THE MEDITERRANEAN CAPER
BY
CLIVE CUSSLER
 
 
 
 
 
PROLOGUE
 
It was oven hot, and it was Sunday. In the air traffic tower, the control 
operator at Brady Air Force Base lit a cigarette from a still glowing butt, 
propped his stocking feet on top of a portable air conditioner and waited for 
something to happen.
He was totally bored, and for good reason. Air traffic was slow on Sundays. In 
fact, it was nearly nonexistent Military pilots and their aircraft rarely flew 
on that day in the Mediterranean Theatre of Operations, particularly since no 
international political trouble was brewing at the moment. Occasionally a plane 
might set down or take off, but it was usually just a quick refueling stop for 
some VIP who was in a hurry to get to a conference somewhere in Europe or 
Africa.
The control operator scanned the large flight schedule blackboard for the tenth 
time since he came on duty. There were no departures, and the only estimated 
time of arrival was at 1630, almost five hours away.
He was youngin his early twentiesand strikingly refuted the myth that 
fair-haired people cannot tan well; wherever skin showed, it looked like dark 
walnut laced with strands of platinum blond hair. The four stripes on his sleeve 
denoted the rank of a Staff Sergeant, and although the temperature was touching 
ninety-eight degrees, the armpits of his khaki uniform displayed no damp sweat 
stains. The collar on his shirt was open and missing a tie; a custom normally 
allowed at Air Force facilities located in warm atmospheres.
He Leaned forward and adjusted the louvers on the air conditioner so that the 
cool air ran up his legs. The new position seemed to satisfy him. and he smiled 
at the refreshing tingle. Then, clasping his hands behind his head, he relaxed 
backward, staring at the metal ceiling.
The ever-present thought of Minneapolis and the girls parading Nicollet Avenue 
crossed his mind. He counted again the fifty-four days left to endure before he 
was rotated back to the States. When each day came it was ceremoniously marked 
off in a small black notebook he carried in his breast pocket.
Yawning for perhaps the twentieth time, he picked up a pair of binoculars that 
were sitting on the window ledge, and surveyed the parked aircraft that rested 
on the dark asphalt runway stretching beneath the elevated control tower.
The runway lay on the island of Thasos in the northern part of the Aegean Sea. 
The island was separated from the Greek Macedonia mainland by sixteen miles of 
water. appropriately called the Thasos Strait The Thasos land mass consisted of 
one hundred and seventy square miles of rock, timber and remnants from classical 
history dating back to One Thousand B.C.
Brady Field, as generally termed by the base personnel, was constructed under a 
treaty between the United States and the Greek government in the late nineteen 
sixties. Except for ten F-105 Starfire Jets, the only other permanently based 
aircraft were two monstrous C-133 Cargomaster transports that sat like a pair of 
fat silver whales, glistening in the blazing Aegean sun.
The sergeant pointed the binoculars at the dormant aircraft and searched for 
signs of life. The field was empty. Most of the men were either in the nearby 
town of Panaghia drinking beer, sunbathing on the beach or napping in the 
air-Cooled barracks. Only a solitary MP guarding the main gate, and the constant 
rotation of the radar antennae atop its cement bunker offered any form of human 
presence. He slowly raised the lenses and peered over the azure sea. It was a 
bright, cloudless day, and he could easily recognize details on the distant 
Greek mainland. The glasses swung east and gathered in the horizon line where 
deep blue water met light blue sky. Through the shimmering haze of heat waves 
the white speck of a ship resting at anchor came into view. He squinted and 
adjusted the focus knob to clarify the ships name on the bow. He could just 
barely make out the tiny black words: First Attempt.
That's a dumb name. he thought. The significance escaped him. Other markings 
also darkened the ships hull. In long, heavy, black lines across the center of 
the bull were the vertical letters NUMA which he knew stood for the National 
Underwater Marine Agency.
A huge crooked crane stood on the stern of the ship and hung over the water, 
lifting a round ball-like object from the depths. The sergeant could see men 
laboring about the crane, and he felt inwardly glad that civilians had to work 
on a Sunday too.
Suddenly his visual exploration was cut short by a robot-like voice over the 
intercom.
Hello, Control Tower, this is Radar. . . Over!
The sergeant laid down the binoculars and flicked a microphone switch. This is 
the Control Tower, Radar. Whats up?
Ive got a contact about ten miles to the west.
Ten miles west? boomed the sergeant. Thats inland over the island. Your 
contact is practically on top of us. He turned and looked again at the big 
lettered blackboard, reassuring himself that no scheduled flights were due. 
Next time, let me know sooner?
Beats me where it came from, droned the voice from the radar bunker. Nothing 
has shown on the scope in any direction under one hundred miles in the last six 
hours.
Well either stay awake down there or get your-damn equipment checked, snapped 
the sergeant. He released the mike button and grabbed the binoculars.
Then he stood up and peered to the west.
It was there. . . a tiny dark dot, flying low over the hills at tree top level. 
It came slow; no more than ninety miles an hour. For a few moments it seemed to 
hang suspended over the ground, and then, almost all at once, It began to take 
on shape. The outlines of the wings and fuselage drew into sharp focus through 
the binoculars. It was so dear as to be unmistakable. The sergeant gaped in 
astonishment as the rattley-bang engine sound of an old single seat, biwing 
airplane complete with rigid, spoked wheel landing gear, tore the arid island 
air.
Except for the protruding in-line cylinder head, the fuselage followed a 
streamlined shape that tapered to straight skies at the open cockpit The great 
wooden propeller beat the air like an old windmill, pulling the ancient craft 
over the landscape at a tortoise-like air speed. The fabric covered wings 
wavered in the wind and showed the early characteristic scalloped trailing edge. 
From the spinner enclosing the propeller hub to the rear tips of the elevators, 
the entire machine was painted a bright and flamboyant yellow. The sergeant 
lowered the glasses just as the plane displaying the familiar black Maltese 
Cross markings of World War I Germany, flashed by the control tower.
In another circumstance the sergeant would have probably dropped to the floor if 
an airplane buzzed the control tower at no more than five feet. But his 
amazement at seeing a very real ghost from the dim skies of the Western Front 
was too much for his senses to grasp, and he stood stock still. As the plane 
passed, the pilot brazenly waved from his cockpit. He was so close that the 
sergeant could see the features of his face under the faded leather helmet and 
goggles. The spectre from the past was grinning and patting the butts of the 
twin machine guns, mounted on the cowling.
Was this some sort of colossal joke? Is the pilot a nutty Greek with a circus? 
Where did he come from? The sergeants brain spun with questions but no answers. 
Suddenly he became aware of twin, blinking spots of light, emitting behind the 
propeller of the plane. Then the glass of the control tower windows shattered 
and disappeared around him.
A moment in time stopped and war came to Brady Field. The pilot of the World War 
I fighter dipped around the control tower and strafed the sleek modern jets 
parked lazily on the runway. One by one the F-105 Starfires were raked and 
slashed by ancient eight millimeter bullets that tore into their thin aluminum 
skin. Three of them burst into flames as their full tanks of jet fuel ignited. 
They burned fiercely, melting the soft asphalt into smoking puddles of tar. 
Again and again, the bright yellow flying antique soared over the field, 
spitting a leaden stream of destruction. One of the C-133 Cargomasters went 
next. It erupted in a gigantic roar of flames that rose hundreds of feet into 
the air.
In the tower the sergeant lay on the floor, looking dazedly at a red trail of 
blood that oozed from his chest. He gently pulled the black notebook from his 
breast pocket and stared in fascinated surprise at a small. neat hole in the 
middle of the cover. A dark veil began to circle his eyes and he shook it off. 
Then he struggled to his knees and looked around the room.
Glittering fragments of broken glass blanketed the floor, the radio equipment, 
the furniture. In the center of the room, the air conditioner lay upside down 
like a dead mechanical animal: its legs thrown stiffly in the air and its 
coolant trickling onto the floor from several round punctures. The sergeant dull 
peered up at the radio. Miraculously It was untouched. Painfully, he crawled 
across the floor slicing his knees and hands on the crystal slivers. He reached 
the microphone and grasped it tightly, bloodying the black plastic handle.
Darkness crowded the sergeants thoughts. What is the proper procedure, he 
wondered? What does one say at a time like this? Say something his mind shouted, 
say anything!
To all who can hear my voice. MAY DAY! MAY DAY! This is Brady Field. We are 
under attack by an unidentified aircraft. This is not a drill, I repeat, Brady 
Field is under attack...
 
 
 
 
 
1
Major Dirk Pitt adjusted the headset on his thick black hair and slowly turned 
the channel crank on the radio, trying to fine-tune the reception. He listened 
intently for a few moments, his dark, sea-green eyes reflecting a trace of 
bewilderment A frown cut his forehead in a series of grooves and hung there in 
the tanned leathery skin.
It wasnt that the words crackling over the receiver werent understandable. 
They were. He just didnt believe them. He listened again, and listened hard 
over the droning roar of the PBY Catalinas twin engines. The voice he heard was 
fading, when it should have been getting stronger. The volume control was turned 
to full on, and, Brady Field was only thirty miles away. Under those conditions, 
the air traffic operators voice should have blasted Pitts eardrums out. The 
operator is either losing power or hes seriously injured, thought Pitt He 
pondered a minute and then reached over to his right and shook the sleeping 
figure in the co-pilots seat.
Come out of it, sleeping beauty. He spoke in a tone that was soft and 
effortless, yet had a way of making itself heard in a throbbing airplane or a 
crowded room.
Captain Al Giordino wearily raised his head and yawned loudly. The fatigue of 
sitting in an old vibrating PBY flying boat for thirteen hours straight was 
evident in his dark, bloodshot eyes. He flung his arms upward, puffed out his 
barrel chest and stretched. Then he came erect and leaned forward, peering out 
in the distance beyond the cockpit windows.
Are we over the First Attempt yet? Giordino mumbled through another yawn.
Almost, replied Pitt. Theres Thasos dead ahead.
Oh hell, Giordino grunted; then grinned. I could have slept another ten 
minutes. Whyd you wake me?
I intercepted a message from Brady Control that said the field was under attack 
by an unidentified aircraft
You cant be serious, Giordino said incredulously. It must be some kind of a 
joke.
No, I dont think so. The control operators voice didnt sound like it was 
faking. Pitt hesitated and kept an eye on the water only fifty feet away as it 
flashed under the PBYs hull. Just for practice he had wave-hopped the last two 
hundred miles; a means of keeping his reflexes honed and sharp.
It might be that Brady Control was telling the truth, said Giordino, peering 
through the cockpit windshield. Look over there toward the eastern part of the 
island.
Both men stared at the approaching mound rising out of the sea. The beaches 
bordering the surf were yellow and barren, but the round sloping hills were 
green with trees. The colors danced in the heat waves and vividly contrasted 
against the encircling blue of the Aegean. On the eastern side of Thasos a large 
pillar of smoke rose into the windless sky and fanned a giant, spiral-shaped, 
black cloud. The PBY's bow soared closer to the island, and soon they could 
distinguish the orange movement of flames at the base of the smoke.
Pitt grabbed the mike and pressed the button on the side of the handgrip. Brady 
Control, Brady Control, this is PBY-086, over. There was no response.
Pitt repeated the call twice more.
No answer? queried Giordino.
Nothing, returned Pitt.
You said an unidentified aircraft. I take it, that means one?
Thats precisely what Brady Control said before they went off the air.
It doesnt make sense. Why would one plane attack a United States Air Force 
Base?
Who knows, Pitt said, easing the control column back slightly. Maybe its an 
irate Greek farmer whos tired of our jets scaring his goals. Anyway. it cant 
be a full-scale attack, or Washington would have notified us by now. Well have 
to wait and see He rubbed his eyes and blinked away the drowsiness. Get ready, 
Im going to take her up, circle in over those hills and come down out of the 
sun for a closer look.
Take it nice and easy. Giordinos eyebrows came together and he grinned a 
serious grin. This old bus is way overmatched if thats a rocket firing jet 
down there.
Dont worry, Pitt laughed. My main goal in life is to stay healthy as long as 
possible. He pushed the throttles forward, and the two Pratt & Whitney Wasp 
engines increased their beat. His large, brown hands moved efficiently, pulling 
back on the control column, and the plane aimed its flat snout at the sun. The 
big Catalina rose steadily, gaining altitude by the second, and circled above 
the Thasos mountains in the direction of the growing smoke cloud.
Suddenly, a voice broke in over Pitts headset. The unexpected sound nearly 
deafened his ears before he could lower the volumethe same voice be heard 
before, but stronger this time.
This is Brady Control calling. We are under attack! I repeat, we are under 
attack! Come in anybody, please reply! The voice was near hysteria.
Pitt replied, Brady Control, this is PBY-086. Over.
Thank God, someone answered, the voice gasped.
I tried to raise you before, Brady Control, but you faded and went off the 
air.
I was hit in the first attack, I.. . I must have
passed out Im all right now. The words sounded broken, but coherent
Were approximately ten miles west of you at six thousand feet. Pitt spoke 
slowly and did not repeat his position. What is your situation?
We have no defense. All our aircraft were destroyed on the ground. The nearest 
interceptor squadron is seven hundred miles away. Theyll never get here in 
time. Can you assist?
Pitt shook his head from side to side from habit. Negative Brady Control. My 
top speed is under one hundred ninety knots and I only have a couple of rifles 
on board. Wed be wasting our time engaging a jet.
Please assist, the voice pleaded. "Our attacker is not a jet bomber but a 
World War I biplane. I repeat, our attacker is a World War I biplane. Please 
assist.
Pitt and Giordino merely looked at each other, dumbfounded. It was a full ten 
seconds before Pitt could pull his senses back into reign.
Okay, Brady Control, were coming in. But youd better know your aircraft 
identification or youre going to make a pair of little old silver-haired mother 
damn sad if my co-pilot and I buy the farm. Over and out. Pitt turned to 
Giordino and spoke quickly without facial expression his tone confident and 
calculating. Go aft and throw open the side hatches. Use one of the carbines 
and make like a sharpshooter.
I cant believe what I'm hearing, Giordino said stunned.
Pitt shook his head. I cant quite accept it either, but weve got to give 
those guys down there on the ground a helping hand. Now hurry it up.
Ill do it, Giordino muttered. But I still dont believe it.
Yours is not to reason why, my friend, Pitt lightly punched Giordino on the 
arm and smiled briefly.
Good luck.
Save it for yourself, you bleed just as easily as I do, Giordino said soberly. 
Then, muttering quietly under his breath, he rose from the co-pilots seat and 
made his way to the ships waist. Once there he pulled the thirty caliber 
carbine from an upright cabinet and shoved a fifteen shot clip into the 
receiver. A blast of warm air struck his face, filling the compartment when he 
opened the waist batches. He checked the gun once more and sat down to wait; his 
thoughts drifting to the big man who was piloting the plane.
Giordino had known Pitt for a long time. Theyd played together as boys, ran on 
the same high school track team and dated the same girls. He knew Pitt better 
than any man alive; any woman too, for that matter.
Pitt was, in a sense, two men, neither of them directly related to the other. 
There was the coldly efficient Dirk Pitt who rarely made a mistake, and yet was 
humorous, unpretentious and easily made friends with everyone who came in 
contact with him; a rare combination.
Then there was the other Pitt, the moody one. the one who often withdrew to 
himself for hours at a time and became remote and aloof, as though his mind were 
constantly churning over some distant dream. There had to be a key that unlocked 
and opened the door between the two Pitts, but Giordino had never found it. He 
did know, however, that the transition from one Dirk Pitt to the other took 
place more frequently in the past year since Pitt lost a woman in the sea near 
Hawaii; a woman he had loved deeply.
Giordino remembered noticing Pitts eyes before coming back to the main cabin; 
how the deep green had transformed to a glinting brightness at the call of 
danger. Giordino had never seen eyes quite like them. except once. and he 
shuddered slightly at the recollection as he glanced at the missing finger on 
his right hand. He jerked his thoughts back to the reality of the present and 
slid off the safety catch on the carbine. Then, strangely. he felt secure.
Back in the cockpit, Pitts tanned face was a study in masculinity. He was not 
handsome in the movie star sense: far from it Women rarely, if ever, threw 
themselves at him. They were usually a little awed and uncomfortable in his 
presence. They somehow sensed that he was not a man who catered to feminine 
wiles or silly coquettish games. He loved womens company and the feel of their 
soft bodies, but he disliked the subterfuge, the lies, and all the other 
ridiculous little ploys it took to seduce the average female. Not that he lacked 
cleverness at getting a woman between the sheets; be was an expert. But he had 
to force himself to play the game. He preferred straightforward and honest 
women, but there were far too few to be found.
Pitt eased the control column forward, and the PBY nosed over in a shallow dive 
toward the inferno at Brady Field. The white altimeter needles slowly swung 
backward around the black dial, registering the descent. He steepened the angle, 
and the twenty-five year old aircraft began to vibrate. It was not built for 
high speed. It was designed for low speed reconnaissance, dependability and long 
range, but that was about all.
Pitt had requested the purchase of the craft after he had transferred from the 
Air Force to the National Underwater Marine Agency at the request of the Agency 
Director, Admiral James Sandecker. Pitt still retained his rank of Major and, 
according to the paperwork, was assigned to an indefinite tour of duty with 
NUMA. His title was that of Surface Security Officer, which was nothing to him 
but a fancy term for trouble shooter. Whenever a project ran into unknown 
difficulties or unscientific problems, it was Pitts job to unravel the 
difficulty and get the operation back on the track. That was the purpose behind 
his request for the PBY Catalina flying boat. Slow as it was, it could 
comfortably carry passengers and cargo, and what was most important, land and 
take off in water; a prime factor since nearly ninety percent of NUMAs 
operations were miles at sea.
Suddenly a glint of color against the black cloud caught Pitts attention. It 
was a bright yellow plane. It banked sharply, suggesting high maneuverability, 
and dived through the smoke. Pitt slipped the throttles backward to reduce the 
speed of his sharp angle of descent and prevent the PBY from overshooting his 
strange adversary. The other plane materialized out of the opposite side of the 
smoke and could clearly be seen strafing Brady Field.
Ill be damned, Pitt boomed out loud. Its an old German Albatros.
The Catalina came on straight from the eye of the sun, and the pilot of the 
Albatros, intent on the business of destruction, did not see it. A sardonic grin 
spread on Pitts face as the fight drew near. He cursed the fact that there were 
no guns waiting for his command to spout from the nose of the PBY. He applied 
pressure to the rudder pedals and side slipped to give Giordino a better line of 
fire. The PBY thundered in, still unnoticed. Then, abruptly, he could hear the 
crack of Giordinos carbine above the roar of the engines.
They were almost on top of the Albatros before the leather helmeted head in the 
open cockpit spun around. They were so close Pitt could see the other pilot's 
mouth drop open in shocked surprise at the sight of the big flying boat, boring 
down from the sunthe hunter became the quarry. The pilot recovered quickly and 
the Albatros rolled sharply away, but not before Giordino drilled it with a 
fifteen shot clip from the carbine.
The grim, incongruous drama in the smoke-ridden sky over Brady Field reached a 
new stage as the World War II flying boat squared off against the World War I 
fighter plane. The PBY was faster, but the Albatros had the advantage of two 
machine guns and a vastly higher degree of maneuverability. The Albatros was 
lesser known than its famous counterpart, the Fokker, but it was an excellent 
fighter and the workhorse of the German Imperial Air Service from 1916 to 1918.
The Albatros twisted, turned and zeroed in on the PBYs cockpit. Pitt acted 
quickly and yanked the controls back into his lap and prayed the wings would 
stay glued to the fuselage as the lumbering flying boat struggled into a loop. 
He forgot caution and the accepted rules of flying; the exhilaration of 
man-to-man combat surged In his blood. He could almost hear the rivets popping 
as the PBY twisted over on its back. The unorthodox evasive action caught his 
opponent off guard, and the twin streams of fire from the yellow plane went 
wide, missing the Catalina completely.
The Albatros then made a steep left hand turn and
came straight at the PBY, and they approached head-on. Pitt could see the other 
planes tracer bullets streaking about ten feet under his windshield. Lucky for 
us this guys a lousy shot, he thought. He had a weird feeling in his stomach as 
the two planes sped together on a collision course. Pitt waited until the last 
possible instant before he pushed the nose of the PBY down and swiftly banked 
around, gaining a brief, but favorable position over the Albatros. Again 
Giordino opened fire.
But the yellow Albatros dived out of the spitting hail from the carbine and shot 
vertically toward the ground, and Pitt momentarily lost sight of it He swung to 
the right in a steep turn and searched the sky. It was too late. He sensed, 
rather than felt, the thumping from a river of bullets that tore into the flying 
boat. Pitt threw his plane into a violent falling leaf maneuver and successfully 
dodged the smaller planes deadly sting. It was a narrow escape.
The uneven battle continued for a full eight minutes while the military 
spectators on the ground watched, spellbound. The strange aerial dogfight slowly 
drifted eastward over the shoreline, and the final round began.
Pitt was sweating now. Small glistening beads of the salty liquid were bursting 
from the pores on his forehead and trickling in snail-like trails down his face. 
His opponent was cunning, but Pitt was playing the strategy game too. With 
infinite patience, dredged up from some hidden reserve in his body, he waited 
for the right moment, and when it finally arrived he was ready.
The Albatros managed to get behind and slightly above the Catalinia Pitt held 
his speed steady and the other pilot, sensing victory, closed to within fifty 
yards of the flying boats towering tail section. But before the two machine 
guns could speak, Pitt pulled the throttle back and lowered the flaps, slowing 
the big craft into a near stall. The phantom pilot, taken by surprise, overshot 
and passed the PBY, receiving several well placed rounds In the Albatros engine 
as the carbine spat at near point-blank range. The vintage plane banked in front 
of Pitts bow, and he watched with the respect one brave man has for another 
when the occupant in the open cockpit pushed up his goggles and threw a curt 
salute.. Then the yellow Albatros and its mysterious pilot turned away and 
headed west over the island, trailing a black streak of smoke that testified to 
the accuracy of Giordinos marksmanship.
The Catalina was falling out of its stall into a dive now, and Pitt fought the 
controls for a few unnerving seconds before he regained stable flight. Then he 
began a sweeping, upward turn in the sky. At five thousand feet he leveled off 
and searched the island and seascape, but no trace of the bright yellow plane 
with the maltese cross markings was visible. It had vanished.
A cold, clammy feeling crept over Pitt. The yellow Albatros had somehow seemed 
familiar. It was as though an unremembered ghost from the past had returned to 
haunt him. But the eerie sensation passed as quickly as it had arrived, and he 
gave out a deep sigh as the tension faded away, and the welcome comfort of 
relief gently soothed his mind.
Well, when do I get my sharpshooters medal? said Giordino from the cabin 
doorway. He was grinning despite a nasty gash in his scalp. The blood streamed 
down the right side of his face, staining the collar of a loud, flowered print 
shirt.
After we land Ill buy you a drink instead, replied Pitt without turning.
Giordino slipped into the co-pilots seat. I feel like Ive just ridden the 
roller coaster at the Long Beach Pike.
Pitt could not help grinning. He relaxed, leaning back against the back rest, 
saying nothing. Then he turned and looked at Giordino, and his eyes squinted. 
What happened to you? Were you hit?
Giordino gave Pitt a mocking. a sorrowful look.
Who ever told you that you could loop a PBY?
It seemed like the thing to do at the time, said Pitt, a twinkle in his eye.
Next time, warn the passengers. I bounced around the main cabin like a 
basketball.
What did you hit your head on? Pitt asked quizzically.
Did you have to ask?
Well?
Giordino suddenly became embarrassed. If you must know, it was the door handle 
on the john?
Pitt looked startled for an instant. Then he flung back his head and roared with 
laughter. The mirth was contagious, and Giordino soon followed. The sound rang 
through the cockpit and replaced the noise of the engines. Nearly thirty seconds 
passed before their gaiety quieted, and the seriousness of the present situation 
returned.
Pitts mind was clear, but exhaustion was slowly seeping in. The long hours of 
flight and the strain of the recent combat fell on him heavily and soaked his 
body like a numbing, damp fog. He thought about the sweet smell of soap in a 
cold shower and the crispness of clean sheets, and somehow they became vitally 
important to him. He looked out the cockpit window at Brady Field and recalled 
that his original destination was the First Attempt, but a dim hunch, or call it 
a hindsight, made him change his mind.
Instead of landing in the water and rendezvousing alongside of the First 
Attempt, I think wed better set down at Brady Field. I have a foreboding 
feeling we may have taken a few bullets in our hull.
Good idea, Giordino replied. Im not in the mood for bailing.
The big flying boat made its final approach and lined up on the wreckage strewn 
runway. It settled on the heat baked asphalt, and the landing gear bumped and 
emitted an audible screech of rubber that signaled the touch-down.
Pitt angled clear of the flames and taxied to the far side of the apron. When 
the Catalina stopped rolling he clicked off the Ignition switches, and the two 
silver bladed propellers gradually ceased their revolutions and came to rest, 
gleaming in the Aegean sun. All was quiet.
He and Giordino sat stone still for a few moments and absorbed the first 
comfortable silence to penetrate the cockpit after thirteen hours of noise and 
vibration.
Pitt flipped the latch on his side window and pushed it open, watching with 
detached interest as the base firemen fought the inferno. Hoses were lying 
everywhere, like highways on a roadmap, and men scurried about shouting, adding 
to the stage of confusion. The flames on the F-105 jets were almost contained, 
but one of the C-133 Cargomasters still burned fiercely.
Take a look over here, said Giordino pointing,
Pitt leaned over the instrument panel and stared out of Giordinos window at a 
blue Air Force stationwagon that careened across the runway in the direction of 
the PBY. The car contained several officers and was followed by thirty or forty 
wildly cheering enlisted men who chased after it like a pack of braying hounds.
Now thats what I call one hell of a reception committee, Pitt said amused and 
broadly smiling,
Giordino mopped his bleeding cut with a handkerchief. When the cloth was soaked 
through with red ooze he wadded it up and threw it out of the window to the 
ground. His gaze turned toward the nearby coastline and became lost in the 
Infinity of thought for a moment Finally he turned to Pitt. I guess you know 
were pretty damn lucky to be sitting here.
Yes, I know, said Pitt woodenly. There were a couple of times up there when I 
thought our ghost had us
I wish I knew who the hell he was and what this destruction was all about?
Pitts face was a study in speculative curiosity.
The only clue is the yellow Albatros.
Giordino eyed his friend questioningly. What possible meaning could the color 
of that old flying derelict have?
If youd studied your aviation history, Pitt said with a touch of good-natured 
sarcasm, Youd remember that German pilots of the First World War painted their 
planes with personal, but sometimes outlandish, color schemes.
Save the history lesson for later, Giordino growled. Right now all I want to 
do is get out of this sweat box and collect that drink you owe me. He rose from 
his scat and started for the exit hatch.
The blue stationwagon skidded to a halt beside the big silver flying boat and 
all four doors burst open. The occupants leaped out shouting and began pounding 
on the planes aluminum hatch. The crowd of enlisted men soon engulfed the 
aircraft, cheering loudly and waving at the cockpit.
Pitt remained seated and waved back at the cheering men below the window. His 
body was tired and numb but his mind was still active and running at full 
throttle. A title kept running through his thoughts until finally he muttered it 
aloud. The Hawk of Macedonia.
Giordino turned from the doorway. What did you say?
Oh nothing, nothing at all, Pitt let his breath escape in a long audible sigh. 
Come onIll buy you that drink now.
 
2
When Pitt awoke, it was still dark. He did not know how long he had slept. 
Perhaps he just dozed off. Perhaps he bad been lost under the black cloak of 
sleep for hours. He did not know, nor did he care. The metal springs of the Air 
Force cot squeaked as he rolled over, seeking a more comfortable position. But 
the comfort of deep sleep eluded him. His conscious mind dimly tried to analyze 
why. Was it the steady humming noise of the air conditioner, he asked himself? 
He was used to drifting off under the loud din of aircraft engines, so that 
couldnt be it. Maybe it was the scurrying cockroaches. God knows Thasos was 
covered with them. No, it was something else. Then he knew. The answer pierced 
the fog of his drowsy brain. It was his other mind, the unconscious one that was 
keeping him awake. Like a movie projector, it flashed pictures of the strange 
events from the previous day, over and over again.
One picture stood out above all the rest. It was the photograph in a gallery of 
the Imperial War Museum. Pitt could recall it vividly. The camera had caught a 
German aviator posing beside a World War I fighter plane. He was garbed in the 
flying togs of the day, and his right hand rested upon the head of an immense 
white German Shepherd. The dog, obviously a mascot, was panting and looking up 
at his master with a patronizing, doe-like expression. The flyer stared back at 
the camera with a boyish face that somehow looked naked without the usual 
Prussian dueling scar and monocle. However, the proud Teutonic military bearing 
could be easily seen in the hint of an insolent grin and the ramrod straight 
posture.
Pitt even remembered the caption under the photo:
The Hawk of Macedonia
Lieutenant Kurt Heibert, of Jagdstaffel 91, attained 32 victories over the 
allies on the Macedonian Front; one of the outstanding aces of the great war. 
Presumed shot down and lost in the Aegean Sea on July 15, 1918.
For some time, Pitt lay staring in the darkness.
There would be no more sleep tonight he thought. Sitting up and leaning on one 
elbow, he reached over a bedside table, groped for his Omega watch and held it 
in front of his eyes. The luminous dial read 4:09. Then he sat up and dropped 
the bare soles of his feet on the vinyl tile floor. A package of cigarettes sat 
next to the watch, and he pulled out one and lit it with a silver Zippo lighter. 
Inhaling deeply, he stood up and stretched. His face grimaced; the muscles of 
his back stung from the back slapping he had received from the cheering men of 
Brady Field right after he and Giordino had climbed from the cockpit of the PBY. 
Pitt smiled to himself in the dark as he thought about the warm handshakes and 
congratulations pressed upon them.
The moonlight, beaming in through the window of the Officers Quarters, and the 
warm clear air of early morning made Pitt restless. He stripped off his shorts 
and rummaged through his luggage in the dim light.
When his touch recognized the cloth shape of a pair of swim trunks, he slipped 
them on, snatched a towel from the bathroom and stepped out into the stillness 
of the night.
Once outside, the brilliant Mediterranean moon enveloped his body and laid bare 
the landscape with an eerie ghost-like emptiness. The sky was all studded with 
stars and revealed the milky way in a great white design across a black velvet 
backdrop.
Pitt strolled down the path from the Officers
Quarters toward the main gate. He paused for a minute, looking at the vacant 
runway, and he noticed a black area every so often in the rows of multi-colored 
lights that stitched the edges. Several of the lights in the signal system must 
have been damaged in the attack, he thought. However, the general pattern was 
still readable to a pilot making a night landing. Behind the intermediate 
lights, he could make out a dark outline of the PBY, sitting forlornly on the 
opposite side of the apron like a nesting duck. The bullet damage to the 
Catalinas hull turned out to be slight and the Flight Line Maintenance crew 
promised that they would begin repairs first thing in the morning, the 
restoration taking three days. Colonel James Lewis, the base commanding officer, 
had expressed his apologies at the delay, but he needed the bulk of the 
maintenance crew to work on the damaged jets and the remaining C-133 
Cargomaster. In the meantime, Pitt and Giordino elected to accept the Colonel's 
hospitality and stay at Brady Field, using the First Attempts whale boat to 
commute between the ship and shore. The last arrangement worked to everyones 
advantage since living quarters aboard the First Attempt were cramped and at a 
premium.
Kind of early for a swim, isnt it, buddy?
The voice snapped Pitt from his thoughts, and he found himself standing under 
the white glare of floodlights that were perched on top of the guards shack at 
the main gate. The shack sat on a curb-lined island that divided the incoming 
and outgoing traffic and was just large enough for one man to sit in. A short, 
burly looking Air Policeman stepped from the doorway and eyed him closely.
I couldnt sleep. As soon as he said it, Pitt felt foolish for not being more 
original But what the hell, he thought, its the truth.
Cant say as I blame you, said the AP. After all thats happened today, Id 
be real surprised if anyone on the base was sound asleep. The mere thought of 
sleep triggered a reflex, and the AP yawned.
You must get awfully bored, sitting out here alone all night, said Pitt.
Yeah, it gets pretty dull, the AP said, hooking one hand in his Sam Browne 
belt and resting the other on the grip of a .45 Colt automatic, clinging to his 
hip. If youre going off base, youd better let me see your pass.
Sorry, I dont have one, Pitt had forgotten to ask Colonel Lewis for a pass to 
get on and off Brady Field.
A swaggering, tough look crossed the APs face. Then youll have to go back to 
the barracks and get It. He swatted at a moth that flapped by his face, toward 
a floodlight.
That would be a waste of time. I dont even own a pass, said Pitt, smiling 
helplessly.
Dont play dumb with me, buddy. Nobody gets in or out of the gate without a 
pass.
I did.
The APs eyes became suspicious. How did you manage that?
I flew In.
A surprised look bit the AP. His eyes beamed in the brightness of the floods. 
Another passing moth lit on his white cap, but he did not notice it. Then it 
burst from him. Youre the pilot of that Catalina flying boat!
Guilty as charged, said Pitt.
Say, I want to shake your hand. The APs lips opened in a big tooth displaying 
smile. That was the greatest piece of flying Ive ever seen. He thrust out a 
massive hand.
Pitt took the outstretched hand and winced. He had a strong grip of his own, but 
it seemed puny compared to the APs. Thank you, but Id have felt a lot better 
about it if my opponent had crashed.
Oh hell, he couldnt have gone far. That old junk pile was smoking up a storm 
when it crossed over the hills.
Maybe It crashed on the other side?"
No chance. The colonel had the whole Air Police squadron chasing all over the 
island in jeeps, looking for it. He searched until dark, but didnt spot a 
thing. He appeared disgusted. What really pissed me off was getting back to 
the base too late for the chow line.
Pitt grinned. It must have gone down in the sea, or else made the mainland 
before falling.
The AP shrugged his shoulders. Could be. But one things for sure; it aint on 
Thasos. You have my personal guarantee on that.
Pitt laughed. Thats good enough for me. He swung the towel over his shoulder 
and pulled at his swim trunks. Well its been nice talking to you . . .
Airman Second Class Moody, sir.
Im Major Pitt.
The APs face went blank. Oh, Im sorry, sir. I didnt know you were an 
officer. I thought you were one of those civilians with NUMA. Ill let you out 
this time, Major, but Id appreciate it if you got a base pass.
"I'll see to it first thing after breakfast.
My replacement comes on at 0800. If youre not back by then, Ill leave word so 
hell let you in without any trouble.
Thank you, Moody. Perhaps Ill see you later. Pitt waved and then turned and 
walked down the road towards the beach.
Pitt kept to the right side of the narrow paved road and in about a mile came to 
a small cove that was flanked by large craggy rocks. The moonlight showed him a 
path, and he took it until his feet crunched softly in the sandy beach. He 
dropped the towel and walked to the tide line. A wave broke, and the white of 
its crest slid smoothly across the packed sand and licked his feet The dying 
wave hesitated for a moment and then fell back, forming the trough for the next 
crest There was barely a breath of wind, and the glistening sea was relatively 
calm. The moon cast its glow on the dark water and left a shaft of silver that 
traveled over the surface to the horizon where the sea and sky melted together 
into absolute blackness. Pitt soaked up the warm stillness and moved into the 
water, swimming along the silver shaft
An inner feeling always overcame Pitt when he was alone and near the sea. It was 
as though his soul seeped out of his body, and he became a thing without 
substance, without form. His mind was purified and cleansed: all mental labor 
ceased and all thoughts vanished. He was only vaguely aware of hot and cold, 
smells, touch, and all the other senses, except hearing. He listened to the 
nothingness of silence; the greatest, but most unknown, treasure of man. 
Forgotten for the moment were all his failures, all his victories and all his 
loves, even life itself was buried and lost in the stillness.
He lay dead and floated in the water for nearly an hour. Finally, a small swell 
slapped at his face and he unwittingly inhaled a few drops of salt water. He 
snorted, dispelling the discomfort and again became aware of his bodily 
sensations. Without watching his progress, he effortlessly backstroked toward 
the shore. When his hands arched and touched the dense sand, he stopped swimming 
and drifted onto the beach like a piece of flotsam. Then he dragged himself 
forward until he was only half-out of the water, letting it swirl around his 
legs and buttocks. The warm Aegean surf rose out of the dim light and flooded up 
the beach, caressing his skin, and he dozed off.
 
 
 
The stars were beginning to blink out one by one with the pale light of the 
approaching dawn when an inner alarm sounded in Pitts brain, and he suddenly 
became alert to a presence. Instantly he was awake, but he made no movement, 
other than peering through half-open eyes. He barely could make out a shadowy 
form standing over him. Focusing and straining his eyes in the faint light, he 
tried to distinguish a detailed shape.
Slowly, an outline materialized. It was a woman.
Good morning, he said and sat up.
Oh my God, the woman gasped. She threw a hand to her mouth as if to scream.
It was still too dark to see the wild look in her eyes, but Pitt knew it was 
there. Im sorry, he said gently. I didnt mean to startle you.
The hand slowly dropped. She just stood there looking down at him. Finally she 
found her voice. I... I thought you were dead. She stammered the words softly.
I can hardly blame you. I suppose if I stumbled on someone sleeping in the tide 
at this time of morning I would think the same thing.
You gave me quite a frightful shock, you know, sitting up and talking like 
that.
Again, my sincere apologies. It suddenly occurred to Pitt that the woman was 
speaking English. Her accent was decidedly British, but it had a trace of 
German. He rose to his feet. Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is 
Dirk Pitt.
Im Teri, she said, and I cant tell you how happy I am to see you alive and 
healthy. Mister Pitt
She didnt offer her last name, and Pitt didnt press for it.
Believe me, Teri, the pleasure is all mine. He pointed to the sand. Wont you 
join me and help raise the sun?
She laughed. Thank you, Id like that But then again, I can hardly see you. For 
all I know you might be a monster or something. There was a note of whimsy in 
her tone. Can I trust you?
To be perfectly honest, no. I think it only fair to Warn you that Ive 
assaulted over two hundred innocent virgins right here on this very spot. 
Pitts humor was overly forward, but he knew it was a good system for testing a 
females personality.
Oh blimey, I would dearly loved to have been number two hundred and one, but 
Im not an innocent virgin. There was enough light now for Pitt to see the 
White of her teeth arched in a smile. I certainly hope you wont hold that 
against me.
No, Im very broadminded about that sort of thing. But I must ask you to keep 
secret the fact that two hundred and one wasnt pure as the driven snow. If it 
ever leaked out, my reputation as a monster would be ruined.
They both laughed and sat down together on Pitts towel and talked while the hot 
sun reluctantly began its climb over the Aegean Sea. As the blazing orange ball 
threw its first golden rays over the shimmering horizon, Pitt gazed at the woman 
in the new light and studied her closely.
She was about thirty and wore a red bikini swim suit. The bikini was not the 
exaggerated brief kind, even though the lower half began a good two inches below 
the navel. The material had a satin sheen to it and clung tautly to her body 
like an outer layer of skin. Her figure was a beguiling mixture of grace and 
firmness: the stomach looked smooth and flat and the breasts were perfect, not 
too small but not too large and out of scale.
Her legs were long, creamy colored and slightly on the thin side. Pitt decided 
to overlook this faint imperfection and swung his eyes to her face. The profile 
was exquisite. Her features possessed the beauty and mystery of a Grecian statue 
and would have rated near perfection except for a round pockmark beside her 
right temple. Ordinarily the scar would have been covered by her shoulder length 
black hair but she had thrown her head back as she watched the sunrise and the 
ebony strands angled back behind her shoulders, touching the sand and revealing 
the thin blemish.
Suddenly she turned and caught Pitts examining stare.
Youre supposed to be watching the sunrise, she said with a bemused smile.
Ive seen sunrises before, but this is the first time I've ever come face to 
face with a lovely, genuine Grecian Aphrodite. Pitt could see her dark brown 
eyes flashing with enjoyment at his compliment.
Thank you for the flattery, but Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and 
beauty, and Im only half Greek.
Whats the other half?
My father was German.
in that case I must thank the gods that you look after your mothers side.
She gave a pouting glance. Youd better not let my uncle hear you say that.
A typical kraut?
Yes, indeed. In fact hes why I happen to be on Thasos.
Then he cant be all bad, Pitt said, admiring her hazel eyes. DO you live 
with him?
No, actually l was born here but I was raised in England. I suffered through 
school there and when I was eighteen I fell in love with a dashing motorcar 
salesman and married him.
I didnt know car salesmen could be dashing.
She ignored his sarcastic remark and continued. He loved to race cars on his 
time off, and he was good at it too. He won trials and hill climbs and sporting 
car events, She shrugged and began drawing circles in the sand with her finger. 
Her voice became strange and husky. Then one weekend he was racing a 
supercharged MG. It was raining, and he skidded off the course and hit a tree. 
He was dead before I could reach his side.
Pitt sat silent for a minute, staring at her sad face. How long ago? he asked 
simply.
Its been eight and a half years now, she replied in a whisper.
Pitt felt dazed. Then anger set in. What a waste, he thought. What a rotten 
waste for a beautiful woman like her to grieve over a dead man for nearly nine 
years. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He could see tears 
welling in her eyes as she lost herself in the remembrance, and the sight 
sickened him. He reached, over and gave her a hard backhand slap across the 
face.
Her eyes jerked wide, and her whole body tensed from the sharp blow. It was as 
if she was struck by a bullet. Why did you strike me? she gasped.
Because you needed it, needed it badly, he Snapped. That torch you carry 
around is as worn out as an overcoat. Im surprised someone hasnt taken you 
over a knee and spanked it off. So your husband was dashing. So what? Hes dead 
and buried, and mourning over him for all these years wont resurrect him from 
the grave. Lock away his memory somewhere and f orget him. Youre a beautiful 
womanyou dont belong chained to a coffin full of bones. You belong to every 
man who turns and admires you as you pass by and who longs to possess you. Pitt 
could see his words were penetrating her weak defenses. Now you think about it. 
Its your life. Dont throw it away and play Camille until youre withered and 
gray.
Her face was distraught in the morning sun, and her breath came in sobs. Pitt 
let her cry for a long time. When she finally raised her head and turned it 
towards him, he could see that her cheeks were streaked with tears, mixed with 
tiny grains of sand, clinging to the wetness. She looked up at him, and he 
caught the gleam in her eyes. They were soft and scared-looking, like a little 
girls. He lifted her in his arms and kissed her. Her lips were warm and moist.
When was the last time you had a man? he whispered .
Not since.. . Her voice trailed away.
Pitt took her as the long shadows of the rocks crept upward over the beach, 
shielding their bodies from the sun. A flight of sandpipers circled overhead and 
descended upon the damp sand at the waters edge. They scurried back and forth, 
playing tag with the surf. Every so often one of the birds would cast a beady 
eye at the two lovers in the shade, staring for a fleeting instant before 
returning to the chore of stabbing its long curved beak in the sand for food, 
The shadows shortened as the sun rose higher in the sky. A fishing boat chugged 
by a hundred yards from the end of the rocks.
The fishermen, dropping their nets in the water, were too busy to notice 
anything unusual on the shore. At last Pitt drew back and gazed down at Teris 
serene and smiling face.
I dont know whether to ask for your thanks or your forgiveness, he said 
softly.
Please accept them both along with my blessing, she murmured.
He kissed her lightly on the eyes. See what youve been missing all these 
years, he said grinning.
I agree. Youve certainly shown me a wonderful antidote for my depression.
I always prescribe seduction. Its guaranteed to cure any and all rare maladies 
and common ailments.
And what is your fee, doctor? she said, accompanied with a feminine giggle.
Consider it paid in full.
Youre not going to get off that easily. I must insist you come to my uncles 
house for dinner tonight.
I shall consider it an honor, he said. What time and how do I get there?
Ill have my uncles driver pick you up at the entrance to Brady Field at 6 
oclock.
Pitts eyebrows raised. What makes you think Im stationed at Brady Field?
Youre obviously an American and thats where all the Americans on the island 
are. Teri grasped his hand and pressed it to her face. Tell me about 
your-self. What type of job do you perform in your Air Force? Do you fly? Are 
you an officer?
Pitt did his best to look serious. Im the base garbage collector.
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. Are you really? Youre much too intelligent 
to be a garbage collector.
She looked into his strong tan face and his intense green eyes. Oh well, I 
wont hold your occupation against you. Have you been promoted to sergeant yet?
No. Ive never been a sergeant
Suddenly a bright flash in the rocks about two hundred feet away caught Pitts 
attention. A shiny object reflected the suns rays for a brief instant He 
Watched the area where the glint had shown but could detect no further flash or 
movement.
Teri felt him tense. Is something the matter? she asked.
No, nothing, Pitt lied. I thought I saw something floating in the water, but 
its disappeared now. He looked at her upraised face, and his eyes turned 
devilish. Well Id better be getting back to the base, Ive got a lot of 
garbage to collect
I should return also. My uncle will probably wonder what happened to me.
Are you going to tell him?
Dont be silly, she laughed. She stood up and brushed the sand from her body 
and adjusted the bikini.
Pitt smiled, getting to his feet. Why is it women always seem so shy and demure 
before theyve been laid yet so sparkling and carefree after?
She shrugged lightheartedly. I guess its because sex releases all our 
frustrations and makes us feel earthy. Her brown eyes flashed with intensity. 
You see, we women have animal instincts too.
Pitt playfully slapped her on the buttocks. Come on, Ill walk you home.
Youve got a long walk. My uncles villa is in the mountains behind Liminas.
Where are the mountains and where is Liminas?
Liminas is a small village about six miles up the road, she said pointing 
north. But I dont understand what you mean by asking about the mountains? Her 
pointing hand swung toward the inland slopes a mile behind the road. What do 
you call those?
In California, where I come from, we call anything under three thousand feet of 
elevation hills.
You Yanks are always bragging.
Its a great American pastime.
They leisurely walked up the path from the cove.
On the shoulder, off to one side of the blacktop, sat a sporty little open-top 
Mini-Cooper. The British racing green paint on the tiny car was barely visible 
beneath an outer coating of Thasas dust
How do you like my smashing Grand Prix racing car? Teri asked proudly.
Pitt laughed; not so much at her exaggerated statement but rather the British 
use of the word smashing in reference to a car. By jove, thats a bit of all 
right, he said, mimicking her native terminology. Is it yours?
Yes, I purchased it new in London just last month and drove it all the way from 
Le Havre.
How long will you be staying with your uncle?
I took a three month holiday so Ill be here at least another six weeks. Then 
Im going to return home by boat. The drive across the continent was fun but far 
too tiring."
Pitt opened the door for her, and she slid behind the steering wheel. She groped 
under the front seat for a moment and pulled out a set of keys. She inserted one 
in the ignition and started the engine. The exhaust coughed once and then 
blasted forth with a nasty little growl.
He leaned on the dusty door and lightly kissed her.
I hope your uncle wont be waiting for me with a shotgun.
Dont worry, hell probably talk your arm off. He likes Air Force men. He was a 
flyer in the First World War.
Dont tell me, Pitt said sarcastically. I bet he claims to have flown with 
Richthofen.
Oh no, he was never in France. He fought right here in Greece.
Pitts sarcasm vanished and a cold, eerie feeling came over him. He gripped the 
doorframe until his knuckles turned white. Has your uncle ever mentioned . . . 
Kurt Heibert?
Many times. They used to fly patrols together. She shoved the gearshift into 
first. Then she smiled and waved. See you tonight. Now dont be late, cheery 
bye.
Before Pitt could say another word, the midget car leapt up the road. He watched 
it snarl off into the distance toward the north. The dusty green blur passed 
over a crest of pavement and the last thing he saw was Teris black hair 
whipping in the wind. 
Already it was beginning to get uncomfortably hot. Idly, he turned and began 
walking back to the airfield. He stepped on a sharp object with his bare foot 
and Cursed under his breath while he hopped about on one leg trying to remove a 
small burr. Jerking it from his heel angrily, he flipped it in a roadside bush. 
He was carefully watching the ground to avoid another sting when he noticed a 
set of footprints. Whoever made them had. been wearing hobnailed soles.
Pitt knelt and studied the indentations. He could easily distinguish his and 
Teris prints since they had both been barefoot. His mouth twisted grimly. In 
several places, the shoe prints covered the bare ones. Someone had followed Teri 
toward the beach, he reasoned. He raised one hand, and shielded his eyes, 
looking at the sun. It was still quite early so he decided to pursue the trail.
The tracks led half-way down the path and then veered off in the direction of 
the rocks. Here the trail ended so he scrambled over the hard craggy surface and 
picked up the scent again on the other side. The tracks angled back to the road, 
only further away from the path this time. A branch scraped a thorny limb across 
Pitts arm, drawing thin lines of blood, but he was not aware of it. He was 
beginning to sweat when he stepped back on the road. At last the hobnailed 
prints ended and heavy tire tracks began. The tires tread left a peculiar set 
of diamond-shaped patterns in the dirt beside the pavement. 
There was no traffic visible in either direction so Pitt calmly laid the towel 
down in the center of the road, sat on it and began to re-enact the scene in his 
mind.
Whoever shadowed Teri had parked here, walked back to her car and then followed 
her down the path. But before reaching the beach, the stalker must have heard 
voices so he turned and made his way In the darkness to the rocks where he hid, 
spying on the girl and Pitt. After it became light from the dawn, the intruder 
returned to the road, using the rocks to conceal his movements,
It was an elementary puzzle, and it fit neatly together, except for the fact 
that three pieces were missing. Why had Teri been followed and by whom? A 
thought occurred to Pitt and he smiled to himself. The simple answer was very 
likely a local peeping tom. If that were the case the observer got more than he 
bargained for.
A knot formed in Pitts stomach. It was the third missing piece that bothered 
him the most. Something in his logical mind would not jell. He looked over at 
the tire tracks again. They were too large for an ordinary car. They could only 
come from a more massive vehicle, say a truck. His eyes narrowed, and his brain 
began to churn. He wouldnt have heard Teri drive up because he was asleep. And 
the truck had probably coasted to a stop, noiselessly.
Pitts intent gaze turned from the diamond tread tire tracks to the beach. The 
tide was creeping over the sand and erasing all signs of recent human activity. 
He gauged the distance from the road to the beach and began to term the problem 
in the manner of a fifth grade school teacher.
If a truck is at point A, and two people are on the beach 250 feet away at point 
B, why wouldnt the two people on the beach hear the truck start its engine in 
the silence of early morning?
The answer eluded him, so Pitt shrugged and gave up. He shook out the towel and 
wrapping it around his neck, walked back along the deserted road toward the main 
gate, whistling, Its a Long Road to Tipperary.
 
