Treasure

Despite the high wind-chill factor, his heavy clothing kept him reasonably warm, and he could tell by his heartbeat that he was not unduly exerting himself.

Pitt paused when he calculated that he was in the approximate vicinity of the hut. He continued walking another thirty paces before stopping again.

He turned to his right and moved over about three meters until he could still see his footprints trailing off in the blowing snow from the opposite direction. Then he walked parallel to his original path, mowing the lawn as if he was searching for an object beneath the sea. He took about sixty steps before his old footprints faded and disappeared m the snow.

He walked five lanes before he swung to his right again, repeating the pattern until he was sure he had retraced the now obliterated center line. Then he picked up the grid again on the other side. On the third lane he stumbled into a snowdrift and fell against a metal wall.

He followed it around two corners before meeting a rope that led to a door. With a great sigh of relief, Pitt pushed open the door, savoring the knowledge that his life had been in danger and he had won. He stepped inside and tensed.

This was not the living quarters, but rather a large Quonsetlike shelter covering a series of excavations in the exposed earth. The interior temperature was not much above freezing, but he was thankful to be safe from the gale-force wind.

The only light came from a Coleman lantern. At first he thought the structure was deserted, but then a head and pair of shoulders seemed to rise up from a trough in the ground. The figure was kneeling, facing away from Pitt, and seeming absorbed in carefully scraping loose gravel from a small shelf in the trough.

Pitt stepped from the shadows and looked down.

"you'ready?" he asked.

Lily spun around, more puzzled than startled. The light was in her eyes and all she could make out was a vague form.

"Ready for what?"

"To go out on the town."

The voice came back to her. She lifted the lamp and slowly rose to her feet. She looked into his face, captivated once again by Pitts eyes, while he was taken by her dark red hair that looked like fire under the bright light of the hissing Coleman.

"Mr. Pitt . . . isn't it?" She slipped off her right glove and extended her hand.

He also removed his glove, reached out and gave her hand a firm squeeze.

"I prefer attractive ladies to call me Dirk."

She felt like an embarrassed little girl, mad at herself for not having any makeup On, wondering if he noticed the calluses on her hand. And to make it worse, she could feel herself blushing.

"Lily Sharp," she stammered. "My friends and I were hoping we could thank you for last night. I thought you were joking about di

"As you can hear-" he paused and tilted his head toward the moaning wind outside. a blizzard couldn't keep me away."

"You must be crazy."

"No, just stupid for thinking I could outrun an Arctic storm."

They both laughed and the tension fell away. Lily began to climb out of the excavation trough. Pitt took her arm and helped her up. She winced and he quickly released his grip.

"You shouldn't be on your feet."

Lily smiled gamely. "Stiff and a little sore from a sea of black-and-blue marks I can't show you, but I'll live."

Pitt held up the lantern and peered around the oddly grouped rocks and excavations. "Just what is it you have here?"

"An ancient Eskimo village, inhabited one hundred to five hundred years after Christ."

"Have you a name for it?"

"We call the site Gronquist Bay Village after Dr. Hiram Gronquist, who discovered it five years ago."

"One of the three men I met last night?"

"The big man who was knocked unconscious."

"How's he getting along?"

"Despite a large purplish dome on his forehead, he swears he doesn't suffer from headaches or dizziness. When I left the hut he was roasting like a turkey."

"Turkey?" Pitt repeated, surprised. "You must have a firstrate supply system."

"A vertical-lift Minerva aircraft, on loan to the university by a wealthy alumnus, flies in once every two weeks from Thule."

"I thought excavations this far north were limited to midsummer when above-freezing temperatures thawed the ground."

"Generally speaking that's true. But with the heated prefab shelter over the main section of the village, we can work from April through October."

"Find anything out of the ordinary, like an object that doesn't belong here?"

Lily gave Pitt a queer look. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. "

"We've unearthed hundreds of interesting artifacts representing prehistoric Eskimo lifestyles and technology. We have them in the hut, if you care to examine them."

"How's chances of looking at them over the turkey?"

"Good to excellent. Dr. Gronquist cooks gourmet."

"I had hoped to invite you all to the ship's galley for di

"We're always happy to see a new face at the table."

"You've discovered something unusual, haven't you?" Pitt asked abruptly.

Lily's eyes widened suspiciously. "How could you knowt' "Greek or Roman?"

"Roman Empire, Byzantium, actually."

"Byzantium what?" Pitt pushed her, his eyes turned hard.

"How old?"

"A gold coin, late fourth century."

He seemed to relax then. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out while she looked at him in confusion and no small degree of irritation.

"Make your point!" Lily snapped at him.

"What if I was to tell you," Pitt began slowly, "there is a trail of amphoras scattered along the seabed that leads into the fjord?"

"Amphoras?" Lily repeated in astonishment.

"I have them on videotape from our underwater cameras."

"They came." She spoke as in a trance. "They really crossed the Atlantic. The Romans set foot on Greenland before the Vikings."

"The evidence points in that direction." Pitt eased his arm around Lily's waist and aimed her toward the door. "Speaking of direction, are we stuck here for the duration of the storm or does that rope outside the door lead to your hut?"

She nodded. "Yes, the line stretches between the two buildings." She paused and stared into the excavation where she had discovered the coin.

"Pytheas, the Greek navigator, made an epic voyage in 350 B.c. The legends say he sailed north into the Atlantic and eventually reached Iceland. Strange there

are no records or legends telling of a Roman voyage this far north and west, seven hundred and fifty years later."

"Pytheas was lucky: he made it home to tell the tale."

,,You think the Romans who came here were lost on the return voyage?"

"No, I think they're still here." Pi pi

"And you and i, lovely lady, are going to find them."

-PART II

The Serapis

October 14, 1991

Washington, D.C.

A cold, bleak drizzle shrouded the nation's capital as a taxi pulled to a stop at Seventeenth and Pe