back to the yacht with the news of their loss.
Before they left, Ben and some of the younger men in the tribe went back across the lake to see what was left of Barker's complex. On their return, they reported that nothing remained. When Therri asked about the fate of the monster fish she had seen, Ben simply smiled and said, 'Barbecued.'
Therri, Ben and Mercer were among the last to leave. This time, the fuzzy dice in Bear's cockpit were reassuring. As the floatplane wheeled over the vast forest, she looked down at the huge blackened area around the devastated site of Barker's incredible building.
'Looks like we had a little forest fire down there,' Bear yelled over the drone of the engine. 'You folks know anything about that?'
'Someone must have been careless with a match,' Mercer said. Seeing the skeptical expression in Bear's eyes, Mercer grinned and said, 'When we get back, I'll tell you the whole story over a beer.'
It actually took quite a few beers.
Austin and Zavala, in the meantime, enjoyed their reunion with the Trouts and the leisurely cruise back to port on Throckmorton's re- search vessel. Throckmorton was still in a state of shock at the reve- lation of Barker's mad scheme, and he promised to testify before Senator Graham's Congressional committee once he had filled in Parliament about the dangers of genetically modified fish.
Back in Washington, Austin met with Sandecker to fill him in on the mission. The admiral listened to the story of Barker's demise with rapt attention, but he saved most of his fascination for Duren- dal. He held the sword gingerly in his hands.
Unlike many men of the sea, Sandecker was not superstitious, so Austin hiked an eyebrow when the admiral gazed at the shimmer- ing blade and murmured, 'This weapon is haunted, Kurt. It seems to have a life of its own.'
'I had the same feeling,' Austin said. 'When I first picked it up, an electric current seemed to flow from the hilt into my arm.'
Sandecker blinked as if he were coming out of a spell, and slid the sword back into its scabbard. 'Superstitious rubbish, of course.'
'Of course. What do you suggest we do with it?'
'There's no question in my mind. We return it to its last rightful owner.'
'Roland is dead, and if the mummy I saw is Diego's, he won't be putting any claims on Durendal any time soon.'
'Let me think about it. Do you mind if I borrow the sword in the meantime?'
'Not at all, although I could use it to cut through the mounds of paperwork.'
Sandecker lit his cigar and tossed the match into his fireplace.
Flashing his familiar crocodile grin, he said, 'I've always found fire to be much more effective in dealing with the effluent of our federal bureaucracy.'
Sandecker's summons came a couple of days later. The admiral's voice crackled over the phone. 'Kurt, if you have a minute, could you please come up to my office. Round up Joe, too. There are some peo- ple here who want to see you.'
Austin tracked down Zavala in the deep-submergence design lab and gave him Sandecker's message. They arrived outside the admi- ral's office at the same time. The receptionist smiled and waved them through. Sandecker greeted them at the door and ushered them into the nerve center ofNUMA.
'Kurt. Joe. Good of you to come,' he said effusively, taking them by the arm.
Austin smiled at Sandecker's disingenuous welcome. One had lit- tie choice when Sandecker called. Those who arrived late or not at all suffered the full weight of the admiral's wrath.
Standing behind Sandecker were Balthazar Aguirrez and his two sons. Balthazar roared with pleasure when he saw Austin. He pumped Austin's hand and then Zavala's in his lobster grip.
'I asked Mr. Aguirrez and his sons to stop by so we could thank them for helping us in Canada,' Sandecker said. 'I've been telling them about your mission.'
'We couldn't have done it without your help,' Austin said. 'Sorry for the loss of your pilots and helicopter. And for Pablo's injury.'
Aguirrez waved his hand in dismissal. 'Thank you, my friend. The helicopter was only a machine and can easily be replaced. As you can see, my son's wound is healing nicely. The death of the pilots was a shame, but like all the men on my boat, they were highly paid mer- cenaries and well aware of the dangers of their chosen profession.'
'Nonetheless, a tragic loss.'
'Agreed. I'm pleased with the success of your mission, but do you have any news of the sword and the horn?'
'It seems your relics had a long and arduous journey,' Sandecker said. 'With the help of the log Kurt discovered in Barker's macabre museum, we've been able to piece the story together. Your ancestor, Diego, sailed across the Atlantic from the Faroe Islands. But he never reached land. He and his crew died, most likely from disease. The ship drifted into the polar ice. The zeppelin discovered the caravel hundreds of years later after a secret flight to the North Pole, and removed the body of your ancestor. Mechanical problems forced the airship down on the ice. The Kiolya found it, and re- moved the bodies of Diego and the zeppelin's captain, Heinrich Braun.'
'Kurt has told me this story,' Aguirrez said impatiently. 'But what of the relics?'
Sandecker said, 'Gentlemen, I'm being rude. Please sit down. I think it's time for some brandy.'
The admiral waved his guests to the comfortable leather chairs in front of his massive desk and went over to a bar hidden behind a wall panel. He brought back a bottle of B and B and poured each man a snifter of brandy. He stuck his nose in the wide-mouthed glass, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he unlocked his hu- midor and produced a handful of his specially rolled cigars. He passed the cigars around and patted the breast pocket of his navy blazer.
'I seem to have lost my cigar clipper. You gentlemen don't hap- pen to have a knife? Never mind.' He reached into the chair well of his desk, pulled out a scabbard and laid it on the desk. 'Perhaps this will do.'
Balthazar's dark eyes widened in disbelief. He rose from his chair and reached out for the scabbard, cradling it with both hands as if it were made of glass. With shaking fingers, he slid the sword from the scabbard and held it high above his head as if he were rallying Charlemagne's legions to battle.
His lips formed a single whispered word. 'Durendal.1) 'The horn will arrive in a few days, along with the remains of your
ancestor,' Sandecker said. 'I thought you might be able to put these priceless relics together with their rightful owner.'
Balthazar slid the sword back into the scabbard and passed it on to his sons.
'The rightful owners are the Basque people. I will use the sword and horn of Roland to ensure that the Basques finally attain their sov- ereignty.' He smiled. 'But in a peaceful manner.'
The glee at the success of his theatrical gesture was evident in Sandecker's clear blue eyes. He raised his glass high. 'Let's drink to that,' he said.
Ryan called Austin later that day and said he was back in Washing- ton. He asked Austin to meet him at the 'usual place.' Austin arrived at Roosevelt Island a few minutes early, and was waiting in front of the statue, when he saw Ryan coming his way. Austin noticed that Ryan was still pale and gaunt from his wound. There was something else. The arrogant tilt of the chin and the boyish know-it-all grin that had flawed Ryan's good looks and irritated Austin were gone. Ryan seemed more serious and mature.
He smiled and extended his hand. 'Thanks for coming, Kurt.'
'How do you feel?'
'Like I've been used for target practice.'
'I wish I could say you get used to it,' Austin said, recalling the bullet and knife scars that marked his own body. 'Knowing that you drove a spike into Barker's plans must help ease the pain. Congrat- ulations.'
'Couldn't have done it without the help of Ben and Chuck, and Diego Aguirrez.'
'Don't be modest.'
'You're the one who's being modest. I heard about your adventures aboard the zeppelin.'
'I hope this isn't turning into a mutual admiration society,' Austin said. 'I wouldn't want to ruin a wonderful