 
 
3
The young blond crewman cast off the lines, and the little twenty-six foot 
double-ended whaleboat surged sluggishly away from the makeshift dock near Brady 
Field. setting a course over the blue carpet of water toward the First Attempt. 
The throbbing four-cylinder Buda engine pushed the sturdy boat along at eight 
knots and cast the familiar nautical stink of diesel fumes over the deck. It was 
a few minutes to nine now, and the sun was hotter and even a slight breeze from 
the sea offered no relief.
Pitt stood and watched the shore recede until the dock became a dirty speck on 
the surf line. Then he hoisted his one hundred and ninety pounds onto the high 
tubular railing that circled the stern and sat with his buttocks hanging 
precariously over the boats frothing white wake. From his unusual position he 
could feel the pulsations from the shaft, and by looking straight down, he could 
see the propeller drill its way through the water. The whaleboat was only a 
quarter of a mile from the First Attempt when Pitt noticed the young crewman at 
the helm eyeing him with a mild look of respect.
Excuse me, sir, but you look like youve spent some time in a double-ender. 
The blond crewman nodded at Pitts seat on the railing. The young man had an 
academic air about him that implied scientific intelligence. Well tanned from 
the Aegean sun, he wore Bermuda shorts and nothing else except a long, sparse, 
yellow beard.
Pitt wrapped a hand around the stern light staff for support and groped in a 
breast pocket with his other hand for a cigarette. I used to have one when I 
was in high school, he said casually.
You must have lived near the water, said the young crewman.
Newport Beach, California.
Thats a great place. I used to drive up there all the time when I was taking 
post graduate courses at Scripps in LaJolla. The young crewman cracked a 
crooked smile, Man oh man, was that ever a great place for girls. You must have 
had a ball growing up there.
I could think of worse places to go through puberty. As long as the young man 
was talking freely, Pitt switched the subject. Tell me, what sort of trouble 
have you been having on the project?
Everything went fine for the first couple of weeks, but as soon as we found a 
promising location to investigate, things turned sour and weve had nothing but 
rotten luck since.
For instance?
Mostly equipment failure; broken cables, missing and damaged parts, generator 
break-downs, you know, things like that.
They were nearing the First Attempt now and the Young crewman turned back to the 
helm and maneuvered the small boat along side of the boarding ladder.
Pitt stood and looked up at the larger vessel, surveying its outward appearance. 
By maritime standards she was a small ship; eight hundred twenty tons, one 
hundred fifty-two feet in length overall. Her keel was originally laid on an 
ocean-going tug in the Dutch shipyards of Rotterdam before World War II. 
Immediately after the Germans invaded the lowlands, her crew Slipped her away to 
England where she performed outstanding and meritorious service throughout the 
war, towing torpedoed and crippled ships into the British port of Liverpool 
under the noses of Nazi U-boats. After the end of European hostilities, her 
tired and battered hull was traded by the Dutch Government to the U.S. Navy, who 
promptly enlisted her in the mothball fleet at Olympia, Washington. There she 
sat for twenty-five long years, sleeping under a gray plastic cocoon. Then the 
newly formed National Underwater Marine Agency purchased her remains from the 
Navy and converted her to a modern oceanographic vessel, rechristening her the 
First Attempt.
Pitt squinted from the bright glare of the white paint, coating the ship from 
stem to stern staff. He climbed the boarding ladder and was greeted on the deck 
by an old friend, Commander Rudi Gunn, the skipper and project director of the 
ship.
You look healthy, said Gunn unsmilingly, except for your blood-shot eyes. He 
reached for a cigarette. Before he lit it, he offered one to Pitt, who shook his 
head and held up one in his hand.
I hear youve got problems, said Pitt.
Gunns face turned grim. Youre damn right I do, he snapped. I didnt ask 
Admiral Sandecker to send you all the way from Washington just for fun and 
games.
Pitts eyebrows went up in surprise. This sudden harshness did not fit Gunn. 
Under normal circumstances the little commander was a warm and humorous person. 
Take it easy, Rudi, said Pitt softly. Lets get out of the sun, and you can 
brief me on what this mess is all about
Gunn removed his horned rimmed glasses and rubbed a wrinkled handkerchief across 
his forehead.
I'm sorry, Dirk, its just that Ive never seen so many things go wrong at one 
time. Its highly frustrating after all the planning that went into this 
project. I guess its beginning to make me irritable as hell. Even the crew has 
noticeably avoided me the last three days.
Pitt placed an arm on the shorter mans shoulders and grinned. I promise not to 
avoid you even if you are a nasty little bastard.
Gunn looked blank for a moment, and then a sense of relief seemed to flood his 
eyes, and he flung back his head and laughed. Thank God youre here, be 
gripped Pitts arm tightly. You may not solve any mysteries, but at least I'll 
feel a hell of a lot better just having you around. He turned and pointed 
toward the bow. Come along, my cabin is up forward.
Pitt followed Gunn up a steep ladder to the next deck and into a small cabin 
that must have been designed by a closet-maker. The only comfort, and it was a 
large one, was a cool blast of air that emitted from an overhead ventilator.
He stood in front of the opening for a moment and soaked in the cool breeze. 
Then he straddled a chair and leaned his arms across the top of the backrest, 
waiting for Gunn to give the briefing.
Gunn closed the porthole and remained standing. Before I begin, let me ask you 
what you know about our Aegean expedition?
I only heard that the First Attempt was researching the Mediterranean for 
zoological purposes.
Gunn stared at him, shocked. Didnt the admiral supply you with any detailed 
data concerning this project before you left Washington?
Pitt lit another cigarette. What makes you think that I came straight from the 
Capital?
I dont know, Gunn said hesitantly. I only assumed that you . . .
Pitt stopped him with a grin. I havent been anywhere near the States in over 
four months. He exhaled a puff of smoke toward the ventilator and watched the 
blue haze swirl into nothingness. Sandeckers message to you simply stated that 
he was sending me directly to Thasos. He obviously neglected to mention where I 
was coming from and when I would arrive. Therefore, you expected me to come 
soaring out of the blue sky four days ago.
Again, Im sorry, Gunn said shrugging. Youre right, of course. I figured two 
days at the most for that old tin duck of yours to fly from the Capital. When 
you finally flew into that fiasco at Brady Field yesterday you were already four 
days late by my schedule.
It couldnt be helped. Giordino and I were ordered to airlift supplies into an 
ice probe station, camped on an ice floe north of Spitzbergen. Right after we 
landed, a blizzard hit and grounded us for over seventy-two hours.
Gunn laughed. You certainly flew from one extreme in temperature to another.
Pitt didnt answer, but merely smiled.
Gunn pulled open the top drawer of a small compact desk and handed Pitt a large 
manila envelope that contained several drawings of a strange looking fish. You 
ever see anything like this before?
Pitt looked down at the drawings. Most of them were different artists 
conceptions of the same fish, and yet each varied in details. The first was an 
ancient Greek illustration on the side of a vase. Another had obviously been 
part of a Roman fresco. He noted that two of them were more modern. stylized 
drawings, depicting the fish in a series of movements. The last was a photograph 
of a fossil imbedded in sandstone. Pitt looked up at Gunn questioningly.
Gunn handed him a magnifying glass. Here, take a closer look through this.
Pitt adjusted the height of the thick glass and scrutinized each picture. At 
first glance the fish looked similar in size and shape to the Bluefin Tuna, but 
on closer inspection, the bottom pelvic fins took on the appearance of small 
jointed webbed feet. There were two more identical limbs located just in front 
of the dorsal fin.
He whistled softly. This is a weird specimen, Rudi. What do you call it?
I cant pronounce the Latin name, but the scientists aboard the First Attempt 
have affectionately nicknamed it the Teaser.
Why is that?
Because, by every law of nature that fish should have become extinct over two 
hundred million years ago. But as you can see by the drawings. men still claim 
they have seen it. Every fifty or sixty years theres a rash of sightings, but 
unfortunately for science, a Teaser has yet to be caught. Gunn glanced at Pitt 
and looked away again. If there is such a fish, it must bear a charmed life. 
There are literally hundreds of accounts of fishermen and scientists who look 
you in the eye with a straight face and say they had a Teaser on a hook or in a 
net, but before the fish could be hauled on board it escaped. Every zoologist in 
the world would give his left testicle to obtain a live, or even dead Teaser.
Pitt mashed out his cigarette in an ashtray. What makes this particular fish so 
important?
Gunn held up the drawings. Notice that the artists couldnt agree on the outer 
layer of skin. They illustrate tiny scales, smooth porpoise-like skin, and one 
even brushed in a kind of furry hide like a sea lion. Now, if you take the 
possibility of hairy skin, together with the limb extensions, it may be we have 
the dim beginnings of the first mammal.
True, but if the skin were smooth youd have nothing more than an early 
reptile. The earth was covered with them back in those days.
Gunns eyes mirrored a confident look. The next point to consider is that the 
Teasers lived in warm shallow water, and every recorded sighting took place no 
more than three miles from shore, and they all occurred right here in the 
eastern Mediterranean where the average surface temperature seldom drops below 
sixty-two degrees Fahrenheit.
So what does that prove? asked Pitt.
Nothing solid, but since primitive mammal life survives better in milder 
climates, it lends a little support to the possibility that they might have 
survived to the present.
Pitt stared at Gunn thoughtfully. Im sorry, Rudi.
You still havent sold me.
I knew you were a hard head, said Gunn.
Thats why I left the most interesting part till last. He paused and removed 
his glasses and rubbed the lenses With a piece of Kleenex. Then he replaced the 
black rims over his hawkish nose. He continued speaking as if lost in a dream. 
During the Triassic Period in geological time, and before the Himalayas and the 
Alps rose, a great sea swept over what is now Tibet and India. It also extended 
over Central Europe and ended in the North Sea. Geologists call this once great 
body of water, the Sea of Tethys. All that remains of it today is the Black, the 
Caspian and the Mediterranean Seas.
Youll have to pardon my ignorance of geological time eras, Pitt interrupted, 
but when did the Triassic Period take place?
Between one hundred eighty and two hundred thirty million years ago, replied 
Gunn. During this time an important evolutionary advance occurred in the 
vertebrate animals as the reptiles demonstrated a great leap over their more 
primitive ancestors. Some of the marine reptiles attained a length of 
twenty-three feet and were very tough customers. The most noteworthy event was 
the introduction of the first true dinosaurs, who even learned to walk on their 
hind legs and use their tails for a kind of cane.
Pitt leaned back and stretched his legs. I thought that the era of the 
dinosaurs occurred much later.
Gunn laughed. Youve seen too many old movies. Youre undoubtedly thinking of 
the behemoths that were always portrayed in the early science fiction films, 
menacing a tribe of hairy cavemen. They never failed to have a forty ton 
Brontosaurus or a ferocious Tyrannosaurus or a flying Pteranodon chasing a 
half-nude, big-fitted heroine through a primeval jungle. Actually these more 
commonly known dinosaurs roamed the earth and became extinct sixty million years 
before man appeared.
Where does your freak fish fit into the picture?
Imagine, if you will, a three foot Teaser fish who lived, cavorted, made love 
and finally died somewhere in the Sea of Tethys. Nothing and no one took notice 
as this obscure creatures body slowly sank to the red mud of the seabed. The 
unmarked grave was covered over with sediments which hardened into sandstone and 
left a thin film of carbon. It was this trace of carbon that etched and outlined 
the Teasers tissue and bone structure into the surrounding strata. The years 
passed and turned into millenniums. And the millenniums became eons, until one 
warm spring day, two hundred million years later, a farmer in the Austrian town 
of Neunkirchen struck his plow against a hard surface. And presto, our Teaser 
fish, though now a near perfect fossilized version, once again returned to the 
light. Gunn hesitated and ran his hand through a head of thinning hair. His 
face looked drawn and tired, but his eyes burned with excitement as he spoke of 
the Teaser. One vital element you must remember; when the Teaser died there 
were no birds and bees, no hair bearing mammals, no delicate butterflies, even 
flowers had not yet appeared on the earth.
Pitt studied the photograph of the fossil again. It doesnt seem possible that 
any living thing could survive this long without going through drastic 
evolutionary changes.
Incredible? Yes; but it has happened before. The shark has been with us for 
three hundred and fifty million years. The Horseshoe Crab has existed virtually 
unchanged over two hundred million years. Then, of course, we have the classic 
example; the Coelacanth.
Yes, I heard of it, said Pitt. That was the fish believed extinct for seventy 
million years until they began to be found off the coast of east Africa.
Gunn nodded. The Coelacanth was a sensational and important find at the time, 
but nothing compared to what the scientific world would gain if we could drop a 
Teaser in its lap. Gunn paused for a moment to light another cigarette. His 
eyes betrayed the gleam of total absorption. The whole thing boils down to 
this; the Teaser could be an early link in the evolution of mammals, and that 
Includes man. What I didnt tell you was that the fossil found in Austria shows 
definite mammal characteristics in its anatomy. The protruding limbs and other 
features of its internal organs, place it in a perfect evolutionary line to 
advance in a general pattern toward the development of humans and animals.
Pitt idly glanced at the pictures again. If this so called living fossil is 
still floating around in its original form, how could it evolve into an advanced 
stage?
Any plant or animal species is like a related family, Gunn replied. One 
branch may produce offspring who are uniform in size and shape, while the 
cousins over on the other side of the mountain produce a race of giants with two 
heads and four arms.
Pitt was getting restless. He opened the door and walked out onto the deck. The 
hot air struck him like a cloud of steam and he winced. All this expense and all 
these men sweating their asses off to catch a stinking fish, he thought. Who the 
hell cares if our ancestors were apes or fishwhat difference did it make? At 
the rate mankind was racing toward self-destruction, it would probably be 
extinct in another thousand years or less anyway. He turned back to the darkened 
doorway and faced Gunn.
Ok, Pitt said slowly. I know what you and your boatload of academic brains 
are searching for. Now the only question in my mind is where do I come in? If 
youre having trouble with broken cables, faulty generators or missing tools, 
you dont need me, you need a good mechanic who knows how to take care of his 
equipment.
Gunns face looked puzzled for a moment, then he grinned. I see that youve 
been pumping information out of Dr. Knight.
Dr. Knight?
Yes, Ken Knight, the young fellow who picked you up in the whaleboat this 
morning. Hes quite a brilliant marine geophysicist.
Thats an impressive description, said Pitt. He seemed friendly enough during 
the boat ride, but he hardly struck me as brilliant.
The heat outside was becoming unbearable and the metal railing gleamed 
ominously. Pitt. not thinking, put his hand on the metal and instantly cursed as 
a burning sting etched his palm. Suddenly the pain set off an immense feeling of 
irritation Within him and he returned to the cabin, slamming the door.
Lets skip all this crap, Pitt snapped sharply. Just tell me what miracle Im 
supposed to perform that puts a Teaser over your fireplace and Ill get to 
work. He stretched out in Gunns bunk and took a deep breath and relaxed as the 
coolness of the stateroom calmed him once more. He glanced across the room at 
Gunn. Gunns face was expressionless, but Pitt knew him well enough to perceive 
his discomfort. Pitt smiled and reached over and gripped Gunn on the shoulder. 
I dont wish to appear mercenary. but if you want me to join your little crew 
of scientific pirates its going to cost you a drink. All this talk makes a man 
pretty damn thirsty.
Gunn laughed with relief and called over his intercom for some ice from the 
ships galley. Then he produced a bottle of Chivac Regal and two glasses from 
his bottom desk drawer. While were waiting for the ice, you might scan this 
report I wrote concerning our equipment malfunctions. He passed a yellow folder 
to Pitt. Ive covered every incident in detail and chronological order. In the 
beginning I thought it was merely accidents or bad luck, but now its gone far 
beyond the realm of mere coincidence.
Have you any proof of tampering or sabotage? asked Pitt.
None whatsoever.
The broken cable that Knight mentioned, was it cut?"
Gunn shrugged. No, the ends were frayed, but thats another mystery. Ill 
explain it to you. Gunn paused and flicked an ash from his cigarette. We work 
with a safety margin of five-to-one. For example; if the specifications of a 
cable state there is a danger of breakage with a stress of twenty-five thousand 
pounds or above, we will never place a stress on it higher than five thousand 
pounds. Because of this large safety factor NUMA has yet to have a single 
fatality on a project.
Lives are more important to us than scientific discovery. Underwater exploration 
is a risky business and the list is long with the names of men before us who 
have died trying to pry new secrets from the seas.
What was the safety margin when your cable Parted?
I was getting to that. It was nearly six-to-one. We Only had a four thousand 
pound stress on it at the time. It was extremely fortunate that no one was 
injured from the whiplash of the cable when it snapped
May I see the cable?
Yes, Ive had the parted ends cut from the main sections and saved for your 
arrival.
A loud knock echoed from the door and a young red-haired boy, no more than 
eighteen or nineteen, entered the cabin, carrying a small bucket of ice. He sat 
it on the desk and turned and faced Gunn. Can I get you anything else, sir?
Yes, as a matter of fact, you can, said Gunn. Run down to the maintenance 
deck and find the cable sections that broke recently and bring them back here to 
me.
Yes sir. The boy did an abrupt about-face and hurried from the cabin.
One of the crew members? asked Pitt.
Gunn dropped the ice in the glasses and poured in the scotch. He passed a glass 
to Pitt. Yes, we have eight crew members and fourteen scientists on board.
Pitt swirled the yellow liquid around the ice cubes.
Could any one of those twenty-two men be responsible for your problems?
Gunn shook his head. Ive thought about that, Ive even dreamed about it, and 
Ive analyzed each mans personnel record at least fifty times, and I cant see 
what possible motive any of them might have for hindering the project. Gunn 
paused to sip his drink. No, Im certain my opposition comes from another 
source. Someone inexplicably wants to stop us from catching a fish that might 
not even exist.
The boy soon returned with the two halves of the broken cable. He handed the 
braided steel to Gunn and left the cabin, closing the door after him.
Pitt took another drink from his scotch and climbed from the bunk. He set the 
glass on Gunns desk. and lifted the cable in his hands, examining the ends 
closely.
It looked like any other greasy steel cable. Each piece was about two feet in 
length and contained twenty-four hundred strands that were braided into a 
standard five-eighth-inch diameter. The cable was not broken in a compact area. 
The breaks were spread over a fifteen inch distance that gave both frayed wires 
the appearance of a pair of uneven, unwound horse tails.
Something caught Pitts eye. and he took the magnifying glass and peered through 
the heavy lens. His eyes glinted with intensity and his lips slowly spread into 
a grin of smug satisfaction. The old feelings of excitement and intrigue began 
to course through his veins. This might turn out to be an interesting operation 
after all, he thought.
See anything? asked Gunn.
Yes, a great deal, replied Pitt. Somewhere along the line youve found 
yourself an enemy who doesnt want you fishing around in his territory."
Gunn became flushed and his eyes opened wide. What did you find?
This cable was purposely cut, said Pitt. His voice was very cold.
What do you mean: cut, cried Gunn. Where do you see evidence of human 
tampering?
Pitt held up the magnifying glass for Gunn. Notice how the breaks spiral down 
and bend inward toward the core? And see how the strands have a smashed 
appearance. If a cable of this diameter is pulled at each end until it snaps, 
the strands are clean and the ends have a tendency to point out and away from 
the core. That didnt happen here.
Guns stared at the shattered cable. I dont understand. What could have caused 
this?
Pitt looked thoughtful for a moment. My guess is Primacord.
Gunn was stunned. His eyes flew wide behind the big glasses. You cant be 
serious? Isnt that an explosive?
Yes it is, Pitt said calmly. Primacord looks like string or rope and can be 
made in any thickness. mainly, its used for blasting down trees and setting off 
different groups of distantly spaced explosives at he same time. It reacts like 
a burning fuse except that it moves and bursts rapidly, almost with the speed of 
light.
But how could anyone plant explosives under the ship without being seen.. The 
water is crystal clear in this area. Visibility is over one hundred feet. One of 
the scientists or crew members would have seen any intruder. . . Not to mention 
hearing the sound of an explosion.
Before I attempt to answer that, let me ask you two questions. What equipment 
was attached to the cable when it parted? And at what time did you discover the 
break?
The cable was connected to the underwater decompression chamber. The divers 
have been working at one hundred and eighty feet and it has become necessary to 
begin decompression underwater for long periods of time to prevent the bends. We 
discovered the broken cable at about 0700 in the morning right after breakfast.
I take it that you left the chamber in the water overnight?
No, replied Gunn. Its our habit to lower the chamber before dawn so itll be 
in place and ready to receive the divers in case of an early morning emergency.
Theres your answer! Pitt exclaimed. Someone swam under cover of the predawn 
darkness to the cable and set off the Primacord. Visibility may be one. hundred 
feet after the sun comes up but at night its less
than one foot.
And the noise from the blast?
Elementary my dear Gunn, Pitt grinned. I should guess that a small amount of 
Primacord detonating at approximately eighty feet of depth would sound very 
similar to a sonic boom from one of Brady Fields F-105 Starfires.
Guns looked at Pitt with respect. It was basically a sound theory, and obviously 
there was little he could think of to debate about His forehead creased, Where 
do we go from here?
Pitt downed the scotch and banged the glass onto
Gunns desk. You just stay in the briny and fish for
your Teaser. Im going back to the island and try my hand at a little hunting. 
There may be a tie-in with your disruptions and the attack on Brady yesterday, 
and the next step will be to find whos behind this mess and what their motives 
are.
Suddenly the door burst open and a man leaped into the cabin. He wore only a 
pair of abbreviated swim trunks and a wide belt, containing a knife and a nylon 
net bag. His wet, sun-bleached hair was streaked with whitish yellow and 
freckles dotted his nose and chest.
As he stood there, the water dripped to the carpet around his feet in spreading 
dark stains. Commander Gunn, he shouted excitedly. Ive seen one! Ive 
actually seen a Teaser, not more than ten feet in front of my mask.
Guns jumped to his feet. Are you sure? Did you get a close look at him?
Better than that, sir, I took a picture of him.
The freckle-nosed man stood there, grinning with every available tooth. If only 
I had a spear gun, I might have got him, but I was shooting coral formations 
with my camera instead.
Quick, snapped Gunn. Get that film to the lab and have it developed.
Yes sir. The fellow turned and dashed out of the door, spraying Pitt with a 
few drops of saltwater as he passed.
Gunss face had a happy but determined look.
My God. To think I was about to give up, throw my tail between my legs and set 
a course for home. Now, dammit, Im going to stay anchored here until I die of 
old age or catch a Teaser. His eyes twinkled as he glanced at Pitt. Well, 
Major, what do you think of that?
Pitt merely shrugged. Personally, I prefer angling for girls. With very little 
effort his mind dropped the business at hand and formed a tantalizing picture of 
Teri standing on the beach in her red bikini.
 
4
It was a few minutes past five when Pitt arrived back at his quarters on Brady 
Field. Within seconds of discarding his sticky clothing, he was firmly 
entrenched on his back in a narrow shower stall. It was a tight fit; his head 
was crooked into one corner, his back pressed flat on the wet tile floor, and 
his hairy legs and feet thrust upward on a ninety degree angle in the opposite 
corner.
To anyone who might have peeked, it looked like a contorted and bone torturing 
position, but Pitt found it thoroughly comfortable and immensely satisfying. 
When time allowed, he always relaxed in the shower in this manner. Sometimes he 
dozed off, but mostly he used the simulated rainy atmosphere and the solitude to 
think. At this moment his mind simmered with a multitude of perplexing 
questions.
He mentally juggled the facts and unknowns together, seeking a pattern and 
trying to concentrate on the most important problems. It was no use. His mind 
eluded his grasp and stubbornly chewed on the minor and inconsequential riddle 
of the noiseless truck by the beach.
For some inexplicable reason the riddle irritated him and he endeavored vainly 
to shake it, but it remained. Finally he gave in to it and closed his eyes and 
recreated the scene, hoping to visualize a sign or solution.
Suddenly a blurred form appeared on the other side of the shower door.
Hello in the shower, Giordinos voice rumbled over the running water. Youve 
been in there nearly half an hour. You must be thoroughly water-logged by now.
Pitt resigned himself to the interruption and reached up and turned the faucet 
to off.
You better hurry, Giordino shouted. Then it occurred to him that the water was 
no longer running. He lowered his voice. Colonel Lewis is on his way over 
hell be here any second.
Pitt sighed. Pushing his body to a sitting position, he awkwardly struggled to 
his feet, nearly slipping on the slick tile floor. A towel sailed over the 
shower door, falling in folds around his head. The mere thought of being prodded 
and pushed in order to impress a higher ranking officer made the hairs on his 
neck bristle. He glared through the fuzzy glass panel.
Tell Colonel Lewis he can play with himself while he waits. His voice had a 
nice frost to it. Ill come out when I damn well feel like it, he said 
succinctly. Now get the hell out of my bathroom, you bastard, before I cram a 
bar of soap up your anal canal. Abruptly, Pitt felt his checks heating. He 
hadnt really meant to be rude to his old friend. Immediately sorry. he felt a 
wave of guilt Im sorry, Al. My mind was elsewhere.
Forget it. Without another word Giordino shrugged and left the bathroom, 
closing the door behind him.
Pitt briskly dried his lean body and then shaved. After he finished, he blew the 
tiny black hairs out of the Cordless electric shaver and patted his face with 
British Sterling after shave lotion. When he stepped into the bedroom, Giordino 
and Colonel Lewis were waiting.
Lewis sat on the edge of the bed and twisted one end of an immense red handlebar 
moustache. His large rosy face and twinkling blue eyes along with the large bush 
on his upper lip gave him the appearance of a jolly lumberjack. His movements 
and his speech were rapid, almost jerky, giving Pitt the impression that the 
Colonel had a pound of ground glass in his crotch.
Sorry to break in on you like this, boomed Lewis. But Im interested in 
knowing whether or not youve run onto anything substantial concerning the 
attack yesterday.
Pitt was nude, but he didnt give a damn. "No, nothing positive. Ive several 
hunches and a couple of ideas, but very few absolute facts to build an airtight 
case with.
I was hoping you might have stumbled on a lead. My Air Investigation Squadron 
has struck out.
Have you found any remains of the Albatros? asked Pitt.
Lewis rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead. If that old crate crashed into 
the sea, it left no trace; not even a small oil slick. It and its pilot must 
have vanished into thin air.
"Maybe it reached the mainland, said Giordino. Negative, replied Lewis. We 
cant find a soul over there who saw it going or coming.
Giordino nodded in agreement. An old plane painted bright yellow with a top 
speed of only one hundred and three miles an hour couldnt help but be noticed 
if it crossed over the strait into Macedonia.
Lewis took out a package of cigarettes. What really confuses me is the fact 
that the attack was well planned and executed. Whoever raided the field knew no 
aircraft were scheduled to land or take off during his strafing runs.
Pitt buttoned his shirt and adjusted the gold oak leaves on his shoulders. 
Obtaining information would be easy since everyone on Thasos probably knows 
that Brady Field becomes a ghost town on Sundays. Actually this whole affair is 
very similar in strategy to the attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese down to 
the detail of sneaking in through a pass in the island mountain range.
Lewis lit his cigarette, being careful not to singe his moustache. Youre 
right, of course but theres no doubt that your unexpected arrival in the flying 
boat: caught our attacker, as well as ourselves, off guard. Our own radar failed 
to track your Catalina because you flew the last two hundred miles on the deck. 
He exhaled a cloud of smoke. I cant begin to tell you what a welcome surprise 
it was to see your old bird come thundering down out of the sun.
It must have surprised our friend in the Albatros too, Giordino grinned. You 
should have seen his jaw drop when he turned and saw us for the first time.
Pitt finished knotting his tie. No one expected us because my flight plan did 
not include Brady Field. I originally planned to set down in the sea next to the 
First Attempt. Thats why our flying ghost and Brady Control were both unaware 
of our ETA. He paused, reflecting as he looked down at Lewis. I strongly 
suggest, Colonel, that you take extreme defensive measures. Ive a feeling we 
havent seen the last of the yellow Albatros.
Lewis stared up at Pitt curiously. What makes you so certain hell return?
Pitts eyes glinted. He had a definite purpose for attacking the field, and it 
wasnt to kill men or destroy aircraft belonging to the United States. His plan 
was simply to throw you into a panic.
What would he gain by that? asked Giordino.
Stop and think about it for a moment. Pitt glanced at his watch, then to 
Lewis. If this situation looked truly threatening and perilous, Colonel, youd 
have to evacuate all American civilians to the mainland.
Yes, thats true, admitted Lewis. But at the moment I see no reason to take 
such steps. The Greek government has assured me theyre offering, their complete 
cooperation in finding the pilot and plane.
But if you thought you had reason, pressed Pitt. Wouldnt you also order 
Commander Gunn to remove the First Attempt from the Thasos area?
Lewis eyes narrowed. As a safety precaution, of course. That white ship makes 
one hell of an inviting target for an aerial sniper.
Pitt flicked his Zippo and lit a cigarette. Believe It or not, sir, thats your 
answer.
Giordino and Lewis looked at each other and then at Pitt, puzzled.
Pitt continued. As you know, Colonel, Admiral Sandecker ordered Giordino and 
myself to Thasos to investigate the strange mishaps that have occurred during 
the NUMAs offshore operations. This morning, while conversing with Commander 
Gunn, I discovered evidence of a sabotage which leads me to believe that theres 
a definite connection between the raid and the accidents aboard the First 
Attempt. Now, if we take this assumption one step further, we begin to see that 
Brady Field was not the main objective of our reincarnated adversary. The raid 
was only an indirect means of removing Commander Gunn and the First Attempt from 
Thasos.
Lewis looked at Pitt thoughtfully. I suppose the next question is why?
I dont have an answer yet, said Pitt. But Im certain our mysterious friend 
and his flair for dramatics has a high powered reason behind his game. He 
wouldnt go to such devious lengths for penny ante stakes. Hes most likely 
hiding something of great value and the NUMA researchers on the ship are in a 
position to stumble onto it.
That something you speak of could be sunken treasure, Lewis lips gleamed 
wetly.
Pitt pulled an overseas cap out of his suitcase and set it jauntily on his head. 
Thats one obvious conclusion.
A faraway look came Into Lewis eyes and he said softly, I wonder what it could 
be and how much its worth?
Pitt turned and faced Giordino. Al, contact Admiral Sandecker and ask him to 
research all possible lost or sunken treasure troves in the Aegean Sea within 
spitting distance of Thasos and send us the data as soon as possible. Tell him 
its urgent.
Consider it done, Giordino said. Its eleven oclock in the morning in 
Washington so we should have an answer by breakfast.
Now were getting somewhere, Lewis boomed.
The sooner I get answers, the sooner I can get the Pentagon off my back. Is 
there any way I can help?
Pitt glanced at his watch again. As the Boy Scouts sayBe Prepared. Thats all 
we can do for the present. You can bet Brady Field and the First Attempt are 
being closely observed. When it comes apparent no one is being evacuated and the 
oceanography ship still floats out there on the Aegean, we can expect another 
visit from the yellow Albatros. Youve had your fun, Colonel Its my guess 
Commander Gunns turn is next.
Please tell the Commander, said Lewis, Ill give him whatever assistance I 
have at my disposal.
Thank you, sir, said Pitt. But I dont think It would be wise to warn 
Commander Gunn just yet.
For Gods sake, why not? gasped Giordino.
Pitt grinned coldly. So far, all of this is pure conjecture. Besides, any 
preparation on board the First Attempt would be a dead giveaway of our 
intentions. No, weve got to bait our unknown World War I ghost and bring him 
out into the open.
Giordino looked at Pitt evenly. You cant risk the lives of the scientists and 
ships crew without giving them a chance to defend themselves.
Gunn is in no immediate danger. Our ghost pilot will undoubtedly wait at least 
one more day to see if the First Attempt departs before he attacks again. Pitt 
smiled until the mirth lines etched into the sides of his eyes. In the 
meantime, Ill put my creative talents to work on a plan for a trap.
Lewis got to his feet and faced Pitt. For the sake of those men on the ship, I 
hope you come up with a good one.
No plan is considered foolproof, Colonel, replied Pitt, until after its been 
applied.
Giordino walked toward the door. Ill run over to Base Operations and send that 
message to the Admiral.
When youve finished, said Lewis, drop by my quarters for supper. Twisting 
his moustache, he turned to Pitt. Youre invited too. I'll give you men a real 
treat and whip up my renowned specialty: scallops with mushrooms in white wine 
sauce.
It sounds very appetizing, said Pitt. But Im afraid I must decline. I have a 
previous dinner engagement. . . with a very attractive lady.
Giordino and Lewis could only gawk at him in dazed amazement.
Pitt tried to look nonchalant. Shes sending a car to pick me up at the main 
gate at six. I have just two minutes and thirty seconds to get there, so Id 
best be leaving. Good evening, Colonel, and thank you for your invitation. I 
hope youll give me a rain check." He faced Giordino. Al, let me know the 
minute the Admirals reply comes in. Pitt turned and opened the door and left 
the room.
Lewis slowly shook his head. Is he bull-shitting or does he really have a date 
with a girl?
Ive never known Dirk to bull-shit about women, sir, said Giordino. He was 
beginning to enjoy Lewis state of shock.
But where did he meet her? To my knowledge he hasnt been anywhere except the 
field and the ship.
Giordino shrugged. Beats me. But knowing Pitt as I do, It wouldnt surprise me 
if he picked up a girl on the hundred yards between the main gate and the First 
Attempts loading dock.
Lewis booming laugh cracked across the room. Well come along, Captain. Im not 
a sexy girl but at least I can cook. How about some of my scallops?
Why not? said Giordino. Thats the best offer Ive had all afternoon.
 
 
5
The furnace-like atmosphere cooled slightly as the fading sun fell to the west 
beyond the Thasos mountains. Long crooked shadows from the mountains tree-lined 
summits had moved down the slopes and were touching the seaward edge of Brady 
Field when Pitt passed through the main gate. He stopped on the outer road and 
inhaled the pure Mediterranean air, enjoying the inner sensation of having his 
lungs tingle. The habitual call for a cigarette tugged at his mind, but he 
pushed the urge aside and took another deep breath, looking out to sea. Beyond 
the rolling surf, the setting sun painted the First Attempt a colorful golden 
orange. The visibility was crystal clear, and at a distance of two miles his 
eyes could pick out an amazing amount of detail on board the ship. He stood 
quiet and still for almost a full two minutes, lost in the beauty of the scene. 
Then he glanced about, looking for the car that Teri promised to send for him.
It was there, sitting off to one side of the road like a palatial and sumptuous 
yacht resting at anchor.
Well I'll be damned, Pitt muttered, spotting the car. He moved closer and his 
face betrayed an admiration for fine automobiles.
It was a Maybach-Zepplin town car, complete with a sliding glass partition 
separating the enclosed passenger compartment from the driver, who sat in the 
open exposed to the sun. Behind the large double-M ornament on the radiator, the 
hood stretched back six feet and ended at a low split windshield. giving the car 
an image of great brutish power. The long flowing fenders and running boards 
gleamed black but the coachwork was painted a deep multi-coated silver. It was a 
classic among classics: superb Teutonic craftsmanship evident in every fitting, 
every nut and every bolt. If the 1936
Rolls-Royce Phantom III typified the British ideal of silence and distinguished 
mechanical efficiency, then its German counterpart was found in the 1936 Maybach 
Zepplin.
Pitt stepped up beside the car and ran his right hand over a gargantuan spare 
tire that sat solidly mounted in the front fender well. He grinned a grin of 
satisfaction and relief as he noted the tires tread was deeply grooved in a 
diamond-shaped pattern. He patted the big donut-like tire a couple of times and 
then turned and looked into the front seat.
The driver sat slouched behind the wheel, idly drumming his fingers on the door 
frame. He not only looked bored, but he yawned to prove it He was dressed in a 
gray-green tunic that strangely resembled
the uniform of a World War II Nazi officer. but the sleeves and shoulders bore 
no insignia. A high brimmed cap covered his head, and the blond color of his 
hair was betrayed by the brief hint of his sideburns. Old fashioned 
silver-rimmed spectacles covered his eyes and glinted in the setting sun. A long 
thin cigarette dangled conceitedly from one corner of a curled lip. giving the 
driver an aura of smugness and arrogance; an image he made little effort to 
conceal.
Pitt Instantly disliked the driver. Putting a foot on the running board, he 
stared penetratingly at the uniformed figure behind the steering wheel. I think 
you're waiting for me. My name is Pitt.
The yellow haired driver did not bother to return Pitts stare. He merely 
flipped his cigarette over Pitts shoulder onto the road, sat up straight and 
turned the ignition switch. if you are the American garbage receiver, he said 
in a heavy German accent, you may get in.
Pitt grinned and his eyes hardened. Up front with the foul smelling rabble or 
in back with the gentry?
Wherever you choose, the driver said. His face turned crimson but he still did 
not turn or look up.
Thank you, said Pitt smoothly. Ill take the back. He pushed down on a huge 
chrome handle, swung the vault-like door open and climbed into the town car. An 
old roll style curtain perched over the partition window and Pitt pulled it 
down, closing off all sight of the driver In front. Then be settled back 
comfortably into the soft and luxurious morocco leather upholstery, lit a 
cigarette and prepared to enjoy the early evening ride across Thasos.
The Maybachs engine quietly came to life and the driver shifted through the 
whisper silent gears, moving the Immense car over the road in the direction of 
Liminas.
Pitt rolled down a door window and studied the fir and chestnut trees dotting 
the mountain slopes, and the age-old olive trees lining the narrow beaches. 
Every so often, small fields of tobacco and wheat broke the uneven landscape and 
reminded him of the small farms he had often seen when flying over the southern 
United States.
Soon the car cruised through the picturesque village of Panaghia, splashing an 
occasional puddle that marred the elderly cobbled streets. Most of the houses 
Were painted white to reflect the summer heat. The roofs rose into the fading 
sky and nearly touched as their eaves leaned toward each other over the narrow 
Streets. In a few minutes Panaghia was left behind the Liminas soon came into 
view. Then the car abruptly turned, skirting the main section of the little 
city, and pointed its dinosaurian hood up a dusty cliff road. The incline was 
gradual at first, but quickly wormed into a series of steep hairpin curves.
Pitt could sense the driver struggling at the wheel of the Maybach; the 
lumbering town car was designed more for casual rides on the Unter den Linden 
than spring-breaking tours up mule trails. He looked over sheer precipices at 
the sea and wondered what would happen if another car came from the opposite 
direction.
Then he could see it ahead; a huge white square against the darkening gray 
cliffs. At last the curves ceased and the big diamond treaded tires slid 
smoothly onto the hard surface of a drive.
Pitt was adequately impressed. In size, the villa nearly matched the splendor of 
a Roman Forum. The grounds were well kept and there was an atmosphere of wealth 
and good taste. The entire estate nestled in a valley between two high mountain 
peaks and overlooked a sweeping panorama of the Aegean Sea. The main gate of a 
high wall opened mysteriously, apparently pulled by someone unseen, and the 
chauffeur drove up a neat fir-lined drive without ceremony and braked at a 
flight of marble steps. In the center of the stairway a large archaic statue of 
a woman carrying a child stared down mutely, greeting Pitt as he stepped from 
the Maybach.
He started to climb the steps when he stopped suddenly and returned to the car.
Im sorry driver, said Pitt. But I didnt catch your name.
The driver looked up, puzzled. My name is Willie. Why do you ask?
Willie. my friend, Pitt said seriously, I must tell you something. Will you 
step out of the car for a moment?
Willies brows wrinkled but he shrugged and stepped from the car, facing Pitt. 
Now Herr Pitt, what do you wish to tell me?
I see you wear jackboots, Willie.
Ja, I wear jackboots
Pitt flashed his best used car salesmans smile And jackboots have hobnails, 
dont they?
Ja, jackboots have hobnails. said Willie irritably. Why do you waste my time 
with such nonsense? I have duties to perform. What is it you wish to say?
Pitts eyes grew hard. My friend, I felt that if you want to earn your 
peeping-Tom merit badge, its my duty to warn you that silver-rimmed spectacles 
reflect the suns rays and can easily give your hiding place away.
Willies face went blank, and he started to say something, but Pitts fist 
slammed into his mouth, cutting off the words. The impact jerked Willies head 
up and back, throwing his cap in the air. His eyes turned dull and empty, and he 
slowly swayed like a falling leaf to his knees. He knelt there looking dazed and 
lost. A stream of bloody mucus dropped from his broken nose and splattered over 
the lapels of his uniform, creating, what Pitt thought, a rather artistic effect 
against the gray-green material. Then Willie pitched forward onto the marble 
steps and folded into an inert heap.
Pitt rubbed the knuckles of his bruised hand, grinning in cold satisfaction. 
Then he turned and jogged up the steps, taking three at a time. At the top he 
passed through a stone archway and found himself In a circular courtyard with a 
glass-like pool in its center. The entire courtyard was encircled by twenty or 
more majestic life-sized statues of helmeted Roman soldiers. Their sightless 
stone eyes somberly stared at their white reflections in the pool as if 
searching for long forgotten memories of victorious battles and wars of glory. 
The deepening shadows of evening covered each figure with a ghostly cloak, 
giving Pitt the weird sensation that at any second the stone warriors would come 
alive and lay siege to the villa.
He hurried around the pool and stopped at a massive double door at the far end 
of the courtyard. A large bronze knocker in the shape of a lions head hung 
grotesquely on the door. Pitt raised the grip, banging it down hard. He turned 
and glanced at the courtyard again. The entire setting reminded him of a 
mausoleum. All it lacked, he thought, were a few scattered wreaths and some 
organ music.
The door swung open silently. Pitt peered across the threshold. Seeing no one, 
he hesitated a moment. The moment turned into a minute and the minute into two. 
Finally, tiring of hide-and-seek, he braced his shoulders, clenched his fists 
and stepped through the portal into an ornately decorated anteroom.
Tapestries depicting ancient battle scenes hung from every wall, their 
needlework armies marching in unison toward battle. A high dome capped the room, 
and from its arched apex, came a soft yellowish light. Pitt glanced around and 
saw that he was alone so he sat down in one of two carved marble benches that 
adorned the middle of the room, and he lit a cigarette. Time passed, and soon he 
began a futile search for an ashtray.
Then silently, with no warning, a tapestry swung aside, and an old, heavy-set 
man entered the room, accompanied by an immense white dog.
 
