The Mediterranean Caper

Woodson crawled from the hatch and walked over to Pitt. “Maybe I better stick with you, Major, until you’re bedded down.”

“No thanks.” Pitt answered, mildly surprised at the look of genuine concern on Woodson’s otherwise expressionless face. “I’m OK. Zac here is going to take me to a hospital full of nymphomaniac nurses, right Zac?”

“Sorry,” Zacynthus smiled. “Not unless the Air Force has changed its enlistment policy. I’m afraid the base hospital at Brady Field has the only decent facilities on the island for plugging bullet holes.”

The litter-bearers arrived and immediately eased Pitt onto the stretcher. “Oh well,” he said, “at least I travel first class.” Then he sat up. "Damn! I almost forgot. One last thing. Where’s Spencer?”

“Here, Major. right here,” The red-bearded marine biologist stepped from behind Woodson. “What can I do for you?”

“Relay my compliments to Commander Gu

Spencer paled visibly at the sight of Pitt’s bloody leg. “Consider it done.”

Pitt leaned over the side of the stretcher and rested on one elbow. “In the outer cavern, twenty feet down, there are several small fissures along the base of the north wall. One has a flat rock over the entrance. If he hasn’t already muscled his way out, you’ll find a Teaser inside.”

Spencer’s face registered total surprise. “A Teaser!

Are you serious, Major?”

“I ought to know a Tearer when I see one,” Pitt replied jokingly. “See to it that you don’t drop him.”

Spencer let out a long whistle. “Well what do you know. I was begi

“There’s only one way to catch a Teaser,” Pitt gri

The pain was going away now. Pitt’s leg felt like it was no longer part of him. The floodlights fused together in one massive blur, hurting his eyes. Everything seemed to slow down. and the voices became far away. Then the stretcher bearers picked Pitt up from the dock, moving. it seemed to him, as though they were wading through glue. He raised his head for the last time that day.

“Zac. one more request.” Pitt’s voice was down to a bare murmur. “What is the girl’s real name?”

Zac looked down at Pitt and smiled with his eyes. “Her name is Amy.”

“Amy.” Pitt repeated. “Never knew a girl by the name of Amy before.” He relaxed and fell back against the stretcher. closing his eyes. The last thing he remembered before the soothing blanket of darkness fully covered him was the sound of a single shot, echoing from somewhere within the depths of the labyrinth.

TALLY

The sky was a brilliant ceiling of blue as far as the eye could see. The summer air was hot and dripping with unseen humidity encouraged by burning waves from the blazing sun. In blinding radiance, tall white buildings stood like small chiseled mountains and reflected the heat onto the black asphalt pavement below; the traffic was heavy, and the sidewalks were crowded with scurrying office workers on lunch break as Pitt pushed aside the wide glass doors and limped stiffly into the air conditioned lobby of the Bureau of Narcotics building.

For a bachelor, he thought, one of the wonderful things about Washington, D.C. is the overabundance of girls. They come in every size, age, and disposition and swarm like chattering locusts throughout every government office in the city, providing the hungry male with all the advantages of a rich kid ru

A moment later, playing the role of the wounded Warrior to perfection, Pitt leaned heavily on his cane and limped from the elevator onto the thick carpet of the eighth floor. In the center of the anteroom a dozen girls, displaying an unrestricted forest of nyloned legs, sat at a dozen desks and furiously assaulted a dozen typewriters, never once hesitating to look up at him. He moved slowly over to a well-bosomed blond whose desk top contained a small rectangular sign: “Information.” Then for a moment he stared down at her, admiring the view.

“Excuse me.”

She didn’t hear him over the din of the clacking machines.

“Excuse me,” Pitt repeated loudly.

She turned and noticed him. “May I help you?” The voice was cool, the big hazel eyes unfriendly. Pitt admitted to himself that he had to go along with her icy greeting. The white turtleneck sweater, the green California sport coat, the handkerchief casually fluffed from the breast pocket hardly categorized him as an executive or important Washington bureaucrat.

“I would like to see the Director of the Bureau.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning back to her typewriter. “The Director is extremely busy and ca

Contempt and anger began to mount in Pitt. “Inspector Zacynthus made an appointment for me—”

“Inspector Zacynthus’ office is on the fourth floor,” the girl droned mechanically.

A gunshot couldn’t have received more attention than the resounding bang from Pitt’s cane as he slammed it on top of the receptionist’s desk. The typists’ eyes burst wide, and their hands froze above keyboards, sending the anteroom into a sudden dead silence. Her face drained of all color, the large-cheated blond stared up at Pitt. a fear mushrooming inside her.

“OK, dearheart.” Pitt said menacingly. “You get up off your well-rounded little bottom and you go and inform the Director that Major Dirk Pitt is waiting to keep the appointment set by Inspector Zacynthus.”

“Pitt… Major Pitt from NUMA,” the blond gasped. “Oh I’m sorry, sir. But I thought—”

“Yes, I know,” Pitt offered. “I’m out of uniform.”

The blond jumped from her desk, snagging a stocking in her haste. “Right this way, Major. They’re expecting you.”

Pitt gri

It inflated his male ego.

“Keep typing girls,” he said good-naturedly.

“Mustn’t keep the Bureau waiting for all those letters and reports.”

The blond led him down a long hallway, slowing her pace every so often to allow him to catch up. She halted and rapped on a walnut stained door. “Major Pitt,” she a

Three men rose as he walked into the room. The fourth, Giordino, remained comfortably anchored to a long leather couch.

“I thought I'd never see the day,” he said. “Dirk Pitt hobbling around on a cane.”

“Just practicing for my senile years,” Pitt retorted.

A short, red-haired man with a zeppelin-shaped cigar stashed jauntily between his lips came over and shook Pitt’s, hand. “Welcome back, Dirk. Congratulations on a great job in the Aegean.”

Pitt stared into the griffin-featured face of Admiral James Sandecker, the crusty chief of the National Underwater Marine Agency.”

“Thank you, Admiral. Any word on the Teaser yet?”

“Only that it’s alive and still swimming,” Sandecker answered. “Since Gu

Zacynthus came across to greet Pitt. He seemed younger, much more relaxed than when. Pitt had last seen him, three weeks previously.