'See anything resembling a rock that doesn't look natural?' asked Giordino.
'The enhancement is good, but not that good,' answered Pitt.
Loren hovered over the islands Pitt had circled. Then she looked up at him. 'I assume you intend to make an aerial survey of the most promising sites?'
'The next step in the process of elimination.'
'By plane?'
'Helicopter.'
'Looks to me like a pretty large area to cover by helicopter,' said Loren. 'What do you use for a base?'
'An old ferryboat.'
'A ferry?' Loren said, surprised.
'Actually a car/passenger ferry that originally plied San Francisco Bay until 1957. She was later sold and used until 1962 by the Mexicans from Guaymas across the Gulf to Santa Rosalia. Then she was taken out of service. Rudi Gunn chartered her for a song.'
'We have the admiral to thank,' Giordino grunted. 'He's tighter than the lid on a rusty pickle jar.'
'1962?' Loren muttered, shaking her head. 'That was thirty-six years ago. She's either a derelict by now or in a museum.'
'According to Rudi she's still used as a work boat,' said Pitt, 'and has a top deck large enough to accommodate a helicopter. He assures me that she'll make a good platform to launch reconnaissance flights.'
'When search operations cease with daylight,' Giordino continued to explain, 'the ferry will cruise overnight to the next range of islands on Dirk's survey list. This approach will save us a considerable amount of flight time.'
Loren handed Pitt a plate and silverware. 'Sounds like you've got everything pretty well under control. What happens when you find what looks like a promising treasure site?'
'We'll worry about putting together an excavation operation after we study the geology of the island,' Pitt answered.
'Help yourself to the feast,' said Loren.
Giordino wasted no time. He began building a sandwich of monumental proportions. 'You lay out a good spread, lady.'
'Beats slaving over a hot stove.' Loren laughed. 'What about permits? You can't go running around digging for treasure in Mexico without permission from government authorities.
Pitt laid a hefty portion of mortadella on a slice of sourdough bread. 'Admiral Sandecker thought it best to wait. We don't want to advertise our objective. If word got out that we had a line on the biggest bonanza in history, a thousand treasure hunters would descend on us like locusts. Mexican officials would throw us out of the country in a mad grab to keep the hoard for their own government. And Congress would give NUMA hell for spending American tax dollars on a treasure hunt in another country. No, the quieter, the better.'
'We can't afford to be shot down before we've had half a chance of making the find,' said Giordino in an unusual display of seriousness.
Loren was silent while she ladled a spoonful of potato salad onto her plate, then asked, 'Why don't you have someone on your team as insurance in the event local Mexican officials become suspicious and start asking questions?'
Pitt looked at her. 'You mean a public relations expert?'
No, a bona fide, card-carrying member of the United States Congress.'
Pitt stared into those sensual violet eyes. 'You?'
'Why not? The Speaker of the House has called for a recess next week. My aides can cover for me. I'd love to get out of Washington for a few days and see a piece of Mexico.'
'Frankly,' said Giordino, 'I think it's a stellar concept.' He gave Loren a wink and a toothy smile. 'Dirk is always more congenial when you're around.'
Pitt put his arm around Loren. 'If something should go wrong, if this thing blows up in our faces while we're in foreign territory and you're along for the ride, the scandal could ruin your political career.'
She looked across the table at him brazenly. 'So the voters throw me out on the streets. Then I'd have no choice but to marry you.'
'A fate worse than listening to a presidential speech,' said Giordino, 'but a good idea just the same.'
'Somehow I can't picture us walking down the aisle of the Washington Cathedral,' Pitt said thoughtfully, 'and then setting up housekeeping in some brick townhouse in Georgetown.'
Loren had hoped for a different reaction, but she knew that Pitt was no ordinary man. She recalled their first meeting at a lawn party nearly ten years before given by some forgotten former secretary of environment. There was a magnetism that had drawn her to him. He was not handsome in the movie star sense, but there was a masculine, no-nonsense air about him that awakened a desire she hadn't experienced with other men. He was tall and lean. That helped. As a congresswoman she had known many wealthy and powerful men, several of them devilishly good-looking. But here was a man who wore the reputation of an adventurer comfortably and cared nothing for power or fame. And rightly so. He was the genuine article.
There were no strings attached to their off-and-on ten-year affair. He had known other women, she had known other men, and yet their bond still held firm. Any thought of marriage had seemed remote. Each was already married to his or her job. But the years had mellowed their relationship, and as a woman Loren knew her biological clock did not have too many ticks left if she wished to have children.
'It doesn't have to be like that,' she said finally.
He sensed her feeling. 'No,' he said affectionately, 'we can make several major improvements.'
She gave him a peculiar look. 'Are you proposing to me?'
A quiet look deepened his green eyes. 'Let's just say I was making a suggestion about things to come.'
'Can you put us closer to the dominant peak?' Sarason asked his brother Charles Oxley, who was at the controls of a small amphibious flying boat. 'The crest of the lower one is too sharp for our requirements.'
'Do you see something?'
Sarason peered through binoculars out a side window of the aircraft. 'The island has definite possibilities, but it would help if I knew what sort of landmark to look for.'
Oxley banked the twin turboprop-engined Baffin CZ410 for a better view of Isla Danzante, a steep-sided, 5-square-kilometer (3-square-mile) rock formation that jutted 400 meters (1312 feet) above the Sea of Cortez just south of the popular resort town of Loreto. 'Has the right look about it,' he commented, staring down. 'Two small beaches to land boats. The slopes are honeycombed with small caves. What do you say, brother?'
Sarason turned and looked at the man in the rear passenger seat. 'I say the esteemed Professor Moore is still holding out on us.'
'You'll be alerted to the proper site when I see it,' Moore said curtly.
'I say we throw the little bastard out the hatch and watch him try to fly,' Sarason snapped harshly.
Moore crossed his arms smugly. 'You do, and you'll never find the treasure.'
'I'm getting damned sick of hearing that.'
'What about Isla Danzante?' asked Oxley. 'Has it got the right features?'
Moore snatched the binoculars from Sarason without asking and peered at the broken terrain running across the ridge of the island. After a few moments, he handed them back and relaxed in his seat with an iced shaker of martinis. 'Not the one we're looking for,' he proclaimed regally.
Sarason clasped his hands tightly to prevent them from strangling Moore. After a few moments, he regained a degree of composure and turned the page of the same boater's guide that was being used by Pitt. 'Next search point is Isla Carmen. Size, one hundred and fifty square kilometers. Length, thirty kilometers. Has several peaks rising over three hundred meters.'
'That's a pass,' announced Moore. 'Far too large.'
'Your speedy response is duly noted,' Sarason muttered sarcastically. 'After that we have Isla Cholla, a small flat-topped rock with a light tower and a few fishing huts.'
'Skip that one too,' said Moore.
'Okay, next up is Isla San Ildefonso, six miles offshore east of San Sebastian.'