6
 
Pitt, mildly stunned, looked warily at the gigantic German shepherd and then 
into the face of the dogs elderly master. The evil unsmiling features, so 
familiar on the late, late movies on television, sat entrenched on a typical 
round German face, complete with the shaven head, shifty eyes and no neck. Thin 
lips pressed tightly together as though their owner suffered from constipation. 
The body fit the villainous image too; heavy set in a rotund frame of solid 
tissue with no flab. All that was missing was a riding quirt and the polished 
boots. For an instant Pitt thought, the man you love to hate, Eric von 
Stroheim, had returned to life and stood ready to direct a scene from Greed.
Good evening, the old man said in a suspicious guttural tone. You are, I 
believe, the gentleman my niece invited to dinner?
Pitt rose, one eye on the huge panting dog. Yes sir. Major Dirk Pitt at your 
service.
An expression of surprise furrowed the brow below the tight skinned head. My 
niece led me to believe You were under the rank of sergeant, and your military 
Occupation was garbage collecting.
You must forgive my American humor, said Pitt, enjoying the other mans 
confusion. I hope my little deception has caused you no inconvenience.
No, a little concern perhaps, but no inconvenience. The old German extended 
his hand and studied Pitt closely. It is an honor to meet you, Major. I am 
Bruno von Till.
Pitt clasped the outstretched hand and returned the stare. The honor is mine, 
sir.
Von Till lifted a tapestry, revealing a doorway. Please come this way, Major. 
You must join me for a drink while we wait for Teri to finish dressing.
Pitt followed the flat form and the white hound down a dark hallway that led 
into a large cavernous study. The ceiling arched at least thirty feet high and 
was supported by several fluted ionic column shafts. The furniture, classic in 
its simplicity, sparsely dotted the floor and lent an air of grace to the 
imposing chamber. A cart was already laid with unusual Greek hors doeuvres, and 
a recessed alcove of one wall housed a completely equipped bar. The only item of 
decor, Pitt noted, that seemed out of place was a model of a German submarine, 
resting on a shelf above the bar.
Von Till motioned Pitt to sit down. What will be your pleasure, Major?
Scotch rocks would be fine, replied Pitt, leaning back in an armless couch. 
Your villa is most impressive. It must have an interesting history.
Yes, it was originally built by the Romans in 138 B.C. as a temple to Minerva, 
their goddess of wisdom. I purchased the ruins shortly after the First World War 
and rebuilt it into what you see today. He handed Pitt a glass. Shall we drink 
a toast?
To whom or what shall we drink to?
Von Till smiled. You may have the honor, Major. Beautiful women. . . riches.. . 
a long life. Perhaps to the President of your country. The choice is yours.
Pitt took a deep breath. In that case I propose a toast to the courage and 
flying skill of Kurt Heibert, The Hawk of Macedonia.
Von Tills face went blank. He slowly eased Into a chair and toyed with his 
drink. You are a very unusual man, Major. You pass yourself off as a garbage 
collector. You come to my villa and assault my chauffeur, and then you astound 
me further by proposing a toast to my old flying comrade, Kurt. He threw a sly 
grin over his drink at Pitt. However, your most outstanding performance was in 
seducing my niece on the beach this morning. For that feat I congratulate and 
thank you.
Today, for the first time in nine years, I saw Teri happily singing and laughing 
with an intense joy in living.
I am afraid you force me to condone your lecherous conduct.
It was Pitts turn to act surprised, but, instead, he tossed his head back and 
laughed. My apologies on every count, except slugging your perverted chauffeur. 
Willie had it coming.
You should not blame poor Willie. He was only acting on my orders to follow and 
guard Teri. She is my only living relative and I wish no harm to come to her.
What harm could possibly come to her? Von Till rose and walked to an open 
terrace window and looked out over the darkening sea. Over half a century I 
have worked hard and paid a great personal price to build a substantial 
organization. Along the road I also accumulated a few enemies. I never know what 
one of them might do for revenge.
Pitts eyes searched von Till. Is that why you carry a Luger in a shoulder 
holster?
Von Till turned from the window and self-consciously adjusted his white dinner 
jacket over the bulge beneath his left armpit. May I ask how you know it is a 
Luger?
Just a guess, Pitt said. You look like the Luger type.
Von Till shrugged. Ordinarily I do not act quite so mundane, but for the way 
Teri described you I had every reason to suspect doubtful character.
I must admit Ive performed a few sinful deeds in my day, Pitt said grinning. 
But murder and extortion werent included.
A scowl formed on von Tills face. I do not think you would be so flippant if 
you . . . how do you Americans say. . . were in my shoes.
Your shoes are beginning to sound very mysterious, Herr von Till, said Pitt. 
Just what kind of business are you in?
Suspicion marked von Tills eyes, then his lips faded to a phony smile. If I 
told you, it might upset your appetite. That, my dear Major, would make Teri 
exceedingly angry since she has spent half the afternoon in the kitchen 
overseeing tonights dinner. He shrugged in a typical European gesture. Some 
other time, perhaps, when I know you better.
Pitt spun the last swallow of scotch around in the glass and wondered what he 
had gotten himself into. Von Till, he decided, was either some kind of nut or a 
very shrewd operator.
May I get you another drink? asked von Till
Dont bother, Ill get it. Pitt finished the drink and walked over to the bar 
and poured another. He stared at von Till From what Ive read about World War I 
aviation, the circumstances behind the death of Kurt Heibert are nebulous. 
According to official German records, he was shot down by the British and 
crashed somewhere in the Aegean Sea. However, the records fail to mention the 
name of Heiberts victorious opponent. They also fail to state if the body was 
found.
Von Till idly petted the dog. His eyes seemed lost in the past for a few 
moments. Finally, he said, Kurt waged his own private war with the British back 
in 1918. He seldom flew against them coolly or efficiently. He handled his 
machine wildly and attacked their formations like a man possessed with a spastic 
devil. When he was in the air, he cursed and raved and pounded his fists on the 
edge of the cockpit until they bled. On take-off he always revved his engine to 
a roaring full throttle so that his Albatros leaped off the ground like a 
frightened bird. And yet, when he was not on patrol and could forget the war for 
a few moments, he could be a man of great humor, much unlike your American 
conception of the German soldier.
Pitt shook his head slowly with a hint of a smile. You must forgive me, Herr 
von Till, but most of my comrades-in-arms have yet to meet a German soldier who 
was a barrel of laughs.
The bald old German ignored Pitts remark. His
face remained serious. The end for Kurt, when it came, was from a cunning 
British trick. They studied his tactics closely and soon learned that be had a 
weakness for attacking and destroying their observation balloons. A battle weary 
balloon was overhauled and the observer's basket was filled with high explosives 
and a uniformed dummy stuffed with weeds. A detonating wire ran to the ground 
and the British then sat and waited for Kurt to make an appearance. Von Till 
sat down in a deeply pillowed sofa. He looked up at the ceiling, but he didnt 
see It. His mind looked, instead, into a sky that existed in 1918. They did not 
have to waft long.
Only one day later, Kurt flew over the allied lines and saw the balloon swinging 
slowly in the offshore breeze.
He no doubt wondered why there was no ground fire. And the observer, leaning on 
the baskets railing, looked to be asleep, for he made no attempt to leap out 
and parachute to safety before Kurts guns turned the hydrogen filled bag into a 
cloud of fire.
He had no idea it was a trap? asked Pitt.
No, von Till replied. The balloon was there and it represented the enemy. 
Almost automatically, Kurt dove to the attack. He closed with the balloon and 
his Spandan machine guns began raking the thin skinned gas bag. Suddenly the 
balloon erupted in a thunderous explosion that covered the entire area in fire 
and smoke. The British had detonated the explosives.
Heibert crashed over the allied lines? Pitt queried in thoughtful speculation.
Kurt did not crash after the explosion, von Till answered, shaking his mind 
back to the present again. His Albatros burst through the inferno, but the 
gallant plane that carried him faithfully through so many air battles was badly 
shattered, and he was seriously wounded. With its fabric wings torn and 
tattered, its control surfaces blown off and a bloody pilot in the cockpit, the 
plane staggered over the Macedonian coastline and disappeared out to sea. The 
Hawk of Macedonia and his legendary yellow Albatros were never seen again.
At least not until yesterday. Pitt took a deep breath and waited for an 
obvious reaction.
Von Tills eyelids widened on his otherwise expressionless face and be said 
nothing. He seemed to be weighing Pitts words.
Pitt immediately came back to the original subject.
Did you and Heibert often fly together?
Yes, we flew patrol together many times. We even used to take up a two seater 
Rumpler bomber and drop incendiary bombs on the British Aerodrome which was 
located right here on Thasos. Kurt would fly while I acted as observer and 
bombardier.
Where was your squadron based?
Kurt and I were posted to Jasta 73. We flew out of the Xanthi aerodrome in 
Macedonia.
Pitt lit a cigarette. Then he looked at von Tills old, but erect figure. Thank 
you for a very concise and detailed account of Heiberts death. You omitted 
nothing.
Kurt was a very dear friend, von Till said wistfully. I do not forget such 
things easily. I can even recall the exact date and time. It happened at 9:00 
P.M. on July 15,1918. 
It seems strange that no one else knew the full story, Pitt murmured, his eyes 
cold and steady with purpose. The archives in Berlin and the British Air Museum 
in London have no information concerning the death of Heibert. All the books 
Ive studied on the subject list him as missing in a mysterious situation 
similar to the other great aces, such as Albert Ball and Georges Guynemer.
Good God, snapped von Till, exasperated. The German archives lack the facts 
because the Imperial High Command never gave a damn about the war in Macedonia. 
And the British would never dare publish one word about such an unchivalrous 
deed. Besides, Kurts plane was still in the air when they saw it last. The 
British could only assume their insidious plan was successful.
No trace of man or plane was ever found?
Nothing. Heiberts brother searched for him after the war, but Kurts final 
resting place remains a mystery.
Was the brother also a flyer?
No. I met him on several occasions prior to the Second World War. He was a 
fleet officer in the German navy.
Pitt fell silent Von Tills story was too damn pat, he thought He had the 
strange feeling that he was being used, like a wooden decoy on a flight of 
geese. A faint ominous tingling stirred inside him. He heard a tapping
of high heels on the floor and without turning knew that
Teri had entered the room.
Hello everybody. Her voice was light and cheer.
 
 
Pitt swung around and faced her. She was wearing a mini-dress, designed like a 
Roman toga, that swirled about her slender legs. He liked the colora golden 
orange that complemented her ebony hair. She looked at Pitt, her eyes 
immediately drawn to his uniform. Her face paled slightly, and she raised a hand 
to her mouth in the same gesture he had noticed on the beach. Then she smiled 
thinly and approached, radiating a beautiful and sexy warmth.
Good evening gorgeous creature, Pitt said lightly, taking her outstretched 
hand and kissing it.
Teri flushed, then looked up at his grinning face. I was going to thank you for 
coming, she said. But now that Ive seen through the naughty little trick 
Youve played on me, Ive a good notion to toss you out on your bloody. .
Dont say it, Pitt interrupted. His lips curved devilishly. I know you wont 
believe me, but just this afternoon the base commander took me off the garbage 
truck, made me a pilot, and promoted me to Major.
She laughed. Shame on you. You told me your rank was under that of a sergeant.
No. I only said that Ive never been a sergeant, and thats the truth.
She slipped her hand through Pitts arm. Has Uncle Bruno been boring you with 
his flying tales of the Great War?
Fascinating me maybe, but not boring, Pitt answered. Her eyes looked scared 
behind her smile. He wondered what she was thinking.
Teri shook her head from side to side. You men and your war stories. She kept 
staring at Pitts uniform and insignia of rank. This didnt seem like the same 
man she had loved on the beach. This one was much more charming and 
sophisticated. You may have Dirk after dinner, Uncle Bruno, but right now hes 
mine.
Von Till expertly clicked his heels and bowed. As you wish my dear. For the 
next hour and a half, you shall be our commanding officer.
She wrinkled her nose at von Till. Thats awfully decent of you, Uncle, in that 
case my first order is for both of you to march to the dinner table.
Teri pulled Pitt out to the terrace and led him down a sloping stairway that 
ended on a circular overhanging balcony.
The view was breathtaking. Far below the villa the lights of Liminas were 
blinking on house by house. And across the sea, the early stars began to poke 
their tips into a spreading blanket of black. In the middle of the balcony, a 
table was set with service for three. A large yellow globe containing six 
candles illuminated the setting and cast an intriguing glow over the table, 
turning the silver dinnerware to gold.
Pitt eased Teris chair back for her and whispered in her ear. You better be 
careful. You know how stimulated I get in romantic atmosphere.
She looked up at him and her eyes smiled. Why do you think I planned it this 
way.
Before Pitt could answer, von Till walked up followed by the giant dog, and 
snapped his fingers. Instantly, a young girl in native Greek costume 
materialized and set down an appetizer of mixed cheeses, olives and cucumbers. 
Next came a chicken soup, flavored with lemon and egg yokes. Then the main 
course; baked oysters mixed with onions and minced nuts. Von Till uncorked the 
wine,Retsina-a fine old Greek wine.
Its resin flavor reminded Pitt of turpentine. After the serving girl cleared 
the dishes, she brought a tray of fruit and then poured the coffee made in the 
Turkish manner; the powdered beans settling like silt on the bottom of the cup.
Pitt forced down the strong unsweetened coffee and rubbed knees with: Teri. He 
expected a girlish grin but instead she looked at him with frightened eyes. It 
seemed she was trying to tell him something.
Well. Major, said von Till I hope you enjoyed our little repast.
Yes, thank you, replied Pitt It was excellent.
Von Till stared across the table at Teri. His face had set like stone, and his 
voice turned to ice. I would like to be alone with the Major for a little 
while, my dear. Why dont you wait in the study, we will be along shortly.
Teri acted surprised. She shuddered faintly, gripping the edge of the table 
before she answered him. Please, Uncle Bruno, Its too early. Cant you wait 
and have your little talk with Dirk later?
Von Till shot her a withering look. Do as your Uncle says. I have a few 
important matters I would like to discuss with Major Pitt. I am sure he will not 
leave before seeing you.
Pitt found himself becoming angry. Why the sudden family crisis? he wondered. He 
took a long breath, sensing something very wrong. An odd prickle crept up his 
back; that old familiar feeling of danger. Like an old and trusted friend, it 
always tapped him on the shoulder and warned him when a nasty situation was 
brewing.
Unseen, Pitt slipped a paring knife off the plate of fruits and pushed it under 
his pant leg and into his sock.
Teri looked at Pitt, her face paling Please excuse me, Dirk. I dont mean to be 
a ninny.
He smiled. Dont worry. I have a weakness for pretty ninnies.
You never seem to fail to say the right thing, she murmured.
He squeezed her hand. Ill join you as soon as I can.
Ill be waiting. Suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away and 
ran up the stairway.
I am sorry for speaking so harshly to Teri, the old German apologized. I had 
to talk to you privately and she rarely appreciates my desire to converse 
without feminine interruption. It is often necessary to become firm with women. 
Do you agree?
Pitt nodded. He could think of nothing worthwhile to say.
Von Till inserted a cigarette in a long ivory holder and lit it. I am extremely 
interested in hearing about the attack yesterday on Brady Field. My information 
from that section of the island tells me it was a very old and unknown type of 
airplane that struck your facility.
Old maybe, said Pitt, but not unknown.
Are you saying you have determined the make of
airplane?
Pitt studied von Tills face. Silently be dawdled with a fork, then slowly laid 
it back on the tablecloth. The aircraft was positively identified as an 
Albatros
And the pilot? The words came slowly from Von Till's tight mouth. Do you know 
the Identity of the pilot?
Not yet, but we will shortly.
You seem confident of an early capture.
Pitt took his time about answering. He slowly and methodically lit a cigarette. 
Why not. It shouldnt be difficult to trace a sixty year old yellow antique 
aircraft to its owner.
A smug grin crossed von Tills face. Macedonian Greece is an area of rugged 
terrain and desolate countryside. There are many thousands of square miles of 
mountains, valleys and eroded plains where even one of your monstrous jet 
bombers could be hidden and never detected.
Pitt grinned back. Who said anything about searching mountains or valleys?
Where else would you look?
In the sea, Pitt said pointing at the black water
far below. Probably in the same spot where Kurt Heibert crashed back in 1918.
Von Till arched an eyebrow. Are you asking me to believe in ghosts?
Pitt grinned. When we were little boys we believed in Santa Claus. And when we 
became big boys we believed in virgins. Why not add ghosts to the list also?
No thank you, Major. I find cold facts and figures superior to superstition.
Pitts voice was even and distinct. "That leaves us with another avenue to 
explore.
Von Till sat erect, his eyes squinting at Pitt.
What if Kurt Heibert is still alive?
Von Tills mouth dropped open. Then he caught himself and exhaled a cloud of 
cigarette smoke. Thats ridiculous. If Kurt were still alive he would be over 
seventy years old. Look at me, Major. I was born in 1899. Do you think a man of 
my age could fly an open cockpit plane, not to mention attacking an air field? 
No, I dont think so.
The facts are on your side, of course, said Pitt. He paused a moment, running 
his long fingers through his hair. Still, I cant help wondering if Heibert 
isnt connected in some way. His eyes shifted from the old German to the great 
white dog and he felt a vague tension grip his body. Intrigue hung heavily 
around them. He came to the villa at Teris invitation expecting only to enjoy a 
quiet dinner. Instead, he found himself engaged In a battle of wits with her 
uncle, a shrewd old Teuton who, Pitt was certain, knew more about the raid on 
Brady Field than he was telling. It was time to cast a spear and the hell with 
the consequences. He locked his eyes on von Till. If the Hawk of Macedonia 
really did vanish sixty years ago and reappeared yesterday, the interesting 
question is; where did he spend his time between? In heaven, in hell. . . or on 
Thasos?
A confused look replaced von Tills arrogant mask. I dont quite understand 
what you mean.
Mean hell, snarled Pitt. Either youre taking me for a complete fool or else 
youre acting like one. I dont think I should be telling you about the attack 
on Brady Field, but rather you should be telling me. He lingered over the 
words, enjoying the situation.
Von Till was on his feet in an instant, his oval face contorted with anger. You 
have probed too far and too deep. Major Pitt, into areas that dont concern you. 
I shall take no more of your absurd implications. I must ask you to leave my 
villa.
A look of contempt crossed Pitts face. Whatever's fair, he said turning to 
the stairway.
Von Till glared at him bitterly. No need to return through the study, Major, 
he said pointing to a small doorway that clung to the far wall of the balcony. 
This corridor will lead you to the front entrance.
Id like to see Teri before I leave.
I see no reason to prolong your presence. Von Till blew a contemptuous cloud 
of smoke toward Pitts face, driving home the angered words. I also demand that 
you never see or talk to my niece again.
Pitts hand clenched into fists. And if I do?
Von Till smiled menacingly. I will not threaten you, Major. If you persist in 
exercising aggressive stupidity, I shall merely punish Teri.
You rotten shit-eating kraut, Pitt snarled, fighting down a surging urge to 
kick von Till in the crotch. I dont know what the hell your little conspiracy 
amounts to, but I can definitely go on record as stating that Ill take great 
personal pleasure in screwing it up. And I can begin by telling you that the 
attack on Brady Field failed to achieve its intention. The National Underwater 
Marine Agencys ship is staying right where its anchored until its scientific 
research activities are completed.
Von Tills hands trembled but his face remained impassive. Thank you, Major. 
That is a bit of information I did not expect quite so soon.
At last, the old kraut is dropping his guard, Pitt thought. There could be no 
doubt about it now, it was von Till who had plotted to get rid of the First 
Attempt. But why? The question still remained unanswered. Pitt tried a shot in 
the dark. Youre wasting your time, von Till. The divers on the First Attempt 
have already discovered the sunken treasure. Theyre in the act of raising it 
now.
Von Till broke out in a broad smile, and Pitt knew immediately the lie was a 
mistake.
A very poor attempt, Major. You could not be more wrong.
He drew the Luger from under his armpit and pointed the dark blue barrel at 
Pitts neck. Then he opened the corridor door. If you please? he said, 
beckoning with the gun toward the threshold.
Pitt took a quick glance through the darkened doorway. The corridor beyond was 
dimly lighted with candles and seemed completely deserted. He hesitated. Please 
express my thanks to Teri for the excellent dinner.
I shall pass on your compliment
And thank you, Herr von Till, Pitt said sarcastically, for your hospitality.
Von Till smirked, clicked his heels and bowed. It was my pleasure He placed a 
hand on the head of the dog, whose lip curled, showing a prodigious white fang.
The doors archway was low and Pitt had to stoop to enter the tunnel-like 
entrance. He took a few cautious steps.
Major Pitt!
Yes, Pitt replied, turning and facing the fat shadow at the entryway.
There was a sadistic anticipation in von Tills voice. it is a pity you will 
not be able to witness the next flight of the yellow Albatros.
Before Pitt could answer the door slammed shut and a heavy bolt dropped into its 
catch like a thunder-clap and echoed ominously toward the unseen reaches of the 
dim corridor.
 
 
7
A spasm of anger swept over Pitt. He was half tempted to slam his fist against 
the door, but one look at the heavy planking changed his mind. Turning again to 
the corridor, he found it still empty. He shivered unconsciously. He had no 
illusions as to what lay ahead. It was certain now that von Till never meant for 
him to leave the villa alive. He remembered the knife and felt a tinge of 
assurance as he slipped it out of his sock. The flickering yellow light from the 
candles, mounted in rusted metal holders high on the walls. glinted dully on the 
blade and made the tiny pointed knife look woefully inadequate for the job of 
self-defense. Only one comforting thought ran through Pitts mind: However 
small, the knife was better than nothing.
Suddenly a blast of heavy, chilling air blew through the corridor like an 
invisible hand and snuffed out the candles, leaving Pitt standing in a sea of 
suffocating blackness.
His senses strained to penetrate the gloom, but could detect no sound, no 
glimmer of light.
Now the fun begins, he murmured, bracing his body for the unknown.
Pitts spirits touched zero and he could feel the first terror striking symptoms 
of panic edging rapidly into his mind. He remembered reading somewhere that 
nothing is more horrifying or uncomprehending to the human mind than total 
darkness. To not know or be able to perceive what lies beyond ones sight or 
touch, acts on the brain like a short circuit in a computer it runs amok. What 
the brain cannot see, it creates, usually some nightmarish event that is grossly 
exaggerated or embellished like a delusion of being bitten by a shark or run 
over by a locomotive while locked in a closet Recalling the semi-amusing 
phraseology, he grinned in the darkness and the first probes of panic slowly 
reversed into a sensation of logic calm.
His next thought was to use the Zippo to relight the candles. But if someone or 
something were awaiting in the ambush further down the corridor, he reasoned, it 
would be best to remain in pitch darkness and keep them at the same 
disadvantage. Stooping, he quickly unlaced his shoes, discarding them, and began 
inching along the cool wall. The corridor led him past several wooden doors, 
each barred by large bands of iron. He was in the midst of testing one of the 
doors when he paused, listening intently.
There was a sound somewhere ahead in the blackness. It was indefinable and 
inexplicable, but quite audible. It could have been a moan or a growl; Pitt 
didnt know which. Then the sound faded and died into nothingness.
Determined now that a real menace was waiting, some creature of the dark, that 
was physical, could make noises and probably reason, spurred Pitts sense of 
caution. He lay down on the corridor floor and crept ahead without sound, his 
ears listening and his sensitive fingertips feeling out the way. The floor was 
smooth and unyielding, and In spots it was damp. He crawled on through an oily 
slime that soiled his uniform, soaking into the material and causing it to stick 
to his skin. He mentally cursed his uncomfortable predicament as he crept 
onward.
After what seemed like hours, Pitt imagined he had dragged his stomach over at 
least two miles of cement, but his rational mind knew it was close to eighty 
feet. The musty smell of antiquity lay on the floor and reminded him of the 
interior of an old steamer trunk that once belonged to his grandfather. He 
remembered hiding in its dark cubicle and pretending he was a stowaway on a ship 
bound for the mysterious orient. Its strange, he thought incongruously, how 
smells can bring back dormant and forgotten memories.
Abruptly, the feel of the floor and walls changed from smooth concrete to rough, 
jointed masonry. The passageway left the more modern construction behind and 
became old and hand hewn.
Pitts hand felt the wall stop and branch to the right. A gentle touch of air on 
his cheeks told him he had come to cross-passage. He froze and listened.
There it was again . . . The sound was halting and furtive. This time it was a 
clicking noise, like the kind long nailed animals make on a hard surfaced floor.
Pitt shivered uncontrollably and broke out in a cold sweat. He pressed his body 
flat into the damp cobbled ground, knife pointed in the direction of the 
approaching sound.
The clicking became louder. Then it stopped and a torturous silence set in.
Pitt tried to contain his breathing to hear better; all his ears could detect 
was his own heartbeat Something was out there, not ten feet away. He compared 
himself with a blind man who was being stalked down a back-street alley. The 
eerie, spine-chilling atmosphere of the surroundings numbed his thinking with a 
sense of hopelessness. He shook it off, forcing his mind to concentrate on 
methods of combating the unseen terror.
The musty stench of the tunnel suddenly became overpowering, nearly making him 
sick. He also detected a faint animal odor. But from what kind of animal?
Quickly a plan formed in Pitt's mind, and he decided to take a gamble on the 
unknown quantity. The Zippo came out of his pocket. He flipped the little wheel 
against the flint and held it a brief instant until the wick burned brightly. He 
cast It up and into the air ahead. The tiny flame sailed through the darkness 
and illuminated two glowing fluorescent eyes, backed by a giant shadow that 
danced hellishly on the walls and floor of the passageway. The lighter clinked 
to the ground, its flame snuffed out by the fall. A low menacing growl came from 
the eyes and echoed through the stone labyrinth.
Pitt reacted instantly and coiled on the hard floor. Then he whipped over on his 
back and thrust the knife up into the dark void, holding the handle tightly in 
the sweating palms of both hands. He could not see his ghostly attacker, but he 
knew now what it was.
The beast had noted Pitts exact location in the brief flickering flame from the 
lighter. It hesitated for an instant, then it sprang,
The ageless animal instinct of sniffing its prey before attacking spelled the 
big animal's doom. The delay gave Pitt precious time for his sudden evasive body 
roll, and the huge white dog overshot his quarry. The action happened with such 
blinding speed that all Pitt could recall afterwards was the feel of the knife 
slicing into a soft furry surface and the wetness of heavy liquid splattering in 
his face.
The growl of the killer turned to the howl of the mortally wounded as the knife 
laid open the great Shepherd's flank just behind the ribs. The walls of the 
stone corridors thundered in a chorus of reverberating roars that burst from the 
thick, hairy throat a split second before the hundred and eighty pounds of 
animal fury crashed into the vertical stone beyond Pitt and fell heavily to the 
ground, thrashing in spastic agony for several moments before dying.
At first Pitt thought the dog had missed. Then he felt a sting across his chest, 
and he knew it hadnt. He lay without moving, listening to the death throes in 
the blackness. Long minutes after the passageway returned to a ghostly 
stillness, he remained limp on the uneven floor. The tension finally passed and 
his muscles started to loosen, and the pain began to arrive in earnest, clearing 
his mind to a new sharpness.
Pitt slowly rose to his feet and leaned wearily against the unseen blood 
splattered wall. Another shudder shook his body and he waited until his nerves 
calmed before stumbling into the darkness ahead where he shuffled his feet back 
and forth until they came in contact with his lighter. He lighted the little 
metallic box and surveyed his wounds.
Blood seeped from four evenly spaced furrows that began just above the left 
nipple and extended up and diagonally over his chest to the right shoulder. The 
claw marks were deep in the skin but their depth barely penetrated the muscle 
tissue. Pitts shirt hung down like a shredded flag of red and khaki. All he 
could do for the moment was tear off the dangling strips of ragged cloth and pad 
the gashes. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to collapse to the 
ground and let a wave of comforting unconsciousness gather him in its trough. 
The temptation was strong, but he resisted it. Instead he stood on steady legs 
with a quartz clear mind, planning his next move.
After another minute, Pitt walked over to the dog. Holding the lighter aloft, he 
stared down at the dead animal. It was laying on its side, the entrails in a 
gruesome heap outside the body cavity. Trails of blood streaked the floor, 
running in separate little streams toward an unseen low point somewhere in the 
direction from which he had crawled. The weariness and the pain dropped from 
Pitt like a falling coat at the gruesome sight. Rage and anger engulfed his body 
and soared
from the state of fearful, life saving caution to a state of uncaring 
indifference toward danger and death. One thought held and gripped his mind: 
murder von Till.
His next step sounded simple, absurdly simply; be must find a way out of the 
labyrinth. The odds seemed long, and the chances hopeless. Yet the thought of 
failure never entered his mind. Von Tills words about the next flight of the 
yellow Albatros settled any doubts for him. The gears in Pitts head meshed in 
analytical thought, spitting out facts and possibilities.
Now that the scheming old German knew the First Attempt was remaining anchored 
off Thasos, he would have it attacked by the Albatros. It would be too risky for 
the old plane to try another afternoon attack, Pitt reasoned. Von Till, no 
doubt, would send it aloft as soon as possible, probably at dawn. Gunn and his 
crew must be warned in time. He glanced at the luminous dial on his wrist watch. 
The needle-like hands registered 9:55. Dawn would break at approximately 4:40, 
he figured, give or take five minutes. That left six hours and forty-five 
minutes for him to find an exit from this crypt and alert the ship!
Pitt shoved the knife in his belt, snapped the lighter shut to conserve fuel and 
started up the left passageway toward the source of a very slight air current. 
The going was easier now. Pitt was damned if hed crawl anymore. He hurried 
without hesitation. The passage narrowed to three feet in width, but the roof 
stayed out of reach above his head.
Suddenly his outstretched hand struck solid wall The passage ceased; it was a 
dead end. He flicked the lighter and saw his mistake. The air current came from 
a small crack between the rocks. An audible humming noise also issued from the 
crack. It was the sound of an electric motor, hidden somewhere beyond the wall 
in the bowels of the mountain. Pitt listened for a moment, but then the sound 
ceased.
If at first you dont succeed, be mused aloud,
try another passage. He retraced his steps and quickly reached the 
intersection, this time taking the tunnel directly opposite the one he had 
cautiously crawled through.
He lengthened his stride and pounded on into the impenetrable darkness; the cool 
damp paving numbing his stocking feet. He idly wondered how many other men, or 
women for that matter, had von Till literally thrown to the dog. In spite of the 
near chilly air, the sweat ran off his body in streams. The pain across his 
chest seemed remote, too remote to belong to him. He could feel the blood 
mingling with the sweat and running down into his pants. He kept going and was 
determined to keep going until he dropped. A thought tugged at his mind to slow 
down and rest, but he rejected it and quickened his pace.
Again and again his groping hands and the periodic but welcome flicker of the 
lighter discovered new passages that branched off into endless nothingness. In 
some, the rocks had caved in, sealing them off, probably forever.
The lighter was on its last breath, the fluid almost gone. Pitt used it as 
little as possible, relying more and more on his bruised and scraped fingers. An 
hour passed, and then another. He continued on, pushing his tired and torn body 
through the ancient passages.
His foot struck something solid, and he pitched forward onto the bottom steps of 
a stone stairway. The edge of the fourth step caught him across the nose, 
gashing the bridge to the bone. Blood spurted down his cheeks and coated his 
lips. All at once the exhaustion, the emotional drain and the despair flooded 
over his battered body, and he folded limply on the stairs. Everything began to 
slow down. He lay and listened to the blood drip on the step beneath his head. A 
soft white cloud materialized out of the black gloom and gently covered him.
 
 
Pitt shook his sore and fuzzy head violently, trying to clear the cobwebs. 
Slowly, very slowly, like a man lifting a tremendous weight he raised his head 
and shoulders and began agonizingly to crawl up the stairway. Step by step he 
struggled, until at last he reached his destination.
A webbing of heavy bars marked the top of the stairway. The grille work was 
ancient and heavily rusted but still thick and strong enough to hold back an 
elephant.
Pitt hauled himself painfully onto the landing. A curtain of fresh air greeted 
his skin, replacing the musty odor of the labyrinth. He gazed through the 
rectangles between the bars and his spirits soared at the sight of the stars 
blinking in the sky. Back in the winding passageways he had left like a dead man 
in a casket It seemed like an eternity since he saw the outside world.
He pulled himself to his feet and shook the bars. There was no movement. The 
lock on the massive gate had recently been welded closed.
He checked the width between each bar, searching for the largest opening. The 
third space from the left, held the greatest spread; about eight and one-half 
inches. He laboriously stripped off all his clothes and set them on the other 
side of the barrier. Next he smeared his blood into the sweat and exhaled until 
his lungs ached in protest. Then, slipping his bead between the bars, he 
strained to push one hundred and ninety pounds into the outside landscape. The 
rust from the bars flaked off against his slippery skin and stuck to the 
glue-like blood. A racking moan of pain escaped his mouth as his genitals 
scraped over the ragged edge of one bar. He desperately clawed at the ground and 
gave a final heave. His body came free.
Pitt grasped his scraped crotch and sat up, ignoring the stabbing pain and 
unable to believe his success. He was out, but was he in the clear? His eyes, 
now acutely used to the dark, darted around the immediate area.
The vaulted bars of the labyrinth faced onto the stage entrance of a great 
amphitheatre. The ponderous structure reflected a vaguely unearthly glow from 
the
white light of the stars and the moon, whose imperfect circle peeped over a 
shadowed mountain summit. The architecture was Grecian but the massiveness of 
the construction signified Roman hands. The edge of the round stage was 
separated from the theatres upper rim by almost forty rows of steeply banked 
seats. Except for the invisible flight of nocturnal insects,, the entire 
amphitheatre was deserted.
Pitt slipped into the remains of his uniform. Knotting the damp sticky cloth of 
his shirt, he stiffly wrapped his chest with a crude bandage.
Just to be able to walk and breathe in the warm evening air gave him a new surge 
of strength. He had gambled back there in the labyrinth and without Theseus 
string to guide him had beat the immense odds and won. Laughter rang from his 
lips and traveled in loud echoes to the last row of the amphitheatre and back. 
The pain and the exhaustion was forgotten as he visualized von Tills face at 
their next meeting.
How would you like a ticket to see that? Pitt shouted at his nonattendant 
gallery. He waited, caught in the mood of the eerie setting. There was no reply, 
no applause, only the silence of the warm Thasos night. For a moment he thought 
he saw a ghostly Roman audience cheering him on, but the toga clad figures faded 
mutely away into the white marble, leaving Pitt with no answer to his lonely 
invitation.
He looked up at the maze of stars in the diamond clear air to get his bearings. 
Polaris blinked its friendly light in return and advertised approximate north. 
Pitts eyes scanned a full three hundred and sixty degree circle of sky. 
Something was wrong. Taurus and the Pleiades should have been overhead. Instead, 
they were far to the east.
Goddamn, Pitt cursed aloud, looking at his watch. It was 3:22. Only an hour 
and eighteen minutes. before dawn. Somehow he had lost nearly five hours.
What happened, he asked himself, where was the time lost? Then he realized that 
he must have passed out after colliding with the stairway.
There was no time to lose. He hurriedly walked across the stone paved stage and 
presently discovered, in the little available light, a small path leading down 
the mountainside. He took it and set out on a race to beat the sun.
8
 
A quarter of a mile down the steep slope the pathway turned into a roadno road, 
really, but two parallel tire-worn indentations in the ground cover. The tracks 
meandered downward in a tortuous series of hairpin curves. Pitt stumbled along 
at half trot, his heart pounding viciously under the taxing strain. He was hurt, 
not badly, but he had lost much blood. Any doctor who might have encountered him 
would have immediately confined his torn body to a hospital bed.
Over and over, since his escape from the labyrinth, pictures of the defenseless 
scientists and crew of the First Attempt being strafed by the Albatros flashed 
through Pitts mind. He could see in perfect detail the bullets tearing into 
flesh and bone, leaving heavy red blotches on the white paint of the 
oceanographic research ship. The carnage would all be over before the new 
interceptor jets at Brady Field could scramble, providing of course the 
replacement aircraft had arrived from the North Africa depot before dawn. These 
visions and others drove Pitt on to efforts beyond his normal capacity.
He halted abruptly. Something moved in the shadows ahead. He left the vague 
trail and circled wanly around a thick growth of chestnut trees, creeping closer 
to the unexpected obstacle. Then he raised up and peered over a fallen, decaying 
tree-trunk. Even in the dim light there was no mistaking the shape of a well-fed 
donkey that was tethered to a solitary boulder. The unattended little animal 
cocked one ear at Pitts approach and brayed softly, almost pathetically.
Youre hardly the answer to a jockeys prayer, said Pitt grinning. But 
beggars cant be choosy. He untied the lead rope from the rock and quickly made 
a crude halter. With no little amount of patience he managed to push it over the 
donkeys nose. Then he mounted.
Okay, mule, giddy up.
The little beast did not move.
Pitt pounded on the stout flanks. Still no government. He kicked, bounced and 
prodded. Nothing, not even a bray. The long ears laid flat and their obstinate 
owner refused to budge.
Pitt did not know any Greek words, only a few names. That must be it, he 
thought. This dumb jackass was probably named after a Greek god or hero.
Forward Zeus. . . Appollo. . . Poseidon.
Hercules. How about Atlas? It seemed as though the donkey had turned to stone. 
Suddenly an idea occurred to Pitt. He leaned over and inspected his mounts 
underbelly. It was void of exterior plumbing.
My deepest apologies you gorgeous, ravishing creature, Pitt purred in the 
pointed ears. Come my lovely Aphrodite, let us be off.
The donkey twitched and Pitt knew he was getting warm.
Atlanta?
Nothing more happened.
Athena?
The ears shot up and the donkey turned, looking up at Pitt out of a big confused 
eyes.
Come on, Athena, mush!
Athena, much to Pitts joy and relief, pawed at the ground a couple of times and 
then obediently began to amble down the road.
The early morning turned cool, and dew was beginning to dampen the forest 
trimmed meadows when at last Pitt reached the outskirts of Liminas. Liminas was 
an average Greek coastal village, a unique blend of modern construction built on 
the site of an ancient city, whose ruins rise hero and there among the more 
recent tile-roofed houses. On the shoreline, jutting into the town with a jagged 
half-moon curve, a harbor full of flat-beamed fishing boats offered a 
picturesque travel folder scene with the smells of salt air, fish and diesel oil 
thrown in. The wooden hulled boats lay dead along the beach like a pack of 
beached whales, their masts carefully stowed along the gunnels and their anchor 
ropes stretched loosely to seaward. In rows, behind the white sand beach, high 
vertical poles stood, supporting long fences of stinking brown fish nets. And, 
behind those again was the main street of the village, whose shuttered little 
doors and windows offered no sign of life to the bedraggled Pitt and his 
plodding four-legged transportation. The white plastered houses with their tiny 
balconies made a restful real-life painting in the moonlight, a painting that 
had little bearing on the events which had brought Pitt to the village.
At a narrow intersection Pitt slid off the donkey and tied it to a mailbox. Then 
he took an American ten dollar bill from his wallet and wrapped it into the 
halter.
Thanks for the lift, Athena, and keep the change.
He patted the animal affectionately on the soft rounded nose and, hitching up 
his disreputable looking pants, walked unsteadily down the street toward the 
beach.
Pitt looked for the tell-tale lines of a telephone, but could see none. There 
were no cars or other vehicles parked along the streets either, only a bicycle, 
but he was too physically drained to consider pedaling the seven miles back to 
Brady Field. A lot of good it would do, he thought, even if he could find a 
phone or someone who owned a car, he couldnt speak Greek.
The glowing arms and numbers on the Omega said 3:59. Another hot dawn would hit 
the island in forty-one minutes. Forty-one minutes to warn Gunn and the men on 
the First Attempt. Pitt looked across the sea, following the inward curve of the 
Island. If it was seven miles to Brady Field by land, then it was only four 
miles in a direct line across the water to the ship. There was no time left to 
loiter, he would simply have to steal a boat. Why not? he reasoned. If he could 
kidnap a donkey he could pirate a boat.
Within a few minutes he found a well-used dory with a high flaring Carvel hull 
and a rust-coated one cylinder gasoline engine. Fumbling in the gloom his 
fingers found the throttle linkage and the ignition switch.:
The flywheel was massive and it was all Pitt could do to crank it over. Every 
aching muscle strained at each silent revolution. Sweat broke from his forehead 
and dripped on the engine. His head throbbed and blurriness crept into his 
vision. Time after time he pulled the crank handle rubbing the flesh from his 
hands. It seemed hopeless; the engine would not fire.
If the need for speed had been vital before; it was desperate now. Precious 
minutes were running down the drain as he attempted to get the balky engine into 
action. Pitt reached deep, drawing from the last untapped reservoir of his 
strength. Clenching his teeth he gave a mighty pull The engine popped briefly 
and died. He pulled the crank again and slumped exhausted into the oily bilge 
water. The engine coughed once, then twice, wheezed, coughed again, caught and 
settled down to a popping thump as the solitary piston began to ram up and down 
inside its ring-worn sleeve. Too tired to rise, Pitt leaned over and cut the 
line with the faithful paring.
knife and kicked the gear lever in reverse. The shabby little boat, its paint 
peeling down the hull in scaly sheets, chugged backward into the harbor, circled 
in a hundred and eighty degree arc past the old Roman breakwater and headed out 
to sea.
Pitt jammed the throttle full against its stop as the dory reeled through the 
low swells, making perhaps a top speed of seven knots. He hauled himself erect 
in the stern seat, clutching the tiller tightly between his hands, bleeding from 
the harsh rasping caused by the rusty crank handle.
A half hour passed, an interminable lapse of time under a cloudless sky and a 
brightening east horizon, and still the boat chugged steadily around the island. 
The progress seemed agonizingly slow to Pitt. But every foot gained was a foot 
closer to the First Attempt. He caught himself dozing off from time to time, 
head dropping on his chest, then reawakening with a start. He urged his hazy 
mind on, driving it with a frenzy he didnt know he possessed.
Then his dulled eyes saw it, a low, gray shape, resting beyond the next small 
point of land, just over a mile away. He recognized the two white, thirty-two 
point lights on bow and stern that signified a ship at anchor. The probing rays 
of the sun were rapidly stretching into the sky, clearly silhouetting the First 
Attempt against the eastern horizon; first the superstructure, then the crane 
and radar mast, then the indiscriminate piles of scientific equipment scattered 
around the deck.
Pitt talked to the noisy old engine, begging it for more revolutions. The lone 
cylinder snapped, crackled and popped in reply, turning the warped and bent 
propeller shaft until it rumbled ominously inside worn and exhausted bearings. 
The race against the dawn was going to be close.
The hot, orange ball of the sun was barely poking its dome over the watery 
horizon when Pitt abruptly slowed the little engine, tardily jammed the throttle 
in reverse and bored clumsily into the side of the First Attempt.
Hello the ship? Pitt shouted weakly, too fatigued to move.
You dumb ass, returned an irate voice. Why dont you watch where youre 
going? A shadowed face appeared over the rail and peered down at the dory, 
bumping against the big ships hull. Next time let us know when youre coming 
so we can paint a target on the side.
In spite of the tension and fiery agony of his wounds, Pitt could not help 
smiling. Its too early in the morning for jokes. Can the wisecracks and get 
down here and give me a hand.
Why should I? said the lookout, straining his eyes in the early shadows. Who 
the hell are you?
I'm Pitt and Im injured. Now stop screwing around and hurry.
Is it really you, Major? the lookout asked hesitantly.
What the Goddamn hell do you want? snapped Pitt, a birth certificate?
No, sir. The lookout vanished behind the railing and a moment later reappeared 
on the boarding ladder with a boathook in one hand. He caught the dory on the 
aft port gunnel and pulled it to the ladder. Securing a line to the little 
boats stern, he leaped on board, caught his foot on a cleat and fell sprawling 
on top of Pitt.
Pitt clamped his eyes shut. grunting from the impact of the other mans weight 
When he opened them again he found himself staring into the yellow beard of Ken 
Knight.
Knight started to say something, but then he more clearly saw the bloody and 
ragged body beneath him. The sight of Pitts condition made the young scientist 
wince and his face turned ashen. He sat rock-bound in unbelieving shock.
Pitts lips twisted into a bemused grin. Dont waste time sitting there like a 
broken crutch. Help me into Commander Gunns cabin.
My God, my God, Knight murmured, shaking his head dazedly and slowly from side 
to side. What in the name of God happened?
Later, Pitt snapped. When theres time. He swayed forward onto his hands. 
Help me you dumb bastard before its too late. There was a desperation, a 
burning fierceness in Pitts voice that startled Knight into action.
Knight half carried, half dragged Pitt up the ladder and onto the deck. He 
stopped at Gunns cabin and kicked at the door. Open up, Commander Gunn. Its 
an emergency.
Gunn threw open the door dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and his 
horn-rimmed glasses, looking like a confused professor who was just caught in a 
motel room with the Dean of the Universitys wife. Whats the meaning .. . He 
stopped suddenly, staring at the blood-caked apparition supported by Knight His 
brown eyes swelled to Immense proportions behind the thick lenses. My God, 
Dirk, is that you? What happened?
Pitt tried to smile again, but it was only a slight curl of his upper lip. Im 
a dropout from hell! His tone was low, then it came on strongly. Do you have 
any meteorological equipment on board?
Gunn didnt answer. Instead, he ordered Knight to get the ships doctor. Then 
the bespectacled little skipper led Pitt into the cabin and gently lowered him 
on the bunk. Just rest easy, Dirk. Well have you patched up in no time.
That's just it, Rudi, there is no time, Pitt said, grasping Gunns wrists with 
his ripped hands. Do you have any meteorological equipment on board? he 
repeated urgently.
Gunn looked down at Pitt, his eyes reflecting bewilderment. Yes, we have 
instruments to record various meteorological data. Why do you ask?
Pitts hands released their grip and fell away from Gunns wrists. A smug cold 
smile gripped his eyes and spread his lips as he struggled up on his elbows. 
This ship Is going to be attacked any minute by the same aircraft that raided 
Brady Field.
You must be delirious, Gunn said, moving for ward to help Pitt sit up.
My body may look like hell, but my mind at this minute is sharper than yours, 
Pitt said. Now listen, and listen closely. Heres what has to be done.
 
 
It was the lookout perched on the great A-frame crane, that first spotted the 
little yellow plane against its vast blue background. Then Pitt and Gunn saw it 
too, not more than two miles away, flying at eight hundred feet. They should 
have seen it sooner, but it was coming at the First Attempt straight out of the 
eye of the sun.
Hes ten minutes late, Pitt grunted, holding an arm aloft for a white goateed 
doctor who worked quickly and skillfully at bandaging his chest.
The elderly physician, oblivious to Pitts movements on the: ships bridge, 
cleaned and dressed the raw cuts without bothering to turn and look at the 
approaching plane. He tied the final knot tightly, making Pitt twinge and 
display a wry face. Thats the best I can do for you, Major, until you stop 
running up and down the deck, shouting orders like Captain Bligh.
Sorry, Doc, Pitt said without taking his eyes from the sky. But there was no 
time for a formal office call. You better get below now. If my little battle 
tactic doesnt work, youre going to do a land office business in about ten 
minutes.
Without answering, the wiry, deeply tanned doctor closed a large worn leather 
case, turned and ducked down the bridge ladder.
Pitt drew back from the railing and glanced over at Gunn. Are you connected?
Say when. Gunn was tense, but looked ready and eager. He held a small black 
box in his hand attached to a wire that led up the radar mast and then into the 
brilliant morning sky. Do you think the pilot of the old contraption will take 
the bait?
History never fails to repeat itself. Pitt said confidently, glaring at the 
nearing plane.
Even in this moment of tense anxiety Gunn found time to marvel at Pitts 
complete transformation since dawn: the man who staggered on board the First 
Attempt in such fearful physical condition was not the same man who now stood on 
the bridge with gleaming eyes and the expectant posture of a war horse inhaling 
the scent of battle through flaring nostrils. It seemed strange, but Gunn 
couldnt stop his mind from drifting back many months ago to the bridge of 
another ship, a tramp steamer called the Dana Gail. He remembered as though it 
was only an hour ago, seeing the same expression on Pitts face just before the 
old rusty hulk cast off to find and destroy a mysterious seamount In the 
Pacific, north of Hawaii. Abruptly he was pulled back to the reality of the 
present by a strong grip on his arm.
Get down. Pitt said urgently, or the shock wave will blow you overboard. Be 
ready to join the contacts the instant I give the word.
The bright yellow plane was banking now, circling around the ship, testing it 
for defenses. The drone of its noisy engine tore across the water, causing a 
vibration in Pitts eardrums. He watched it through a pair of borrowed 
binoculars, smiling with satisfaction as he noted small round patches in the 
fabric of the wings and fuselage; a record of Giordinos hits with the carbine. 
Moving the glasses in a near vertical angle he focused on the black wire that 
led upward, and all at once he felt a hope that began to amount to complete 
conviction.
Steady . . . steady, he said quietly. I think hes going to nibble at the 
cheese.
The cheese, Gunn thought wonderingly. He calls that damn balloon up there the 
cheese. Who would have ever thought that Pitt wanted a damn weather balloon when 
he asked whether the First Attempt carried meteorological gear. Now the damn 
balloon floated up there in the damn sky with a one hundred pound charge of 
explosives from the damn seismic lab tied to it. Gunn peered above the railing 
at the big silvery airborne ball and the lethal package dangling beneath it The 
cable holding the captive balloon and the electrical wire attached to the 
explosives both stretched eight hundred feet high and four hundred feet astern; 
a total distance of four football fields away. He shook his head, it was ironic 
that the explosive charge, normally utilized for producing underwater shockwaves 
to analyze the bottom of the sea, would now be used to blow an airplane out of 
the sky.
The roar of the planes engine grew louder, and for one brief moment Pitt 
thought it was going to dive straight-on at the ship, but then be realized that 
its angle of descent was too low. The pilot was lining the Albatros up for a 
pass at the balloon. He stood up for a better view, knowing he was a tempting 
and exposed target The engine turned into a high pitched snarl and the gun 
sights aimed for the lazy gas bag, waiting above the sparkling water. There was 
no delay, no adjusting for range, the yellow wings glistened in the sun, 
obscuring the flashes from the two guns mounted on the cowling, The sound of the 
staccato bursts and the whine of the bullets signaled the beginning of the 
attack.
The rubberized nylon skin of the helium filled bag shuddered under the onslaught 
of the rapid gunfire. It sagged at first, then wrinkled like a prune and 
collapsed, flapping in lose folds toward the sea. The yellow Albatros swept over 
the dropping balloon, making a beeline for the First Attempt.
"Now!" Pitt yelled, hitting the deck.
Gunn threw the switch.
The next instant seemed to march on to infinity. Then there was a gigantic blast 
which shock the ship from keel to mast. The early morning silence was shattered 
with a violent sound like the breaking of a thousand windows by a tornado. And, 
in the sky, a tower of dense smoke and flame swirled in a huge bursting mass of 
orange and black. The concussion from the explosion knocked the wind from Pitt 
and Gunn; squeezing internal organs against spines with the sudden punch of a 
battering ram.
Slowly, moving with painful stiffness from the bandages and struggling for 
breath, Pitt rose to his feet and peered Into the expanding cloud for signs of 
the Albairos. Shaken for a moment, his eyes darted too high, and he could see 
nothing but curling smoke; the plane and Its pilot were gone. Then he realized 
what had happened. The brief lag between his shouted signal and the actual 
explosion saved the plane from instant disintegration. Swinging his gaze down to 
the horizon he spotted it The craft was gliding clumsily through the air, its 
engine dead.
Pitt snatched at the binoculars and quickly sighted them on the Albatros. It was 
trailing smoke and fiery fragments in a meteoric frail. He watched in morbid 
fascination as one of the lower wings suddenly folded backward and fell away, 
causing the plane to tumble in a series of wild gyrations, like a piece of paper 
thrown from a high office building. Then It seemed to bang suspended for a 
moment before plunging into the sea, leaving a signature of smoke melting into 
the warm air.
Its down, said Pitt excitedly. Weve scored.
Gunn was lying against the far bulkhead corner.
He crawled across the deck and lifted his head dazedly.
How far and what heading?
About two miles abaft the starboard beam, replied Pitt He lowered the glasses 
and looked at Gunns pale face. Are you all right?
Gunn nodded. Just lost a little wind, thats all.
Pitt smiled, but there was little humor in his eyes. He was smugly satisfied 
with himself, very pleased with the outcome of his plan. Send the double-ender 
and some men out there to dive on the wreck. Im anxious to find out what our 
ghost looks like.
Of course, said Gunn. Ill personally lead the diving party. But, only on one 
condition. .. you get your ass down to my cabin immediately. The doc hasnt 
finished with you yet.
Pitt shrugged, Youre the captain. He turned back to the rail and looked again 
at the spot that marked the grave of the yellow Albatros.
He was still at the rail ten minutes later when Gunn and four of the First 
Attempt's crew loaded their diving gear on the double-ender whaler and cast off. 
The little boat made no attempt to circle and search the general surface area 
but moved straight to the spot where the plane disappeared. Pitt waited until be 
could see the divers drop into the sparkling blue water at intervals to converge 
together underwater at the final resting place of the wreck.
Come along. Major, said a voice at his elbow.
He slowly turned and looked into the face of the bearded doctor. Its no use 
chasing me Doc. I wont marry you. Pitt said, a wide grin riding his face.
The blue-eyed old ships surgeon did not grin back. He merely pointed down the 
ladder at Gunns cabin.
Pitt had no choice but to wearily resign himself and turn his battered body over 
to the doctor's care. In the cabin he fought a half-hearted battle against 
unconsciousness, but the administered sedatives won a beachhead, and soon he was 
sheathed in a deep sleep.
 
