Curtis Starger got the word in Guaymas that Pitt had been found alive. He was searching the hacienda used by the Zolars. The call came in over his Motorola Iridium satellite phone from his office in Calexico. In an unusual display of teamwork, the Mexican investigative agencies had allowed Starger and his Customs people to probe the buildings and grounds for additional evidence to help convict the family dynasty of art thieves.
Starger and his agents had arrived to find the grounds and airstrip empty of all life. The hacienda was vacant and the pilot of Joseph Zolar's private plane had decided now was a good time to resign. He simply walked through the front gate, took a bus into town, and caught a flight to his home in Houston, Texas.
A search of the hacienda turned up nothing concrete. The rooms had been cleaned of any incriminating evidence. The abandoned plane parked on the airstrip was another matter. Inside, Starger found four crudely carved wooden effigies with childlike faces painted on them.
'What do you make of these?' Starger asked one of the agents, who was an expert in ancient Southwest artifacts.
'They look like some kind of Indian religious symbols.'
'Are they made from cottonwood?'
The agent lifted his sunglasses and examined the idols close up. 'Yes, I think I can safely say they're carved out of cottonwood.'
Starger ran his hand gently over one of the idols. 'I have a suspicion these are the sacred idols Pitt was looking for.'
Rudi Gunn was told while he was lying in a hospital bed. A nurse entered his room, followed by one of Starger's agents.
'Mr. Gunn. I'm Agent Anthony Di Maggio with the Customs Service. I thought you'd like to know that Dirk Pitt was picked up alive in the Gulf about half an hour ago.'
Gunn closed his eyes and sighed with heavy relief. 'I knew he'd make it.'
'Quite a feat of courage, I hear, swimming over a hundred kilometers through an underground river.'
'No one else could have done it.'
'I hope the good news will inspire you to become more cooperative,' said the nurse, who talked sweetly while carrying a long rectal thermometer.
'Isn't he a good patient?' asked Di Maggio.
'I've tended better.'
'I wish to hell you'd give me a pair of pajamas,' Gunn said nastily, 'instead of this peekaboo, lace-up-the- rear, shorty nightshirt.'
'Hospital gowns are designed that way for a purpose,' the nurse replied smartly.
'I wish to God you'd tell me what it is.'
'I'd better go now and leave you alone,' said Di Maggio, beating a retreat. 'Good luck on a speedy recovery.'
'Thank you for giving me the word on Pitt,' Gunn said sincerely.
'Not at all.'
'You rest now,' ordered the nurse. 'I'll be back in an hour with your medication.'
True to her word, the nurse returned in one hour on the dot. But the bed was empty. Gunn had fled, wearing nothing but the skimpy little gown and a blanket.
Strangely, those on board the Alhambra were the last to know.
Loren and Sandecker were meeting with Mexican Internal Police investigators beside the Pierce Arrow when news of Pitt's rescue came from the owner of a luxurious powerboat that was tied up at the nearby fuel station. He shouted across the water separating the two vessels.
'Ahoy the ferry!'
Miles Rodgers was standing on the deck by the wheelhouse talking with Shannon and Duncan. He leaned over the railing and shouted back. 'What is it?'
'They found your boy!'
The words carried inside the auto deck and Sandecker rushed out onto the open deck. 'Say again!' he yelled.
'The owners of a sailing ketch fished a fellow out of the water,' the yacht skipper replied. 'The Mexican navy reports say it's the guy they were looking for.'
Everyone was on an outside deck now. All afraid to ask the question that might have an answer they dreaded to hear.
Giordino accelerated his wheelchair up to the loading ramp as if it were a super fuel dragster. He apprehensively yelled over to the powerboat. 'Was he alive?'
'The Mexicans said he was in pretty poor shape, but came around after the boat owner's wife pumped some soup into him.'
'Pitt's alive!' gasped Shannon.
Duncan shook his head in disbelief. 'I can't believe he made it through to the Gulf!'
'I do,' murmured Loren, her face in her hands, the tears flowing. The dignity and the poise seemed to crumble. She leaned down and hugged Giordino, her cheeks wet and flushed red beneath a new tan. 'I knew he couldn't die.'
Suddenly, the Mexican investigators were forgotten as if they were miles away and everyone was shouting and hugging each other. Sandecker, normally taciturn and reserved, let out a resounding whoop and rushed to the wheelhouse, snatched up the Iridium phone and excitedly called the Mexican Navy Fleet Command for more information.
Duncan frantically began poring over his hydrographic charts of the desert water tables, impatient to learn what data Pitt had managed to accumulate during the incredible passage through the underwater river system.
Shannon and Miles celebrated by breaking out a bottle of cheap champagne they had found in the back of the galley's refrigerator, and passing out glasses. Miles reflected genuine joy at the news, but Shannon's eyes seemed unusually thoughtful. She stared openly at Loren, as a curious envy bloomed inside her that she couldn't believe existed. She slowly became aware that perhaps she had made a mistake by not displaying more compassion toward Pitt.
'That damned guy is like the bad penny that always turns up,' said Giordino, fighting to control his emotions.
Loren looked at him steadily. 'Did Dirk tell you he asked me to marry him?'
'No, but I'm not surprised. He thinks a lot of you.'
'But you don't think it's a good idea, do you?'
Giordino slowly shook his head. 'Forgive me if I say a union between you two would not be made in heaven.'
'We're too headstrong and independent for one another. Is that what you mean?'
'There's that, all right. You and he are like express trains racing along parallel tracks, occasionally meeting in stations but eventually heading for different destinations.'
She squeezed his hand. 'I thank you for being candid.'
'What do I know about relationships?' He laughed. 'I never last with a woman more than two weeks.'
Loren looked into Giordino's eyes. 'There is something you're not telling me.'
Giordino stared down at the deck planking. 'Women seem to be intuitive about such things.'
'Who was she?' Loren asked hesitantly.
'Her name was Summer,' replied Giordino honestly. 'She died fifteen years ago in the sea off Hawaii.'
'The Pacific Vortex affair. I remember him telling me about it.'
'He went crazy trying to save her, but she was lost.'
'And he still carries her in his memory,' said Loren.
Giordino nodded. 'He never talks about her, but he often gets a faraway look in his eyes when he sees a woman who resembles her.'
'I've seen that look on more than one occasion,' Loren said, her voice melancholy.
