open a bottle of my private stock of grape squeezin's."

Pitt pulled up a chair. "You make wine as well as beer?"

"Gotta be self-sufficient up here in the high country," Lee said, gri

Raferty laid the nasty pipe on an old newspaper, rose from the table, and produced two glasses and a ceramic jug from under a cupboard.

"I wanted to talk with you_," Pitt said.

"Sure thing." Lee poured the glasses to their brims. "Hey, what do you think about all that commotion up at the lake? I hear tell they found an old airplane. Could it be the one you was askin' about?"

"Yes." Pitt answered, sipping from the wineglass. which he held in his left hand. He was mildly surprised to find the wine quite smooth. "That's part of the reason I'm here. I was hoping you might enlighten me as to why you murdered Charlie Smith."

The only reaction was the slight lift of one gray eyebrow. "Me… murder old Charlie? What on earth are you talking about?"

"A falling-out of partners who thought they'd discovered a pot of gold deep in a mountain lake."

He stared at Pitt and tilted his head questioningly. "You're talking like a crazy man."

"The last thing you expected was a stranger appearing on your doorstep asking questions about a lost airplane. You'd already made a mistake by not disposing of the oxygen tank and nose gear. I pay homage to you and your wife's theatrical talents. I swallowed your country-bumpkin act with all the gullibility of a tourist. After I left, you covered my every move, and when you saw me dive in the lake, you were dead certain I had discovered the aircraft and Charlie Smith's bones. At that point you made an irreversible blunder: you panicked and removed Charlie, in all probability burying his bones deep in the mountains. If you'd left him strapped to that sunken cargo floor, the sheriff would have been hard pressed to tie you to a three-year-old murder."