 
 
9
Pitt stared at the gaunt and repulsive face that echoed his image from a small 
mirror, hanging in the cabins head. The black hair dangled down his face and 
ears, adding an unkempt crown above the deep green eyes that were circled and 
etched with jagged red blood vessels. He had not slept long; his watch showed a 
time lapse of only four hours. It was the heat that woke him, the morning 
blanket of hot air, drifting across the sea from Africa and digging its burning 
fingers into his skin. He discovered the ventilator that was closed, and he 
opened it, but the damage was already done. The hot dry air had a head start and 
the air conditioning would never catch up and cool the cabin, at least not until 
early evening. He pushed the tap and splashed water over his face, letting the 
coolness soak into his pores as it dribbled down his back and shoulders.
He briskly dried his damp skin and tried to recall in sequence what had happened 
the night before. Willie and the Maybach-Zepplin. The villa. Drinking with von 
Till. Teris beauty, her paled features. Then the labyrinth, the dog and the 
escape. Athena; did her owner ever find her? The dory, this morning, the yellow 
Albatros and the explosion. Now the waiting for Gunn and his crew to salvage the 
plane and find the body of its mystery pilot. What was the connection with von 
Till?
What was the old krauts motives. And Teri. Did she know about the trap? Was she 
trying to warn him? Or, did she bait him into being used and pumped for 
information by her uncle?
He shook all thoughts and questions from his mind. The bandages itched and he 
fought the agonizing urge to scratch. . . God, it was hot. . . if only he had a 
nice cold drink. The only item of clothing the doctor hadnt cut off his body 
was his shorts. He rinsed them out in the basin and put them on wet. Within 
minutes they were completely dry.
A light knock came from the door. It slowly swung open and the red-haired cabin 
boy poked his head around the bulkhead. Are you awake, Major Pitt? he queried 
softly.
Yes, but just barely. Pitt replied.
I . . . I didnt mean to bother you, the boy said hesitantly. The doc asked 
me to check on you every fifteen minutes to make sure you were resting 
comfortably.
Pitt threw a withering stare at the cabin boy. Who the hell can rest 
comfortably in this furnace with the air conditioning turned off?
A lost bewildered look crossed the young sunburned face. Oh my gosh, Im sorry 
sir. I thought Commander Gunn left it on.
Whats done is done, Pitt said shrugging. How about something cold to drink?
Would you like a bottle of FIX?
Pitts eyes narrowed sharply. A bottle of what?
FIX. Its a Greek beer.
All right, if you say so. Pitt couldnt help but grin. Ive heard of taking a 
fix before, but never drinking one.
Ill be right back sir. The boy ducked around the bulkhead and closed the 
door. Suddenly it jerked open again and the young boys flaming hair reappeared. 
Im sorry, Major, I almost forgot. Colonel Lewis and Captain Glordino are 
waiting to see you. The Colonel wanted to bust right in and wake you, but the 
doc wouldnt hear of it. He even threatened to throw the Colonel off the ship if 
he tried it.
All right, send them in, said Pitt with impatience. hurry with the beer before 
I evaporate.
Pitt lay back on the bunk and let the sweat roll down his body onto the rumpled 
sheets, sopping the areas that came in contact with his skin. His mind continued 
to turn, ransacking every detail of the past, assembling for the present, 
pushing ahead, and plotting future directions.
Lewis and Giordino.
They hadnt wasted any time in coming. If Giordino received an answer from NUMA 
headquarters, it might help to supply one of the many missing pieces to the 
puzzle. The four borders were forming. but the middle was a scattered 
conglomeration of uncertain and unknown quantities. Von Till's evil face leered 
from the maze, his tight-lipped grin curling in smug disdain. Pitts mind raced 
on. The great white dog. He tried to force it into another piece of the puzzle, 
but it wouldnt fit. Thats strange, he thought, the dog doesnt correspond to 
the piece its supposed to. For some unfathomable reason he couldnt force the 
animal between von Till and Kurt Heibert
Suddenly Lewis burst into the cabin with all the finesse of a sonic boom. His 
face was red and he was sweating. the tiny beads streamed down his nose and into 
his moustache where they were absorbed like rain in a forest. Well now, Major, 
arent you sorry you passed up my invitation for dinner?
Pitt half smiled. I admit there was a time or two last night when I regretted 
turning down your scallops. He pointed to the gauze and adhesive tape 
crisscrossing his chest. "But at least my other dinner engagement gave me a few 
memories that I can carry for a long, longtime.
Giordino stepped from behind Lewis hulking form and waved a greeting to Pitt. 
See what happens every time I let you go out and carouse on your own.
Pitt could see the wide grin on Giordinos face, but he also noticed a fraternal 
look of concern in his friends eyes. Next time, Al, Ill send you in my 
place.
Giordino laughed. Dont do me any favors if
youre a living example of the morning after.
Lewis parked his bulk heavily in a chair facing the bunk. God, its hot in 
here. Dont these damn floating museums carry air conditioning?
Pitt enjoyed a tinge of sadistic pleasure at Lewis
steaming discomfort. Sorry, Colonel, the unit must be overtaxed. I have beer 
coming that should help make the heat a bit more endurable.
Right now, Lewis snorted, Id even settle for a glass of Ganges River water.
Giordino leaned over the bunk For chrissakes, Dirk, what mischief did you get 
yourself into after you left us last night? Gunns radio message said something 
about a mad dog.
Ill tell you, said Pitt, But first I need a couple of questions answered 
myself. He looked at Lewis. Colonel, do you know Bruno von Till?
Do I know von Till? Lewis repeated. Only slightly. I was introduced to him 
once and have seen him occasionally at parties given by the local dignitaries, 
but thats about all From what I gather, hes something of a mystery.
Do you, by chance, know what his business is? Pitt asked hopefully.
He owns a small fleet of ships. Lewis paused for a moment, closing his eyes in 
thought. Then they shot open, transmitting a look of sudden recollection, 
Minerva, yes thats it, Minerva Lines: the name of the fleet.
Ive never heard of it, Pitt murmured.
Small wonder, snorted Lewis. Judging from the decrepit rust buckets Ive seen 
smoking by Thasos, I doubt whether anyone else knows of its existence either.
Pitts eyes narrowed. Von Tills ships cruise along the Thasos coastline?
Lewis nodded. Yes, one passes every week or so.
Theyre easy to spot; they all have a big yellow M
Painted on the smoke funnels.
Do they anchor off shore or dock at Liminas?
Lewis shook his head. Neither. Every ship Ive bothered to notice came from the 
south, circled the island and reversed course south again.
Without stopping?
They lie-to for perhaps half-an-hour, no more, right off the point by the old 
ruins.
Pitt raised up out of the bunk. He looked questioningly at Giordino, then Lewis. 
"Thats odd.
Why? asked Lewis lighting a cigar.
Thasos is at least five hundred miles north of the main Suez Canal shipping 
lanes, Pitt said slowly. Why should von Till send his ships on a thousand mile 
detour?
I dont know, Giordino said impatiently. And frankly, I could care even less. 
Why not stop this verbal screwing around and tell us about your nocturnal 
escapades? What has this von Till character got to do with last night?
Pitt stood and stretched, wincing from the stiff soreness. His mouth had a sand 
and gravel taste; he could not recall when his throat had been so dry before. 
Where was that dumb kid with the beer? Pitt caught sight of Giordinos 
cigarettes, and he motioned for one.
He lit it and inhaled, increasing the rotten taste in his mouth.
He shrugged, smiling wryly. OK, Ill give it to you from beginning to end, but 
please feel free to stare at me like Im crazy; Ill understand.
In the heat tortured cabin, the steel walls almost too hot to touch, Pitt told 
his story. He held nothing back, not even a thin belief that Teri had somehow 
betrayed him to von Till Lewis nodded thoughtfully on occasion but made no 
comment; his mind seemed to linger elsewhere, returning only when Pitt 
graphically described an event. Giordino paced the small cubicle unhurriedly, 
leaning slightly against the slow rolling of the ship.
When Pitt finished, no one spoke. Ten seconds passed, twenty, then thirty. The 
atmosphere had turned humid from perspiration and rapidly became stale from 
cigar and cigarette smoke.
I know, Pitt said a little tiredly. It sounds like a fairy tale and makes 
very little sense. But, thats exactly the way it happened, I left nothing out
Daniel in the lions den. Lewis said flatly, without inflection. I admit, 
what youve told us seems far fetched, but the facts have a strange way of 
bearing you
out. He pulled a handkerchief from a hip pocket and dabbed it across his 
forehead. You were correct in predicting that the antique plane would attack 
this ship, and you even knew when.
Von Till supplied me with a hint. The rest was conjecture.
I cant figure the weird set-up, said Giordino.
Using an old bi-plane to shoot up the sea and landscape merely to get rid of 
the First Attempt seems overly complicated.
Not really, said Pitt. It soon became obvious to von Till that his sabotage 
attempts on the scientific operations of NUMAs expedition were not succeeding 
according to plan.
What crossed him up? Giordino inquired.
Gunn was stubborn, Pitt grinned evenly. In spite of what he thought were 
accidents and setbacks due to natural causes, he refused to weigh anchor and 
give up.
Good for him, Lewis grunted, and cleared his throat to speak, but Pitt went on 
unruffled.
Von Till had to find another direction. Using the old aircraft was a stroke of 
genius. If he had sent a modern jet fighter to attack Brady Field, all hell 
would have broken out in the form of an international crisis. The Greek 
Government, the Russians, the Arabs; all would have become involved, and this 
whole island would have been teeming with military personnel on emergency alert. 
No, von Till was smart: the antique Albatros caused our government some 
embarrassment and cost the Air Force a few million dollars, but spared everyone 
a diplomatic mess and an armed conflict.
Very interesting, Major. Lewis voice was flat, skeptical. Very interesting. 
. . and most instructional. But would you mind answering a question thats been 
nagging the back of my mind?
What is it, sir? It was the first time Pitt had addressed Lewis as sir, and he 
found it strangely distasteful.
Just what are these seagoing eggheads looking for that brought this rotten 
business down around our heads?
A fish, Pitt replied grinning.
Lewis eyes widened and he almost dropped his cigar on his huge lap. A what?
A fish, Pitt repeated. Its nick-named Teaser; a rare species reported to be 
a living fossil. Gunn assures me that landing one would be the greatest 
scientific achievement of the decade. Pitt supposed wryly that he was overdoing 
it a bit, but he was irritated by Lewis blustering pompousness.
Lewis face was not pleasant as he rose trembling from his chair. You mean to 
say that I have fifteen million dollars worth of wrecked aircraft scattered 
over a base under my personal command, my military career all but ruined, and 
all because of a goddamned fish?
Pitt tried his best to look serious. Yes, Colonel, I guess you might say that.
A saddened look of absolute defeat gripped Lewis features as he shook his head 
from side to side. My God, my God, its not fair, its just not. . .
He was interrupted by a knock on the metal door.
The cabin boy entered, carrying a tray containing three brown bottles.
Keep them coming, Pitt ordered. And, keep them cold.
Yes sir, the boy mumbled. He set the tray down on the desk and hurried from 
the cabin.
Giordino passed Lewis a beer. Here Colonel, drink up and forget the damage to 
Brady. The taxpayers will absorb the cost anyway.
In the meantime Ill probably suffer a coronary,
Lewis said gloomily. He sat back down in the chair, collapsing like a leaky 
inner tube.
Pitt held up the ice frosted bottle and rolled its cold surface across his 
forehead. The red and silver label was stuck on crooked. He stared idly at the 
reversed printing that proudly proclaimed: BY APPOINTMENT TO THE ROYAL GREEK 
COURT.
Where do we go from here? Giordino said between gulps.
Pitt shrugged, I'm not sure yet. A lot depends on what Gunn finds in the 
wreckage of the Albatros.
Any idea?
None at the moment.
Giordino mashed his cigarette into an ashtray. If nothing else, Id say were 
well ahead of the game, especially compared to this time yesterday. Thanks to 
you our ghost from World War I is kaput, and we have a pretty good lead on the 
instigator behind the attacks. All we have to do now is have the Greek 
authorities pick up von Till
Not good enough, Pitt said thoughtfully. That
would be the same as a district attorney demanding the indictment of a suspect 
for murder who had no motive. No, there has to be a reason, not a valid one in 
our eyes necessarily, but still a reason for all this intrigue and destruction.
Whatever the cause, it isnt treasure.
Pitt stared at Giordino. I'd forgotten to ask. Did Admiral Sandecker send a 
reply to your message?
Giordino dropped an emptied bottle in a wastebasket. It came through this 
morning, just before the Colonel and I left Brady Field for the First Attempt. 
He paused, gazing up at a fly walking across the ceiling, Then he belched.
Well? Pitt grunted impatiently.
The Admiral had a crew of ten men pour through the national Archives on a crash 
research program. When they were finished they all agreed on the same 
conclusion: there is no recorded document anywhere that indicates shipwrecked 
treasure near the Thasos coastline.
Cargos, could any of the recorded wrecked vessels have carried valuable cargo?
Nothing worth mentioning, Giordino pulled a slip of paper from his breast 
pocket. The Admirals secretary dictated over the radio the names of all the 
ships that were lost on or around Thasos in the last two hundred years. The list 
isnt impressive.
Pitt wiped the salty sting of sweat from his eyes. Lets have a sample.
Giordino set the list on his knees and began reading aloud in a rapid monotone. 
Mistral, French frigate, sunk 1753. Clara G., British coal collier, sunk 1856. 
Admiral DeFosse, French ironclad, sunk 1872. Scyla, Italian brig, sunk 1876. 
Daphne. British gunboat. .
Skip to 1915, Pitt interrupted.
"H.M.S. Forshire, British cruiser, sunk by German shore batteries on the 
mainland, 1915. Von Schroder, German destroyer, sunk by British warship, 1916. 
U-19, German submarine, sunk by British aircraft, 1918.
No need to continue, Pitt said yawning. Most of the lost wrecks on your list 
were warships. The chances are slim that one of them might have carried a kings 
ransom in gold.
Giordino nodded. As the boys in Washington said, no recorded documents of 
sunken treasure.
The talk over treasure brought an alert gleam in Lewis eyes. What about 
ancient Greek or Roman vessels? Most records wouldnt go back that far.
Thats true, said Giordino. But, as Dirk previously pointed out, Thasos is a 
long way off the beaten shipping paths. The same holds true for the trade 
routes of antiquity.
But if there is a fortune under our feet, Lewis persisted, and von Till found 
it, hed most certainly keep it a secret.
Theres no law against finding sunken treasure.
Giordino exhaled two streams of smoke through his nose. Why bother to hide it?
Greed, said Pitt. Insane greed; wanting one hundred percent, refusing to 
share with others or having to pay the government under which the riches were 
found any taxes or assessments.
Considering the huge cut most governments demand, Lewis said angrily, I cant 
say as Id blame von Till for keeping the discovery a secret.
The cabin boy came and went, Leaving three more
bottles of beer. Giordino downed his with one tilt of the head and then dropped 
the empty bottle beside its mate
in the wastebasket This whole game is like a bad deal, he complained. I 
dont like it.
I dont like it either, Pitt said quietly. Every logical avenue winds up in a 
cul-de-sac. Even this talk about treasure is meaningless. I tried to bait von 
Till into admitting he was after treasure, but the wily old bastard offered no 
indication of interest. Hes trying to hide something, but its not sunken gold 
bullion or lost diamonds. He broke off and pointed out a porthole across the 
sea where Thasos slept under the rising heat waves. The solution lies 
elsewhere, either near the island, or on it, or maybe, both. Well soon know 
more when Gunn raises the Albatros and its occupant.
Giordino, both hands clasped behind his head, leaned his chair back on two legs. 
By all rights, we could leave now and be back in Washington this time tomorrow. 
Since the mysterious renegade plane is destroyed, and we know who instigated the 
accidents on board the First Attempt, things should settle back to normal. I see 
no reason why we cant pack up and head for home. He threw Lewis an indifferent 
look. Im certain the Colonel can handle any further emergencies that might 
crop up on Brady Field.
You cant leave now! Lewis was sweating heavily, his breath in gasps, barely 
controlling his temper. Ill contact Admiral Sandecker and have. . . 
Dont worry, Colonel, Gunn interrupted from the doorway. He had pushed the 
cabin door open silently and now stood leaning against the bulkhead.
Major Pitt and Captain Giordino wont be leaving Thasos just yet.
Pitt looked up quickly, expectantly. There was no elated expression on Gunns 
face, it merely reflected a mixture of blank nothingness and dejection. It was 
the face of a man who ceased to care. The small bone structure showed through 
the shoulders, drooped from exhaustion, and the skin glistened with drops of 
salt water that dung to the body hair in tiny droplets. He wore nothing but the 
ever present horn-rimmed glasses and a:
European style black bikini that did little to enhance the slender frame it 
covered. Four straight hours of diving had left Gunn exhausted, every bone, 
every muscle begging for relief.
Sorry Sir, Gunn mumbled softly. Bad news Im afraid?
For Gods sake, Rudi, Pitt asked, What is it? Werent you able to raise the 
plane and recover the pilots body?
Gunn shrugged his thin shoulders. Neither.
As bad as that? Pitt queried, voice and face deadly serious.
Worse, Gunn replied grimly.
Lets have it.
For almost thirty seconds, Gunn remained silent The others in the cabin could 
hear the faint creaking noises of the ship, rolling in the gentle swells of the 
Mediterranean, and see the tightening of Gunns mouth.
Believe me, we tried, Gunn said wearily. We used every underwater search 
trick in the book, but we, couldnt locate the wreck. He gestured helplessly 
with his bands. It was gone, vanished, God knows where.
 
10
The Thasians were great lovers of the theatre, considering it a vital part of 
their education, and everyone, including the town beggar, was encouraged to 
come. In the ancient city of Thasos, during the premieres of new dramas from the 
mainland, all shops were closed, all business ceased and prisoners were released 
from jail Even the citys whores, barred from most public events, were allowed 
to practice their trade in the shrubbery by the theatre gateways without fear of 
legal harassment.
The swarthy Greek National Tourist Organization guide paused his spiel, curling 
his lip in a pleased grin at the horrified expressions on the faces of the 
female tourists. It was always the same, he thought The women whispering in 
put-on embarrassment while the men, draped in Bermuda shorts and festooned with 
light meters and cameras, guffawed and poked each others ribs in unison with 
know-it-all winks.
The guide twisted the end of his magnificent moustache and studied his group 
more closely. There was the usual sprinkling of fat retired businessmen and 
their fat wives, viewing the ruins, not for historical interest but rather to 
impress their friends and neighbors at home. His eyes wandered over four young 
school teachers from Alhambra, California. Three were plain looking, wore 
glasses and giggled constantly. It was the fourth girl who attracted his 
attention. Excellent possibilities. Large protruding breasts, red hair, long 
legs like most Americansand quite shapely. The kind of eyes that flirt and 
suggest better things to come. Later tonight he would invite her on a private 
moonlight tour of the ruins.
The guide pulled at the lapels of a tight jacket and tucked the bottom neatly 
under a bright red cummerbund.
Slowly, with a professional kind of carelessness, he turned his gaze toward the 
rear of the little crowd, stopping it uneasily on two men who leaned 
indifferently against a fallen column. A tougher, more battered and villainous 
pair of hard cases he had never seen. The short one with the puffed out chest, 
obviously an Italian, looked more like an ape than a man. The taller brute with 
the piercing green eyes, carried himself with an air of sureness and 
sophistication, yet there was an aura about him that advertised Caution: highly 
dangerous. The guide twisted his moustache again. German most likely. Must love 
to fight judging from the bandages on the nose and hands. Strange, most strange, 
the guide mused. Why would those two take a dull tour of old ruins? Probably a 
pair of sailors who jumped ship. Yes, that must be it, he suggested to himself 
smugly.
This theatre was excavated in 1952, the guide went on, flashing a set of 
bright teeth. So buried under centuries of silt washed off the mountain that it 
took two years to reveal it all. Please notice the geometric mosaic of the 
orchestra floor. It was fashioned from naturally colored pebbles and signed 
Coenus Set It. He hesitated a moment, letting his flock of excursionists study 
the floral design of the worn and faded files.
Now, if you will follow me up the stairway to your left, we will take a short 
walk over the next mound to the Shrine of Poseidon.
Pitt, playing the part of a tired and worn-out sightseer, feigned exhaustion and 
sat down on the steps, watching the rest of the tour climb the granite stairway 
until their heads disappeared beyond the top. Four-thirty, his watch read. 
Four-thirty. Exactly three hours since he and Giordino left the First Attempt 
and casually strolled into Liminas, joining the guided tour of the ancient 
ruins. Now he and Giordino.. . the little Captain was impatiently pacing the 
stone floor beside him, clutching a small flight bag. . . waited a few more 
minutes, making absolutely sure the tour was continuing without them. Satisfied 
that they werent missed, he silently motioned to Giordino and pointed toward 
the stage entrance of the amphitheatre.
For the hundredth time, Pitt tugged at the irritating chest bandage, thought 
about the ships doctor and grinned in self amusement. Permission to leave the 
ship and return to von Tills villa had been firmly denied by the bearded 
doctor, and by Gunn too. But when Pitt insisted that, if necessary, he was ready 
to fight the entire ships crew and swim back to Liminas, the old physician had 
thrown up his hands in defeat and stormed from the cabin. So far, paying for the 
wine while killing time in a small taverna, waiting for the sightseeing trip to 
begin, was his only contribution to the backdoor reconnaissance of the villa. It 
was Giordino who had cursed and sweated over the huge lump of rust attached to 
the dorys propeller shaft, trying to crank it to life. And it was Giordino who 
nursed the weather-beaten derelict back to the harbor at Liminas. Fortunately 
the old boat had not been missed. . . no irate owner or local police officer 
waited on the beach to punish the yankee pirates for boat theft. To tie the dory 
up to its original mooring and walk across the beach to the main part of town 
took only a few minutes. Pitt, certain it was a waste of time, led Giordino a 
block out of their way to see if Athena was still attached to the corner 
mailbox. The donkey was gone, but immediately across the narrow street, over a 
neat little white plastered office building, a sign, lettered in English, 
advertised the Greek National Tourist Organization. The rest was simple; joining 
a tour, whose itinerary included the amphitheatre, and mingling with a group of 
sightseers, offered the perfect cover for reaching the labyrinth and gaining 
entrance to von Tills retreat without detection.
Giordino rubbed a sleeve across his damp brow.
Breaking and entering in the middle of the afternoon. Why cant we wait until 
dark like any other honorable burglars?
The sooner we nail von Till, the better. Pitt said. sharply. If hes off 
balance from the destruction of the Albatros this morning, the last thing he 
would expect is a resurrected Dirk Pitt in broad daylight
Giordino could easily feel and see the revenge in Pitts eyes. He remembered 
watching Pitt move slowly, painfully, as best he could, over the steep trail 
through the ruins without complaint He had also watched the bitterness, the 
hopelessness that took and held Pitts face after Gunn announced the 
disappearance of the mystery plane. There was something ominous about Pitts 
grim features and unmoving concentration. Giordino wondered dimly whether Pitt 
was driving himself with a sense of duty or with an insane compulsion for 
retaliation.
Youre sure this is the right way. It might be simpler to. . . 
This is the only way, Pitt interrupted. The Albatros wasnt eaten by a whale, 
yet it vanished without leaving a stray nut or bolt. Knowing the identity of the 
pilot could have settled a number of loose ends. We have no choice. The only 
course that lies open is to search the villa.
I still think we should take a squad of Air Police, Giordino said morosely, 
and crash in through the front door.
Pitt looked at him, then looked once more over his shoulder up the stairway. He 
knew exactly how Al Giordino felt, for he felt the same way himself. .
frustrated, unsure, grasping at every string that offered a small touch of hope 
for obtaining an answer, no matter how small, to the strange events of the past 
few days. Much depended on the next hour whether they could enter the villa 
unseen, whether they found evidence against von Till, whether Teri was a willful 
member of her uncles, as yet unknown, scheme. Pitt glanced at Giordino again 
saw the set brown eyes, the grim mouth, the knotted hands, saw all the signs of 
an intense mental concentration; concentration on the possible dangers that lay 
ahead. There was no better man to have on your side when the odds were long.
I cant seem to pound it through your thick head, he said quietly. This is 
Greek soil. We have no legal right to Invade a private residence. I couldnt 
begin to think of the problems it would cause our government if we broke in von 
Tills door. As it is now, if were caught by the Greek authorities, well play 
the roles of a couple of crewmen from the First Attempt who wandered into the 
underground passage during a guided tour to sleep off a shore leave drunk. They 
should buy that, they have no reason not to.
Thats why were not packing any weapons?
You guessed it, well have to risk a disadvantage to save a possible 
predicament. Pitt halted at the crumbling archway. The iron grillwork looked 
different in the daylight, not nearly so massive and indomitable as he 
remembered It. This is the place, he said, his fingers idly flaking a spot of 
dried blood from one of the rusting bars.
You squeezed through that? Giordino asked incredulously.
It was nothing, Pitt replied broadly grinning. Just another one of my many 
accomplishments. The grin quickly faded. Hurry, we dont have much time. The 
next tour will be through here in another forty-five minutes.
Giordino stepped up to the heavy bars and within seconds was a man absorbed with 
a difficult and hazardous job to do. He opened the flight bag and carefully 
removed the contents, laying them out in order on an old towel. Quickly, he 
fitted two small charges of
T.N.T. around a single bar, spacing them twenty inches apart, inserted the 
primer and heavily wrapped each charge under several layers of metal plumbers 
tape. Next he spun strands of heavy wire around the bulbous bands and then 
covered the wire with more layers of thick adhesive tape. A final look at the 
charges, imbedded in the thick wrappings like cocoons, and he connected the 
wires to the detonator. Obviously pleased with his handwork, the entire 
operation had taken less
than six minutes from start to finish, he motioned Pitt toward the safety of a 
wide block retaining wall. Slowly Giordino followed, walking backward, playing 
out wires leading from the detonator to the charges. At the wall, Pitt grasped 
him on the arm to draw his attention.
How far will the explosion be heard?
If I did it right, Giordino replied, it shouldnt sound any louder than a 
popgun to someone standing a hundred feet away.
Pitt stood on the lower base of the wall and hurriedly scanned a three hundred 
and sixty degree circle of landscape. Seeing no sign of human activity, he 
nodded, grinning at Giordino. I hope dropping in uninvited through the service 
entrance isnt beneath your dignity.
We Giordinos are pretty broadminded, he said, returning Pitts grin.
Shall we?
If you insist.
They both ducked below the top of the old wall, holding the sun-warmed stones 
with their hands to absorb any shock. Then Giordino turned the little plastic 
switch on the detonator.
Even at the short distance of ten or fifteen feet the sound of the explosion was 
nothing more than a mere thump. No shock wave trembled the ground, no black 
cloud of smoke or shooting flame belched from the archway, no deafening blast 
rattled their eardrums, only a small indefinable thump.
Swiftly, in a silence bred of expectancy, they leaped to their feet and rushed 
back to the iron gate. The two balls of tape were torn and smoldering, smelling 
like the burned out pungent odor of frizzled firecrackers. A tiny curl of smoke 
wound in a wake-like trail between the grill and disappeared into the damp 
darkness of the interior passage. The bar was still in place.
Pitt looked questioningly at Giordino. Not enough punch?
It was ample, Giordino said confidently. The charges were the right size to 
do the job. Please observe" He gave the bar a vigorous kick with his heel. It 
remained solid, unyielding. He kicked it again, this time harder, his mouth 
tight from jolting pain in his heel and sole. The top end of the bar broke 
loose, bending its jagged and torn tip inward until it lay on a horizontal 
plane. A tense smile creased Giordinos mouth and his teeth slowly spread into 
view.. And now for my next trick. .
Never mind, Pitt snapped brusquely. Lets get the hell going. Weve got to 
get to the villa and back in time to join the next tour.
How long will it take to get there?
Pitt was already climbing through the opening in the gate. Last night it took 
me eight hours to get out, we can get in in eight minutes.
How, you got a map?
Something even better, Pitt said quietly, almost grimly, pointing at the 
flight bag. Pass me the light.
Giordino reached into the bag. pulled out a large yellow light, nearly six 
inches in diameter, and passed it through the opening. Its big enough. What is 
it?
Alien Dive Bright Aluminum casing is waterproof to a nine hundred foot depth. 
Were not going diving, but its rugged and throws out a long narrow beam, 
backed by one hundred and eight thousand candlepower. Thats why I borrowed it 
from the ship.
Giordino said no more, merely shrugged and slipped between the bars, following 
Pitt into the passage. Hold on a second till I remove the evidence.
Giordinos stubby hands nimbly unwound the shredded wrappingsa pile of old 
fallen stones covered the smoldering remainsbefore he turned to face Pitt, 
squinting his eyes until they became accustomed to the dim light.
Pitt played his light into the darkness. Look there on the ground. See why I 
dont need the services of a detailed map?
The powerful beam spotlighted a broken trail of dried and caked blood leading 
down the steep uneven stairway. In a few places the red stains lay in scattered 
clusters, separated by occasional tiny round specks. Pitt descended the steps 
shivering, not so much from the sight of his old and discarded blood, but from 
the sudden change in temperature from the outside afternoon heat to the damp 
chill of the musty labyrinth. At the bottom he took off at a half trot, the 
swaying light in his hand casting a series of bouncing shadows that leaped from 
the crack-lined ceiling to the rough hewn rock floor. The loneliness and the 
fear that gripped him the night before was not present. Giordino, that 
indestructible sawed-off package of muscle, a trusted friend for many years, was 
beside him now. Damned if anyone or any barrier would stop him this time, he 
thought doggedly.
Passage after passage, like gaping mouths in the shadows slipped by. Pitt kept 
his eyes trained on the ground, analyzing the dark red spots. At the honeycombed 
intersections he paused briefly, studying the trail. If the blood led up a 
tunnel and then returned it meant a dead end. Wherever the course indicated a 
single line he pursued it. His body was aching and his vision was hazy at the 
outer edges; a bad sign. He was bone tired and felt it to the deadening tips of 
every nerve ending. Pitt stumbled and would have gone down, but Giordino grabbed 
his arm in a wrench-like grip, holding him erect.
Take it easy, Dirk, Giordino said firmly, his voice followed by a faint echo. 
No sense in overdoing it. Youre not in condition to play All American hero.
Its not far, Pitt said heavily. The dog should lie around the next couple of 
bends.
But the dog was gone. Only the hardened blood pools remained where the great 
white animal had thrashed out the final moments of life. Pitt stared mutely at 
the huge stains. The dank odor of blood permeated the passageway, adding to, but 
not quite overcoming, the musty atmosphere. He vividly recreated the. attack in 
his mind; the dogs gleaming eyes, the leap in the dark, the knife sinking into 
warm flesh, and the agonized animal howl.
Keep going, Pitt said grimly, all weariness forgotten. The entrance is only 
another eighty feet.
They plunged on amid the black depths of the mountain. Pitt didnt bother to 
watch the blood trail, he knew where he was to the inch: he so thoroughly 
recalled the feel of the walls and floor that he would have been completely 
confident of finding the door at a dead run without the flashlight and in 
absolute darkness. The light in his hand swayed in wild arcs as they pounded 
along into the modern corridor construction.
Suddenly the Dive Brites beam probed the massive door, holding it in a dazzling 
circle of light.
This is it, Pitt said softly between labored gasps for breath.
Giordino pushed his way past and knelt to the ground, examining the inside 
bolts. He wasted no time; already his fingers were probing the slight crack that 
separated the door from the frame molding.
Goddamn, he grunted.
What is it?
Big sliding latch on the outside. I dont have the equipment to jimmy it from 
this side.
Try the hinges, Pitt murmured. He aimed the light toward the opposite side of 
the door. Almost before he said it, Giordino had snatched a short pointed bar 
from the flight bag and was prying the long pins from their rusty shafts.
Giordino laid the hinge pins lightly on the ground and let Pitt ease the door 
open. It swung noiselessly, only an inch, at his touch. Pitt peeked through the 
widening crack, taking a swift look around, but there was no one in sight, no 
sound, except their own breathing.
Pitt pulled the door aside and dashed across the balcony, blinking in the harsh 
sunlight, and hurried up the stairway. Giordino, he knew, was right on his 
heels. The doorway to the study was open, the drapes blowing inward in billowing 
folds from an offshore westerly breeze. He flattened against the wall, listening 
for voices. Then seconds passed, ticking off to half a minute. The study was 
quiet. Nobody home, he thought, or if they are theyre an awfully dead group, 
Pitt took a deep breath, turned quickly, and stepped inside the room.
The study seemed quite empty. It was exactly as Pitt remembered it; the columns, 
classic furniture, the bar. His eyes sped around the room, stopping at the shelf 
containing the model submarine. He walked over and closely examined the 
workmanship on the miniature craft. The carved black mahogany that made up the 
hull and conning tower gleamed with a satin-like: sheen. Every detail from the 
rivets to a tiny embroidered Imperial German battle flag looked fantastically 
real, so much so that at any second Pitt half expected to see a diminutive crew 
leap out of a hatch and man the deck gun. The neatly painted numbers on the side 
of the conning tower identified it as the U-19, a close sister of the U-boat 
that torpedoed the Lusitania.
Pitt whirled sharply from the model as Giordinos fingers dug deeply in his arm, 
as Giordinos head leaned closely to his own.
I thought I heard something, the voice was a mere breath.
Where? Pitt asked in a whisper.
Im not sure, I couldnt get a good fix on it.
Giordino cocked his head, listening. Then he shrugged.
Just imagining things I guess.
Pitt turned back to the model submarine. Do you recall the number of the World 
War I sub that was sunk near here?
Giordino hesitated. Yeah.. . It was the U-19.
Why ask now?
Ill explain later. Come on, Al, lets get the hell out of here.
We just got here, Giordino complained, raising his voice to a murmur.
Pitt tapped the model. Weve found what we came for. . . 
He froze into sudden immobility, listening, his hand motioning a silence signal 
to Giordino.
Weve got company, he said under his breath.
Split up and circle around the far end of the room to that second column. Ill 
go along the windows.
Giordino nodded. He hadnt even raised an eyebrow.
A minute later their stealthy paths met, joining behind a long high backed sofa. 
Both men approached it cautiously and peered over the backrest.
Without moving, without uttering a word, Pitt stood rooted to the carpet. He 
stood there, it seemed to Giordino, for an eternity, his mind absorbing the 
shock of seeing Teri peacefully asleep on the sofa. But it was no eternity, it 
was probably only five seconds before Pitt acted.
Teri lay curled in a ball, her head resting on a huge humped armrest, her black 
hair falling in piles, nearly touching the floor. She wore a long red negligee 
that fluffed about her arms and covered her body from neck to toe, teasingly 
displaying the dark triangle below her belly and the two pink discs of her 
breasts through its diaphanous material Pitt whipped out his handkerchief and 
had it firmly stuffed in her mouth before she fully woke. Then snatching the hem 
of her negligee he yanked it above her head and knotted it around the arms, 
making her completely helpless. Teri began to struggle back to full 
consciousnessit was too late. Before she could fully grasp what was happening, 
she was roughly thrown over Giordinos shoulder and carted off into the sunlight
Youve got to be crazy, Giordino mumbled irritably when they reached the 
stairway. All this hassle to gawk at a toy and steal a broad.
Shut up and run, Pitt said without turning. He kicked the passage door aside 
and let Giordino enter first with his kicking burden. Then Pitt pushed the door 
back into place, aligning the hinge shafts before inserting the pins.
Why bother replacing the door? Giordino asked impatiently.
We got this far without detection, Pitt replied, grabbing the flight bag. I 
want to keep von Till in the dark as long as possible. Im betting he saw the 
obvious evidence of my wounds after the dogs attack, and thinks I wandered off 
into this honeycombed maze and bled to death.
Quickly, Pitt turned and ran through the corridor, holding the light low so 
Giordino, grunting under his struggling burden, could see where he was stepping. 
The thick coat of blackness, pierced by the small island of incandescence, 
opened briefly at their approach and then closed, returning the labyrinth back 
to its eternal night. One foot before the other, the endless routine repeated 
over and over. Their feet pounded across the hard floor, echoing through the 
darkness with a peculiar hollow sound.
The Dive Brite and flight bag clutched tightly in his hands, only dimly aware of 
the curious tingling in the pit of his stomach, Pitt rushed forward. Rapidly, 
with no attempt at stealthy caution, no expectancy of trouble, but with that 
strange inner sensation, half-belief of a man who has accomplished something he 
had thought was impossible. Im on the path of von Tills secret and Ive got 
his niece, Pitt said to himself again and again. But somehow a lingering fear 
prodded his mind.
Five minutes later they reached the stairway. Pitt stepped aside, holding the 
light on the steps, letting Giordino climb first. Then he turned, beaming the 
light back in the passage, taking a last look, and his face became grim. He 
wondered how few men and women too, had suffered but escaped from that 
honeycombed hell. One thing, he thought, no one will ever know fully the history 
of the labyrinth. Only the ghosts lingered, the bodies had long since turned to 
dust. Then his mouth twisted and he looked away. Without another backward 
glance, be mounted the steps for the last time, vastly relieved at seeing 
sunlight again at the top landing. He was half-way through the rusting bars, 
vaguely aware that Giordino was standing oddly quiet with Teri still slung over 
a shoulder, when he heard a loud contemptuous laugh roar beside the archway.
My compliments, gentlemen, on your exquisite taste in souvenirs. However, I 
feel it is my patriotic duty to inform you that the theft of valuable objects 
from historical sites is strictly forbidden under Greek law.
 
