Vixen 03

"She's over Chesapeake Bay, sir."

Pitt looked up. "What helicopter is that?"

"Why, one of yours," Kiebel said. "Damnedest thing. A shell from the Iowa's final salvo came down in a parachute and this idiot in a NUMA chopper nabbed it on the fly."

"Thank God!" Pitt said as the full implication hit him. "A radio. I need to borrow your radio."

Kiebel hesitated. He could read the urgency in Pitt's eyes. "Allowing civilians to use military communications gear is hardly kosher…. 55

Pitt held up a hand and cut him off. The feeling was returning to his cold-numbed skin and he sensed something pressing into his stomach under the shirt. His face went blank as he removed a small packet and stared at it speculatively.

"Now where in hell did that come from?"

Steiger warily regarded the temperature gauge as the needle crept toward the red.

The Atlantic coastline was still sixty miles away, and the last thing he wanted was a seized turbine bearing.

The call light on the radio blinked on and the admiral pressed the "transmit" button. "This is Sandecker. Go ahead."

"I'm ready for those scrambled eggs," Pitt said, his voice crackling over the head phones.

"Dirk!" Sandecker blurted. "Are you all right?"

"A trifle shopworn but still kicking."

"The other warhead?" Steiger asked anxiously.

"Disarmed," Pitt answered.

"And the Quick Death agent?"

Pitt's tone betrayed no uncertainty.

"Flushed down the drain."

Pitt could be only reasonably sure Hiram Lusana had disposed of the bomblets in the river, but he was not about to suggest to Steiger and the admiral that it was possible their efforts had been in vain.

Sandecker briefed Pitt on the grappling of the parachute and explained that the outlook was grim. Pitt listened without interrupting. When the admiral had finished, Pitt posed only one question.

"How long can you stay in the air?"

"I can stretch the fuel for another two, maybe two and a half hours," replied Steiger. "My immediate problem is the engines. They're ru

"Sounds like the parachute's canopy is partially blocking the intake chambers."

"I'm open for brilliant ideas. Got any?"

"It so happens I do," Pitt responded. "Keep your ears up. I'll be back in touch two hours from now. In the meantime, dump every ounce you can. Seats, tools, any piece of the ship you can pry loose to lighten your weight. Do whatever has to be done, but claw the air till you hear from me. Pitt out."

He switched off the microphone and turned to Lieutenant Commander Kiebel. "I must get ashore as quickly as possible."

"We'll be dockside in eight minutes."

"I'll need transportation," said Pitt.

"I still don't know how you fit into this mess," said Kiebel. "For all I know, I should place you under arrest."

"This is no time to play vigilante games," snapped Pitt. "Christ, do I have to do everything myself?" He bent over the radio operator. "Patch me in to NUMA headquarters and the Stransky Instrument Company, in that order."

"A little free with my men and equipment, aren't you, mister?"

Pitt didn't doubt for a second that if Kiebel had had two good arms, he'd have mashed him to the deck. "What do I have to do to get your cooperation.

Kiebel fixed his cork-brown eyes on Pitt with a murderous stare; then, slowly, they took on a twinkle as his mouth etched into a smile. "Say 'please."'

Pitt complied, and exactly twelve minutes later he was in a Coast Guard helicopter, racing back to Washington.

67

The two hours came and went with agonizing slowness for Steiger and Sandecker. They had crossed the Delaware shoreline at Slaughter Beach and were now five hundred miles out over the Atlantic. The weather remained relatively calm, and the few thunder clouds obligingly floated free of their flight path.

Everything that wasn't bolted down, and some things that were, had been jettisoned out the cargo door. Sandecker estimated he had dumped in the neighborhood of four hundred pounds. That and the weight loss from the diminishing fuel had kept the protesting engines from overheating as they struggled to keep the overladen Minerva aloft.

Sandecker was lying with his back against the cockpit bulkhead. He had removed every seat except Steiger's. The physical efforts of the past two hours had exhausted him. His lungs heaved and his arms and legs were stiff with muscle fatigue.

"Any word… anything from Pitt?"

Steiger shook his head without taking his eyes off the instruments. "Dead silence," he said. "But then, what can we expect? The man isn't a card-carrying miracle worker."

"I've known him to pull off what others thought impossible."

"I know a pathetic attempt to instill false hope when I hear one." Steiger tilted his head toward the panel clock. "Two hours, eight minutes since the last contact. I guess he's written us off."

Sandecker was too exhausted to argue. As if through a heavy mist, he reached over, pulled a headset down over his ears, and closed his eyes. A gentle peace was settling over him when a loud voice abruptly blasted him to full wakefulness.

"Hey, Baldy, you fly like you screw."

"Giordino!" Steiger rasped.

Sandecker punched the "transmit" button. "AI, where are you calling from?"

"About a half mile back and two hundred feet below you."

Sandecker and Steiger exchanged stu

"You're supposed to be in the hospital," Sandecker said dumbly.

"Pitt arranged my parole."

"Where is Pitt?" Steiger demanded.

"Looking up your ass, Abe," Pitt replied.

"I'm at the controls of Giordino's Catlin M-two hundred."

"You're late," said Steiger.

"Sorry, these things take time. How's your fuel?"

"Sopping the bottom of the tank," answered Steiger. "I might squeeze another eighteen or twenty minutes if I'm lucky."

"A Norwegian cruise liner is standing by sixty miles, bearing two-seven-zero degrees. Her captain has cleared all passengers from the sun deck for your arrival. You should make it — "

"Are you crazy?" Steiger cut in. "Cruise ship, sun deck — what are you ranting about?"

Pitt continued quite unruffled. "As soon as we cut away the projectile, head for the cruise ship. You can't miss her."

"How I'll envy you guys," said Giordino. "Sitting around the poolside deck. sipping mai tais."

"Sipping mai tais!" repeated an awed Steiger. "My God, they're both crazy!"

Pitt turned to Giordino, ensconced in the copilot's seat, and nodded toward the plaster cast covering one leg. "You sure you' can work the controls wearing that thing?"

"The only function it won't let me perform," said Giordino, giving the cast a light thump, "is scratching an itch from within."'

"It's yours, then."

Pitt lifted his hands from the control column, climbed out of the seat, and moved back into the Catlin's cargo section. Intense cold whistled in from the open hatch.

A light-ski