 
11
Pitt froze while his mind raced to absorb the shock. He stood there, one leg 
outside, the other bent awkwardly inside the passage for what seemed to him a 
lifetime. He threw the Dive Brite and the flight bag behind him down the 
stairway and then squinted, Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the bright 
sunlight: he could barely discern a vague, formless shape that detached itself 
from the low stone wall and moved in front of him.
I . . . I dont understand, Pitt mumbled dumbly, feigning a peasant kind of 
stupidity. Were not thieves.
Again the resounding laugh. And the blurred form transformed into the Greek 
National Tourist Organization guide who wore a broad, white toothed smile 
beneath his great moustache; a swarthy hand gripped a nine millimeter Clisenti 
automatic pistol, the barrel aimed directly at Pitts heart.
Not thieves, the guide said sarcastically in faultless English. Then 
kidnapers perhaps?
No, no, pleaded Pitt, a forced tremor in his voice.
Were only two lonely seamen on shore leave in a strange land having a bit of 
fun. He winked and grinned a knowing grin. You understand.
Yes, I understand perfectly. The gun remained level and steady as a rock. 
That is why you are under arrest.
Pitt could feel a knot deep down under in his stomach, the dry, sandy taste of 
defeat in his mouth. God, this was a worse set-back than he had feared: it could 
be the end of everything a trial and then expulsion from the country. He kept 
the stupid. insipid expression on his face. Then he stepped forward from the 
gate, making an imploring gesture with his hands.
You must believe me. We havent kidnapped anybody. Look, he said pointing to 
Teris upended and naked bottom. This woman is nothing but a village whore we 
found wallowing in a pig sty of a taverna. She told us to take the tour of the 
ruins, promising to meet us at the amphitheatre.
The guide looked amused. He reached out with his free hand and fingered the 
material of Teris negligee, than ran his finger tips lightly over her smooth, 
rounded mounds, triggering a spasm of thrashing legs and feet.
Tell me, he said slowly. How much did she charge?
At first she asked two drachmas, said Pitt sullenly. But after the fun and 
games she tried to hold us up for twenty drachmas. We, of course, refused to 
pay.
Of course, the guide replied dully.
He speaks the truth, burst Giordino, the words rushed as if he couldnt get 
them out fast enough. This dirty tramp is the thief, not us.
A masterly performance, said the guide. A pity it is wasted on such a small 
audience. We Greeks may lead simple, mundane lives compared to you of more 
sophisticated countries, but we do not possess simple minds. He gestured the 
gun toward Teri. This girl is no cheap prostitute. Expensive maybe, but not 
cheap. Her skin also makes you out a liar, its far too white.
Our island girls are famous for their rich, dark texture
and full hips. Hers are much too narrow.
Pitt said nothing. He watched the guide carefully, Waiting for an opening. Any 
movement on his part, he knew, would trigger Giordino into instantaneous action. 
The Greek looked a dangerous man, cunning and alert, but there was no hint of 
sadistic antagonism that Pitt could see in the dark, sun wrinkled features. The 
guide
beckoned to Giordino.
Release the girl, let us have a look at her other end.
Giordino, without taking his eyes off Pitt, slowly dropped Teri, letting her 
slide down his shoulder to the ground. She stood drunkenly for a moment, unsure 
of her balance, arms upraised in their trapped position, and swaying like a 
giant tulip in the wind until Giordino untied the knotted negligee above her 
head. As soon as she was free, Teri tore the gag from her mouth and stared at 
Giordino with white hot hatred in her eyes.
You bloody, rotten bastard, she screamed.
Whats the meaning of this?
It wasnt my idea, sweetheart, said Giordino, his eyebrows arching slyly. 
Talk to your friend over there. He jerked his thumb towards Pitt.
Her head spun in Pitts direction, and she opened her mouth to say something, 
but choked off the words with a gasp. The big hazel eyes reflected astonishment 
for an instant, then they changed with blinking speed to icy coldness, then to a 
glowing twinkle of warmth. She threw her arms about Pitt and kissed him 
fervently, too fervently, he thought, under the circumstances.
Dirk, it really is you, she sobbed. Back there in the darkness, your voice . 
. . I couldnt be sure. I thought you were. . . I thought Id never see you 
again.
It seems, he said grinning, our meetings are a never-ending, constant source 
of surprise.
Uncle Bruno said .you wouldnt call me, ever.
Dont believe all you hear from an uncle.
Teri discovered the bandage on his nose and gently touched it. Youve been 
hurt. Her voice held a blend of concern and distress. Did Uncle Bruno do that? 
Did he threaten you?
No, I was climbing some stairs and tripped and fell, he said, slightly 
distorting the truth. Thats all there was to it.
What is this all about? the guide asked in exasperation. His gun hand was 
beginning to droop. Will the young lady please be so kind as to tell her name?
I am the niece of Bruno von Till, she said testily. And I dont see how that 
concerns you.
There was a sharp exclamation from the Greek and he took a couple of steps 
forward, studying Teris face closely. For almost half a minute he stared at 
her, then slowly, with deliberate ease, raised the gun level again, still 
pointing at Pitt. Once, twice he tugged at his moustache, nodding in thoughtful 
perplexity.
You may speak the truth, he said quietly. Then again you may be lying to 
protect these two unpleasant looking scum.
Your ridiculous insinuations are of no importance to me, Teri thrust out her 
chin, matching its protruding uplift with her breasts. I demand you put down 
that hideous gun and leave us alone. My uncle has great influence with the 
island authorities. One word from him and youll find yourself rotting your 
miserable life away in a mainland prison.
I am well aware of Bruno von Tills influence, the guide said indifferently. 
Unfortunately it makes little impression on me. The final decision concerning 
your arrest or release rests entirely with my superior in Panaghia, Inspector 
Zacynthus. He will wish to see you. Any lies to him and your immediate futures 
shall be very lamentable indeed. If you will all please step behind the wall, 
you will find a pathway leading approximately two hundred yards to a waiting 
car He swung the gun from Pitt to Teri. A warning, gentlemen. Do not entertain 
any thoughts of a foolish move. If I detect even a slight facial tic on either 
of you, I shall place a bullet in the brain of this delicate and lovely 
creature. Now, shall we proceed?
Five minutes later they all reached the car, a black Mercedes parked 
inconspicuously under a copse of fir trees. The drivers door was open and a man 
dressed in a spotless ice cream suit sat casually behind the wheel with one foot 
solidly planted on the ground outside. At their approach he rose and opened the 
rear door.
Pitt looked at the man for a long moment. The contrast between the neatly 
pressed white suit and the dark ugly face presented an impressive picture. About 
two inches above Pitts own height, the man looked like a chiseled stone 
colossus, and just as solid. He had the largest set of shoulders Pitt had ever 
seen, and must have weighted at least 260 pounds. The face was misproportioned 
and strikingly repulsive, and yet there was a strange sort of beauty about it; 
the kind that artists sought to capture on canvas. Pitt wasnt fooled. He could 
read a man who had an indifferent attitude toward killing. His paths had crossed 
many times with lovable looking brutes who murdered as if it were a 
run-of-the-mill, everyday routine.
The guide stepped back and walked around to the front of the car. He nodded at 
the other man.
We have guests, Darius. Three little goats who have lost their way. We will 
take them to Inspector Zacynthus. They can stage their little act for him. He 
turned to Pitt. You will enjoy the Inspectors company; he is an excellent 
listener.
Darius soberly gestured at the back seat. You two In here, the girl rides in 
front His voice was what one would have expected, deep and rasping.
Pitt relaxed against the seat and ran through a dozen different plans for 
escape, each with less chance of success than the previous one. The guide had 
them by the testicles as long as Teri was present Without her, he thought, he 
and Giordino stood tossup odds of overpowering the guide and grabbing the gun. 
There was also the possibility that if they made an attempt the guide wouldnt 
have the courage to shoot a woman, but Pitt wasnt about to risk Teris life to 
find out. The guide bowed with obviously forced courtesy.
Be a gentleman, Darius, and offer the lovely young lady your coat. Her ... ab 
.. . prominent attractions might prove embarrassing and somewhat distracting as 
we drive.
Dont bother, Teri said contemptuously. Ill not wear that bloody apes coat. 
I have nothing I want to hide. Besides, itll give me great pleasure to see a 
greasy worm like you squirm.
The guides eyes grew cold, then lie united thinly and shrugged. As you wish.
Teri lifted her negligee lightly around her thighs and climbed into the car. The 
guide followed, sandwiching her between him and the bilking Darius who hunched 
over the steering wheel. Then the Mercedes diesel engine knocked into life and 
the car started rolling over the narrow, twisting road; on many stretches edged 
by deep and marsh covered ditches. The guides flickering eyes bounced from Pitt 
to Giordino and back again, never once twitching the automatic glued to Teris 
right ear. His determined vigilance and unflagging concentration was, it seemed 
to Pitt, unduly fanatical.
Pitt, warily watching for any negative sign from the guide, very slowly 
extracted a cigarette from his breast pocket and just as slowly lit it.
Tell me, whatever your name is . . .
Polycitus Anaxamander Zeno, the guide offered. At your service.
Tell me Pitt repeated without an attempt at pronouncing Zenos full name. How 
did you happen to be coiled back there at the passage when we came out?
I have an inquisitive nature, Zeno said through a twisted smile. When I 
perceived that you and your friend had mysteriously disappeared from my tour, I 
asked myself: What would those two surly looking characters find in the ruins 
that would interest them? The answer eluded my humble mind so I turned my 
gawking entourage over to a fellow guide and returned to the amphitheatre. You 
were nowhere to be found. Then I spied the broken bar in the gate. .. no great 
feat I assure you; I know every stone and crack on the site. Certain you would 
reappear, I sat and waited.
Youd have felt like an idiot if we hadnt
It was only a question of that. There is no other way out of the Pit of Hades.
The Pit of Hades? Pitts curiosity was aroused.
Why do you call it that?
I find your sudden interest in archaeology quite unexpected. However, since you 
ask . . . There was puzzlement in Zenos eyes, yet a mixture of attention and 
amusement. During the golden age of Greece, our ancestors held their criminal 
trials in the amphitheatre. This location was chosen because their juries 
consisted of one hundred elected townspeople. It was their contention, and a 
very wise one, that the more people who rendered a judgment, the more just the 
verdict. In a matter of circumstantial evidence, the defendant, if decided 
guilty, was given a choice of instant death or the Pit of Hades
What was so bad about the pit? Giordino asked, his eyes trained on the 
reflection of Darius face in the rearview mirror, sizing him up.
The pit was in reality not a pit, Zeno continued. But rather a vast 
underground labyrinth with a hundred different passages and only two openings, 
an entrance and a hidden exit, which was a closely guarded secret.
At least the condemned were given an opportunity to reach freedom. Pitt 
flicked an ash into the tray on the armrest
The choice was not as opportune as it might appear. You see, the labyrinth 
contained a very hungry lion who had little to eat, except, of course, an 
occasional passing felon.
Pitts studied calm folded end his face turned grim, but he quickly gained 
control again. The picture of von Tills smirking features entered his mind 
again. Why did the old kraut, he wondered, use historical events to cloak his 
mysterious schemes? Perhaps this obsession for dramatics might prove to be the 
chink in von Tills armor. Pitt sat back and drew deeply on his cigarette.
A fascinating myth.
I assure you it is no myth, Zeno said seriously. The number of condemned 
Greeks who died In the Pit of Hades, their screams echoing through the dark 
tunnels, is endless. Even in recent years, before the entrance was barred, 
several people wandered into the pit and vanished, swallowed up by the unknown. 
There is no record of a successful escape.
Pitt flipped his cigarette through an open window
into the passing countryside. He looked at Giordino, then more slowly at Zeno. A 
smug grin spread across his face and widened into a broad smile.
Zeno stared at Pitt speculatively. Then he gave an
uncomprehending shrug and motioned to Darius. Darius nodded and a few seconds 
later the Mercedes turned onto the main road. The wheels sped over the worn two
lane pavement. The trees, lining the shoulders like forgotten sentinels, flashed 
past in a blur of dust and green
leaves. The air was cooler now, and, twisting around in the seat, Pitt could see 
the setting suns rays strike the bald, tree-bare peak of Hypsaxion, the highest 
point on the island. He remembered reading somewhere that a Greek poet had 
described Thasos as a wild asss back, covered with wild wood. Though the 
description was twenty-seven hundred years old, he thought, it was still true 
today.
And then, Darius back-shifted and the Mercedes was slowing down. It turned 
again, this time leaving the highway, its tires crunching on a rough, 
gravel-strewn country lane that led upward Into a wooded ravine.
Why Darius had left the main road before reaching Panaghia Pitt could not guess, 
any more than he could guess why Zeno acted the part of an armed undercover 
agent instead of a friendly tourist guide. That old feeling of danger tapped 
Pitt on the shoulder again, and he felt a tinge of uncontrolled anxiety.
The Mercedes bumped heavily over a dip, rose steeply up a long ramp and entered 
a large barn like building through a doorway that had been designed to 
accommodate heavy trucks requiring high roof clearances. The weather-beaten 
walls of the wooden structure were covered with the remnants of gray-green 
paint, long since peeled and blistered from the fierce Aegean sun. An instant 
before the inside gloom enveloped the car, Pitt caught a glimpse of an overhead 
sign whose faded black letters were printed in German. Then, as Darius turned 
off the ignition, he heard the sound of rusty rollers creaking the door shut 
behind them.
The Greek International Tourist Organization must work under a damn paltry 
budget if this is the best they can scrape up for an office, Pitt said 
caustically, his eyes darting about the vast, deserted floor.
Zeno merely smiled.. It was a smile that left Pitts heart pounding against an 
enormous pressure, as if something was holding it, constricting Its action. An 
inner coldness crept over him, bringing with it the acknowledgment of failure, 
the acknowledgment that he had somehow played into von Tills hands.
Pitt had been aware all along that G.N.T.O. guides do not carry guns or have the 
authority to make an armed arrest. He also knew that the guides drove around the 
island in boldly-advertised and gaily-colored Volkswagen buses, not black, 
unmarked Mercedes-Benz sedans. Time was getting expensive. He and Giordino must 
make a move, and make it soon.
Zeno opened the rear door and stepped back. He made a slight bow and gestured 
with the gun.
Please remember, he said, his tone rock hard. No foolishness.
Pitt climbed from the car and turned, offering his hand to Teri through the open 
front door. She looked up at him seductively for a moment and, squeezing his 
hand gently, slowly uncoiled from her sitting position.
Then quickly, before Pitt could react, she threw her
arms around his neck and pulled his head down to her level. Both pairs of eyes 
were open, Pitts mostly from surprise, as she brazenly covered his sweating 
face with kisses.
It never fails, Pitt thought in detached fascination, no matter how cool or 
sophisticated they act toward the world, show a woman danger and adventure and 
theyll always turn on. Its really a pity, shes ready but its the wrong time 
and the wrong place. He forced her back.
Later, he murmured, when our audience has gone home.
A most stimulating little scene, said Zeno impatiently. Come along, Inspector 
Zacynthus rapidly loses all compassion when he is kept waiting.
Zeno dropped about five paces behind the group, holding the automatic at hip 
level Darius then escorted them across the football field length of the 
building, up a rickety flight of wooden stairs that led to a hallway, lined on 
both sides by several doors. Darius paused at the second door on the Left and 
pushed it open, motioning Pitt and Giordino inside. Teri started to follow but 
was suddenly halted by a huge barrel of an arm.
Not you, Darius grunted.
Pitt whirled around, anger clouding his face. She stays with us, he said 
coldly.
No need to play rescuing hero, Zeno said lightly, reinforced with an 
expression of seriousness. I promise you, no harm will come to her.
Pitt studied Zenos face carefully, finding no sign of treachery. For some 
strange reason Pitt experienced a marked degree of trust in his captor.
Ill take you at your word, he growled.
Dont worry, Dirk, Teri threw an icy look at Zeno. As soon as this stupid 
inspector, whoever he is, finds out who I am, well all be free of these 
wretched people.
Zeno ignored her and nodded at Darius. Guard our friends here, guard them 
closely. I suspect theyre very cunning.
I'll be alert, Darius promised confidently. He waited until Zeno and Teri, 
padding the dusty floor in her bare feet, were gone. Then he closed the door and 
leaned lazily against it, arms folded across his massive chest.
Personally speaking, Giordino muttered, for the first time since the ride from 
the rains, I prefer the accommodations at the Hotel San Quentin. His gaze 
focused on Darius. At least the roaches werent king size.
Pitt grinned at Giordinos insulting comment to Darius and scanned the room, 
taking in every detail of Its construction. It was small, no larger than nine by 
ten feet. The walls consisted of warped boards nailed crudely to warped support 
posts that stood facing inward at irregular intervals, in rotted and barren 
starkness. The room was void of any furniture and windowless; the only available 
light came through large horizontal cracks in the walls and a jagged hole in the
roof.
If I was to guess, said Pitt. Id say this place was a deserted warehouse.
youre close, Darius volunteered. The Germans used this building for an 
ordnance depot when
they occupied the island in forty-two.
Pitt pulled out a cigarette and casually lit it. To offer Darius a cigarette 
would have immediately put the brute on his guard. Instead, Pitt took a step 
backward and began tossing the lighter in the air, each time tossing it a little 
higher till he noticed Darius following it
out of the corner of one eye. Once, twice, four times the lighter sailed into 
the air. On the fifth toss it fell through Pitts fingers and clattered on the 
floor. He shrugged stupidly and bent down, picking it up.
Pitt charged Darius harder than he had ever charged any halfback, any 
quarterback, in his Air Force academy days. Lunging forward from a football 
crouch, his feet dug firmly into the coarse grained wood of the floor, he thrust 
his head and shoulders like a battering ram, backed with every driving ounce of 
power his muscular legs and one hundred and ninety pounds could muster. At the 
instant before impact, he drove upward, catching Darius in the unprotected 
stomach just above the beltline. It was like running at full speed into a brick 
wall, and Pitt gasped at the shock: it felt as if his neck was broken.
In football terminology it was called a running block, a vicious, maiming block, 
and it would have put most unprepared men in a hospital bed: all others it would 
have left on the ground in momentary stunned helplessnessall others, that is, 
except Darius. The giant merely grunted, doubled over slightly from the force of 
the blow, and grabbed Pitt by the biceps, lifting him off the floor.
Pitt went numb. The shock and the pain that erupted from his arms and neck gave 
way to utter surprise that any man could not only take such a charge and remain 
standing but shake it off like a love tap. Darius pushed him against the wall, 
slowly bending Pitts body, like a vertical pretzel, around an upright support 
post. The pain really began to come now. Pitt clenched his teeth and stared into 
Dariuss expressionless face, only a few inches away. His spine felt as if it 
would snap at any second. His vision began to fade.
Darius just stood there, eyes gleaming, and increased the pressure.
Suddenly the pressure stopped and Pitt dimly perceived Darius staring back, his 
lips working, fighting for breath. Mutely Darius mouthed an agonized groan and 
sank to his knees, weaving silently from side to side.
Giordino, blocked by Pitts frontal assault, was forced to stand by helplessly 
till Darius swung sideways, pinning Pitt to the wall. Then, without hesitation, 
he hurled himself across the room, his legs jackknifing open, his feet imbedded 
in Darius kidneys. He braced himself, half expecting the giants body to absorb 
most of the force from the violent blow. It didnt work out that way. It was if 
a handball had struck a backstop:
Giordino rebounded off Darius with a tooth loosening jolt and crashed jarringly 
to the floor, badly stunned. For a moment he lay quite still, then dazedly he 
began struggling to his hands and knees, shaking his bead back and forth to 
clear the waves of blackness that threatened to engulf his conscious mind.
It was too late. Darius was the first to recover, triumph etched in every scar 
of his ugly face. He lunged at Giordino, the great mass of his weight crushing 
the smaller man beneath him. There was an evil grin on Darius face now, a 
sadistic sign of the violence yet to come. Iron hands clasped together, fingers 
interlocking, around Giordinos head and squeezedsqueezed with the unrelenting 
pressure of a closing vise.
For what seemed like unending seconds Giordino lay inert, fighting off the 
shooting pain that burst in his skull from the crushing palms. Then he stirred, 
slowly raised his hands and grabbed Darius around the thumbs and pulled 
downward. For his size Giordino was strong as an ox, but he was no match for the 
man who towered above him. Darius, seemingly oblivious to the bone twisting 
pull, hunched his shoulders and exerted an even greater effort.
Pitt was still on his feet, but just barely. His back was a spreading sea of 
pain that flowed to every part of his body. Numbly he stared at the murderous 
scene on the floor. Move you stupid bastard, he screamed to himself, move fast. 
He clutched the wall with both hands, preparing to launch himself at Darius. 
Something gave behind him, and he swung around, new hope ablaze in his eyes.
A wall plank had torn loose from the support post and was dangling at a crazy 
angle, one end still held by rusty nails. Frantically he jerked at it, first one 
way then the other, until metal fatigue broke the nails and the board, about 
four feet long and an inch in thickness, tore free from the post. God, if only 
it wasnt too late.
Pitt raised the board above his head and, drawing on the last of his ebbing 
strength, brought it down on the back of Darius neck.
Pitt would never again forget the shock of hopelessness and despair that flooded 
through his mind at that moment as the rotted plank shattered with all the 
harmless force of a piece of peanut brittle around the giants shoulders. 
Without turning, Darius let loose of Giordinos temples, giving his victim a 
brief respite, and struck Pitt with a sweeping backhand blow that caught him in 
the stomach and sent him reeling across the room to fall limply against the 
doorway and melt slowly down to the floor.
Somehow, clutching the door knob, Pitt pulled himself to his feet and stood 
there swaying drunkenly, conscious of nothing, not even the pain, the blood that 
began to seep through the bandages onto his shirt, and Giordinos face, now 
turning blue under the tremendous hands. One more try, he told himself, knowing 
it would be his last. Pitts mind slowed down. The forgotten words of a marine 
drill sergeant, he once met in a Honolulu. bar, returned and pounded into his 
brain. The biggest, toughest, meanest sonovabitch in the world will always go 
down, and go down fast, from a good swift kick in the balls.
Weakly, he staggered behind the crouching Darius, who was too intent on killing 
Giordino to notice him.
Pitt aimed and kicked Darius between the legs. His toe collided with bone and 
something that was rubbery and soft. Darius released Giordini's head and threw 
his monstrous hands upward, fingers clawing at the air. Then he rolled over on 
his side, twisting about the floor in silent agony.
Welcome to the land of the walking dead, Pitt said, lifting Giordino to a 
sitting position.
Did we win? Giordino asked in a whisper.
Just barely. Hows your head?
I wont know till I look for it.
Dont worry, Pitt grinned. Its still attached to your neck.
Giordino gently probed his hairline between his fingers. Christ, my skull feels 
like it has more cracks than a broken windshield.
Pitt cast a wary look at Darius. The giant, ashen faced and breathing heavily, 
was stretched out full length on the dusty floor, both hands clutched over his 
crotch.
The partys over, Pitt said, helping Giordino to his feet. Lets disappear 
before Frankenstein recovers.
Suddenly, the ominous click, the hollow thud of the door flung open against its 
stop, froze Pitt and Giordino in their tracks. They had no warning, not even a 
moment to brace themselves, nothing except the knowledge that time had run out 
and they could fight no more.
Then a tall, thin man with large sad eyes sauntered easily into the room, one 
hand shoved casually into the pants pocket of an expensive ivy-league suit.
He stared at Pitt pensively for a long moment over the bowl of a long-stemmed 
pipe, gripped tenaciously between uncommonly even teeth. Like an account 
executive who just stepped out of an advertising agency, he looked suave, neat 
and citified. His free hand, in a practiced gesture, reached up and removed the 
pipe.
Sorry to invade your privacy, gentlemen. Im Inspector Zacynthus.
 
12
 
Zacynthus was hardly what Pitt had expected. There could be no doubt about it, 
the slurred accent, the neatly styled hair, the casual introduction: Zacynthus 
was an American.
Ten seconds, each spent scrutinizing every detail of Pitt and Giordino, elapsed 
before Zacbynthus slowly turned and looked down at the moaning Darius. 
Zacynthus face seemed glacial with elaborate indifference, but the tone of his 
voice betrayed bewilderment.
Remarkable, truly remarkable. I didnt think it was possible. He looked at 
Pitt and Giordino again, this time with mixed doubt and admiration written in 
his eyes. For a highly trained professional to even lay a hand on Darius is 
considered a great accomplishment, but for a pair of sad looking underdogs like 
you to wipe the floor with him is nothing short of miraculous. Your names, my 
friends?
A devilish glint flashed in Pitts green eyes. My little companion is David, 
and Im Jack the Giant Killer.
Zacynthus smiled a tired smile. "The day is long and hot, and youve 
incapacitated one of my best men. Please dont compound my misery with sick 
humor.
In that case, Dirk, Giordino murmured slyly. Tell him the one about the 
nymphomaniac and the guitar player.
Come now, Zacynthus said, as if talking to children. I have no time to waste 
on such drivel information if you please! Well begin with your correct names.
Screw you, Pitt snapped angrily. We didnt beg to be dragged here by that ape 
who calls himself Zeno, and we didnt ask to be pushed around by Earthquake 
MaGoon there on the floor. Weve done nothing illegal immoral perhaps, but not 
illegal. if you hope to get any answers from us, I suggest you supply a few 
yourself.
Zacynthus stared at Pitt. his lips pressed tightly together. Your arrogance 
aroused my professional curiosity, he said tartly; During the years since I 
chose investigation as my lifes work Ive confronted scores of shrewd and 
dangerous felons. A few have spit in my face and threatened revenge, some stood 
immovable and silent, still others begged on their knees for mercy. But you, my 
bedraggled friend, have to be different He waved his pipe accusingly at Pitt. 
By God, its classic, truly classic. I look forward to matching my wits against 
yours at the interrogation.
He broke off as Zeno stepped into the room. The Greek started to say something, 
but his mouth hung open and his great moustache appeared to droop in 
astonishment when he spied Darius, now sitting up in a tight ball Great 
thunderbolts of Zeus, my inspector, what has happened?
You should have warned Darius to be more careful.
But I did warn him, Zeno explained apologetically. Even then, for Darius to 
be overpowered; I did not think it possible.
My words exactly. Zacynthus knocked the ashes from his pipe. See what you can 
do for our poor friend. Im going to take these men to my office and determine 
if theyre as cunning with words as they are with their hands and feet.
After what they did here, do you think it wise, my inspector, to be alone with 
them?
I think they realize they have nothing to gain by further physical activity. 
Zacynthus threw Pitt and Giordino a bantering smile. Just to be on the safe 
side, Zeno, handcuff the little ones right wrist to this clever devils left 
ankle. Not a foolproof restraint method, by any means, but at least it will make 
resistance somewhat inconvenient.
Quickly Zeno pulled a pair of chromium plated handcuffs from a clip on his belt, 
unsnapped the ratchets and secured them into place, leaving Giordino in an 
awkward stooped position.
Pitt glanced up through the hole in the roof at the evening sky. It was 
darkening by the moment as the sunlight began to retreat. His back still ached, 
but he felt grateful that it was Giordino, and not he, who was bent double. He 
flexed his shoulders, wincing at the pain that erupted from every square inch of 
his torso, then he looked back at Zacynthus.
What have you done with Teri? ho asked quietly.
Shes quite safe, Zacynthus replied. As soon as I can verify her claim of 
being von Tills niece, I shall release her.
What about us? Giordinos voice reached up.
In due time, Zacynthus said curtly, motioning to the doorway. After you, 
gentlemen.
Two minutes later, with Giordino clumsily shuffling beside Pitt, they entered 
Zacynthus office. It was a small room but efficiently furnished; complete with 
detailed aerial photographs of Thasos tacked to the walls, three telephones, and 
a short-wave radio, conveniently placed on a table directly behind an old 
scratched and battered desk. Pitt looked around surprised. The whole set-up was 
too neat, too professional. Quickly he decided that his best hope still lay in a 
crude show of hostility.
This looks more like the command headquarters of a general than the office of a 
two-bit police inspector.
You and your friend are brave men, Zacynthus said wearily. Your acts have 
proved it. But its stupid of you to continue the role of an oaf. Though, I 
admit, you do it very well. He walked around the desk and sat down in an 
obviously unoiled swivel chair. This time the truth. Your names please?
Pitt paused before replying. He was puzzled and angry at the same time. The 
strange, off-beat operation of his captors puzzled him.
There was a curious feeling, almost a cold certainty in his subconscious mind 
that he had nothing to fear. These people did not fit his conception of 
run-of-the-mill Greek policemen. And if they were on von Tills payroll, why 
were they so dead-set on merely obtaining his and Giordinos names; unless, 
perhaps, the cats were toying with the mice.
Well? Zacynthus voice hardened to a sharp edge.
Pitt pulled himself erect, and took a gamble.
Pitt, Dirk Pitt, Director of Special Projects, United States National 
Underwater Marine Agency.
And the gentleman on my left is Albert Giordino, my Assistant Director.
Most certainly, and Im the Prime Minister of
Zacynthus broke off in midsentence: his eyebrows rose sharply, and he leaned 
across the desk, gazing directly into Pitts eyes.
Lets have that again. What did you say your name was? His voice this time was 
soft and patronizing.
Dirk Pitt
Zacynthus did not move or speak for a full ten seconds. Then he slowly settled 
back, visibly off balance.
Youre lying, you must be lying,
"Am I?
Your fathers name? Zacynthus still stared unblinkingly at Pitt.
Senator George Pitt of California.
Describe him; appearance, history, family Pitt sat down on the edge of the 
desk and pulled
out a cigarette. He fumbled for his lighter, then remembered it was still lying 
on the floor of the room where It had fallen when he charged Darius.
Zacynthus struck a wooden match against a drawer and held it for him.
Pitt nodded a grateful thank you.
Pitt spoke for ten minutes without stopping, Zacynthus listened thoughtfully, 
moving only once to switch on a dim overhead lamp as the daylight outside the 
window faded slowly away. Finally he raised his hand.
That will do. You must be his son, the person you claim to be. But what are you 
doing on Thasos?
NUMAs Chief Director, Admiral James Sandecker, assigned Giordino and myself to 
investigate a series of strange accidents that have recently plagued one of our 
oceanographic research vessels.
Ah yes, the white ship anchored beyond Brady Field. Now Im beginning to 
understand.
Thats nice, Giordino said sarcastically from his uncomfortable stance. Im 
sorry to interrupt, but if my bladder isnt relieved soon, youre going to have 
an accident right here on the office floor.
Pitt grinned at Zacynthus. Hed do it too.
A speculative look crossed Zacynthus eyes, then he shrugged and pressed a 
hidden button under the desk top. Instantly the door flew open,, revealing Zeno 
with the Glisenti firmly gripped in one hand.
Trouble, my Inspector?
Zacynthus ignored the question. Put away your gun, remove the handcuffs and 
showahMister Giordino to our sanitation facilities.
Zenos eyebrows lifted. Are you certain
Its all right, old friend. These men are no longer our prisoners, they are our 
guests.
Without another word or any outward sign of surprise, Zeno holstered the 
automatic and released Giordino, escorting him down the hall.
Now its my turn for answers, Pitt said, exhaling a transparent cloud of 
bluish smoke. Whats your connection with my father?
Senator Pitt is well known and respected in Washington. He serves honorably and 
efficiently on several senate committees. One of which is the Narcotic Drugs 
Committee.
That still doesnt explain where you come in.
Zacynthus pulled a well-worn tobacco pouch from a coat pocket and idly filled 
his pipe, carefully tamping it with a small coin.
Because of my lengthy experience and my investigations in the field of 
narcotics I have often served as liaison between your fathers committee and my 
employer.
Pitt looked up puzzled. Employer?
Yes, Uncle Sam pays my salary just as he does yours, my dear Pitt. Zacynthus 
grinned. My apologies for the late formal introduction. Im Inspector Hercules 
Zacynthus, Federal Bureau of Narcotics. My friends just call me Zac, Id be 
honored if you do the same.
All doubts flew from Pitts mind and the relief of certainty covered him like a 
comforting cool wave from the sea. His muscles relaxed, and he became aware of 
how tense he had been, how keyed-up his thoughts and nerves were against the 
unknown dangers of the situation. Carefully, holding back an urge to tremble, ho 
crushed his cigarette in an ashtray.
Arent you a little out of your territory?
Geographically yes, professionally no. Zac paused to puff his pipe into life. 
About a month ago the Bureau received a report through INTERPOL that a massive 
shipment of heroin was loaded aboard a freighter in Shanghai. . .
One of Bruno von Tills ships?
How did you know? Zacs voice was quizzical.
A wry smile crossed Pitts lips. Just a guess. Im sorry for interrupting, 
please continue.
The ship, a Minerva Lines freighter called the Queen Artemisia, left the 
Shanghai harbor three weeks ago with a seemingly innocent cargo manifest of 
soybeans, frozen pork, tea, paper and carpets. Zac could not help grinning. 
Quite a variety, I admit.
And the destination?
The first port of call was Colombo in Ceylon. Here the ship unloaded the 
Communist Chinese trade goods and took on a new cargo of grapbite and cocoa.
After a fuel stop at Marseille, the Queen Artemisias next and final port is 
Chicago via the Saint Lawrence Seaway.
Pitt thought a moment. "Why Chicago? Surely New York, Boston or the other 
eastern seaboard ports are better equipped by the underworld to handle foreign 
drug shipments.
Why not Chicago? Zac retorted. The Windy City is the greatest distribution 
and transportation center in the good old United States. What better place to 
dump one hundred and thirty tons of uncut heroin.
Pitt looked up, disbelief etched on his face. Thats impossible. No one on this 
earth could get that kind of an amount through a customs inspection.
No one, that is, except Bruno von Till. The voice was a low murmur, and Pitt 
suddenly felt cold.
Its not his real name of course. That was lost somewhere in his past, long 
before he became an elusive smuggler, the most diabolic and crafty purveyor of 
human misery of all time. Zac swung around and gazed unseeing out the window. 
Captain Kidd, the blockade runners of the Confederacy and all the slave traders 
rolled into one couldnt hold a candle to von Tills setup.
You make him sound like the arch villain of the century. Pitt ventured. What 
did he do to deserve the honor?
Zac flickered a glance at him, then looked again through the window.
The numerous revolutionary bloodbaths suffered by Central and South America in 
the last twenty years would never have occurred without secret arms shipments 
from Europe. Do you recall the great Spanish gold theft of nineteen fifty-four? 
Spains already shaky economy nearly toppled after a large government gold 
reserve vanished from the secret vaults of the Ministry of Treasury. Shortly 
after, Indias black market was glutted with gold bars bearing the crest of 
Spain. How was a cargo that size smuggled seven thousand miles? Its still a 
mystery. But we do know a Minerva Lines freighter left Barcelona the night of 
the theft and arrived in Bombay a day before the gold appeared.
The swivel chair squeaked, and Zac refaced Pitt. The inspectors melancholy eyes 
looked vague and lost in contemplation.
Immediately prior to Germanys surrender in World War II, he continued, 
eighty-five high ranking Nazis suddenly materialized in Buenos Aires on the 
same day. How did they get there? Again, the only ship arrival that morning was 
a Minerva Lines freighter. Again in the summer of nineteen fifty-four an entire 
bus load of teenage school girls disappeared on an outing in Naples. Four years 
later an Italian embassy aid discovered one of the missing girls wandering 
aimlessly through one of the back alleys of Casablanca. Zac paused for nearly a 
minute, then went on very quietly. She was completely insane. I saw photographs 
of her body. It was enough to make a grown man cry.
And her story? Pitt prompted gently.
She remembered being carried aboard a ship with a large M painted on the 
funnel. That was the only thing she said that made any sense. The rest was 
insane babble.
Pitt waited for more, but Zac had fallen silent, relighting his pipe and filling 
the room with a sweet aromatic odor.
White slavery is a rotten business, Pitt said! tersely.
Zac nodded. Those are only four cases of hundred, that are indirectly connected 
to von Till. If I could quote word for word from the INTERPOL files we would be 
sitting here for a month, and then some. 
Do you think von Till masterminds the crimes? 
No, the old devil is much too smart to become involved in the actual deed. He 
merely supplies the transportation. Smuggling is his game, and on a grand scale 
at that.
Why In hell hasnt the filthy bastard been stopped? Pitt asked half angry, 
half confused.
I wish I could answer that without a feeling of shame, Zac shook his head 
sadly. But I cant. Nearly
every law enforcement agency in the works has tried to catch von Till with the 
goods, so to speak, but he has eluded every trap, murdered every agent sent to 
infiltrate Minerva Lines. His ships have been searched and researched a thousand 
times, yet nothing illegal is ever found.
Pitt idly watched the smoke curl from Zacs pipe. No one is that clever. If 
hes human, he can be caught.
God knows weve tried. our combined law enforcement agencies have studied every 
inch of the Minerva ships, shadowed them day and night at sea, guarded them like 
hawks at the docks, and searched every bulkhead with electronic detection gear.
I can rattle off the names of at least twenty investigatorsdamn good ones 
toowho have made von Tills arrest their lifes work.
Pitt lit a second cigarette and stared at Zac steadily. Why are you telling me 
all this?
Because I think you might help us.
Pitt sat silent, scratching the irritating chest bandage. Might as well nibble 
at the bait he thought.
How?
For the first time a flicker of devilishness showed in Zacs eyes, then 
disappeared as quickly as it had come.
I understand youre quite friendly with von Tills niece.
Ive laid her if thats what you mean.
How long have you known her?
We met for the first time on the beach yesterday.
The surprise on Zacs face slowly turned to a sly grin. Youre either a very 
fast worker or a very adept liar.
Suit yourself , Pitt said offhandedly. He stood up, stretching to loosen his 
sore muscles. I know what youre thinking, and you can forget it.
It would be interesting to learn just what you see in my thoughts.
The oldest tactic in the world, Pitt smiled knowingly. Your intention would 
have me continue my intimate friendship with Teri in the hope that von Till 
would accept me as one of the family. This arrangement would in turn give me the 
run of the villa and a chance to observe the old krauts actions at first hand.
Zac met his eyes evenly. You have excellent perception, my dear Pitt. What do 
you say, are you game?
No chancel
May I ask why?
I met von Till over dinner last night, and we didnt part the best of friends. 
In fact, he even sicced his dog on me.
Pitt knew Zac would not appreciate the humor.
But what the hell, he thought, why go through the whole maddening story again. 
He began to wish longingly for a drink.
From sex with the niece to dinner with the uncle, and all in the same day. Zac 
shook his head incredulously. You are indeed a fast worker.
Pitt merely shrugged.
Its a pity, Zac continued. You could have been a great help to us on the 
inside. Ho puffed on his pipe until the embers in the bowl glowed a vivid 
orange-red.
Weve had the villa under constant surveillance from a distance, but could 
detect nothing out of the ordinary.
Two hundred yards; that was as near as we could get without arousing von Tills 
suspicions. We thought our little masquerade as tourist guides had finally paid 
off when you and his niece were apprehended by Colonel Zeno.
Colonel Zeno?
Zac nodded, then paused deliberately for effect.
Yes. He and Captain Darius are members of the Greek Gendarmerie. Technically, 
Zeno outranks me a few steps, you might say.
A rank of Colonel in the police? Pitt asked.
Isnt that a bit unusual
Not if you understood their law enforcement system. You see, with the exception 
of Athens and a few other larger cities which have their own metropolitan 
bureaus, the Greek rural and suburban areas are policed by the Gendarmerie; a 
branch of the national army, and a very elite and efficient outfit.
In spite of his hatred for Zeno and Darius, Pitt was impressed.
That explains their presence, but what about you, Inspector? A narcotics agent 
after illegal drugs in Greece is the same as an FBI agent after a spy in Spain; 
its just not done.
In an ordinary case, youre quite correct Zacs face turned grim and his voice 
hard. But von Till is not an ordinary case. When we get him behind bars and put 
an end to his filthy smuggling operation we will automatically cut international 
crime by twenty percent And that, I assure you, is no small margin. An inner 
anger had taken control of Zac and he stopped for a moment, taking several deep 
breaths until it subsided. In the past, each country worked separately, using 
INTERPOL channels to relay vital information across national borders. For 
instance, if I learned through the Narcotics Bureaus undercover sources that an 
illegal shipment of drugs was bound for England, I would simply send my 
information to INTERPOL London, who in turn would alert Scotland Yard. Time 
willing, theyd set a trap and apprehend the smugglers.
Sounds like a neat and workable arrangement.
Unfortunately it has yet to work with von Till, Zac said quietly. No matter 
how many warnings, how many traps, he always manages to evade the nets and come 
up like the proverbial sweet smelling rose, fresh out of the excretion barrel. 
But this time its going to be different. He pounded the desk for effect Our 
governments have allowed us to form an international investigation team that can 
cross any border, use any police facilities, and have at their command, men and 
equipment of the military. Zac sighed heavily, then went on apologetically.
Im sorry, Pitt, I didnt mean to be long winded. But I hope Ive answered your 
question as to why Im on Thasos.
Pitt studied Zac carefully. The Inspector looked like a man who was not used to 
failure. Every movement, every gesture was thoughtfully planned in advance; even 
his words carried an air of confident forethought.
Yet, Pitt could not help detecting a glimmer of fear behind Zacs eyes; a fear 
of losing the game to von Till. Pitt began to wish more than ever for a drink.
Where are the other members of your team? Pitt asked. So far Ive only seen 
three of you.
At this moment a British inspector is on board a Royal Navy destroyer, trailing 
Queen Artemisia, while a representative from the Turkish Police Bureau is 
observing her from the air in an antiquated, unmarked DC-3. Zac spoke woodenly, 
as if quoting from a legal document. "Two detectives of the French Surete 
Nationale are also on hand, posing as Marseille dockworkers, awaiting the 
Queen's arrival for refueling.
A feeling of detached unreality began to creep
on Pitt. Zacs words were becoming dull and unmeaning, Indifferently, almost, 
with a kind of hazy academic interest, he wondered how much longer he could stay 
awake. Ho had had only a few hours sleep in the last two days and it was 
catching up. Pitt rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously, then forced his 
mind back to alertness.
Zac, old buddy, It was the first time Pitt had called him by name. I wonder 
if you would do me a personal favor.
If I can, Zac grinned hesitantly, old buddy.
"I want Teri released in my custody.
Released in your custody? Zac arched his eyebrows in accompaniment to wide 
innocent eyes. Steve McQueen couldnt have done it any better. What lecherous 
scheme do you have up your sleeve?
No lechery, Pitt said seriously. You have no choice but to release her. Once 
free, it will take Teri all of twenty minutes to storm back to the villahell 
hath no fury like the wrath of a woman humiliated demanding that Uncle Bruno do 
something about her shameful captivity. The old boy will put his shrewd
mind into gear and, within the hour, your little underground spy network will be 
blown from Thasos back to the States.
You underestimate us, Zac said urbanely. Im well aware of the consequences. 
Plans have been made for just such an emergency. We can be out of these quarters 
and working under a different cover by morning,
"Too late, Pitt countered sharply. The damage is done. Von Till will be wise 
to your presence. Hes sure to double every precaution.
You have a very convincing argument.
Youre damn right I have.
And if I turned her over to you? Zac asked speculatively.
As soon as Teri is missed, if she hasnt been already, von Till will turn 
Thasos upside down in an exhaustive search. The safest place to hide her now is 
on board the First Attempt. He wont think to look for her there, at least not 
until hes sure she isnt on the island.
Zac stared a long moment at Pitt, examining every inch of the man as if he were 
seeing him for the first time, wondering why someone with an excellent position 
and influential family would take such difficult and dangerous risks, never 
knowing when a miscalculation might spell the end of his career or even his 
death. Zac idly tapped his pipe against an ashtray, knocking the loose ashes 
from the round briar bowl.
It will be as you say, Zac murmured. Providing, of course, the young lady 
will cause no trouble.
I dont think so, Pitt grinned. She has other things on her mind besides 
international drug smuggling. Id say that sneaking off to the boat with me 
holds more interest than another dull evening with Uncle Bruno. Besides, show me 
a woman who doesnt crave a little taste of adventure, now and then, and Ill 
show you a
He broke off as the door opened and Giordino walked in, followed by Zeno. 
Giordino had a wide grin stretched across his cherub face and he clutched a 
bottle of Metaxa Five Star brandy in one hand.
Look what Zeno found, Giordino flicked off the bottle lid and sniffed the 
contents, screwing up his face into a mock look of ecstasy. Ive decided 
theyre not such bad guys after all.
Pitt laughed and turned to Zeno. Youll have to excuse Giordino. He always 
comes unglued at the mere sight of booze.
if so, Zeno grinned beneath his moustache, We have much in common. He 
stepped around Giordino and set a tray with four glasses on the desk.
Hows Darius? Pitt asked.
He is on his feet, Zeno replied. But he will be limping for a few days.
Tell him Im sorry, Pitt said sincerely. I regret-
No regrets are necessary, Zeno interrupted. In our line of work these things 
happen. He passed a glass to Pitt, noticing for the first time the blood 
stained shirt. You seem to have your injuries also.
Courtesy of von Tills dog, Pitt said, holding the glass to the light.
Zac nodded silently. He now grasped more fully Pitts hatred for von Till. He 
relaxed, hands banging limply over the arms of the swivel chair, secure in the 
knowledge that Pitt had revenge on his mind, not sex.
After you get back to your ship, well keep you posted by radio on von Tills 
activities.
Good, Pitt said simply. He sipped the brandy, enjoying the fiery lava-like 
liquid that trickled down his throat into the stomach. One more favor, Zac. Id 
like you to use your official status and send a couple of messages to Germany.
Of course. What do you wish to say?
Pitt had already picked up a pad and pencil off desk. Ill write everything 
down including names addresses, but will have to fake my German spelling.
When Pitt finished he passed the pad to Zac. Ask them to forward their reply to 
the First Attempt. Ive add NUMAs radio frequency.
Zac scanned the pad. I dont understand your motives.
Just a wild hunch. Pitt poured another shot Metaxa in his glass. By the way, 
when will the Queen Artemisia make her detour by Thasos?
How . . but how do you know that?
Im psychic, Pitt said briefly. When?
Tomorrow morning. Zac looked at Pitt long and consideringly. Sometime between 
four and five A.M. Why do you ask?
No reason, just curiosity. Pitt braced himself for the burn and downed the 
drink. The jolt was almost too much. He shook his head from side to side, 
blinking away the tears that burst from his eyes.
My God, he whispered hoarsely. That stuff goes down like battery acid.
 
 
13
The eerie, phosphorescent froth gradually diminished and fell away from the old 
straight up and down bow of Queen Artemisia as the aging ship slowly lost way 
and came to a stop. Then the anchor clattered down into ten fathoms of water, 
and the navigation lights blinked out, leaving a black silhouette resting on an 
even blacker sea. It was as though the Queen Artemisia had never been.
Two hundred feet away, a small wooden packing crate bobbed lazily on the swells. 
It was a common type of crate, one of empty thousands that float in cast off 
neglect on every sea and waterway of the world. To the casual eye, at least, it 
looked like ordinary flotsam; even the stenciled letters that advertised THIS 
END UP pointed incongruously downward toward the seabed. There was, however, 
one thing that made this particular crate quite different; it wasnt empty.
There must be a better way, Pitt thought wryly from inside the box as a wave 
bumped it against the top of his head, but at least this was a damn sight better 
than swimming in plain view when the morning light appeared. He took a mouthful 
of saltwater and coughed it out. Then he puffed lightly into the mouthpiece of 
his flotation vest, increasing his buoyancy, and returned his gaze to the ship 
through a jaggedly cut peephole.
The Queen Artemisia lay silent, only the faint hum of her generators and the 
slap of the waves of her hull betrayed her presence. Gradually the sounds faded 
away and the ship became a part of the silence. For a long time Pitt listened, 
but no other sounds traveled across the water to his bobbing outpost No 
footsteps on a steel deck, no masculine voices shouting commands, no clank of 
human operated machinery, nothing. The silence was total and very puzzling. It 
was like a phantom ship with a phantom crew.
The starboard anchor was down, and Pitt made his way toward it, slowly pushing 
the box from within. The light breeze and the incoming tide worked in his favor, 
and soon the box gently nudged the anchor chain. He swiftly removed the U.S. 
Divers air tank and attached its backpack webbing through one of the big steel 
chain links. Then using the regulators single air hose as a line, he slipped 
his fins, mask and snorkel over the second stage mouthpiece and let the whole 
package dangle just beneath the surface.
Pitt grabbed the chain, looking up at the seemingly endless links that vanished 
into the darkness, and felt like Jack climbing the beanstalk. He thought of 
Teri, lying asleep in a cozy bunk back on the First Attempt. He thought of her 
soft and fluid body and he began to wonder what in hell he was doing here.
Teri had wondered too, but over a different question. Why take me to a ship? I 
cant go out there and meet all those brainy scientists looking like this. She 
lifted the hem of her transparent negligee, displaying her legs to the thighs.
Oh what the hell, Pitt laughed. Itll probably be the sexiest thing thats 
happened to them in years.
What about Uncle Bruno?
Tell him you went shopping on the mainland.
Tell him anything. youre over twenty-one.
I guess it would be fun to be naughty, she giggled. Its just like a romantic 
adventure story in the cinema.
Thats one way to look at It, Pitt had said. Hed figured she would think 
that, and hed been right.
Pitt went up the anchor chain, copying the style of a Polynesian native climbing 
a palm tree after coconuts. He soon reached the hawserhole and peered over the 
rail He hesitated, listening and watching for any movement in the shadows. Not a 
soul was visible. The foredeck was deserted.
He swung over the side, crouched low and moved silently across the deck to the 
foremast. The blacked-out ship was a blessing. If the cargo loading lamps had 
been on, the midships and foredeck would have been bathed in a flood of white 
light; not the best circumstances for sneaking around unnoticed. Pitt was also 
thankful that the darkness blotted out his dripping water trail across the 
foredeck. He paused, waiting for the expected sounds and movements that never 
came. It was quiet, far too quiet. There was something else about the ship that 
didnt jell in Pitts subconscious mind, but he couldnt pin it down. It eluded 
him for the present
Pitt reached down, unsheathing the divers knife strapped to his calf, and moved 
aft, holding the seven inch stainless blade well out in front of him.
It seemed incredible, but Pitt had a clear view of the bridge and, as far as he 
could see, it was abandoned. He melted into the shadows and climbed the ladder 
to the bridge, his feet padding noiselessly on the steel steps. The wheelhouse 
was dark and empty. The spokes of the wheel reached out in dark loneliness, and 
the binnacle stood like a mute, brass-plated sentinel. Pitt couldnt make out 
the wording, but he knew from the angle of the pointers that, the telegraph 
stood at All Stop. In the dim light from the stars he was able to make out a 
rack attached to the ledge below the port window. His fingers. played over the 
contents; Aldis lamp, flare gun, flares. Then he got lucky. His hand touched the 
familiar cylindrical shape of flashlight. He slipped out of his swim trunks and 
wrapped them around the lens till the light offered nothing but a faint glow. 
Then he checked every foot of the wheelhouse; deck, bulkheads, equipment The 
tiny indicator lights of, the control console showed the only glimmer of life.
The curtains were drawn in the chartroom at the back of the wheelhouse. It was 
inconceivable that any chartroom could be so clean. The charts lay in orderly 
stacks, their fields of squares and numbers crossed by precisely drawn pencil 
lines. Pitt slipped the knife back in its sheath, propped the flashlight against 
a copy of Browns Nautical Almanac and scanned the chart markings. The lines 
coincided exactly with the Queen Artemisias known course from Shaughai. He 
noted the fact that there were no mistakes or erasures by whoever figured the 
compass corrections. It was neat, too much so.
The log book was open at the last entry: 03.52 hours - Brady Field Beacon 
bearing 312, approximately eight miles. Wind southwest, 2 knots. The Gods 
protect Minerva. The time showed that this entry had been made Less than an hour 
before Pitt swam out from the beach. But where was the crew? There was no sign 
of the deck watch and the lifeboats were secure in their davits. The abandoned 
helm didnt make sense. None of it made sense.
Pitts mouth was drya dusty cavern in which his tongue lay like a rubber 
sponge. A hammer pounded in his head, blurring his thinking, He left the 
wheelhouse, softly closing the door behind him, and found an alleyway leading to 
the captains cabin. The door was ajar. He gently eased it full open and stepped 
soundlessly and sideways into the steel cubicle.
A movie set, it looked like a movie set That was the only way Pitt could 
describe it. Everything was neat and tidy, and exactly where it should have 
been. Across the far bulkhead, the Queen Artemisia loomed in tranquil splendor 
from an amateurish oil painting, Pitt shuddered at the choice of colors; the 
ship sailed on a purple sea. The signature in the lower right corner was signed 
by a Sophia Remick. There was the usual photograph on the desk with a matronly, 
round-faced woman staring out of a cheap metal frame. The inscription read: To 
the Captain of my heart from his loving wife.
It was unsigned, but obviously written by the same hand that had autographed the 
painting, And next to the photograph, on an otherwise barren desk top, a 
carefully laid pipe reposed in an empty ashtray. Pitt picked it up and smelled 
the blackened bowl; it hadnt been smoked in months. Nothing looked used or 
handled. It was a museum without dust, a house without odor. And, like the ship 
herself, quiet as a graveyard.
He returned to the alleyway, closing the door behind him, almost wishing some 
strange voice, any voice, would shout, Who goes there? or What are you doing 
here?" The stillness made his sweat run cold. Pitt began to imagine vague shapes 
in shadowy corners. His heartbeat thumped at an accelerating pace. It couldnt 
have been more than ten seconds that he stood there not moving a muscle, forcing 
his mind back into rational control.
Itll be dawn soon, he thought. Hurry, must hurry. He ran down the port 
alleyway, ignoring any attempt at stealth and secrecy, and threw open the other 
cabin doors. Each small compartment was like the black Hole of Calcutta. One 
quick sweep of the hooded light told the same story as the captains cabin He 
also searched the radio cabin. The transmitter was warm and pre-set on a VHF 
frequency, but the radio operator was conspicuous by his absence. Pitt slipped 
the door shut and headed aft.
Companionways, port and starboard alleyways, they all seemed to merge into one 
long black, underground tunnel. It was an effort not to lose his sense of 
direction in the maze. A naked man, except for the flotation vest, in a dark 
nightmare of gray paint and steel walls. He tripped over a bulkhead step and 
fell, banging a shin and dropping the flashlight; all in harmony with an 
uttered, Goddamn!
The flashlight had fallen on the hard deck, shattering the lens and blinking 
out. He knelt on his hands and knees, muttering additional curses and searching 
frantically. After agonizing seconds his hands grasped the aluminum-plated case. 
The glass of the lens tinkled with grim foreboding inside the cloth cover. He 
picked it up and pushed the switch forward. The bulb blinked on as dull as ever. 
Pitt uttered a gasp of relief and shined the subdued beam down the passage. It 
dimly illuminated a door that was titled Fire Passage - Number Three Hold.
The great chambers of Carlsbad Caverns couldnt have looked much less formidable 
than Number Three Hold. All that Pitts light showed was a vast steel cave 
crammed with countless sacks and stacked from deck to hatch cover on wooden 
tiers. The air was permeated with a sweet Incense kind of odor. The cocoa from 
Ceylon, Pitt surmised. He took the diver's knife and cut a small half inch hole 
in the coarse cloth of one of the sacks. A flow of stony hard beans fell to the 
deck, bouncing and rattling like a hail on a quonset hut. A quick examination 
under the flashlight proved the parchment skinned beans to be the genuine 
article.
Suddenly he heard a noise. It was faint and indistinct, but it was there. He 
froze, listening. Then it stopped as abruptly as it had come, and silence once 
more gripped the haunted ship; a deserted ship with all its dark and hidden 
secrets. Maybe its a ghost ship after all, Pitt mused. Another Mary Celeste or 
Flying Dutchman. All that was missing was a stormy sea with rain lashing the top 
decks and lightning flashing in the night and a gale shrieking through the 
derricks.
There was nothing more to see in the hold. Pitt left and headed for the engine 
room. He lost a precious eight minutes finding the right companionway. The heart 
of the ship was warm from the heat of the engines and smelled of hot oil. He 
stood on the catwalk above the huge and lifeless machinery and searched for a 
sign that would indicate bona fide human activity. The flashlight caught the 
gleam of burnished pipes that snaked across the bulkheads in geometric parallel 
line., ending in a mass fusion of valves and gauges. Then the faint beam fell on 
a carelessly wadded oily rag. Above the rag was a shelf containing several 
coffee-stained cups, and to the left of those, a tray of scattered tools with 
greasy finger marks. At least someone was working this part of the ship, he 
thought, quite relieved. He knew that most engine rooms were kept as clean as a 
hospital ward, but this one was messy. But where was the chief engineer and his 
oilmen? They couldnt have evaporated into the Aegean atmosphere.
Pitt started to leave, then he stopped. There it was again; the same mysterious 
sound, echoing through the ships hull. He stood stock-still, holding his breath 
for what seemed a lifetime. It was an odd, uncanny sound, like the scraping of a 
ships keel over a submerged rock or coral reef. Pitt involuntarily shivered. It 
also reminded him of the way chalk squeaked across a blackboard. The sound 
lasted for perhaps ten seconds, then it was punctuated with the dull clank of 
metal against metal.
Pitt had never sat bathed with cold sweat in a cell on San Quentins death row, 
waiting for the warden and the prison guards to escort him to the gas chamber. 
Nor. did he have to be there to describe the experience for he knew exactly what 
it felt like. To be alone in a claustrophobic atmosphere, expecting the 
footsteps of death to come treading from the black unknown, was a blood chilling 
business. When in doubt, he thought, run like a son of a bitch. And run like a 
son of a bitch he did. Back through the alleyways, back up the companion-stairs, 
until at last his lungs were greeted by the pure, wholesome air on deck.
The early morning was still dark and the derricks reached toward the velvet 
ceiling of a sky that was alive. with a dazzling array of stars. There was 
scarcely a stir of wind. Over the bridge, the radio mast swayed back and forth 
across the milky way, and below Pitts's feet, the hull creaked from the rolls of 
the gentle swells. He hesitated a moment, gazing at the dark line of the Thasos 
coast, yet a bare mile away. Then he looked down at the smooth black surface of 
the water. It looked so inviting. so peaceful.
The flashlight still glowed. Pitt cursed his stupidity for not switching it off 
when he reached the open deck. Might as well have advertised my presence with a 
neon sign, he thought. He quickly doused the light. Then carefully, so as not to 
cut himself on the broken glass, he unwrapped his swim trunks and removed the 
remains of the lens. He hurled the tiny slivers over the railing and listened 
till the faint splash, like rain on a pond, reached his ears. He was tempted to 
deep six the flashlight too, but his mind shifted into gear and rejected the 
impulse. Leaving the rack in the wheelhouse void of the flashlight would be 
about as clever as sending the captain, if there was a captain, a telegram and 
saying, Just before dawn, there was a prowler on board your ship who ransacked 
it from stem to stern. It very definitely wasnt a smart move, not with people 
like these who had outfoxed nearly every law enforcement agency in the world. 
The fact that the lens was missing would be a gamble that Pitt would have to 
take.
He glanced at his watch as he hurried back to the wheelhouse. The luminous hands 
showed 4:13. The sun would be blossoming soon. He scrambled onto the bridge and 
replaced the flashlight in the rack. His haste was almost frantic. He had to be 
off the ship, into his diving gear and a good two hundred yards distant before 
daylight gave him away.
The forward deck was still deserted, or at least it seemed to be. A fluttering 
noise came from behind Pitt. Instantly he spun around in a sudden renewed fear 
and unsheathed the knife in one deft movement. His nerves were stretched taut to 
the border of panic, his head pounded like a drum roll. God, he thought, I cant 
be caught now, not this close to safety.
it was nothing but a gull that had flown out of the night and landed in a 
ventilator, the bird pointed a tiny eye at Pitt and cocked its head 
questioningly. No doubt wondering what sort of crazy human would run around a 
ship in the early morning, clothed in nothing but a flotation vest while holding 
a knife in one hand and a bathing suit in the other. The relief made Pitt feel 
weak at the knees. It had been quite a scare and he was badly shaken. When he 
boarded the ship he didnt know what he expected to find: what he found was 
silence tinged with unknown terror. Limply he leaned against the railing, 
getting a grip on himself. At this rate hed have heart failure or a mental 
breakdown before sunrise. He took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly until 
the fear subsided.
Without a backward glance, he swung over the rail and shinnied down the anchor 
chain, vastly relieved at departing the ghostly ship. It was a welcome comfort 
to be in the soothing water again. The sea opened its arms and gave him a sense 
of remoteness from danger.
It took only a minute for Pitt to slip on his swim trunks and retrieve his 
diving gear. Fitting an aqualung tank on your back in the darkness with the 
swells pushing you against the sides of a steel hull Isnt an easy operation. 
But the Ditch and Recovery experience he had obtained during his early diving 
days came in handy now, and he accomplished the task with little effort. He 
looked around for the wooden crate, but it had drifted into the black curtain of 
night and disappeared; the wave action and incoming tide, by this time, carrying 
it half way to the beach.
He lay there dead in the water and considered the possibility of diving under 
the Queen Artemisia and examining her hull. The weird scraping noise he had 
heard in the engine room seemed to have come from somewhere outside the plates 
and below the keel. Then it occurred to him the plan was hopeless. Without an 
underwater light he could see nothing. And he wasnt in the mood to grope like a 
blind man along a four-hundred foot hull that was encrusted with razor sharp 
barnacles. Hed heard old tales that described in detail the ancient and brutal 
practice of keelhauling insubordinate British sailors. He remembered one 
particularly bloodcurdling account of a gunners mate who was dragged under the 
keel of the H.M.S. Confident off the coast of Timor in 1786. Punished for 
stealing a cup of brandy from the captains locker, the poor fellow was dragged 
under the keel of the ship until his body was sliced to ribbons and the white of 
his ribs and backbone were visible. The unfortunate man might have survived, but 
before the crew could hoist him back on board, a pair of Mako sharks, attracted 
by the scent of blood, attacked and chewed the man to pieces before the 
horrified eyes of the men on deck. Pitt knew what a shark could do. He had once 
pulled a boy from the surf in Key West who had taken a nasty bite by a shark. 
The boy had lived, but a massive piece of tissue would always be missing from 
his left thigh.
Pitt cursed out loud. He must stop thinking about things like that. His ears 
began to ring from a humming sound. At first he thought it was a trick of his 
imagination. He shook his bead violently: it was still there, only louder; it 
seemed to be gaining momentum. Then Pitt knew where the humming was coming from.
The ships generators had started again. The navigation lights blinked on, and 
the Queen Artemisia suddenly came alive with sound. If there was ever a time 
when the better part of valor was discretion, it was now. Pitt clamped the 
mouthpiece of the regulator between his teeth and dove clear of the ship. He 
kicked his fins with every ounce of power in his legs, seeing nothing under the 
ink black water, hearing only the strange gurgling sound of his exhaust bubbles. 
It was times like this that he wished he didnt smoke. After covering nearly 
fifty-five yards, he surfaced and looked back at the ship.
The Queen Artemisia rode at anchor in tombstone solitude, her silhouette 
outlined against the graying eastern sky like an old fashioned shadowgram.. Dim 
shafts of white light came to life here and there about the ship, interrupted 
only by the green glow of the starboard navigation light. For several minutes 
nothing more happened. Then without any signal or shouted command, the anchor 
clattered up from the seafloor and clanged into the hull. The wheelhouse was lit 
and Pitt could see it clearly; it was still vacant. It just cant be, he 
repeated to himself over and over again: it just cant be. But the old ship 
hadnt yet finished the last act of her ghostly performance. As if on cue, the 
Queen Artemisias telegraph jangled faintly across the calm pre-dawn sea. The 
engines responded with their gentle throb, and the ship continued on her voyage: 
the secret of her evil cargo still locked somewhere within her steel plates.
Pitt didnt have to see the ship move to know it Was underway; he could feel the 
beat of her propellers through the water. Fifty-five yards was more than enough. 
At that distance he was invisible to any lookout and had little to fear from 
being sucked through the huge propellers and mangled into fish bait.
A seething flood of frustration swept over Pitt as the great hull slowly slid 
past his bobbing head. It was as though he was watching a ballistic missile lift 
from a launching pad and hurtle on its pre-set path toward devastation and 
death. He was helpless, he could do nothing to stop it. Hidden somewhere on the 
Queen Artemisia was enough heroin to drown half the population of the Northern 
Hemisphere in delirium. God alone knew what chaos would erupt in every city and 
town if it was distributed to all the peddling scum who preyed on its malignant 
addiction. How many people would become listless dregs and eventually die from 
the drugs deadly narcosis? One hundred and thirty tons of heroin on the ship. 
What was that song again, the little ditty that hed sung all those long years 
ago in school. A hundred bottles of beer on the wall It had nearly the same 
ring, but it was for light hearts and souls, not drugged minds and lost hopes.
Then Pitt thought of himself. Not with self-pride for destroying the yellow 
Albatros or searching the Queen Artemisia and getting away with it undetected. 
He thought of himself only as an idiot for risking his life on a job he had no 
business performing, a job he wasnt paid to do. His orders were to expedite 
oceanographic expeditions. No one said anything about chasing after drug 
smugglers. What could he accomplish? He wasnt a guardian angel of humanity. Let 
Zacynthus, Zeno, INTERPOL and every other damn cop in the world play cat and 
mouse with von Till. It was their game, they were trained for it. And they were 
paid for it too.
Again Pitt swore loudly to himself. He had already spent too much time 
daydreaming. It was time to head for shore. Mechanically, his eyes watched the 
ships lights diminish bit by bit into the fading darkness of the early morning. 
He was just wading onto the beach when the sun lifted itself from the horizon 
and threw its rays on the, rock strewn summits of the Thasos mountains.
Pitt stripped off the tank and let it fall to the soft wet sand along with the 
breathing regulator and his mask and snorkel. Exhaustion curled its numbing 
tentacles around him and he succumbed to it, dropping to his hands and knees. 
His body felt sore and beat, but his mind hardly noticed these things; it was 
busy with something else.
Pitt could find no indication of the heroin on board the ship, nor would the 
Bureau of Narcotics or the Customs Inspectors. That much was certain. Below the 
waterline, that was a possibility. But surely the wary investigators would have 
divers examine every inch of the hull when the ship docked. Besides, there was 
no way a cargo of that size could be removed, unless it was dropped in the water 
and recovered Later. That wouldnt work either, he thought, it was too obvious; 
retrieving a watertight container filled with a hundred and thirty tons of solid 
material would require a full scale salvage operation. No, there had to be a 
more ingenious method, one that had successfully defied detection for so long.
He took the divers knife and idly began sketching the Queen Artemisias outline 
in the wet sand. Then, quite suddenly, the idea of a diagram intrigued him. He 
stood up and traced a hull that stretched for approximately thirty feet. The 
bridge, the holds and engine room, every detail he could recall was etched into 
the yielding white sand. Minutes passed and the ship started to take shape. Pitt 
had become so totally absorbed in his work that he didnt notice an old man and 
a donkey, trudging wearily along the beach.
The old man stopped in his tracks and stared at Pitt from a ripened old face 
that had seen too many decades of strife to show an expression of bewilderment. 
After a few moments he shrugged uncomprehendingly and ambled off after his 
donkey.
Finally the diagram was nearly complete, down to the last companionway. The 
knife flashed in the new sun as Pitt added a final humorous touch; a tiny bird 
on a tiny ventilator. Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork. He stared at 
it for a moment, then laughed aloud. One things certain, Ill never be 
acclaimed for my artwork. It looks more like a pregnant whale than a ship.
Pitt continued to absentmindedly gaze at the sand drawing. Suddenly his eyes 
took on a trance-like glaze and his rugged face lost all expression. The spark 
of a novel and fanciful idea lit dimly in his conscious mind. At first the idea 
seemed too outlandish for him to consider, but the more he dwelt on its 
possibilities, the more feasible it became. Quickly he traced additional lines 
in the sand. Completely absorbed again, he raced to match up the diagram with 
the picture in his mind. When the last change was finished, his mouth slowly 
twisted into a grim smile of satisfaction. Damned clever of von Till, he 
thought, damned clever.
He wasnt tired anymore, his mind was no longer burdened with unsolvable 
questions. It was a new approach, a new kind of answer. It should have been 
discovered long before. Quickly, he gathered up the diving equipment and started 
to hike over the incline that separated the beach from the coastal road. There 
was no thought of quitting the game now. The next inning would prove to be the 
most interesting. At the top he turned and looked back at the sketch of the 
Queen Artemisia in the sand.
The rising tide was just washing over and erasing the ships funnel, the funnel 
marked with the big Minerva M.
 
 
14
 
Giordino lay stretched out beside a blue Air Force pickup truck, dead asleep, 
his head resting on a binocular case and both feet propped carelessly on a large 
rock. A trail of ants tramped across his outflung forearm and, ignoring the 
obstacle in their path, continued their uninterrupted journey toward a small 
mound of loose dirt. Pitt looked down smiling. If there was one thing Giordino 
could do, and do well, he thought, it was sleeping anywhere at anytime and under 
any condition.
Pitt shook his fins, letting the salty dampness dribble on Giordinos composed 
face. No drowsy babble, no sudden reaction greeted the rude sprinkling. The only 
response came from one big brown eye that popped open, gazing straight at Pitt 
in obvious annoyance.
Aha! Behold! Our intrepid guardian with the watchful eye! There was no 
mistaking Pitt's sarcastic tone. I shudder to think of the death toll if you 
should ever decide to become a lifeguard.
The opposite lid slowly raised like a window shade, revealing the matching eye. 
Just to set the record straight, Giordino said wearily. These tired old eyes 
were glued to the night glasses from the time you got into your packing crate to 
the time you came ashore and started playing in the sand.
My apologies old friend. Pitt laughed. I suppose that doubting your 
unflagging vigilance will cost me another drink?
Two drinks, Giordino murmured slyly.
Consider it done.
Giordino sat up, blinking in the sun. He noticed the ants and casually brushed 
them off his arm. Howd your swim go?
Robert Southey must have had the Queen Arteinisia in mind when he wrote No 
stir in the air, no stir in the sea, the ship was still as she could be. You 
might say that I found something by finding nothing
I dont get it.
Ill explain later. Pitt lifted the diving gear and loaded it in the truck 
bed. Any word from Zac?
Not yet. Giordino trained the binoculars on von Tills villa. He and Zeno 
took a platoon of the local gendarmerie and staked out von Tills baronial 
estate.
Darius stayed on the radio at the warehouse, traversing wave lengths in case 
there was any transmission between the shore and ship.
Sounds like a thorough effort, but unfortunately a waste of time. Pitt toweled 
his black hair, then ran a comb through it. Where can a man find a drink and a 
cigarette around here?
Giordino nodded toward the truck cab. I cant help you on the drink, but 
theres a pack of Greek cancer sticks on the front seat
Pitt leaned in the truck cab and removed an oval shaped cigarette from a black 
and gold box of Hellas Specials. Hed never tried one before and was surprised 
at the mildness. After his ordeal of the past two hours, rolled seaweed would 
have tasted good.
Someone kick you in the shins? Giordino asked matter-of-factly.
Pitt exhaled a cloud of smoke and peered down at his leg There was a deep red 
gash below the right knee and blood was oozing slowly along its entire length. 
For two inches in every direction the skin was a colorful combination of green, 
blue and purple.
I had a bit of bad luck, a run in with a bulkhead door.
Id better fix that for you. Giordino turned and pulled an Air Force issue 
first aid kit from the glove compartment. A minor operation like this is mere 
childs play for Doctor Giordino, the world renowned brain surgeon. I dont mean 
to brag, but Im rather good at heart transplants too.
Pitt tried to suppress a laugh, but failed. Just make sure you put the gauze on 
before, not after the tape.
Giordino feigned a pained expression. Such a terrible thing to say. The sly 
look returned. Youll change your tune when you get my bill
There was no choice left for Pitt except to shrug in resignation and place his 
bruised leg in Giordinos hands. Nothing more was said for the next few minutes. 
Pitt sat and absorbed the silence, gazing at the sky-dyed blue water and the 
shoreline that rested under the white sands of antiquity.. The narrow beach 
below the road stretched southward for six miles before it faded into a thin 
line and disappeared behind the western tip of the island. There wasnt a soul 
to be seen anywhere along the surfs edge; the emptiness possessed all the 
mystic allure and romantic charm so often pictured on South Seas travel posters. 
It was indeed a fragment of paradise.
Pitt noted that the surf was running at two feet with eight second intervals 
between crests. The waves broke low and at least one hundred yards out. Then in 
a final burst of fury, they surged forward in majestic Spray plumed rows, only 
to slowly dissolve and die in small eddys at the tideline. To a swimmer, the 
conditions were perfect; to a surfer, they were fair; but to a diver, the 
shallow sandy bottom and the dark blue water spelled barren waste. For sheer 
underwater adventure it is the greener, reef strewn waters that attract the 
diver, for it is there that the beauty of sea life abounds. Pitt panned his eyes 
a hundred and eighty degrees and looked to the north. Here it was a different 
story. High craggy cliffs, barren of all vegetation, rose out of the sea, their 
faces worn and etched by the endless onslaught of the breakers. Great fallen 
rocks and yawning fissures bore mute testimony to what old mother nature could 
do when given the tools of her trade to work with. There was one particular 
stretch of rugged cliffline that intrigued Pitt.
Strangely enough, this one sector was not pounded like the others. The waters 
below the sheer, straight up and down rock mass were calm and flat, a garden 
pond bordered on three sides by foaming swirling waters. For a hundred square 
yards the sea was green and still, the boiling white ceased to exist It seemed 
unreal.
Pitt speculated on what wonders a diver might find there. Only God alone could 
have observed the ageless formation of the island, the coming and going of the 
great ice ages, the changing levels of the ancient sea. Maybe, he thought, just 
maybe the mountainous breakers carved their fury into the sides of these cliffs, 
creating an underwater pockmarked surface of sea caves.
There you are, Giordino said in a humorous tone. Another triumph for medical 
science by the great, Giordino. Pitt wasnt fooled for a second by the outward 
display of exaggerated vanity. Giordinos comic dialogue was forever used to 
camouflage his genuine concern for Pitt. Giordino stood up, running his eyes; 
over Pitts body, and shook his head in mild wonder. With all those bandages on 
your nose, chest and leg youre beginning to look like a spare tire out of a 
nineteen thirties, depression era comic strip.
Youre right. Pitt took a few steps to relieve increasing stiffness in his 
leg. I feel more like a bum tire on a tugboat
Here comes Zac, Giordino said pointing. Pitt twisted and looked in the 
direction of Giordinos ex tended finger.
The black Mercedes was approaching down a trail from the mountains, pulling a 
cloud of brown dust behind its rear bumper. A quarter of a mile away swung onto 
the paved coastal road, dropping the dust cloud, and soon Pitt could hear the 
steady purr of the diesel engine above the beat from the surf below. The car 
rolled to a stop beside the truck and Zacynthus and Zeno unreeled from the front 
seat. They were followed by Darius, who made no attempt to disguise a painful 
limp. Zacynthus was dressed in old faded army fatigues, and his eyes were tired 
and bloodshot He gave the impression of a man who had spent a dismal and 
sleepless night. Pitt grinned sympathetically at him.
Well Zac, how did it go? See anything interesting?
Zacynthus didnt seem to hear him. He wearily pulled his pipe from a pocket, 
filled the bowl and lit it. Then he sank slowly to the ground, stretching out 
and leaning on one elbow.
The bastards, the dirty cunning bastards, he swore bitterly. We spent the 
whole night straining our eyes and sneaking around trees and boulders, with 
mosquitoes attacking us at every turn. And what did we find? He took a deep 
breath to answer his own question, but Pitt beat him to it.
You found nothing, you saw nothing and you heard nothing.
Zacynthus managed a faint smile. Does it show that much?
It shows, Pitt replied briefly.
This whole business is exceedingly exasperating. Zacynthus accented his words 
by pounding his fist into the soft earth.
Exceedingly exasperating? Pitt echoed. Is that the best you can do?
Zacynthus sat up and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Ive just about reached 
the end of my rope. I feel as though Ive just clawed my way up a steep 
mountain, only to find the peak enshrouded in fog. Possibly you understand, I 
dont know, but Ive dedicated my life to tracking down scum like von Till. He 
paused for a moment, then went on very quietly. Ive never failed to crack a 
case. I cant give up now. That ship must be stopped, and yet, thanks to our 
lily white code of justice, it cant be stopped. God, can you imagine
what will happen if that cargo of heroin reaches the States?
Ive given it some thought.
Screw your code of justice. Giordino seemed vexed. Let me stick a limpet mine 
on that old tubs hull and bang, he formed a blast cloud with his hands. The 
fish inherit the drugs.
Zacynthus nodded slowly. You have a direct approach, but a
Simple mind, Pitt interrupted again. He grinned at Giordinos scornful glance.
Believe me, I would much prefer to see a hundred schools of doped-up fish than 
one drug crazed school boy. Zacynthus voice was grim. Destroying that ship 
would only solve the immediate problem; its like cutting off one tentacle of an 
octopus. Wed still be left with von Till and his able gang of sea-going 
smugglers, not to mention the unanswered riddle of hisI am forced to 
admitingenious operation. No, we must be patient The Queen Artemisia hasnt 
docked at Chicago yet Well get another chance at her Marseille.
I dont think youll have any better luck in Marseille, Pitt said doubtfully. 
Even if one of your phony French dockworkers slips on board, you have the 
gilt-edged Pitt guarantee that he wont find anything worth writing home about.
How would you know that for certain? Zacynthus suddenly looked up, surprised. 
Unless. . . unless. you somehow searched the ship yourself.
With him, anythings possible, Giordino murmured. He was seaward of the ship 
when it anchored. I lost him through the night glasses for almost half an hour.
Now all four men looked at Pitt questioningly.
Pitt laughed and flipped his cigarette over the embankment. The time has come, 
the walrus said, to speak of many things. Gather round gentlemen and listen to 
the cloak and dagger adventures of Dirk Pitt, the naked cat burglar.
Pitt finally leaned back against the truck and became silent. For a long moment 
he stared at the thoughtful faces in front of him.
There you have it. As neat a little set-up as you can find. He smiled wryly. 
The Queen Artemisia is in reality nothing but a false front. Oh sure, it sails 
the briny blue, picking up and delivering cargo. Thats where any similarity 
between a bona fide cargo freighter and Queen ends. Shes an old ship, true, but 
beneath her steel skin beats a complete up-to-date centralized control system. I 
saw the same equipment on an old ship in the Pacific just last year. No large 
crew is required. Six or seven men can handle her easily.
No fuss, no muss, Giordino said admiringly.
Precisely, Pitt nodded. Each compartment, each cabin is set up as a stage 
prop. When the ship reaches port the crew materializes from the wings and turns 
into a cast of actors.
Pardon this humble mans blind perception, Major. The peasant choice of words 
failed to mask the Oxford accent of Zenos voice. I do not understand how the 
Queen Artemisia can engage in commercial shipping without the necessary 
maintenance during long voyages.
Its like a historical landmark, Pitt explained.
Lets say a famous castle where the fires in the fireplaces still burn, the 
plumbing still works, and the grounds are always trimmed and neat. Five days out 
of the week the castle is closed, but on the weekends it opens for the tourists, 
or, in this case, the Customs Inspectors.
And the caretakers? Zeno asked quizzically.
The caretakers, Pitt murmured, live in the cellar.
Only rats live in cellars, Darius ventured dryly.
A very, appropriate observation, Darius, Pitt said approvingly. Particularly 
when you consider the two-legged variety were dealing with.
Cellars, stage props, castles. A crew buried somewhere in the hull. What are 
you driving at? Zacynth demanded. Please get to the point
Im coming to it. To begin with, the crew isn't quartered in the hull. Theyre 
quartered under it.
Zacynthus eyes narrowed. Thats not possible.
On the contrary, Pitt grinned. It would be entirely possible if the good 
Queen Artemisia was pregnant.
There was a brief incredulous silence. All four stared at Pitt in blank 
skepticism. Giordino broke the silence first.
Youre trying to tell us something, but I'll be damned if youre getting 
through.
Zac admitted that von Tills method of smuggling is ingenious, Pitt said. And 
hes right. The ingenuity lies in the simplicity. The Queen Artemisia and the 
other Minerva ships can operate independently or they can be controlled by a 
satellite vessel attached to their hulls. Think about it for a minute. Its not 
as ridiculous as it sounds. Pitt spoke with a calm surety about him that began 
to crack any doubts. The Queen didnt: cruise two days off her course just to 
blow kisses at von Till. Contact must have been made somehow. He turned to 
Zacynthus and Zeno, You and your men, watched the villa and saw no sign of a 
signal.
Nor did anyone enter or leave, Zeno added.
Same goes for the ship, said Giordino eyeing Pitt curiously. No one set foot 
on the beach except you.
Darius and I make it unanimous, said Pitt. He heard no radio transmissions 
and I found the radio cabin deserted.
Im beginning to see your point, Zac said thoughtfully. Any communication 
between the ship and von Till could only have taken place underwater. But Im 
still not sure I buy your satellite vessel theory.
Try this one. Pitt paused. What travels long distances under water, carries a 
crew, has the capacity to hold a hundred and thirty tons of heroin, and would 
never be searched by Customs or the Bureau of Narcotic Inspectors? The only 
logical answer Is a full scale submarine.
Nice try, but it wont pass. Zac shook his head.
Weve had divers search beneath the waterline of every Minerva ship at least a 
hundred times. They have yet to discover a submarine.
They most likely never will. Pitts mouth felt dry and his cigarette tasted 
like burnt cardboard. He flipped the butt out into the middle of the road and 
watched it smoke until the tar beneath the glowing ember melted into a tiny 
black pool. Its not the method thats at fault. Your divers are missing the 
boatif youll forgive the punbecause of timing.
Are you suggesting the sub is released before the ships dock? Zacynthus asked.
Thats the general idea, Pitt agreed.
What then? Where does it go?
For the answers let's begin with the Queen Artemisia in Shanghai. Pitt paused 
a moment, collecting his thoughts. If you had been standing on the wharves of 
the Whangpoo River, watching the ship take on cargo youd have seen an ordinary 
loading operation. Cranes lifting sacksthey would be easiest to handle the 
heroin into the ships holds. The heroin came first, but It didnt remain in the 
holds. It was transferred to the sub, probably through a hidden hatch that 
wouldnt show up on any Customs detection gear. The legitimate cargo was then 
loaded on board and the Queen shoved off for Ceylon. There, the soybeans and tea 
were exchanged for the cocoa and graphiteanother legitimate cargo. The detour 
to Thasos came next. For orders from von Till most likely. Then on to Marseille 
for fuel and the final drop in Chicago.
Theres something bugging me, Giordino murmured.
Such as?
Im no expert on pigboats so I cant figure how one could play baby kangaroo 
with a freighter or where it could accommodate two hundred and sixty thousand 
pounds of drugs.
Modifications had to be made, Pitt acknowledged. But it wouldnt take any 
great engineering feat to remove the conning tower and other projections until 
the top deck fitted flush against the mother ships keel. The average fleet-type 
sub of World War II had a displacement of fifteen hundred tons, a length of over 
three hundred feet, a hull height of ten feet, and a beam of twenty-seven 
feetroughly twice the size of a suburban house. Once the torpedo rooms, the 
eighty man crew quarters and the unnecessary paraphernalia were cleared out 
there would be more than ample space to store the heroin.
Pitt saw that Zacynthus was regarding him in a very peculiar manner: there was a 
deep look of contemplation on his face. Then his features showed the first 
traces of genuine understanding.
Tell me, Major, he asked. What speed could the Queen Artemisia make with a 
sub fastened to her hull?
Pitt thought a moment Id say about twelve knots. Unencumbered, however, the 
ships normal cruising speed would be closer to fifteen or sixteen.
Zacynthus turned to Zeno. Its quite possible the Majors on the right track.
I know what you are thinking, my inspector. Zenos teeth parted beneath the 
great moustache. We have often concerned our thoughts with the puzzling 
variance of the cruising speeds among Minerva ships.
Zacynthus eyes came back to Pitt The heroin drop, when and how is it made?
At night during high tide. Too risky during the day. The sub could be spotted 
from the air
That checks. Zacynthus interrupted. Von Tills freighters are always 
scheduled to reach port after sunset.
As to the drop, Pitt hadnt even taken notice of the interruption. The sub is 
released immediately after entering port. Without a conning tower or periscope 
It must be guided from the surface by a small craft. Here, the only real chance 
of failure comes in, being rammed in the dark by an unsuspecting vessel.
No doubt theyd have a pilot on board who was familiar with every inch of the 
harbor, Zacynthus said thoughtfully.
A first rate harbor pilot is an absolute necessity for an operation like von 
Tills, Pitt agreed. Dodging underwater obstacles over a shallow bottom in the 
dark is no exercise for an amateur yachtsman.
The next problem on the agenda, Zacynthus said slowly, is to determine the 
location where the sub can unload and distribute the heroin without fear of 
detection."
How about a deserted warehouser Giordino volunteered. His eyes were closed and 
he looked like he was dozing, but Pitt knew from long experience that he hadnt 
missed a word.
Pitt laughed. The evil villain who slinks around deserted warehouses went out 
with Sherlock Holmes. Waterfront property is at a premium. An idle building 
would only arouse instant suspicion. Besides, as Zac here can tell you, a 
warehouse would be the first place an investigator would look.
A faint smile crossed Zacynthus lips. Major Pitt is right All docks and 
warehouses are closely watched by our Bureau and Customs, not to mention the 
County Harbor Patrols. No, whatever the method, it must be extremely clever. 
Clever enough to have worked smoothly and successfully all these years.
There was a long pause, then he went on quietly.
Now at long last we have a definite lead. Its only a thread, but if its 
attached to a rope and the rope is attached to a chain, then with a bit of good 
fortune von Till will be found at the other end.
If you wish to pursue the Majors supposition, It is vital that Darius Inform 
our agents in Marseille. Zenos tone was that of a man trying to convince 
himself of something that was not a positive fact
No, the less they know, the better, Zacynthus shook his head. I want no 
action taken that might put a bug in von Tills ear. The Queen Artemisia and the 
heroin must reach Chicago without Interference.
Very sly, Pitt grinned. Using von Tills cargo to attract the sharks.
Its not difficult to guess, Zacynthus nodded. Every big time hood and every 
underworld organization engaged in illegal drug traffic will be on hand to greet 
that sub. He paused to take a puff on his pipe. The Bureau of Narcotics will 
be more than happy to host the reception.
Providing you can find the drop location, Pitt added.
Well find it, Zacynthus said confidently. The Queen wont enter the Great 
Lakes for at least three weeks. That will give us time enough to search every 
pier, boat yard and yacht club that even touches the shoreline. Discreetly of 
course, no sense in blowing the whistle and losing all the players.
That wont be easy.
You underestimate the Bureau, Zacynthus acted hurt. We happen to be experts 
at this sort of thing. To put your mind at ease, we wont attempt to pinpoint 
the exact location, only the general area. Radar will track the sub to its final 
destination. At the opportune moment we move in.
Pitt looked at him somberly. Youre taking a great deal for granted.
Zacynthus stared back. Im surprised at you, Major. It was you who gave us a 
direction. The first feasible direction, I might add, that INTERPOL and the 
Bureau have had in twenty years. Can it be youre beginning to doubt your own 
deductions?
Pitt shook his head. No, Im certain Ive guessed right about the submarine.
Then what is your problem?
I think youre putting all your eggs in one basket by concentrating your main 
effort in Chicago.
What better place to set a trap?
Pitt spoke slowly and precisely. A hundred and one things could happen between 
now and when the Queen ,Artemisia is boarded by Customs. You yourself said three 
weeks was enough time to search the citys waterfront. Why rush things? I 
strongly suggest that you want and do a little more fact digging before you 
fully commit yourself.
Zacynthus looked at Pitt quizzically. What do you have in mind?
Pitt leaned against the truck; already the blue-coated metal was hot to the 
touch. He looked out toward the sea again. the rugged face beneath the wavy 
black hair intense with concentration. He breathed deeply. drawing in the salt 
scented air of the Aegean, and he was lost for long seconds at the wonder of the 
intoxicating sensation. With effort he shook his mind back to the cold reality 
of the moment, and when he spoke he knew there was something he had to do.
Zac, I need ten good men and an old seadog who is familiar with the waters 
around Thasos.
Why? Zacynthus asked simply.
It stands to reason that if von Till carries out his smuggling activities from 
the villa and communicates with his ships under water he must have a hidden base 
of operations somewhere along this coastline.
And it is your intention to find it
Thats the general idea, Pitt stated flatly. He looked Zacynthus straight in 
the face. Well?
Zacynthus thoughtfully toyed with his pipe before answering. Impossible. The 
voice was firm. I cannot allow it. Youre a talented man, Major. Up to now your 
judgment rang with practical logic. And nobody appreciates more than me the 
great help you have been to us. However, I cannot take any chances of alarming 
von Till. I repeat, the ship and the heroin must reach Chicago without 
interference.
Von Till is already alarmed. Pitt was Very definite. He cant help but be 
wise to you. The British destroyer and the Turkish aircraft that shadowed the 
Queen Artemisia from Ceylon to the Aegean were a dead give away that INTERPOL 
was on to the heroin. I say stop him now, before anymore of his ships load or 
unload Illegal cargo!
Until that ship deviates from its set course, and not before, I insist on a 
hands off policy regarding von Till Zacynthus broke off for a few seconds, then 
he went on quietly. You must understand: Colonel Zeno, Captain Darius and 
myself are narcotics men. If we are to do our job efficiently we cannot concern 
ourselves with white slavery, stolen gold or illegal transportation of known 
criminals. It sounds cruel and heartless, I admit, but INTERPOL has other good 
men and departments who specialize in these crimes. And they would say the same 
thing if this particular ship carried a cargo that was under their jurisdiction. 
No, Im sorry, we may lose von Till in the end, but at that well lock up the 
biggest illegal drug distributors in North America, not to mention, drastically 
cut the outside flow of heroin.
There was a short period of silence, then Pitt exploded angrily.
Bull-shit! If you round up the heroin, the submarine and its crew, and every 
dope peddler in the States, you still wont stop von Till The minute he finds 
new buyers hell be back with another boatload of drugs. Pitt waited for a 
reaction. There was none.
You have no authority over Giordino and me, Pitt continued. Whatever we have 
to do from here on in, well do it without any cooperation from you.
Zacynthus lips were pressed tightly together. His eyes stared fiercely at Pitt, 
then he glanced at his watch.. Were wasting time. I have only one hour to get 
to the Kavalla Airport and catch the morning flight for Athens. He pointed his 
pipe at Pitt like a gun. I dislike losing arguments but you leave me no 
alternative. My regrets, Major. Though I am deeply in your debt, I must once 
again place you and Captain Giordino in custody.
The hell you will, Pitt said coldly. Were not going to oblige.
You will suffer the indignity of forcible arrest if you dont Zacynthus patted 
a holstered forty-five automatic that clung to his hip.
Giordino lazily rose from the ground and grabbed Pitt by the arm. He was 
grinning Dont you think this would be a pretty good time for Giordino the Kid 
to practice his quick draw?
Giordino was wearing a tee shirt and khaki pants; there was no sign of a 
tell-tale bulge. Pitt was mystified, but his confidence in his old friend was 
firm. He looked at Giordino with a mixture of hope and suspicion in his eyes.
I doubt if youd ever find a more opportune moment.
Zacynthus unsnapped the holster flap over the forty-five. What the devil have 
you got up your sleeve this time? I must warn you
Wait. The rasping voice came from Darius. If you please, Inspector. The 
murderous intent. I have an account to settle with these two.
Giordino was not to be hurried. He ignored the threat from Darius and spoke as 
calmly as if he were asking Pitt to pass the potatoes. My cross draw is sheer 
art, but actually Im faster from the hip. Which would you like to see first?
About now, Pitt said more curious than amused, Id settle for a fast draw 
from the crotch.
Stop! Enough! Zacynthus gestured his pipe irritably. I suggest you be 
sensible and cooperate.
How do you intend to keep us on ice for three weeks? Pitt asked.
Zacynthus shrugged. The jail on. the mainland has excellent accommodations for 
political prisoners. Colonel Zeno here might be persuaded to use his influence 
and get you a cell overlooking the Zacynthus mouth abruptly dropped open in 
midsentence; his brown eyes narrowed in helpless rage and he froze as immobile 
as a City park statue.
A tiny gun, no larger than an ordinary cap pistol, had suddenly materialized in 
Giordinos hand, the pencil thin muzzle pointed directly at the spot between 
Zacynthus eyebrows. Even Pitt was caught off guard. Pure logic told him that 
Giordino had been bluffing; the last thing he or anyone else expected was for 
Giordino to produce an honest-to-god firearm.
 
 
 
15
 
A gun, no matter if it looks small and insignificant or massive and downright 
mean, is always a perfect attention getter. To say that Giordino was the center 
of attraction would be a classic understatement He played the role to the hilt; 
the automatic held at full arms length, a grim smile on the face. If academy 
awards were given for sheer bravado, hed have won at least three.
For a long moment no one spoke. Then finally Zeno rammed a fist into one hand. A 
wane smile etched his swarthy face. It was I who said you two men were cunning 
and dangerous, and yet, I am foolish enough to keep offering you new 
opportunities to prove it.
We dont relish these embarrassing little scenes any more than you do, Pitt 
said equably. Now if you gentlemen will excuse us, well close up shop and go 
home.
No sense getting shot in the back. Giordino Waved the baby automatic 
negligently at the three narcotics officers. Wed better borrow their guns 
before We exit stage right.
"That wont be necessary, Pitt said. No one is going to pull any triggers. He 
looked into Zacythus eyes, then into Zenosand found them thoughtful and 
speculative. Its really a stand off. Youre tempted, but you wont shoot us 
from behind because youre all honorable men. Besides, it wouldnt be practical, 
the investigation of our deaths would only prove to be a messy affair. Von Till 
would love that. On the other hand, you know damn well we wont shoot back 
because we dont have nearly enough at stake to kill any one of you.
Patience, I ask nothing but patience on your parts
for the next ten hours. I promise you Zac, we will meet again before sunset, and 
on much friendlier terms.
Pitts voice seemed strangely prophetic, and the speculative look in Zacynthus 
eyes changed to blank puzzlement.
Pitt was briefly tempted to prolong the game of cat and mouse, then he thought 
better of it Zacynthus and Zeno appeared resigned to defeat, but not Darius. The 
huge brute moved two steps forward, his face was
flushed with anger and his fists opened and closed like the shells of two giant 
South Pacific clams. It was clearly the time to beat a quick and orderly 
retreat.
Pitt moved slowly around the front of the truck, using the hood and fenders as a 
barrier between him and Darius. He climbed behind the steering wheel, wincing 
slightly as the sun splashed seat burned his naked thighs and back, and started 
the engine. Giordino followed him into the cab, never taking his eyes off the 
men beside the Mercedes, the gun very level in his hand. Then calmly, without 
any sign of desperate speed, Pitt smoothly shifted gears and aimed the truck 
toward Brady Field and the First Attempts whaleboat dock. He glanced in the 
rearview mirror, then to the road and back to the mirror again several times 
until the three figures in the road disappeared when the truck rounded a curve 
through an ancient grove of olive trees.
Nothing like a gun to even the odds, Giordino sighed, leaning back comfortably 
against the seat.
Lets see that popgun.
Giordino passed it butt first. Youll have to admit, it came in damn handy.
Pitt studied the Lilliputian gun, looking up from time to time to dodge potholes 
in the road. He recognized it as a vest pocket Mauser, twenty-five caliber, the 
type European women favored for protection; it could easily be concealed in a 
purse or garter. It was only good for close-in work; past ten feet the accuracy, 
even in the hands of an expert was hopeless.
We must consider ourselves extremely lucky.
Lucky hell. Giordino grunted flatly. That little baby evened the odds Why do 
you think the old time gangsters called a gun an equalizer.
Would you have pulled the trigger if Zac and his boys had decided not to 
cooperate? Pitt asked.
Without hesitation, Giordino replied confidently. Id have only winged them 
in the arms or legs.
No sense in killing someone who keeps you supplied with Metaxa brandy.
I can see you have a lot to learn about German automatics.
Giordinos eyes narrowed. What do you mean by that?
Pitt slowed to pass a small boy who was leading a heavily laden donkey. Two 
things. First, a twenty-five caliber gun is hardly a man stopper. You could have 
emptied the clip into Darius, but without a killing shot to the heart or head 
youd never have even slowed him down. And second, the expression on your face 
when you squeezed off the first shot would have been a sight to behold. Pitt 
casually tossed the gun onto Giordinos lap. The safety catch is still on.
Pitt glanced briefly across the truck cab at Giordino. Glordinos eyes fell 
blankly to the gun in his lap. He made no attempt to pick it up. His face was 
expressionless, but Pitt knew him well enough to recognize an acute case of 
bafflement
Giordino shrugged and gave Pitt a thin smile. Kind of looks like Giordino the 
Kid just won the idiot award of the year. I just plumb forgot about the safety.
Youve, never owned a Mauser. Where did you get it?
It belonged to your little playmate of the month. I discovered it when I was 
lugging her through the tunnel. She had it taped to her leg.
You little bastard, Pitt said evenly. You mean you had it all the time we 
were having our brains beat out by Darius?
Sure, Giordino nodded. I concealed it inside one of my socks. I never had a 
chance to use it. You jumped Frankenstein before I was ready. After that, the 
brawl happened too fast. The next thing I knew I was flat on my back getting my 
head crushed. Then it was too late, I couldnt reach the peashooter.
Pitt became silent, already his mind was on another subject It was still early 
in the morning and the trees edging the road threw their long misproportioned 
shadows toward the west He drove mechanically, a hundred questions, a hundred 
doubts circulating through
his mind. He didnt know where to start, and there was the plan that had taken 
form back there overlooking those surf pounded cliffs. The plan at best was a 
gamble, a long shot backed by nothing but an overpowering urge to carry it out. 
And then he was automatically depressing the brake pedal, slowing the truck down 
and stopping at the Brady Field main gate.
 
 
 
Forty minutes later they were climbing the boarding ladder of the First Attempt. 
The deck was deserted, but a chorus of hearty male laughter accompanied by the 
high-pitched giggle of a woman echoed from the messroom. Pitt and Giordino 
entered and found Teri surrounded by the entire crew and scientific staff of the 
ship. She was dressed, or undressed, in a knotted makeshift bikini that looked 
as if it would come unfurled at the first sign of a passing offshore breeze. She 
perched prettily on the mess table, the center of attraction, a queen holding 
court, and it was obvious that she enjoyed every male eyeball. Pitt bemusedly 
studied the. mens faces for a moment It was an elementary task to separate the 
scientists from the professional crewmen. The latter stood quietly and gazed 
lecherously at the generous display of feminine skin, their minds throwing 
pornographic scenes on the inside walls of their skulls like movie projectors. 
Most of the vocal activity came from the scientists. The marine biologists, the 
meteorologists, the geologists, each vying with frantic zeal for Teris 
attention and behaving like schoolboys whose dormitory had just been invaded by 
a box office sex queen.
Commander Gunn saw Pitt and came over to him. Im glad youre back. Our radio 
man is about to go psycho. Since dawn this morning hes been receiving signals 
faster than he can write. Most of them are marked for your attention.
Pitt nodded. Ok, lets go and read my fan mail. He turned to Giordino. See if 
you can tear our queen bee away from her ardent admirers for a few minutes and 
escort her to Gunns cabin. I want to ask her one or two very personal 
questions.
Giordino grinned. From the looks of that crowd Ill probably get lynched if I 
try.
If things get too tough just flash your gun, Pitt said sarcastically. But 
dont forget to remove the safety.
Giordinos mouth dropped open like a landed fish.
Before he could recover, Pitt and Gunn had left
The radio man, a young black in his early twenties, looked up when they entered. 
This one just came in for you, sir. He handed the message to Gunn.
Gunn studied it for a moment, then his lips slowly arched into a wide smile. 
Listen to this. 'To Commander Gunn, officer commanding NUMA ship First Attempt. 
What in the goddamn hell kind of hornets nest have you people stirred up in the 
Aegean. I sent you out there to study sea life, not play cops and robbers. You 
are hereby ordered to render every assistance, repeat. every assistance at your 
command to the local INTERPOL authorities. And dont return home without a 
goddamn Teaser. Admiral James Sandecker, NUMA, Washington.
Id say the Admiral is a bit off his usual form, murmured Pitt. He used 
goddamn only twice.
Please lead me out of the dark, Gunn asked mildly. What possible assistance 
could we be to INTERPOL?
Pitt pondered a moment Gunn would have to be led up to a crucial decision; it 
was decidedly too early to bare all the facts. Pitt dodged the question.
We may be the only hope left to destroy von Till and his empire. It may mean 
taking a few risks, but the stakes are high."
Gunn removed his glasses and stared sharply at Pitt. How high?
Enough heroin to hop-up the entire population of the United States and Canada, 
Pitt said slowly. A hundred and thirty tons worth to be exact
Gunn betrayed no sign of surprise. He calmly held up his glasses to the light, 
examining the lenses for smudges. Satisfied there were none, he replaced the 
horned-rims over his low set ears.
Off hand Id say thats a pretty fair amount Why didnt you tell me about this 
last night when you brought the girl on board?
I needed more time and more answers, and right now Im still short on both. But 
I think Ive run on to something that will put this whole insane puzzle into a 
transparent pattern.
I still dont know what you expect from me.
Weve got to hit von Till below the belt, way below the belt. This is an 
underwater show. I need every able-bodied man you can spare with scuba gear and 
weapons that can be carried in water; diving knifes, spear guns, anything.
What guarantee can you give me that no one will get hurt?
Absolutely none, Pitt said quietly.
Gunn stared at Pitt for a full ten seconds, his face expressionless. You 
realize the seriousness of what youre asking me? Most of the men aboard this 
ship are scientists, not commandos. Theyre tigers with a salinometer, a nansen 
bottle or a microscope, but their skill at knifing another man in the guts or 
shooting a barbed spear into a navel leaves much to be desired.
What about the crew?
All good men to have on your side in a bar room brawl, but like most 
professional seamen, they have an unhealthy dislike for any activity below the 
surface. They cant, or rather wont, put on a face mask and dive. Gunn shook 
his head. Im sorry Dirk, youre asking too much
Come off it, Pitt snapped rudely. This isnt the Little Big Horn and Im not 
asking you to send the Seventh Cavalry against Sitting Bull and the Sioux 
nation. Look, not fifty miles from here a Minerva Lines
freighter is churning across the Aegean with a cargo that is as lethal as any 
nuclear bomb. If that amount of heroin were dumped on the market in the States, 
our grandchildren would still be suffering from the cultural shockwaves. Its a 
nightmarish thought.
Pitt paused, letting his words sink in. He lit a cigarette and then continued.
The Bureau of Narcotics and the Customs Department will be waiting. Theyve set 
a trap. If, and thats a big if, all goes well, the heroin and the smugglers, 
plus half the illegal drug sellers in the States, will be neatly scooped up and 
salted away behind bars.
Then whats the problem? Gunn pressed. Where do the divers fit into the 
picture?
Lets just say I have a nagging doubt. Von Till hasnt come within a nautical 
mile of being caught with the goods, so to speak, for decades. Legally, our 
government agents cant board the cargo Ship until it touches the United States 
continental shelf, three weeks away. By then von Till might sense that INTERPOL 
is behaving overly cagey. Rather than cooperate with the good guys and sail into 
the trap, hed have to reroute the ship at the last minute or else dump the 
heroin in the Atlantic. That leaves the narcotic agents and the customs 
inspectors standing around with nothing to do but play with themselves. The only 
sure way, the safe way, is to stop the ship now, before it leaves the 
Mediterranean.
Youre the man who said itlegally it cant be done.
There is one way, Pitt drew on the cigarette, then slowly let the smoke 
trickle through his nose.
Prove a solid case against von Till and Minerva Lines before morning.
Gunn shook his head again. Even then, boarding a ship in international waters, 
particularly a ship that is registered to a friendly nation, can lead to 
political repercussions. I doubt if any country would want to touch it
There is one opportunity, Pitt said. The ship stops at Marseilles for fuel. 
INTERPOL would have to work fast If they received the necessary evidence and 
rushed through the legal paperwork they could seize the ship in port.
Gunn leaned against the doorway and gave Pitt a penetrating stare. The catch is 
that you want to risk the lives of the people under my command.
It has to be, Pitt said quietly.
I think youre hedging, Gunn said slowly. Youre up to your ears in stormy 
waters. I dont like any of it Im responsible to NUMA for this ship and its 
personnel. All that interests me is the safe completion of this expedition. Why 
us? I dont see why INTERPOL or the local police cant conduct their own search 
operation. Finding divers on the mainland is no problem.
This was getting too damn awkward, Pitt thought. At this stage of the game he 
couldnt let on that Zacynthus was very much against even the slightest 
harassment of von Till. Pitt had known Gunn for a little over a year, and in 
that time they had become good friends. The commander was a smart customer. The 
next scene would have to be played cool, very cool indeed. Pitt gazed 
suspiciously at the busy radio operator for a moment, then turned back to Gunn.
Call it fate, coincidence or any other term you wish to choose, that put the 
First Attempt at Thasos at the exact moment to expose a beautifully planned 
criminal conspiracy. Von Till's entire smuggling operation depends upon the use 
of a submarine, maybe more than one, we dont know yet The heroin is the biggest 
job hes ever undertaken. Its damn hard for the mind to conceive, but he could 
easily net over two hundred million dollars on this one shipment. He planned 
well, nothing could stand in his way. Then one day he looks out of his window 
and there sits an oceanographic research ship, not over two miles away. Learning 
that you were scouting the water for a legendary fish he began to run scared. 
There was a good chance that one of your divers might discover his base of 
operation, and whats most important, his method of smuggling. He was desperate. 
He couldnt blow you out of the water. The last thing he wanted was a full scale 
investigation into the loss of this ship. There was no hope of instigating 
anti-American riots or violence. The people who live on the island are fun 
loving farmers and fishermen. They couldnt care less about staging a 
demonstration against a scientific expedition. If anything, they welcomed you. 
The local merchants arent about to turn down free spending researchers. Von 
Till gambled on a long shot. He staged that attack on Brady Field, hoping 
Colonel Lewis would order you out of the area as a safety precaution. When this 
failed he threw caution to the winds and came directly at the First Attempt
I dont know, Gunu said hesitantly. You make it sound logical. Except for the 
submarines. No civilian can go to his nearest yacht broker and buy a submarine.
The only way von Till could lay his hands on a sub without attracting attention 
would be to raise one that was sunk in shallow water during time of war.
Youre beginning to sound interesting, Gunn said quietly. He was tuned in on 
Pitts channel now. He had the shrewd look of an old prospector who just 
discovered a map to a hidden gold mine.
Pitt went on. This is a job for professional underwater divers. By the time 
INTERPOL could put together a team of their own it would be too late. The last 
was only a half-truth, but it served Pitt admirably to drive home the next 
point. The time is now. And other than Cousteau youve got the finest divers 
and equipment in the Mediterranean. Im not going to give you any crap about 
being the last hope of mankind' or that Its better to sacrifice a few to save 
millions. All Im asking you for is a few volunteers to help me explore the 
cliffs below von Tills villa. We may strike out and find nothing. On the other 
hand we may uncover enough evidence to impound the ship and the heroin and put 
von Till away for good. Hit or miss, weve got to try.
Gunn said nothing. His expression Indicated deep thought and concentration. Pitt 
looked at him, considering, and then threw in the book.
It would be interesting if we could find out what happened to the yellow 
Albatros.
Gunn looked at Pitt across the cramped radio room and thoughtfully jangled some 
loose change in his pocket. A more hard-headed and determined man he had never 
seen. Gunn remembered that he had trusted Pitts judgment on that Delphi Ea 
affair in Hawaii last year, and he hadnt been let down. If Pitt said he was 
going to kill every shark in the sea, Gunn mused, he would probably damn near do 
it. He studied the damp and, by this time, pealing bandages on Pitts body, 
Jangled the change in his pocket again, wondered what he would be thinking about 
this time tomorrow.
OK, you win, he said wearily. "I'll no doubt regret this decision at my 
court-martial. Its a small satisfaction to know what I'll go out with a blaze of 
headlines.
Pitt laughed. "No such luck, my friend. Whatever happens, you merely ordered a 
routine hunt to collect marine specimens from a shelf under the cliffs. If we 
stumble into an embarrassing incident, you can say it was by pure accident.
I hope Washington will buy that.
Dont worry, I think we both know Admiral Sandecker well enough to be assured 
that hell stand by us regardless of the consequences.
Gunn pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and dabbed at the sweat on his 
face and neck. Well, where do we go from here?
Round up your volunteers, Pitt said briefly.
Assemble them and the equipment on the fantail at noon. I'll explain their 
mission with a few well chosen words and then well go from there.
Gunn glanced at his watch. Its 9:00 now. I can have them ready to dive in 
fifteen minutes. Why wait three hours?
I need the extra time to catch up on my sleep,
Pitt said grinning. I dont want to doze off sixty feet below the surface.
Thats not a bad idea, Gunn said seriously.
You look like the morning after New Years Eve. He turned and started through 
the cabin door, then stopped. By the way, do me a favor and send that girl 
ashore as soon as possible. Im going to be in enough hot water as it is without 
being accused of operating a floating bordello.
Not until I return from the dive. Its vital that she remain on board where 
someone can keep an eye on her.
OK lets have it. Gunn said quietly in a defeated tone. Youre holding out on 
me again. Who is she?
Would you believe von Tills niece?"
Oh no, Gunn looked stricken. Thats. all I need.
Dont work yourself into a coronary, Pitt said
softly. Everything will work out. You have my word on it.
I hope so, Gunn sighed. He looked skyward and shrugged in helpless despair. 
Why me, God?
Then he was gone.
Pitt stared out the empty doorway for a long moment at the blue uneven sea. The 
radio operator was bent over the big Bendix set, transmitting. but Pitt didnt 
hear him. He was lost in the inner silence of concentration and the silence that 
comes with the blistering heat and its energy sapping partner, humidity. His 
body Was numb -numb from too little sleep and numb from too much mental strain. 
His nerves were stretched like the support wires of a suspension bridge; if one 
snapped the rest would part strand by strand until the whole Structure swayed 
and dropped into oblivion. Like a gambler who has bet his last big stake on a 
ten-to-one horse, he felt his heart pound against his rib cage, driven beyond 
its regular beat by the deep fear of uncertainty.
Excuse me, Major. The radiomans low, resonant voice seemed far away. These 
communications are for you.
Pitt said nothing. He merely extended his hand and took the messages.
The one from Munich came in at 6:00. The black mans tone was hesitating and 
unsteady. It was followed at 7:00 by two transmissions from Berlin.
Thank you, Pitt murmured woodenly. Anything else?
This last one, sir, its . . . well Its really weird.
No call sign. no repeat, no sign off, just the message.
Pitt stared down at the top paper. A grim smile slowly moved his lips.
Major Dirk Pitt, NUMA ship First Attempt. One hour down, nine to go. H.Z.
Any... any reply, Major? the voice stammered unevenly.
Suddenly Pitt became aware of the sickly expression on the radio operators 
face. You feel all tight?
To tell the truth, Major. no. Ever since breakfast Ive had the worst case of 
bowel drizzlies in my life, and Ive barfed twice.
Pitt could not help grinning Compliments of the ships cook. Is that it?
The radioman shook his head and rubbed his eyes in one easy movement. Cant be. 
Cockys the greateststrictly gourmetsville Nah, its probably the local version 
of the flu. Could even be a skunky bottle of beer or something.
Stay with it, Pitt said. We need a good man on the radio for the next 
twenty-four hours.
You can count on me. The radioman forced a faint smile. Besides, that chick 
you brought on board has been clucking over me like a mother hen. With that kind 
of attention, how much could I suffer?
Pitt raised an eyebrow. You must see something in her I dont
Shes not bad. Not my usual fancy, but not bad.
Anyway, shes been bringing tea all morninga regular Florence Nightingale.
The young black suddenly broke off. His eyes went wide and he threw a hand to 
his mouth. Then he jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair, ran outside and 
hung like a dead man over the railing. Animal-like grunts carried back into the 
cabin, accompanied by low, agonizing moans.
Pitt walked out and lightly patted the ailing radioman on the back.
I need you by the radio my friend. Hang in there while I send for the ships 
doctor.
The radioman slowly nodded his head and said nothing Then Pitt turned and left, 
making sure he walked upwind.
After a few minutes spent looking for the ships physician and asking him to 
look in on the radio operator, Pitt entered Gunns cabin and found it dark, the 
curtains drawn. Cool air flowed from the ventilator, giving the steel cubicle a 
comfortable, inviting atmosphere, a vast improvement over the intolerable heat 
of yesterday. In the dim light he made out Teri sitting on the desk. Her chin 
was resting on a drawn up knee. She looked up at him and smiled.
What kept you?
Business, he replied.
Monkey business Ill bet. Her face bore a distinct feminine pout. Where is 
the big adventure you promised me? Everytime I turn around youve disappeared.
When duty calls, dearheart, I must answer. Pitt straddled a chair and leaned 
over the backrest. A very intriguing bit of apparel youre wearing. Where did 
you get it?
Nothing to it really
I can see that
She smiled at his remark and went on. I simply snipped out a pattern from some 
pillow ticking. The halter is tied in the back with a bow and the pants are 
knotted on each side. See! She stood and undid the knot over her left hip, 
letting the diminutive cloth dangle teasingly.
Very, very clever. What do you do for an encore?
How much is it worth to you? she asked seductively.
How about an old Milwaukee streetcar token?
Youre impossible, she pouted. Im beginning to think youre daft.
He had to force his eyes to ignore her body. Right now I've got some details 
that need clearing up.
She stared at him blankly for a few seconds, started to say something, then 
thought better of it; his face was unsmiling and serious. She shrugged, slowly 
retied the bikini and settled into a vacant chair.
Youre acting terribly mysterious.
I'll revert to my old sweet, lovable self after youve answered a few simple 
questions.
She scratched at an imaginary itch above her left breast. Ask away then.
Question number one: what do you know about your uncles smuggling operations?
Her eyes went wide. I dont know what youre talking about
I think you do.
Youre insane, she said, glaring at him. Uncle Bruno owns a steamship line. 
Why should a man of his wealth and social standing stoop to petty smuggling?
Nothing he does can be considered petty, Pitt said. He paused a moment 
monitoring her expression, and then continued. Question number two: before you 
came to Thasos, when was the last time you saw von Till?
Not since I was a little girl, she answered vaguely. My mum and dad were 
drowned when their sailboat overturned in a sudden storm off the Isle of Man. 
Uncle Bruno was with them at the time. So was I. He saved my life. Since that 
awful accident he has been very good to me; the best boarding schools, money 
when I needed it. He always remembers my birthday.
Yes, hes all heart, Pitt said sarcastically. Isnt he a bit old to be your 
uncle?
Actually, he was my grandmothers brother.
Question three: how come you never paid him a visit before now?
Whenever I wrote and begged him to let me come to Thasos, he always wrote back 
and said he was too busy, involved with some vast shipping transaction or 
something. She giggled softly. I fooled him this time though. I simply popped 
in and surprised him.
What do you know about his past?
Nothing really. He talks very little about himself. But I do know hes not a 
smuggler.
You beloved uncle is the worst scum that a mother ever dropped. Pitts voice 
was tired. He didnt want to hurt her, but he was certain she was lying.
God only knows how many rotting corpses owe their present condition to him; 
hundreds, thousands more likely. And youre in it with him right up to your 
lovely little neck. Every rotten dollar youve spent in the last twenty years 
was soaked in blood. In some cases with the blood of, and yes tears, especially 
tears, of innocent children. Young girls who were stolen from their parents arms 
and who finished their adolescence on a filthy, lice ridden pile of straw in a 
North African whorehouse.
She jumped to her feet Things like that dont happen any more. Youre lying, 
youre lying. youre making this up. She was scared now, but playing a 
magnificent scene, Pitt thought. I told you the truth. I know nothing. 
Nothing!
Nothing? You knew von Till was planning to murder me at the villa. Your tearful 
little act on the terrace, I admit, had me fooled. But not for long. You missed 
your callingyou should have been an actress.
I didnt know. Her voice was low and desperate. I swear I didnt
Pitt shook his head. I cant buy it. You gave yourself away outside the 
labyrinth when we were arrested by the tourist guide. You werent just surprised 
to see me, you were goddamned shocked to see me in one piece.
She came over and knelt beside him and held his hands in hers. Please, please. 
. . Oh God! What must I do to make you believe me?
You might begin by offering me facts. He raised up from the chair and stood 
directly over her. Then he tore the soggy bandages from his chest and dropped 
them in her lap. Look at me. This is what I got for accepting your invitation 
to dinner. I was set up as the main course for your uncles man-eating dog. Look 
at me!
She looked. I think Im going to be sick.
Pitt ached to take her in his arms and kiss away the tears that welled in her 
eyes, and to softly, gently tell her how sorry he was. Instead, he fought to 
keep his voice firm and even.
She turned and gazed blankly at the metal sink in the head, wondering if she 
were going to be sick or not, then she forced her tear-brimmed eyes back on Pitt 
and spoke in a whisper. Youre a devil. You talk about Uncle Bruno. Youre 
worse, much worse. I wish you would have been killed.
The hate should have been there, but Pitt could only feel a touch of sadness. 
Until I say otherwise youll remain on this ship.
You cant keep me here, you have no right
I have no right, true, but I can keep you here. And while were on the subject; 
dont get it in your pretty head to try and escape. The men on this ship are
expert swimmers. You wouldnt get fifty yards even if you tried real hard.
You cant keep me a prisoner forever. Her face twisted with loathing. A woman 
had never looked at Pitt like that. It made him feel uneasy.
If my little caper comes off as planned this afternoon, youll be out of my 
hair and in the hands of the gendarmerie by suppertime.
Suddenly Teri stared at him speculatively. Is that why you disappeared last 
night?
Pitt was ever amazed at the way her huge brown eyesher devastatingly beautiful 
eyescould run through so many emotions in one blink. Yes, as a matter of fact, 
I sneaked on board one of your uncles ships just before dawn. It was a most 
instructive excursion. Youll never guess what I found.
He watched her closely, mentally predicting what the next blink would bring.
I couldnt imagine, she said dully. The only ships Ive ever been on were 
ferrys.
He walked over and sat down in the bunk. The soft mattress felt good. He leaned 
back and crossed his arms behind his head. Then he yawned long and slowly.
I beg your pardon. That was rude of me.
Well?
Well what?
You were going to tell me what you found on Uncle Brunos ship.
Pitt shook his head and grinned. Female curiosity, once piqued its insatiable. 
Since you insist, I found a map to an underwater cave.
A cave?
Of course. Where else do you think your good uncle conducts his slimey business 
from?
Why are you telling me these stories? The hurt look was back. None of them 
can be true.
Oh good God, get some sense in your head. I'm not telling you anything new. Von 
Till may have hoodwinked INTERPOL, the gendarmerie and the Bureau of Narcotics, 
but he didnt fool yours truly.
Youre talking nonsense, she said slowly.
Am I? he asked thoughtfully. At precisely 4:30 this morning your uncles 
ship, the Queen Artemisia, anchored off the coast below the villa. The ship was 
loaded to the gills with heroin. Surely you must know about the heroin. Everyone 
else does. It has to be the worst kept secret of the year. Ive got to hand it 
to your uncle; hes a master of the old magicians routine; dazzle the audience 
with one hand while you perform the trick with the other. His little act is 
about to end, however. I have a little trick of my own that will bring down the 
curtain.
She was silent for a moment. What are you going to do?
What any red-blooded All American boy would do. Im going to take Giordino and 
a couple of other men and dive along the shore until I find the cave. It most 
likely lies at the base of the cliffs directly under the villa. once we discover 
the entrance we will enter, seize any equipment and evidence, make a citizens 
arrest of your uncle, and then call the, gendarmerie.
Youre insane, she said again, only with much more feeling this time. The 
whole caper, or whatever you call it, is idiotic. You cant go through with it. 
Please, please believe me. It wont work.
Its no use begging. You can kiss your uncle and his rotten money goodbye. We 
hit the water at 1:00. Pitt yawned again. Now if you will kindly excuse me, 
Id like to get a little shuteye.
The tears were back. She shook her head slowly from side to side. Its 
idiotic, she whispered over and over, turned and walked into the head, slamming 
the door behind her.
Pitt lay there, staring at the overhead. She was right, of course, he thought. 
It did sound like an idiotic caper. But then, what else could she think, she 
only knew the half of it.
 
16
 
The restless sea curled to a tall crest and beckoned like the ominous finger of 
doom before it rammed into the unyielding gray cliffs. The air was warm and 
clear and stirred by a faint breath from the southwest. A ghost, or so the First 
Attempt seemeda white steel ghost glided at slow speed closer and closer to 
the boiling caldron, until it looked like disaster was inevitable. At the last 
instant, no sooner, Gunn spun the helm to starboard, sending the First Attempt 
on a parallel course to the rocky cliff base. He kept glancing warily from the 
needle, traveling across the fathometers graph paper, to the surfline, a scant 
fifty yards away, and back again.
Hows that for curb service? he asked without turning. The voice was soft and 
controlled; he was as calm as a fisherman in a rowboat on a placid Minnesota 
lake.
Your old seamanship instructor at Annapolis Would be proud of you, Pitt 
replied. Unlike Gunn, he Was staring straight ahead.
Its not half as grim as it looks, Gunn said, gesturing at the fathometer. 
The bottom is a good ten fathoms below our keel!
Sixty feet in less than a hundred yards; thats quite a drop-off.
Gunn lifted one hand from the helm and took off his gold braided Navy cap, 
swiping a few beads of sweat that hung from his hairline.
Its not an uncommon occurrence in an area thats free of outer reefs.
Its a good sign, Pitt said thoughtfully.
How so?
Plenty of room for a sub to maneuver without surface detection.
At night maybe, Gunn said. Too obvious during the day. The water visibility 
is almost a hundred feet. Anyone standing on the bluffs within a mile in either 
direction could easily look down and spot a three hundred foot hull that was 
crawling over the bottom.
It shouldn't be too difficult to spot a diver either, Pitt turned and gazed up 
at the villa, nestled like a fortress on the craggy side of the mountain.
Youre mad to take a chance like this, Gunn said slowly. Von Till can see any 
movement you make.
Ill bet a dime to a donut that Hes had a pair of binoculars trained on us 
every second since we upped anchor.
Im betting on it too, Pitt murmured. He lost; himself for a moment in the 
beauty of the scene. The azure arms of the Aegean encircled the ancient island 
seascape in a dazzling reflection of sun and water. Only the voice of the 
crashing surf answered the steady hum of the ships engines, punctuated 
occasionally by the shriek of a solitary gull. Above the rocky cliffs, a herd of 
cattle grazed on a sloping green pasture, like tiny immovable shapes in a 
Rembrandt landscape. And below, in sheltered coves among the lesser cliffs, 
piles of sun-bleached driftwood lay dead and still on tiny shell carpeted 
beaches.
Pitt nearly lingered too long. He tugged his mind back to the job at hand. That 
mysterious area of calm water was coming up now, only three quarters of a mile 
away off the port bow. He laid a hand on Gunns shoulder and pointed.
The flat pond.
Gunn nodded. OK, got it. At our present speed we should be alongside in ten 
minutes. Is your team ready?
All set and primed, Pitt answered briefly. They know what to expect. Ive got 
them stationed along the starboard cabin deck; out of sight to any prying eyes 
from the villa.
Gunn replaced his cap. Be sure you order them to leap plenty clear of the hull. 
Getting sucked into a prop can be a very messy business.
I doubt that they have to be ordered, Pitt said quietly. Theyre all good 
men. You told me so yourself.
Damn right, Gunn snorted. He turned to Pitt. Im going to keep the ship 
close-in to the shoreline for another three miles. We might fool von Till into 
thinking were on a routine sounding course to chart the shallows. It might 
work, I dont know. For your sake I hope hes taken in.
Well soon find out. Pitt checked his watch against the ships chronometer. 
What time do you make your rendezvous?
"I'll run a series of doglegs on the return course and arrive back here at 1410. 
That gives you exactly fifty minutes to find the sub and get out. Gunn dug a 
cigar out of a breast pocket and lit it You and my men be waiting for the ship, 
you hear me?
Pitt didnt answer immediately. A broad smile broke across his lips, and his 
vivid green eyes seemed to be laughing.
Gunn looked puzzled. What did I say thats so funny?
For a moment you reminded me of my mother. She always used to say that when my 
ship came in Id probably be waiting at the bus depot
Gunn ruefully shook his head. If you dont come back at least Ill know where 
to look. Well, lets get on with it. You had better climb into your diving 
gear.
Pitt simply waved in acknowledgment, left the hot confine of the wheelhouse and 
dropped down the ladder to the First Attempts starboard cabin deck. He found 
five deeply tanned men waiting for him, probably. Pitt reflected, the five most 
eager and intelligent men hed ever known. Like himself, they wore only black 
bikini swim trunks. All were busily engaged in adjusting breathing regulators 
and strapping on air tanks; each man rechecked the others equipment, making 
certain the tank valves and harness webbing were in their proper position.
The nearest diver, Ken Knight, looked up at Pitts arrival. I have your gear 
all ready for you, Major. I hope a single hose regulator will be OK, NUMA didnt 
issue us any doubles this trip.
A single hose will do fine, Pitt replied. He pulled on a pair of fins and 
strapped a knife to his right calf; then he slipped a mask over his head and 
adjusted the snorkel. The mask was the wide-angle type that gave the wearer a 
one hundred and eighty degree range of vision. Next came the air tank and the 
regulator. He was about to struggle with the tank harness when suddenly the 
forty pound outfit was swept from the deck and held at his back by two massive, 
hairy arms.
How you could ever get through a day without my services, said the voice of 
Giordino pompously, is a mystery to me.
The real mystery is why l put up with your jackhammer mouth and overabundant 
ego, Pitt said sourly.
There you go, picking on me again, Giordino tried to sound wounded but 
couldnt quite pull it off. He turned and looked down at the passing water and, 
after a long pause, muttered very slowly; Christ! Look at the clarity of that 
water. Its sharper than a goldfish bowl.
So Ive noticed. Pitt unsheathed the barbed tip of a six foot pole spear and 
checked the elasticity of the rubber sling attached to the butt end. Have you 
studied your lesson?
The old gray matter, Giordino said, pointing to his head, has all the answers 
filed and indexed.
As usual, its comforting to know youre so sure of yourself.
Sherlock Giordino knows all, sees all No secret can escape my probing mind.
Your probing mind better be well oiled, Pitt said: earnestly. Youve got a 
tight schedule to keep.
Just leave it to me, Giordino said straight faced. Well, its about that 
time. I wish I was coming along. Enjoy your swim and have fun.
I intend to, Pitt murmured. I intend to.
 
 
 
Two chimes from the ships bell sounded Gunns one minute warning signal. Pitt, 
walking awkwardly in his fins, moved onto a small platform that extended over 
the side of the hull.
At the sound of the next tone, gentlemen, we go! He said no more, partly 
because each man knew what he had to do, partly because there was nothing else 
to say that had any meaning.
The divers gripped their spear guns a little tighter and silently exchanged 
glances. One thought and only one thought was on all their minds at this minute: 
if the jump isnt far enough, a leg could be lost in the whirling propeller. At 
a gesture from Pitt, they arranged themselves in a line behind the platform.
Before he lowered the mask over his eyes, Pitt took another look at the men 
around him and for the tenth time studied their identifying features, features 
he would be able to recognize at a distance under water. The man nearest him, 
Ken Knight, the geophysicist, was the only blond in the group; Stan Thomas, the 
short, runty ships engineer, wore blue fins and was the only member, Pitt 
surmised, who could probably handle himself in a tough fight. Next came a 
red-bearded marine biologist, Lee Spencer, then Gustaf Hersong, a lanky 
six-foot-six marine botanistboth those men seemed to be grinning at each other 
over a private joke. The anchor man was the expeditions photographer, Omar 
Woodson, as true a deadpan character as Pitt had ever seen and who genuinely 
appeared bored by the whole show. Instead of a spear gun, Woodson carried a 35 
mm Nykonos with flash, swinging the expensive underwater unit over the railing, 
negligently, as if it were an old used box camera.
Pitt pulled the mask down over his eyes, whistling softly to himself, and gazed 
once more at the water. It was passing beneath the platform at a much more 
leisurely rate nowGunn had cut the First Attempts speed to a crawling three 
knotsslow enough, Pitt decided, for a feet first entry. His eyes turned past 
the bow, looking forward with trance-like fixity at the approximate point in the 
sea where at any moment now he must dive.
At almost the same instant, Gunn scrutinized the fathometer and the jagged 
cliffs for the last time. His. hand slowly raised, groped for the bell line, 
found it,. paused, then gave one hard pull. The metallic clang burst into the 
hot afternoon air and carried across the surf to the steep coastal wall, echoing 
in a muted undertone back toward the ship.
Pitt, poised on the platform, didnt wait for the echo. Holding the mask firmly 
in place against his face with one hand and clutching the pole spear in the 
other, he leaped.
The impact shattered the sun-danced water into a blazing diffused pattern of 
blue brilliance. Immediately after the surface closed over his head, Pitt rolled 
frontward and kicked his fins as fast, it seemed to him, as a Mississippi River 
paddle wheeler at full throttle. Five seconds and fifteen feet later, he glanced 
over his shoulder and watched the dark shape of the ships hull slide slowly 
overhead. The whirling twin propellers seemed frighteningly closer than they 
really were: their thrashing sound traveled at forty-nine hundred feet per 
second underwater as compared to less than eleven hundred feet through air, and 
the light refraction magnified their flashing blades by nearly twenty-five 
percent.
Teeth clenched on the regulators mouthpiece, Pitt swung around and stared in 
the direction of the shrinking ship to see how the others had fared. His sigh of 
relief was answered by the hiss of his exhaust bubbles from the regulator. Thank 
God, they were all there, and in one piece. Knight, Thomas, Spencer, and 
Hersong, all in a group within touching distance. Only Woodson had dragged his 
feet; he hung in the water about twenty feet beyond the rest.
The visibility was startling. The long, purplish tentacles of a jelly-like 
Portuguese Man O War were clearly discernible nearly eighty feet away. A pair 
of ugly looking Dragonet fish swam idly across the bottom, their vivid blue and 
yellow scaleless bodies topped by high slender gill spines. It was a hidden 
world, a soundless world, owned by weirdly shaped creatures and decorated by 
graceful fantasies of form and vibrant hues that defied any attempt at human 
description. It was also a world of mystery and danger, guarded by a sinister 
array of weapons, varying from the slaughterous teeth of the shark to the deadly 
venom of the innocent looking Zebra fish; an intriguing combination of eternal 
beauty and constant peril.
Without waiting for signs of discomfort, Pitt began snorting into the mask to 
equalize the air pressure of his inner ears to that of the water pressure. When 
his ears popped, he slowly dove toward the majestic seascape under him and 
became a part of it.
At thirty feet, the reds were left behind, and the depths became a soft blending 
of blues and greens. Pitt leveled off at fifty and studied the bottom. No sea 
growth or rocks here, just a patch of submerged desert where miniature sand 
dunes meandered in unbroken snake-like ripples. Except for an occasional 
bottom-dwelling Star Gazer fish, buried with only a pair of stony eyes and a 
portion of its grotesque, fringed lips protruding above the sand, the sea floor 
was deserted.
Exactly eight minutes after they had left the First Attempt, the bottom began to 
slope upward, and the water became slightly murky from the surface wave action. 
A rock formation, covered with swaying seaweed, appeared in the gloom ahead. And 
then suddenly they were at the base of a vertically sheer cliff that rose at an 
unbroken 90 deg. angle until it disappeared into the mirrored surface above. 
Like Captain Nemo and his companions exploring an undersea garden, Pitt began 
directing his team of marine scientists to spread out and search for the 
submarine cave.
The hunt took no more than five minutes. Woodson, who had angled a hundred feet 
out on the right perimeter, found it first. Signaling Pitt and the others by 
rapping his knife against his airtank, he motioned for them to come and went 
swimming off along the northern face of the cliff to a point beyond a 
weed-encrusted crevasse. There he paused and held up a leveled arm.
And then Pitt saw it; a black and ominous opening just twelve feet below the 
surface. The size was perfect; big enough for a submarine or, for that matter, a 
locomotive to have been driven in. They all hung suspended in the clear crystal 
water, their eyes fixed on the cave entrance, hesitating, exchanging glances.
Pitt moved first, entering the hole. Except for a few dim flashes of light, 
reflected from the whites of his heels, he disappeared completely from view, 
swallowed by the yawning cavity.
He leisurely beat the water with his fins and let an incoming swell help carry 
him slowly through the tunnel. The bright blue-green of the sunlit sea rapidly 
transformed into a kind of deep twilight blue. At first Pitt could see nothing, 
but soon his eyes adjusted to the dark interior, and he began to make out a few 
details of his surroundings.
There should have been a myriad of marine life clinging to the tunnel walls. 
There should have been darting crabs, winking limpets and barnacles, or crawling 
lobsters, sneaking about in search of tasty shellfish. There were none of these. 
The rocky sides were barren, and they were coated with a reddish substance that 
clouded the water whenever Pitt touched the smooth, unnatural material. He 
rolled face up and inspected the arched roof, watching in fascinated interest as 
his exhaust bubbles rose and wandered across the ceiling, like a trail of 
quicksilver, seeking escape from a vial.
Abruptly the roof angled upward, and Pitts head broke the surface. He looked 
around but saw nothing; a gray cloud of mist obscured everything. Puzzled, he 
ducked his head back in the water and dove, leveling out at ten feet. Beneath 
him a cylindrical shaft of cobalt light flowed in from the tunnel. The water was 
as clear as air; Pitt could see every nook and cranny of the cavern's submerged 
area.
An aquarium. That was the only way Pitt could describe it. But for the fact that 
there were no portholes in the walls, the cavern could have easily passed for 
the main tank at Marineland in California. It was a far cry from the tunnel; 
marine life abounded everywhere. The lobsters were here, and so were the crabs, 
the limpets, the barnacles, even a heavy growth of kelp. There were also roving 
schools of brilliantly colored fish. One fish in particular caught Pitts eye, 
but before he could get closer, it saw his approach and flashed into a 
protective rock fissure.
For several moments, Pitt took in the breathtaking scene. Then suddenly, he 
started as a foreign hand grabbed his leg. It was Ken Knight, and he was 
motioning toward the surface. Pitt nodded and swam to the top. Again he was 
greeted by the heavy mist.
Pitt spit out his mouthpiece. What do you make of it? he asked. The rock walls 
amplified his voice to a roar.
A fairly common occurrence, Knight answered, roaring back matter of factly. 
Every time a swell hits the entrance outside, the force runs like a piston 
through the tunnel, compressing the air already trapped in the cavern. When the 
pressure recedes, the expanded, moisturized air cools and condenses in a fine 
mist. Knight paused to blow some mucus from his nose. The swells are running 
at about twelve-second intervals, so it should start to clear up at any time.
No sooner had he said it than the mist disappeared, revealing a dim cavern that 
arched to a dome sixty feet overhead. It was a drowned grotto and nothing more; 
no traces of man-made equipment. Pitt felt as though he had entered a deserted 
cathedral whose spires stood in ruined desolation from a World War I artillery 
shelling or a World War II aerial bombardment The walls were twisted and broken 
in jagged fissures, and. the shattered rocks at their base showed that another 
rock fall could come at any time. Then the mist returned and smothered all 
vision.
Pitt, in the few seconds it took to survey the cavern, was conscious of nothing 
but the gnawing fear of self-doubt. Then came a creeping wave of numbed 
disbelief, then the chagrin that he had bungled it.
"It cant be, he muttered. It just cant be. Pitts free hand curled into a 
white knuckled fist, and he pounded the water in an outburst of temper and 
despair. This cavern had to be von Tills base of operations. God help us from 
the mess that Ive surely caused..
I'd still vote for you, Major, Knight reached out and touched Pitt on the 
shoulder. The geology bears out your hunch. This would seem the most logical 
spot.
Its a dead end. Except for the tunnel, theres no openings, anywhere.
I saw a ledge on the far end of the cave. Maybe if
I
No time for that, Pitt interrupted impatiently. We must get back out as fast 
as we can and keep searching.
Excuse me, Major! Hersong had caught Pitts arm, an action that surprised Pitt 
by seemingly coming out of nowhere. I found something that might be of 
interest.
The mist went through its cycle and then cleared again, revealing a peculiar 
expression on Hersongs face that caught Pitts attention. He grinned at the 
lanky botanist.
OK, Hersong. lets make it quick. We hardly have time for a lecture on marine 
flora.
Believe it or not, thats just what I had in mind, Hersong grinned back; the 
glistening water trickled through the strands of his red beard. Tell me, did 
you notice that growth of Macrocystis pyrifera on the wall opposite the tunnel?
I might have, Pitt answered flatly, if I knew what you were talking about
"Macrocystis pyrifera is a brown algae of the Phaeophyta family, perhaps, better 
known as kelp.
Pitt stared at him, considering, and let him continue.
What it boils down to, Major, is that this particular species of kelp is native 
only to the Pacific Coast of the United States. The water temperature in this 
part of the Mediterranean is far too warm for Macrocystis pyrifera to survive. 
On top of that, kelp, like in land plant cousins, needs sunlight to provide the 
process for photosynthesis. I cant imagine kelp thriving in an underwater cave. 
Nope, if youll forgive the vernacular, it just aint done.
Pitt was slowly treading water. Then if it isnt kelp, what is it?.
The mist was back, and Pitt couldnt see Hersongs face. He could only hear the 
botanists rumbling voice.
Its art, Major. pure art. Without a doubt, the finest plastic replica of 
Macrocystis pyrifera Ive ever beheld.
Plastic? Knight boomed, his tone echoing around the cavern. Are you sure?
My dear boy, Hersong said disdainfully. Do I question your. analysis of core 
samples or
That red slime on the tunnel walls, Pitt cut in. What do you make of that?
Couldnt say for sure, Hersong said. Looked like some type of paint or 
coating.
Ill back him. Major. The face of Stun Thomas suddenly materialized out of the 
fading mist. Red anti-fouling paint for ship hulls. It contains arsenic; thats 
why nothing grows in the tunnel.
Pitt glanced at his watch. Time is running out.
This must be the place.
Another tunnel behind the kelp? Knight asked in a careful sort of voice. Is 
that it, Major?
Its beginning to look encouraging. Pitt said quietly. A camouflaged second 
tunnel that leads to a second cavern. Now I can see why von Tills operation was 
never discovered by any native of Thasos.
Well, Hersong purged the water from his mouthpiece. I guess we keep going.
We have no other option, Pitt said. Are we all ready for another go?
All present and accounted for, except for Woodson, Spencer answered.
Suddenly, at that instant, a flashbulb flooded the cavern in a bright blue light
Nobody smiled, Woodson observed sourly. He had drifted off to the far wall of 
the cavern, trying for the widest possible lens angle.
Next time, yell sex. Spencer joked back.
It wouldnt matter, Woodson grunted. None of you know what it means anyway.
Pitt grinned and moved off. He rolled forward and jackknifed. diving to the 
bottom like an airplane on a strafing run. The others followed, spaced out at 
ten-foot intervals.
The forest of counterfeit kelp was thick and nearly impenetrable. Thin branches 
rose from the bottom to the surface, flaring into a wide, spreading canopy. 
Hersong was right: it was a work of art. Even at arms length Pitt couldn't have 
told the plastic from the real thing. He unsheathed the knife and began slicing 
his way through the brown swaying stems. Working his way forward, stopping only 
to untangle his air tank, he finally broke into another tunnel. The second had a 
larger diameter than the first but was much shorter in length. After four stout 
kicks, Pitt surfaced in a new cavern, only to be enveloped in the unending 
white. mist Every few moments, the splash of a head breaking the water, 
announced the arrival of another member of the team.
See anything? The voice was Spencers.
Not yet, Pitt replied. Mechanically, his eyes strained unblinkingly into the 
damp gloom. He thought he saw something now, something more imagined than.
real. Gradually, he became aware of a dark shape, materializing out of the fog. 
And then suddenly, it was absolutely and concretely there the smooth, black 
metal hull of a submarine. Pitt spat out his mouthpiece, swam over to the sub 
and grabbed hold of the bow planes,. pulling himself onto the deck.
Pitts mind became absorbed in the submarine. At least ten times hed wondered 
how he'd react, how he would feel when he finally touched the heroins 
underwater carrier. Elation at being proved rightthat and more. Anger and 
disgust flooded over him. If they could only talk, what tales of insidious 
tragedies these steel plates could relate.
Please drop your spear on the deck and keep very, very still. The voice behind 
Pitt was hard, and so was the gun barrel that dug into his spine. He eased the 
pole spear slowly to the wet deck. Good. Now order your men to drop their 
weapons on the bottom. No tricks. A concussion grenade in the water can turn a 
swimmer into an ugly mass of jelly.
Pitt nodded at the five floating heads. You heard the man. Drop the spear guns 
. . . the knives too.
Theres no sense in antagonizing these nice people. Im sorry men. It looks like 
Ive blown it.
There was nothing else left to say. Pitt had led these five men into a trap from 
which they might never escape alive. All emotion left him, he was conscious now 
only of time. On cue, Pitt raised his hands over his head and slowly turned 
around.
Major Pitt, you are an uncommonly aggravating young man.
Bruno von Till stood on the deck of the submarine, grinning like Fu Manchu about 
to feed a victim to the crocodiles. His eyes were narrowed slits beneath the 
skin-topped head, and he seemed, at least to Pitt, to radiate a personal and 
long-practiced repulsiveness. But something was wrong, terribly wrong. The old 
German had both hands in his jacket pockets; he carried no gun. It was the man 
beside him who held the guna mountain of a man with a face of carved stone and 
a torso like a tree trunk. Von Tills eyes fully opened, and his voice rose in a 
mocking tone.
Forgive me for not offering introductions, Major. Von Till gestured toward his 
companion. But I understand that you and Darius have already met.
 
 
 
17
 
You seem surprised to see me, Major, Darius murmured satanically. I cant 
tell you what a great pleasure it is to meet you again under more favorable 
terms. He jammed the nasty looking Luger against Pitts throat Please do not 
move and force me to kill you prematurely. Your quick and sudden death would 
only cheat me out of a great deal of personal satisfaction and pleasure. I said 
I had an account to settle with you and your ugly little friend; now the hour 
has arrived to repay my debt for the pain I have suffered at your hands or more 
correctly feet.
Pitt did his damnedest to look casual. Sorry to disappoint you but Giordino 
stayed home this trip.
Then his punishment shall be added to yours.
Darius smiled pleasantly. then lowered the gun and calmly shot Pitt in the leg. 
The sharp crack of the Luger amplified to a thunderclap within the rock-walled 
cavern. A blowlike the thrust of a red hot pokerjerked Pitt sideways and 
knocked him backward two steps. Somehow, he never really knew how, he managed to 
remain on his feet The nine millimeter bullet had torn through the fleshy part 
of his thigh. missing the bone by a scant quarter of an inch and leaving a neat 
little reddish hole at the entrance and a slightly larger one at the exit. The 
burning sensation quickly left, and his leg became numb with shock, the real 
pain, he was sure, would soon follow.
Come now, Darius, von Till spoke reprovingly.
Let us not over-indulge ourselves in crudity. We have more important matters to 
resolve before you pursue your little eye-for-an-eye sport. My apologies, 
Major Pitt, but you must admit, you have only yourself to blame. Your well-aimed 
kick in such a delicate location will require Darius to limp for at least 
another two weeks.
Im only sorry I didnt boot him twice as hard,
Pitt said through clenched teeth.
Von Till ignored him. He said to the men in the water: Drop your diving 
equipment on the bottom, gentlemen. Then climb up on deck. Quickly, we have 
little time to waste.
Thomas raised his mask and threw an if-looks-could-kill stare at von Till Were 
damn well comfortable right where we are.
Von Till shrugged. Very well, it seems you need an incentive. He turned and 
shouted into the dim shadows of the cavern. Hans, the lights!
Suddenly, a string of overhead flood lights burst on, illuminating the cavern 
from ceiling to water. Pitt could now see that the submarine was moored to a 
floating dock that began at a tunnel entrance on the far wall and extended two 
hundred feet across the water like an enormous wooden tongue. The domed ceiling 
was much lower in this inner cavern as compared to the outer one, but its 
horizontal area was several times larger; the square footage would have easily 
equaled a football field. Along the right wall, on an overhanging ledge, five 
men stood in frozen immobility, their hands gripped on leveled machine pistols. 
Each was dressed in the same style of uniform that Pitt had previously seen on 
von Tills chauffeur. There was no mistaking the business-like manner in which 
they aimed their weapons at the men in the water.
I think youd better do as the man says, Pitt advised.
The mist returned, but the burning lights kept it to a minimum, dooming any 
chance for escape. Spencer and Hersong climbed aboard the sub first, followed by 
Knight and Thomas. Woodson, as usual, was last, still clutching his camera in 
defiance of von Till's commands.
Knight helped Pitt off with his airtank. Let me take a look at your leg, sir. 
Gently he eased Pitt to a sitting position on the deck. Then he removed the lead 
weights from his weight belt and wrapped the nylon webbing around Pitts wound, 
stemming the blood flow. He looked up at Pitt and grinned. It seems as though 
everytime I turn around, youre bleeding.
A messy habit I cant rid myself of lately
Pitt stopped short. The mist was disappearing again, and the lights had now 
exposed a second submarine moored on the opposite side of the dock. He surveyed 
both subs comparing them. The one he and his men rested on had a flush deck from 
stem to stern, no projections anywhere. The other sub was different; it still 
retained its original conning tower, a massive structure that sat on its hull 
like a distorted half-bubble. Three men, backs turned to the drama, behind them, 
were busily removing the machine guns from a shattered airplane that sat on the 
broad deck.
Now I know where the yellow Albatros materialized from, said Pitt. An old 
Japanese I-Boat, capable of launching a small scout plane. They havent been in 
use since World War II.
Yes, a handsome specimen, von Till said jovially. Im honored you could 
identify it. Sunk by an American destroyer off Iwo Jima in 1945, raised by 
Minerva Lines in 1951. Ive found the combination of submarine and aircraft a 
most useful method of delivering small cargoes into areas that demand extreme 
discretion.
A handy toy for also attacking United States airfields and research ships, 
Pitt added.
Touch, Major, von Till murmured. At dinner the other night you guessed that 
the plane came from the sea. You were groping blindly, but you came much closer 
than you thought.
I can see that now. Pitt shot a quick glance at the tunnel entrance. Two more 
guards leaned negligently against the walls of the opening, their machine 
pistols hung carelessly over their shoulders. Pitt started to say: The antique 
Albatros
Correction. von Till interrupted. A replica of an Albatros. For my purposes a 
slow, bi-wing aircraft was the most efficient means of landing and taking off on 
short fields, dark beaches, or in water beside a ship; the lower wing can, or 
should I say could fold downward in the shape of hydrofoil pontoons. I used the 
Albatros D-3 design with a more modern engine, of course, because the 
aerodynamics provided the perfect answer to my requirements And an old shabby 
looking airplane would never be suspected of. shall we say, slightly illegal 
activities. A pity it will never fly again.
Von Till pulled a box of cigarettes from his breast pocket and lit one. Then he 
went on.
My delivery plane was never meant to be armed or flown in combat It was only 
after I had no alternative but to assault Brady Field and your precious research 
ship that I had the guns installed; a drastic move perhaps but your Commander 
Gunn refused to be discouraged by my subtle efforts to sabotage his expedition. 
There was little to fear from a Sunday swimmer or a diving tourist discovering 
my little underwater modus operandi However, a trained ocean scientist, that was
something else again. I could not take the risk. The raid was, I am still 
convinced, an excellent plan. Colonel Lewis would have had no choice but to 
order the its name escapes me, ah yes, the First Attempt to evacuate the Thasos 
coast if the attack had continued unhindered. You couldnt have known, of 
course, that the Albatros intended to make a token strafing run against the ship 
immediately after it neutralized the airfield. Inopportunely, Major Pitt, you 
blundered onto the scene and ruined everything.
The fortunes of war, Pitt offered sarcastically.
It is a shame Willie cannot be here to hear you say that.
Where is good old peeping-Tom Willie? Pitt asked.
Willi was the pilot, von Till answered. When the Albatros crashed into the 
sea, poor Willie was trapped in the wreckage. He drowned before we could reach 
him. Von Tills face abruptly became hard and menacing. It seems you cost me 
my chauffeur and pilot as well as my dog.
Gullibility on Willies part, Pitt said quietly. I suckered him with the same 
old balloon trick that the British used on Kurt Heibert. As to the dog, before 
you sic another one of your hydrophobic bitches on your next unsuspecting dinner 
guest, I suggest you count your table utensils.
Von Till looked at Pitt curiously for a moment Then he nodded knowingly. 
Remarkable, quite remarkable. You killed my champion hound with a knife from my 
own dinner table. Most ungracious of you, Major, to say the least May I ask how 
you were forewarned?
Premonition, Pitt replied. No more, no less. You should never have tried to 
kill me. That was your first mistake.
It is a pity your escape from the labyrinth only prolonged your existence by a 
few hours.
Pitt nonchalantly glanced past von Till and Darius.
The ominous black tunnel was now strangely empty; the two guards had 
disappeared. Not so the five guards who lined the cavern wall with the machine 
pistolsthey looked as menacing as ever.
Your reception committee leads me to believe you were expecting us, Pitt 
murmured quietly.
Of course we were expecting you, von Till acknowledged matter-of-factly. Good 
friend Darius here informed me of your impending arrival. The exact time became 
apparent when the First Attempt began acting suspiciously; no captain in his 
right mind would run his ship that close-in to the Thasos cliffs.
How many pieces of silver did it take for Darius to turn traitor?
The exact sum wouldnt be of interest to you, said von Till. The fact is. 
Darius has been in my employ for ten years. You might say that our association 
has proved to be quite mutually rewarding.
Pitt stared into Darius' coal-black eyes. No matter how you slice it. it still 
add up to treason. Thats your second mistake, von Till Hiring a slimey 
cockroach of a bastard like Darius. its bound to backfire.
Darius shivered in involuntary rage. The Luger protruded from his massive fist 
as if it were a mutant growth extension, and it was aimed unsteadily at Pitts 
navel.
Von Till shook his head tiredly. Antagonizing Darius will only make you very, 
very dead.
Whats the difference. Youre going to kill all of us anyway.
Premonition again. Major? It serves you well. Von Till spoke cheerfully. Too 
cheerfully to suit Pitt.
I hate surprises, Pitt said caustically. How and when?
With a practiced flourish, von Till pushed back his sleeves and carefully 
studied the dial of his watch. In eleven minutes to be exact. That is all the 
time I can afford.
Why not now? Darius growled. Why wait? We have other business at hand.
Patience Darius, von Till chided. Youre not thinking. We can use the extra 
hands to load our supplies on board the submarine. He gazed down at Pitt and 
smiled Because of your wound. Major. youre excused The rest of your men can 
begin by carrying the equipment you see on the dock into the forward hatch.
We dont work for butchers, Pitt spoke softly and evenly.
Very well, if you insist. Von Till beamed at Darius. Shoot away his left ear. 
With your next bullet, take off his nose. After that his
Stow it, you sadistic old hun. The words fairly spat from Woodsons lips. 
Well load your goddamned pigboat.
They had no choice. Pitt had no choice. He could only sit by helplessly and 
watch as Spencer and Hersong began attacking a small mountain of wooden crates 
on the dock and passing them to Knight and Thomas on the sub. Woodson vanished 
into the hatch; only his arms, rising occasionally above the deck to receive a 
crate, revealed his whereabouts.
The burning sensation returned to Pitt's leg in earnest now. If he hadnt known 
better, hed have sworn that a microscopic little man was running back and forth 
through his wound with a flamethrower. One or twice he nearly blacked out; each 
time he fought desperately to hold on until the engulfing waves of darkness 
subsided. On sheer will power alone he kept his voice on a conversational tone.
You only answered the when half of my question, von Till.
Does the method of your demise really matter that much to you?
Like I said. I hate surprises.
Von Till studied Pitt in cold speculation, then he shrugged. I suppose it does 
no harm to hide the inevitable. He paused to check his watch again. You and 
your men will be shot A bit barbaric and ruthless, I grant, but I prefer to 
think of it as a rather humane death, especially when compared to being buried 
alive.
Pitt thought for a moment The loading of supplies and equipment. those men 
removing the guns from the wrecked Albatros, it all spells get-away. Youre 
folding your tent, von Till, and stealing off into the night Then after youve 
left, one minute, five minutes, maybe even half an hour. explosive charges will 
detonate and seal the cavern under tons of rock, entombing the six of us and 
erasing all evidence of your underwater smuggling operation.
Von Till looked at Pitt in puzzled suspicion. Go on, Major. I find your 
assumptions extremely fascinating.
Youre running on a tight time schedule, and youre running scared. Under our 
feet, beneath this dock, rests a hundred and thirty tons of heroinloaded into 
the sub at Shanghai and carried across the Indian Ocean and through the Suez 
Canal by a Minerva Lines freighter. I have to hand it to you; anyone else would 
have tried to sneak the heroin into the United States through the backdoor 
without fanfare. Not so Bruno von Till. BBD&O together with J. Walter Thompson 
and all the other agencies on Madison Avenue couldnt have created a more 
professional job of advertising the Queen Artemisias illegal cargo and final 
destination. It was shrewd thinking. Even though INTERPOL agents have finally 
unriddled your underwater transportation, it makes little difference. All their 
eyes are still trained on the Queen Artenusia. Do you follow me?
They stood mute and offered no affirmative or negative reply. 
As Darius has undoubtedly informed you, Pitt went on, Inspector Zacynthus and 
the Bureau of Narcotics are currently wasting their time and efforts in 
preparing a trap for the ship when it reaches Chicago. I shudder to think of the 
four letter words that will fall on Lake Michigan when they discover nothing but 
the ships crew wearing their best actors smiles and the holds filled with 
nothing but the cocoa from Ceylon.
Pitt paused and shifted his throbbing leg to a more comfortable position. He 
noticed that Knight and Thomas had joined Woodson below the hatch. Then he 
continued.
It must be a great source of satisfaction to know that INTERPOL has taken your 
bait, hook, line and sinker. Theyre totally unaware that the sub and the heroin 
were dropped here last night in order to be transferred to the next Minerva 
Lines ship that happens past; which, by the way, should be the Queen Jocasta, 
bound for New Orleans with a cargo of Turkish tobacco and due to drop anchor a 
mile off shore in approximately ten minutes. Thats why youre running scared, 
von Till. Time has caught up with you, and you have to gamble on a rendezvous 
with your ship in broad daylight,
You have a vivid imagination, von Till said contemptuously. But Pitt could see 
the lines of concern in the old mans face. There is absolutely no way you can 
prove your wild theories.
Pitt ignored his words. He said: Why should I bother? Im going to die in a few 
minutes anyway.
You have a point. Major, von Till said slowly. I compliment you. Your 
perception is excellent. I see no harm in admitting that you are correct in 
everything you have said. with one exception: The Queen Jocasta will not dock in 
New Orleans. At the last minute, it will alter course for Galveston, Texas.
The three men on the other sub had removed the guns from the Albatros and 
mysteriously dropped out of sight. Hersong stepped off the dock and passed a 
crate through the hatch to Spencer. who had now vanished into the hull with 
Thomas, Knight and Woodson. Pitt spoke quickly. He needed every second now.
One question before Darius gets carried away. Out of old world courtesy. you 
cant deny me that.
Darius stood there. his evil face masked with murderous intent. He looked like a 
sadistic kid in a biology class who could hardly wait to dissect a frog.
Very well, Major, von Till said conversationally.
What is it?
How will the heroin be distributed after it's unloaded in Galveston?
Von Till smiled. One of my lesser known business ventures is a small fleet of 
fishing boats; not a financially rewarding venture, I might add, but one that 
becomes quite useful at times. At the moment, my boats are dropping their nets 
in the Gulf of Mexico, awaiting my signal When it comes, they will raise their 
nets and arrive in port at the exact same moment as the Queen Jocarta. The rest 
is simple: the ship releases the submarine, which is in turn led by the fishing 
boats to a cannery. The cargo is then unloaded under the building, and the 
heroin is packed into cans labeled catfood. I must say, it is ironic; all that 
powder being shipped into every one of your fifty states in catfood cans. The 
joke is on the Bureau of Narcotics. By the time their suspicions are aroused, it 
will be too late. The heroin will have already been received and carefully 
hidden. Admit it, Major. doesnt the prospect of all that heroin being smelled, 
swallowed, or injected by millions of your own countrymen shock your 
holier-than-thou Yankee moral standards?
Now Pitt was smiling. It might, if it ever came to pass.
Von Tills eyes narrowed. Pitt wasnt acting like a doomed man. Something very 
definitely was off key. It will come to pass. I promise you that.
Millions of people, Pitt said wonderingly. You stand there with a smile on 
your ugly mouth and openly boast of the misery youre going to extract from 
millions of people for a few lousy dollars.
Hardly a few dollars. Major. I think half a billion dollars would be a closer 
figure.
Youll never live to count it, much less spend it.
And who is going to stop me? You, Major? Inspector Zacynthus? Possibly a 
lightning bolt from the sky?
Wishing will make it so.
Ive had enough of his stupid words, Darius said bitterly. Nownow let him 
pay for his arrogance.
The supremely grotesque face was a cloud of black malevolence. Pitt didnt like 
the look he didnt like the look at all. He could almost feel Darius finger 
tighten around the trigger of the Luger.
Come now, Pitt said slowly. Killing me now wouldnt be sporting. My eleven 
minutes arent up yet. Actually to Pitt, it seemed he had been talking for 
hours.
Von Till stood silent for several seconds and toyed with his cigarette Then he 
said: There is one point that intrigues me, Major. Why did you kidnap my 
niece?
Pitts lips tightened to a sly grin. To begin with, shes not your niece.
Darius face went blank. Youyou could not have known.
I knew, said Pitt evenly. Unlike you, von Till, I didnt have the benefit of 
an informer, but I knew. All in all, Zacynthus gave it a good try, but his plan 
was headed for failure right from the start. He hid the genuine niece away in a 
safe place in England and found
another girl who resembled her. They hardly had to be
exact doubles since you hadnt laid eyes on the real Teri in over twenty years. 
Zacynthus also carefully planned his Mata Hari's cross country vacation to look 
like nothing more than an innocent surprise holiday visit by a loving relative.
Darius stared at von Till, his massive jaw seeming to grind Pitts revelation to 
pieces, Von Tills expression didnt change. He just slowly nodded in apparent 
understanding.
Too bad, Pitt said, it was all for nothing. You werent the least bit 
surprised. Darius had seen to that.
At that point, you had two choices; you could either expose the girl as an 
impostor and throw her out, or you could play along and feed her false 
information. Quite naturally your devious mind chose the latter. You were in 
your element. You felt like a puppeteer pulling strings. You could now play the 
girl and Darius on the ends against Zacynthus and Zeno in the middle.
An irresistible situation, said von Till. Do you agree?
You couldnt miss, Pitt went on calmly From the time of her arrival until 
Giordino and I grabbed her from the villa, the girls every move was closely 
watched by your chauffeur. Under the guise of a sort of bodyguard; Willie stuck 
with her like a leech. It must have been entertaining work, especially when she 
sunbathed on the beach. At that, her passion for early morning swimming was 
nothing but a means of making contact with Zacynthus. It was the only 
opportunity you gave her to pass him information, all of it worthless. How you 
must have laughed, knowing she was swallowing every bit of crap you fed her. 
Then something happened and Zacynthus began to get wise. Arriving late for their 
rendezvous one morning, he probably spotted Willie lurking in the bushes, both 
eyes unerringly focused on the girl in her bikini. Zacynthus couldnt help 
wondering if Willie had been there observing all the other predawn meetings. 
Suddenly he saw his well-conceived plan going down the drain. It looked as 
though you had outsmarted him again.
We could have regained the advantage, Darius sputtered in pure rage, except 
for you.
Pitt shrugged. Enter our hero, yours truly, who blundered onto the stage, 
little knowing he would get clawed, beaten and shot before the final curtain. My 
life would have been far less complicated if only Id stayed in bed that morning 
instead of taking an early swim. When Teri discovered me, I was taking a nap on 
the tideline. It was still dark, and she mistook me for Zacynthus, thinking one 
of your men had murdered him. She damn near went into shock when my apparently 
lifeless body suddenly sat upright and started a light conversation?
The pain wave hit him again and he gripped his leg as if trying to squeeze the 
agony away. He forced himself to go on, his words strained through gritted 
teeth.
Something had gone veryvery wrong. Zacynthus failed to show, and here was a 
total stranger who seemingly knew nothing about what was going onadd to that 
the staggering odds against an outsider accidentally swimming on that particular 
deserted beach at four in the morning, and you have one confused girl. Ill give 
her credit, shes a fast thinker. Considering the circumstances, she grabbed at 
the only conclusion open to her.
I had to be on your payroll, von Till. So she went through her carefully 
rehearsed biography routine and invited me to the villa for dinner, expecting to 
throw you a curve by innocently introducing you to your own hired man.
Von Till smiled, I am afraid you cooked your own goose, my dear Pitt, with your 
ridiculous tale about being in charge of garbage collecting. She didnt really 
believe it, but oddly enough I did.
Not as odd as it seems, Pitt said. No trained agent in his right mind would 
ever use a cover as hokey as that one. You knew that. Besides, you had no cause 
for alarm; there was no warning from Darius. It was really only a joke on my 
partone that backfired with rather painful results.
Pitt hesitated, adjusting the belt covering his wound.
When I appeared at your door wearing the oak leaves of a major. you immediately 
figured I was one of Zacynthus agents, whom he slipped into the act without 
Darius knowledge. Unwittingly I added fuel to your suspicions by damn near 
coming out and accusing you of enginering the raid on Brady Field. I was getting 
warm, too warm to suit you, von Till. Your solution was to play Houdini and make 
me disappear. The risk of exposure was small, the chances were that my body, or 
what was left of it, would never be found in the labyrinth By this time the girl 
caught onto the fact that she had made a terrible mistake. I really was an 
innocent bystander who really happened to be swimming on that particular beach 
at four in the morning. It was too late, the damage was done. She could do 
nothing but stand by helplessly and keep her mouth shut while you disposed of 
me.
Von Till looked thoughtful. I think l see, I see indeed. You still assumed the 
girl was my niece, and you kidnapped her out of revenge.
Youre half right, Pitt came back. Information was my other motive. When 
someone tries to kill me, I like to know why. Except for you, my only source for 
the answer was the girl. But Colonel Zeno appeared outside the labyrinth and put 
a crimp in my plan before I had a chance to question her Even so, as matters 
turned out, I did Inspector Zacynthus a big favor.
I fail to understand, Darius said icily.
For Zacynthus the abduction was made to order; the girls usefulness was over, 
and, as long as she continued to play the role of your niece. her life wasnt 
worth two cents. Somehow, he had to discreetly slip her away from the villa and 
off the island. As it turned out, I played into his hands and laid her at his 
feet on a silver platter. However, Zacynthus wasnt out of the woods yet. A new 
and totally unexpected pair of problems faced him: Giordino and myself. He knew 
we were out to get your scalp, and, as much as he liked the idea, he still had 
to stop us. Legally, he had no jurisdiction and couldnt detain us by force. So 
be did the next best thing and asked us to cooperate with INTERPOL That way be 
could watch us like a hawk.
You are quite correct. Major. Von Till ran a hand over his hairless pate, 
wiping the moisture from the gleaming skin. I had every intention of killing 
the girl.
Pitt nodded. I wondered why Zacynthus was so insistent that I keep Teri on 
board the First Attempt. Shed be safe from you, and could keep an eye on 
Giordino and me. It didnt dawn on me until this morning what game the girl was 
playing and whose side she was on.
Darius stared at Pitt in bleak puzzlement. What goes on here. Major Pitt? You 
could not possibly have known all this.
Nice girls dont carry twenty-five caliber automatic Mausers taped to their 
legs, Pitt said. Thats a sure sign of a professional. Teri wasnt carrying a 
gun when I met her on the beachGiordino discovered it when he snatched her off 
the couch in the villas study.
Obviously, she feared someone inside, not outside the villa.
You are even more perceptive than I gave you credit for, von Till said 
bitterly. I may have slightly underestimated you. But it makes little or no 
difference on the outcome.
Only slightly underestimated? Pitt asked consideringly. I wonder If I've been 
wise to the girls deception, why do you think Id stand by and allow her to 
drug the First Attempts radio operator so that she could sneak off a message to 
Inspector Zacynthus, announcing my intention to explore the cavern?
"The answer is simple, von Till said smugly. You didnt know Darius was 
working for me. He received the girls message. but, unfortunately for you, 
neglected to pass it on to Inspector Zacynthus. Face it, Major, you got involved 
with matters far above your head.
Pitt didnt reply immediately. He sat quite still, absorbing the pain that 
burned in his leg, wondering if now was the right moment. It would be impossible 
to go on much longerhis vision was beginning to blur around the edgesyet he 
couldnt overplay his hand. He turned his head slightly and stared dully up at 
Darius. The Luger still aimed at Pitts navel. This had to be it, he told 
himselfhe hoped to God his timing was right.
I agree, he said casually. It just goes to prove, you cant win them all, can 
you, Admiral Heibert?
At first von Till didnt respond. He stood there, his face without expression. 
Then the sheen incredibility of Pitts words began to register. He took a step 
toward Pitt, his mouth barely moving.
Whatwhat did you call me? he asked in a tight whisper.
"Admiral Heibert, Pitt repeated. Admiral Erich
Heibert: Commander of Nazi Germanys transportation fleet; fanatical follower of 
Adolph Hitler; and brother of Kurt Heibert, the World War II ace.
What little color was left drained from his face. Youyou have lost your 
senses.
The U-19, that was your final mistake.
Nonsense, utter nonsense. The tight lips spoke low and unbelieving.
The model in your study. It struck me as strange at the time; why would an 
ex-combat pilot display a replica of a submarine instead of the aircraft he flew 
during wartime? Pilots are as sentimental about those things as sailors. It 
didnt figure. The ultimate irony is that Darius, not knowing your true 
identity, used Inspector Zacynthus radio to contact the German naval archives 
in Berlin at my request.
So that was what you were after, Darius said, his eyes still watchful.
It was handled as a routine inquiry. I asked for a crew list of the U-19. I 
also contacted an old friend in Municha World War I aviation buffand asked him 
if he knew of any flyer by the name of Bruno von Till. The replies were most 
interesting. A von Till actually flew for the German Imperial Air Service all 
right But you claimed to have flown with Kurt Heibert in Jasta 73 out of the 
Xanthi aerodrome in Macedonia. The real von Till flew with Jasta in France from 
the summer of 1917 until the Armistice in November of 1918; he never left the 
Western Front. The next intriguing tid-bit was the first name on the U-19s crew 
rostera Commander Erich Heibert. Being an Inquisitive cuss, I didnt stop 
there. I radioed Berlin again, this time from the ship, and asked them to send 
all available information on Erich Heibert. That did itI couldnt have created 
a bigger stir with the German authorities If Id resurrected Hider, Goering and 
Himmler all in one swoop.
Sheer babblehes delirious. The shrewd, Calculating Fu Manchu look had 
returned to the old Germans face. No one in their right mind would believe 
such a ridiculous fairytale. A model submarinehardly a valid connection between 
me and Heibert.
I dont have to prove anything. The facts speak for themselves. When Hitler 
took power you became his devoted follower. In return for your loyalty, and in 
recognition of your previous valuable combat experience, he promoted you to 
Officer Commanding Transportation Fleet; a title you held throughout the war 
until just before Germanys surrender when you seem to have vanished.
That has nothing to do with me, von Till said angrily.
Youre wrong, Pitt returned. The real Bruno von Till married the daughter of 
a wealthy Bavarian businessman who, among other interests, owned a small fleet 
of merchant ships -ships that sailed under the flag of Greece. Von Till knew a 
good thing when he saw it He took out Greek citizenship papers and became 
Managing Director of Minerva Lines. Financially the company was a loser, but he 
built it into a first class carrier fleet by smuggling arms and essential war 
materials into Germany in direct violation of the Versailles Treaty.
Thats how you knew him, you helped engineer the operation. You both had a good 
thing going, but von Till was no mental retard. He figured the Axis powers would 
lose in the end. So he threw his lot with the Allies early in the war.
You fail to make a connection, Darius said. Pitt had his interest, but it 
could just as easily fade at any moment.
Now comes the good part. Your boss, Darius, isnt a man to leave anything to 
chance. A less clever man would have simply tried to vanish Not Admiral Erich 
Heibert He was much too cunning Somehow he made his way through the Allied line. 
to England, where the bonafide von Till was living, murdered him and took his 
place.
"How was it possible, Darius demanded.
It wasnt only possible, Pitt said to Darius, it was accomplished to the 
letter. They were both roughly the same size and build. A few alterations here 
and there by a skilled surgeon, a few gestures and speech mannerisms, practiced 
until perfect and the man who stands before you became a dead ringer for the 
original Bruno von Till. Why not? There were no close friends, von Till was sort 
of a loner, no one knew him well. His wife had died childless. There was. 
however, a nephew who had been born and raised in Greece. Even he didnt catch 
on to the switch till years later Then it cost him his life. Mere childs play 
for a professional killer like Heibert The nephew and his wife were murdered in 
a faked boating accident Teri, their young daughter, was spared No benevolence 
on Heiberts part I assure you. The public image of a considerate and protective 
grand uncle was too good to pass by.
Pitt stole another encompassing look at the guards, the tunnel and the Japanese 
I-Boat. Then he turned back to von Till.
After the switch, smuggling was merely a sideline for you. Heibert. The 
inventive creation of a submarine attached to the keel of a ship came natural 
for an old U-Boat commander. To the outside world, Heibert, alias von Till, had 
it made. Minerva Lines was thriving, the money was rolling in. But you were 
worried, things were going too well The more prominent you became, the better 
your chances of being exposed. So you moved to Thasos, re-built the villa and 
played the role of an
eccentric millionaire recluse. Business as usual was no problem. A high-power 
short-wave radio was installed so you could operate Minerva Lines without ever 
setting foot on the mainland of Europe. But your perverted past was too strong. 
You let the company fleet run down. to a fourth rate freight hauler, and turned 
your talents almost entirely to smuggling
Where is all this talk leading? Darius interrupted.
The fait accomplithe pay-off, Pitt explained. It seems that Admiral Heibert 
here was conspicuous by his absence at the Nuremberg War Trials. His name is 
right up there next to Martin Bormann on the wanted war criminals list. A real 
sweetheart this one. While Eichmann was burning the Jews, Heibert was emptying 
the POW camps by driving Allied prisoners into the holds of old merchant vessels 
and setting them adrift in the North Sea, trusting to British and American 
bombers to do the Nazis own dirty work. In spite of the fact that he had 
disappeared at the end of the war, he knew what was in store if he stayed in 
Germany. He was convicted in absentia by the International Military Tribunal at 
Nuremberg and sentenced to death. Its a pity he wasnt hung before now, still 
its better late than never.
Pitt had played his last card. There was nothing left for him but to hope, he 
could stall no more.
Well there you have it. A few facts, a few educated guesses. The storys a bit 
sketchy I admit. The Germans could only radio a brief outline of the information 
they had in their files. The exact details may never become known. No matter, 
youre a dead man Heibert
Von Till looked at Pitt in cold speculation. Pay no attention to the Major, 
Darius. His whole make-believe talk is nothing but the clever stall of a 
desperate man
Von Tin paused, listening. At first the sound was faintit seemed like an eerie 
thumping. Then Pitt recognized it as the heavy tread of hobnail boots moving 
closer along the wooden deck. The mist was back, and its moist atmosphere 
cloaked any shape or form, while at the same time it amplified the approaching 
footsteps into a kettledrum beat. It sounded as though the unseen noisemaker was 
lifting his feet and dropping them with much more force than necessary. Then a 
ghostly and faceless figure, dressed in the uniform of von Tills bodyguards, 
grew out of the mist. Barely discernible, the figure stopped several feet back 
and clicked his heels.
The Queen Jocasta has dropped anchor, sir. The voice spoke in a low guttural 
tone.
You idiot! von Till snapped, angry at the interruption. Return to your post.
No more delays, Darius snarled. Just one bullet in the Majors groin so he 
can linger in agony. The Lugers muzzle fell to Pitt's lower torso.
Whatevers fair, Pitt said quietly. He had a strange expressionless stare that 
was more disturbing to von Till than any show of fear ever could have been.
Von Till arched forward in a curt precise bow.
Im sorry. Major, the old German said slowly and very deliberately. Our 
interesting little chat has come to an end. Please forgive me if I fall to 
provide the traditional blindfold and last cigarette. He said nothing more, the 
evil, venomous smirk on his face spoke for him, and Pitt braced himself for the 
almost certain blast from Darius gun.
 
18
A gun roared: not the sharp bark of a Luger, but the heavy, ear-stunning roar of 
a big bore, forty-five Colt automatic Darius shouted in pain as the Luger flew 
from his hand into the water. Giordino, in a uniform at least two sizes too 
large. nimbly leaped off the dock onto the sub deck and shoved the Colt into von 
Tills left ear. Then he turned to admire his marksmanship.
Well, what do you know, I even remembered to remove the safety."
Nice going Pitt said. "Errol Flynn couldnt have made a more dramatic 
entrance.
Their faces confused and uncomprehending, von Till and Darius stood frozen in 
mute shock. The hot flood lights glazed through the mist, burning it away 
completely, and the guards on the ledge could see that something totally 
unexpected had occurred on the subs deck. As if drawn by one string, all five 
men raised their machine pistols and aimed them directly at Pitt.
Keep your fingers off the triggers. Giordinos voice boomed against the rock 
walls Shoot Major Pitt and I splatter your bosss brains half way to Athens. 
Shoot and you all die. There are guns trained on your hearts- I'm not bluffing. 
Look at the tunnel.
If there was one thing in the cavern whose supply outdistanced its necessity, it 
was the machine pistol. There were ten more of them in the bands of the toughest 
bunch of men Pitt had ever seen. They were grouped in loose formation around the 
tunnel entrance, four in the prone position, three kneeling and three standing. 
Pitt almost had to look twice to make them out clearly; their black and brown 
camouflaged field dress blended perfectly into the craggy shadows. Only their 
maroon berets, the hallmark of an elite outfit, betrayed their presence to the 
casual eye.
Giordino continued: Now please turn your attention to the submarine at my 
rear.
It wasnt exactly the straw that broke the camels back, but it was the ugly, 
air cooled machine gun, gripped by a fiendishly grinning Colonel Zeno on the 
I-Boats conning tower, that broke the bodyguards will to fight Slowly they 
lowered their guns and raised their hands in the air; all except one, he 
hesitated and paid the price.
Zeno fanned the trigger of his weapon. Two bullets, no more. spat from the 
air-cooled barrel in one brief blast The unthinking unfortunate guard slumped 
soundlessly to the ground and rolled limply into the water, staining the 
brilliant cobalt blue with a growing cloud of red.
Now walk, dont run to the nearest exit, Giordino said casually, your hands 
clasped on your heads.
Pitt, the tired expression on his face reflecting the gnawing pain in his leg 
said to Giordino: You sliced your timing pretty thin.
The capital of Italy wasnt constructed in twenty-four hours, Giordino 
paraphrased pontifically. After all, swimming ashore, finding Zacynthus, Zeno, 
and their roving band of commandos, and then leading them through that godawful 
labyrinth on the run wasnt the most leisurely of chores.
Did you have any trouble with my directions?
No problem. The elevator shaft was right where you said itd be.
Von Till moved close to Pitt, his eyes cold as ice. Who told you about the 
elevator?
No one, Pitt replied tersely. Wandering through the labyrinth, I accidentally 
took a side corridor that ended at a ventilator shaft. I heard the sound of 
generators somewhere beyond the opening. Their purpose came to me when I was 
sure of the sea cavern. Your villa sits on a near vertical line above the 
shoreline cliffs. An underground elevator had to be the only means of moving 
from the villa to the cavern without detection. The shaft, the cavern, and 
passageways were a made to order arrangement for smuggling. courtesy of the 
Phoenicians over two thousand years ago.
Wait a minute, Giordino cut in. Are you suggesting that somebody was 
smuggling out of here before Christ?
You didnt do your homework, Pitt grinned. If youd read the brochure that 
Zeno handed out before we started on the tour of the ruins, youd know that 
Thasos was originally settled by the Phoenicians to exploit its gold and silver 
deposits. The tunnels and shaft are part of an ancient mine. Eventually it was 
worked out and abandoned. The Greeks discovered it a few hundred years later and 
thought it was some kind of mysterious labyrinth built by the Gods.
A movement on the dock attracted Pitts attention and he looked up.
Zacynthus appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stood, staring down at Pitt for 
several long moments. Finally he asked:
Hows the leg?
Pitt shrugged. Itll probably smart a bit when the barometer drops, but it 
shouldnt slow up my sex life.
Colonel Zeno sent two of his men after a stretcher. They should be here in a 
few minutes.
Were you able to overhear any of our enlightening conversation?
Zacynthus nodded. Every word. The acoustics in here would do credit to Carnegie 
Hall.
Youll never prove any of it, von Till said in contempt. His lips curled in a 
sneer, but there was a trace of desperation in his eyes.
As Ive said, Pitt murmured tiredly, I dont have to prove anything. At this 
minute, four war criminal investigators are flying here from Germany, courtesy 
of the United States Air Force, who were only too happy to lend a helping hand 
after your little shooting party at Brady Field. Each one of those four men is a 
specialist. They know every hidden identity trick in the book. Plastic surgery, 
a different voice, your advanced age, nothing will fool them. Im afraid its 
the end of the voyage for you, Admiral.
I am a Greek citizen, von Till said arrogantly.
They have no legal right to abduct me to Germany."
Cut the masquerade," Pitt lashed back. Von Till was the Greek citizen, not 
you. Colonel Zeno, will you please explain the facts of life for the Admiral.
With pleasure, Major. Zeno had left the conning tower of the Japanese I-boat 
and was now standing next to Zacynthus. He grinned broadly under the big, 
flowing moustache and eyed von Till with piercing scrutiny. We take a dim view 
of anyone who enters our country illegally and we greatly dislike playing host 
to a wanted war criminal. If you are indeed Admiral Erich Heibert, as Major Pitt 
claims, I shall personally see to it that you are turned over to the war 
criminal investigators and placed on the first plane back to Germany and the 
gallows.
A most appropriate and convenient ending, Zacynthus said slowly. It saves the 
taxpayers the expense of a long, drawn-out trial for narcotics smuggling. On the 
other hand, we lose the opportunity to bag half the illegal drug buyers in North 
America.
Arent you forgetting that opportunity makes the thief, Pitt grinned.
What do you mean by that?
Simple arithmetic, Zac. Now you know how the heroin drop is made and where. It 
would be an easy matter to take over the Queen Jocasta, keep the crew 
Incommunicado, and deliver the goods in person. Im certain the proper 
authorities could hush-up Heiberts capture until you can spring your trap at 
the cannery in Galveston.
Yes, Zacynthus said consideringly, yes by god, it just might work. Providing 
I can find a crew to operate the ship and submarine on short notice.
The Mediterranean Tenth Fleet, Pitt offered. Use your influence and make an 
urgent request to our navy for an emergency crew. They can be airlifted into 
Brady Field. Time wise, it shouldnt set the Queen Jocasta off schedule for more 
than five or six hours. If you push the old tub you can make that up in a day 
and a half.
Zacynthus surveyed Pitt with mixed curiosity and admiration. You certainly 
dont miss much, do you?
Pitt shrugged, retaining his grin. I try.
There is one thing I wish youd explain.
Name it.
How did you know Darius was an informer?
I smelled a rat when I searched the Queen Artemisia. The transmitter in the 
radio cabin was set on the same frequency as the set in your office. I must 
confess, at the time I thought it might be any one of you. The field narrowed 
down to Darius after I swam ashore and met Giordino. He said that Darius had 
been stationed on your radio during the entire time between the arrival and 
departure of the Queen Artemisia. It was a cozy arrangement. While you and Zeno 
were on a wild goose chase, keeping an eye on the villa and battling mosquitoes, 
Darius was comfortably sipping his Metaxa and notifying Heibert of your every 
move. Thats why I had the ship all to myself. The crew members were all busy 
down in the bilges, releasing the sub.
The captain hadnt bothered posting a lookout because Darius had assured him all 
was clear. What Darius didnt know, and even you didnt know, Zac, was that I 
Intended to swim out and scout the ship from the water. You suspected nothing 
when Giordino and I volunteered to watch the ship from the beach. It was only, 
at the last minute, when I saw no sign of the Queen Artemisias crew, that I 
decided to sneak on board for a closer look. My apologies for not clearing my 
actions with you, but I was certain that youd have raised hell and tried to 
stop me.
I'm the one who should offer apologies, Zacynthus said. I deserve the dunce 
award of the year. God, how could I have been so blind? I should have guessed 
something was wrong when Darius was never able to intercept any messages between 
the passing Minerva ships and the villa.
I could have relayed my suspicions to you on the road this morning. Pitt said. 
But it hardly seemed the right time or place particularly In front of Darius. 
Secondly, without one hundred percent proof I doubt seriously whether you or 
Zeno would have believed my accusation.
You were quite right, Zacynthus admitted. "Tell me this. Where did you find 
out about the Queen Jocasta?"
The Air Force has a funny habit about loaning out their vehicles; sooner or 
later they want them back. After Giordino and I left you, we stopped off at 
Brady Field and returned the truck to the motorpool. Colonel Lewis was waiting 
for us. It was he who alerted me to the Queen Jocasta. One of his morning 
patrols sighted her cruising north toward Thasos. The next step was to check the 
ships cargo and destination with the Minerva Lines agent in Athens. His reply 
added to an interesting coincidence. Not only were two Minerva ships passing by 
the villa Within twelve hours of each other, but both were headed for ports in 
the United States. I began to get the picturevon Till, or rather Heibert, 
Intended to switch the sub and the heroin from the Queen Artemisia to the Queen 
Jocajta.
You might have let me in on your secret, Zacynthus said with a noticeable 
trace of bitterness. I came within a hair of locking Giordino up when he 
bounded into my headquarters, demanding that I, together with Colonel Zenos 
men, follow him into the labyrinth.
Pitt studied him. The inspectors face was grim. I considered it, Pitt said 
honestly. But I figured the less everyone concerned knew, the less chance there 
was for Darius to get suspicious. I also purposely kept the girl in the dark 
because it was essential that her message, warning your headquarters of my plans 
to search for the cavern, reek with serious intentions when Darius intercepted 
it. My actions were devious, I admit, but my reasons were valid.
To think that the Bureaus finest investigator was shown up by a rank amateur. 
Then Zacynthus grinned and there was a warm hint in the smile that removed the 
acid from his words. But It was worth it, well worth it.
Pitt was greatly relieved. He didnt wish to make an enemy of Zacynthus. He 
turned and looked at von Till. The old German stared back at Pitt with a 
contempt in his eyes that went far beyond mere hate. The only feeling that 
suddenly welled within Pitt was one of disgust. He spoke quietly, but his cold 
voice carried to every inch of the cavern.
You would have to die a hundred thousand deaths, and then some, to repay all 
the lives you stole, old man. Most men are born and go to the grave without 
killing anyone, but your list stretches endlessly from the helpless prisoners 
you condemned to the cold waters of the North Sea to the schoolgirls you sold 
into slavery in the scum-infested back alleys of Casablanca. How ironic that a 
man who caused so many other people to die in agony should die horribly also. My 
only regret is that I wont be there to see your neck stretched, Heibert; see 
your withered old body jerk and bounce when it hits the end of the rope. They 
say the shock forces the bladder and the bowels to move. Thats a fitting end 
for you, old man. Thrown in an unmarked paupers grave to rot through eternity 
in your own filth.
Muttering incoherent words, his face distorted In blind anger. and entirely 
oblivious to the surrounding guns of the gendarmerie, von Till hurled himself at 
Pitt. It was the mad gesture of a hysterical man. Giordinos forty-five clubbed 
him on the back of the neck before he took the second step. He fell awkwardly to 
the deck in a crumpled heap and lay as if dead. Giordino didnt even look down 
as he holstered the gun.
You cracked him a bit hard, Zacynthus said reprovingly.
Vermin dont die easily, Giordino replied impassively, especially when 
theyre as mean as that old bastard.
Darius had not moved or spoken since Giordino shot him. Any other man would have 
gripped a wounded and bleeding hand; not Darius. The huge brute let his hand 
hang limply to one side, indifferently allowing the blood to splatter on the 
subs deck. The lost expression on his face reminded Pitt of a newly caged 
gorilla he had once seen in the San Diego Zoo, an ugly misshapen monster who 
could not grasp the meaning of the barred walls and the strange looking animals 
beyond that stood five deep, observing his every movement. Pitt was very happy 
indeed that at least five of Zenos gendarmerie had their guns trained between 
Darius cold black eyes.
Pitt nodded toward Darius. What happens to him?
A fast trial, Zacynthus answered. Then the firing squad
There will be no trial, Zeno interrupted. The gendarmerie have never admitted 
to a traitor in their ranks. His voice was grave, yet his eyes were filled with 
sadness. Captain Darius died in the performance of his duties.
The cavern suddenly became silent Pitt, Zacynthus and Giordino all exchanged 
puzzled glances over Zenos use of the past tense.
Darius said nothing. He displayed no emotion, no sign of fear, only a 
resignation to a fate that precluded even the remotest possibility of hope. 
Slowly, very carefully. like a man who hadnt tasted sleep in days. he climbed 
from the sub onto the dock and stood before Zeno, his head bowed.
It seems I have known you for many years, Darius, Zeno sounded very tired. 
Yet I havent really known you at all. God alone knows why you came to be what 
you are. It is a pity. the gendarmerie lost a good man. . . Zeno hesitated, 
groping for words, but he could think of nothing else to say. Carefully, almost 
to the point of meticulousness, he withdrew the cartridge clip from his gun and 
removed all the shells except one. Then he reinserted the clip and held out the 
gun, butt first, to Darius.
Nodding, as if in secret understanding, and searching Zenos eyes for a sign 
that never came, Darius took the gun, turned slowly towards the tunnel, and 
began walking numbly across the dock.
No goodbye, no regrets, no to hell with you, Giordino said uncomprehendingly. 
Just like that, he wanders off and blows his brains out. Ten will get you one 
that Darius makes a break for it.
His life ended when he became a traitor, Zeno said quietly. Darius knew it 
thenhe knows it now.
An early death was his fate when he dropped from the womb, there was no escaping 
it. Five minutes to talk with his God and prepare his soulthen he will squeeze 
the trigger.
Giordino watched Darius fade into the blackness of the tunnel and said nothing. 
The finality of Zenos words shattered all his doubts over Darius intentions. 
Until the day he. himself, died, Giordino would never understand how anyone 
could let loose of life so unquestioningly.
He turned back to Pitt. Times a wasting, were running out of the money. Gunn 
is probably having a spastic fit wondering what happened to his precious 
scientists.
Cant say as I blame him. The voice came from Knight. who was climbing out of 
the deck hatch, a sly smile across his face. Great intellect is hard to come by 
these days.
An egghead comedian, Giordino groaned. What has science come to?
In spite of the pain in his leg, Pitt couldnt help but laugh. Maybe some of 
Knights Intellect will rub off on you when you escort him and the other 
eggheads back to the First Attempt. Im holding you responsible until theyre 
safely on board.
Talk about appreciation, Giordino groaned again. After all Ive done for 
you.
Its better to give, than to receive, Pitt said soothingly. Now hop to it. If 
you expect to swim out through the submerged tunnels, you and the others will 
have to retrieve the diving gear from the bottom.
Woodson crawled from the hatch and walked over to Pitt. Maybe I better stick 
with you, Major, until youre bedded down.
No thanks. Pitt answered, mildly surprised at the look of genuine concern on 
Woodsons otherwise expressionless face. Im 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. Im 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. Wheres 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 Gunn and give him a present for me.
Spencer paled visibly at the sight of Pitts 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 hasnt already 
muscled his way out, youll find a Teaser inside.
Spencers 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 dont drop him.
Spencer let out a long whistle. Well what do you know. I was beginning to think 
no such creature existed. He paused a moment. deep in thought. Christ, I dont 
dare damage him with a spear shaft. A net bag, if only Id carried a net bag.
Theres only one way to catch a Teaser, Pitt grinned. Grab him by the fin.
The pain was going away now. Pitts 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. Pitts voice was down to a bare murmur. What is the 
girls 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 running amok in 
a candy store. Pitt selected his most charming. devil-may-care smile and offered 
it to a trio of giggling secretaries who exited the elevator. They returned his 
smile, accompanied with the usual combination of cursory and demure glances that 
women are prone to allow for strange men, and then wiggled past him into the 
lobby, sneaking an additional peek at him over their shoulders.
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 didnt 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.
Im sorry, she said, turning back to her typewriter. The Director is 
extremely busy and cannot see anyone.
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 couldnt have received more attention than the resounding bang from 
Pitts cane as he slammed it on top of the receptionists 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 Im sorry, sir. But I 
thought
Yes, I know, Pitt offered. Im out of uniform.
The blond jumped from her desk, snagging a stocking in her haste. Right this 
way, Major. Theyre expecting you.
Pitt grinned at her, grinned at the other girls sitting awed in their chairs, 
felt self-satisfied at the admiring expressions from all twenty-four eyes, the 
bovine, adoring gaze reserved for celebrities and movie stars. It inflated his 
male ego.
Keep typing girls, he said good-naturedly.
Mustnt 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 announced, and then stood aside to let him pass through.
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 Pitts, 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 its alive and still swimming, Sandecker answered. Since Gunn had 
it flown over last week in a special tank, I havent been able to get near the 
goddamn thinga horde of scientists have been crowded around it, ogling their 
damn eyes right out of their sockets. They promised me a preliminary report by 
morning.
Zacynthus came across to greet Pitt. He seemed younger, much more relaxed than 
when. Pitt had last seen him, three weeks previously.
Good to see you walking again, Zacynthus said smiling. You look as mean and 
nasty as ever.
He took Pitt by the arm and led him over to a tall man standing by the window 
and introduced them. Pitt studied the Director of the Bureau and was studied in 
return by hard gray eyes that peered intently from a high-checked. pockmarked 
face; it was a face straight out of a police lineup. Pitt amusingly reflected 
that the Director looked more like a narcotics smuggler than the chief 
administrator of several thousand federal investigators. The Director spoke 
first.
I've looked forward to meeting you, Major Pitt The Bureau is deeply grateful 
for your assistance. The voice was low and very precise.
I didnt do much. Inspector Zacynthus and Colonel Zeno carried most of the 
load.
The Director met his eyes evenly. That may be, but you carry the scars. He 
motioned Pitt to a chair and offered him a cigarette. Did you have a good 
flight from Greece?
Pitt lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. Air Force cargo planes arent 
exactly famous for their cuisine and royal coachman service, but I must admit 
that it was considerably more relaxing than the flight in.
Admiral Sandecker gave Pitt a puzzled look. Why the Air Force? You could have 
flown from Athens on Pan Am or TWA.
Souvenirs, Pitt laughed. One of my mementos of Thasos was too bulky to fit in 
the luggage compartment of a commercial airliner. Colonel Lewis came to my 
rescue and helped me hitch a ride on a half-empty Air Force cargo plane that was 
headed stateside.
Your wound, Sandecker nodded at Pitts leg. Healing all right?
Its still a bit stiff, Pitt answered. Nothing a thirty day medical leave 
wont cure.
The Admiral eyed Pitt shrewdly for a moment through a blue haze of cigar smoke. 
Two weeks. The tone reeked of cool authority. I have more faith in your 
recuperative powers than you have.
The Director cleared his throat. Ive read Inspector Zacynthus report with a 
great deal of interest. There is, however, one point he didnt cover. It isnt
important. but out of personal curiosity, I wonder if you
could tell me. Major how you came to the conclusion
that Minerva Lines ships had the capacity to carry submarines?
Pitt smiled with his eyes. I guess you might say, sir, the secret was written 
in the sand.
The Directors lips curled in a humorless smile. He wasnt used to indirect 
answers.. Very Homeric, Major, but hardly the answer I had in mind.
Strange but true, Pitt said. After finding no sign of the heroin on board the 
Queen Artemisia, I swam to the beach and began doodling with a stick in the 
sand. A detachable submarine seemed like an abstract idea at first. but the more 
I doodled, the more concrete it became.
The Director leaned back in his chair and shook his head sadly. Forty years, a 
hundred agents from twelve different nations all struggling under the most 
adverse conditions imaginable to break von Tills smuggling operation. Three of 
those agents gave up their lives in the struggle He looked gravely across the 
desk at Pitt Somehow it almost seems a tragic joke that our efforts overlooked 
a solution that was so apparent to someone standing on the outside looking in.
Pitt stared at him in silence.
By the way, the Director continued suddenly cheerful, I dont suppose youve 
had a chance to hear the results of our Galveston stakeout?
No sir. Pitt carefully tapped an ash in an ashtray. Until five minutes ago I 
havent seen or talked to Inspector Zacynthus since we parted on Thasos. nearly 
three weeks ago Ive had no way of knowing whether my small assist paid off for 
you in Galveston or not.
Zacynthus looked at the Director. May I fill Major Pitt in, sir?
The Director nodded.
Zacynthus turned to Pitt.
Everything went according to plan. Five miles outside the harbor we were met by 
a small fleet of von Tills fishing boatsa bit tricky at this point, not 
knowing the proper identification signals. Luckily I persuaded the Queen 
Jocastas captainwith the threat of castration with a rusty knife-to desert 
the enemy and join our side.
Did anyone come aboard? Pitt asked.
There was no danger of that, Zacynthus replied.
A boarding party would have looked too damned suspicious to a passing patrol 
boat. The fishermen merely stood off and signaled us to detach the sub. 
Interesting piece of machinery, that sub. The Navy engineers who studied it 
coming across the Atlantic were quite impressed.
What made it so unique? It was fully automatic.
A drone? Pitt asked incredulously.
Yes, another one of von Tills clever innovations. You see, if the sub had an 
accident or was detected by the Harbor Patrol before it reached the cannery 
there was no way in hell it could be traced or connected to Minerva Lines. And 
without a crew there would be no one to interrogate.
Pitt was intrigued. Then it was controlled by one of the fishing boats.
Zacynthus nodded. Right up the middle of the harbors main channel and under 
the pilings of the cannery. Only this trip the sub carried several uninvited 
stowaways: myself and ten marines on loan from the Mediterranean Tenth Fleet I 
might add that the cannery was surrounded by thirty of the Bureaus best 
agents.
If Galveston had more than one cannery, Giordino said thoughtfully, youd 
have been in big trouble.
Zacynthus grinned knowingly. As a matter of fact, Galveston boasts a total of 
four canneries, all located on pilings over the water.
Giordino didnt have to ask the obvious question. It was written all over his 
face.
Ill put your mind at ease, Zacynthus said. The Bureaus Gulf Ports 
Department had each cannery under surveillance for two weeks before the Queen 
Jocastas arrival. The tip-off came when one of them received a shipment of 
sugar.
Pitt raised an eyebrow. Sugar?
Sugar, the Director offered, is often used to adulterate the heroin and boost 
the quantity. By the time pure heroin is cut by the middle man and cut again by 
the dealer, the original supply is increased by a substantial amount.
Pitt thought for a moment So the one hundred and thirty tons was only a 
beginning?
It could have been the beginning, Zacynthus answered, "if it wasnt for you, 
old friend. Youre the only one who saw through von Tills plan. If you and 
Giordino hadnt arrived at Thasos when you did, the rest of us would be sitting 
up in Chicago about now, forming a daisy chain and kicking each other into Lake 
Michigan.
Pitt grinned. Write it off to luck.
Call it what you will, Zacynthus retorted. As things stand at the moment, we 
have over thirty of the biggest illegal drug importers in the country waiting 
for indictment, including everyone connected with the trucking company that 
transported the goods. And thats only the half of it. When we searched the 
cannery office we found a book with the names of nearly two thousand dealers 
from New York to Los Angeles. For the Bureau it was comparable to a prospector 
discovering the mother lode.
Giordino let out a long whistle. Its going to be a bad year for the addicts.
Thats right, Zacynthus said. Now that their main source is dried up, and the 
local law enforcement agencies are rounding up the dealers, the users are about 
to face the worst drug famine to come along in the last twenty years.
Pitts eyes left the zoom and gazed out the window, seeing nothing. There is 
just one more question.
Zacynthus looked at him. Yes?
Pitt didnt reply immediately. He fiddled with his cane a moment. What became 
of our old friend? Ive seen no mention of him in the newspapers.
Before I answer you, take a look at these. Zacynthus pulled a pair of 
photographs from a briefcase and laid them in front of Pitt side by side on the 
desk.
Pitt leaned over and studied them carefully. The first was a snapshot of a 
light-haired man who wore the uniform of a German naval officer He was caught in 
a relaxed pose, standing on the bridge of a ship and peering out to sea, his 
hands resting carelessly on a pair of binoculars that hung around his neck The 
face in the second photograph stared back at Pitt with the familiar leer of a 
shaven-skulled Erich von Stroheim. A huge white dog stood at the lower half of 
the picture, crouched as if ready to spring. An involuntary chill crept through 
Pitts body as he remembered remembered all too vividly.
There doesnt seem to be much of a resemblance.
Zacynthus nodded. Admiral Heibert did a remarkable jobscars, birthmarks, even 
his dental fillings matched von Tills.
what about fingerprints?"
Impossible to prove anything. There were no known records of von Tills prints, 
and Helbert had his altered by surgery.
Pitt sat back puzzled. Then how can we be sure
The uninvited detail, Zacynthus said slowly. No matter how exhaustingly they 
try or how diligently they plan, all criminals get their tails pinned to the 
wall by the uninvited detail. In Heiberts case it was von Tills scalp?
Pitt shook his head. I dont follow you.
When von Till was a young man, he contracted a skin disease called Alpecia 
areata which caused complete baldness Heibert didnt know this. He thought von 
Till had shaved his head in the Prussian tradition, so quite naturally he took 
to the razor. It didnt take the War Criminals investigators long to spot the 
growth. There was, of course, later evidence that confirmed Admiral Heiberts 
identity, but the hair was the first nail in the coffin.
Pitt suddenly felt a vague mixture of relief and satisfaction. Has he swung 
yet?
Four days ago, Zacynthus said matter of factly. You saw nothing in the 
newspapers because there was nothing The Germans kept his capture and death 
quiet. Theyre sick and tired of having the mud of their Nazi past rubbed in 
their faces every time an old war criminal is ferreted out. Besides, Heibert 
didnt have the same notoriety as Bormann and a few others of Hitlers personal 
clique.
Makes you wonder how many more are scattered around the world, Pitt murmured.
The telephone on the desk buzzed, and the Director picked it up. Yes.. . yes, 
I'll pass along the good news, thank you. He replaced the telephone in its 
cradle, his pitted face split in a wide grin, and he turned to Sandecker. That 
was your office, Admiral. Allow me to be the first to offer my congratulations.
Sandecker rolled the cigar to one side of his mouth. What in hell for?
The Director, still grinning, stood up and laid his hand on the Admirals 
shoulder. It seems that your marine oddity turned out to be a viviparous 
female. Consequently, you, sir, are now the proud papa of a bouncing baby 
Teaser.
 
 
 
The steaming heat was beginning to fade, and the lengthening shadows were 
stretching far behind the late afternoon sun when Pitt limped out onto the 
sidewalk He paused a moment and looked at the city. The streets were busy with 
homeward bound traffic, and soon all the surrounding buildings would be mute and 
deserted.
He looked toward the Capitol building in the distance, its white dome 
transformed into a blazing gold tint from the falling sun, and he remembered 
another scene on a faraway beach and a white ship and a vibrant blue sea. It 
seemed so long ago, nearly an eternity.
Giordino and Zacynthus came down the steps and joined him.
Zacynthus spoke jovially. Gentlemen, I suggest that since we are all single, 
debonair men-about-town we combine forces and engage in a bit of fun and 
frolic.
Ill buy that, Giordino volunteered.
Pitt shrugged in mock sadness. It wounds me deeply, but I must decline your 
intriguing invitation. I already have a previous engagement.
I think this is where I came in, Giordino moaned.
Zacynthus laughed. Youre making a big mistake. I happen to possess a little 
black book which contains the phone numbers of some of Washingtons fairest
Zacynthus suddenly stopped in midsentence and stared at the Street, his eyes 
wide in blank astonishment.
A gargantuan black-and-silver car rolled silently
up to the curb and stopped. Elegant in design, majestic in appearance, the regal 
coachwork seemed out of place beside the more modern mechanized traffic, like a
queen of the realm amid a bustling crowd of foul-smelling rabble. And as a 
fitting touch, the piece de resistance, a lovely dark-haired girl graced the 
steering wheel.
Good lord, Zacynthus gasped. Von Tills Maybach. He turned to Pitt. How did 
you get it?
"To the victor belong the spoils, Pitt grinned slyly.
Giordino raised an eyebrow. Now I see what you meant by a bulky souvenir. I 
might add that your other souvenir isnt half bad either.
Pitt opened the front door of the car. I think you both know my ravishing 
chauffeur.
She reminds me of a girl I once met in the Aegean, Giordino said smiling. But 
this one is much better looking.
The girl laughed. Just to show that flattery has its reward, I forgive you for 
that rough ride through the labyrinth. Only next time give me warning so I can 
put on some decent clothes.
Giordino looked genuinely sheepish. I promise.
Pitt turned to Zacynthus. There was a faint smile in Pitts eyes. Do me a 
favor, will you Zac?"
if I can.
"I'd like to borrow the services of one of your agents for a couple of weeks. Do 
you think you can arrange it?
Zacynthus looked down at the girl and nodded. I think so. The Bureau owes you 
that much.
Pitt climbed Into the front seat and closed the door. Then he handed his cane 
out to Giordino. Here, I dont think Ill be needing this anymore.
Before Giordino could make an appropriate reply, the girl engaged the clutch, 
and the big town car slipped into the moving line of traffic.
Giordino watched the high-roofed car until it rounded a distant corner and was 
lost from sight. Then he turned and looked at Zacynthus.
How are you at whipping up scallops with mushrooms in white wine sauce?
Zacynthus shook his head. Im afraid Ive never graduated beyond frozen TV 
dinners.
In that case, you can buy me a drink.
You forget, Im only a poor civil servant.
Then look upon me as an item on your expense account."
Zacynthus tried to look serious but tailed. Then he shrugged. Shall we?
Lets.
So arm in arm, much to the amusement of passerbys, the tall Zacynthus and the 
short Giordino, looking all the world like Mutt and Jeff, began walking down the 
sidewalk In the direction of the nearest bar.
