She looked up into the lean, determined face, saw the green eyes full of understanding, and suddenly she felt ashamed. 'You two were warned. I told you to gag me the next time I went hysterical and shot off my mouth.'
Pitt met her gaze. 'The admiral and I have tolerated you this far. As long as you keep us in coffee, we won't complain to the management.'
She reached up and kissed Pitt gently, her face wet With tears and mist. 'Two coffees coming up.' She brushed her.eyes with her fingers.
'And go rinse your face,' he said, grinning. 'Your eye makeup goo is halfway to your chin.'
Obediently she turned and climbed down into the galley. Pitt looked at Sandecker and winked. The admiral nodded back in masculine understanding and turned back to the blazing boat.
The hydroplane was going down by the stern, sinking rapidly. The sea crowded over the gunwales and swamped the flames, hissing in a cloud of steam, and the hydroplane was gone. In seconds, only a swirling welter of oily bubbles, unidentifiable bits of flotsam, and dirty, creaming foam remained to mark the grave.
It was as though the boat had been nothing but a nebulous nightmare that vanished with the passing of night.
With an extra effort of willpower, Pitt pulled his mind back to practical reality. 'No sense in hanging around. I suggest we head back to Reykjavik as fast as we dare through this fog. The quicker and the farther we high tail it out of this area before the weather clears, the better for all concerned.'
Sandecker glanced at his watch. It was now one forty-five. The entire action had barely lasted fifteen minutes. 'A hot toddy is looking better all the time,' he said. 'Stand by the fathometer. When the bottom rises above a hundred feet, we'll at least know we're running too close to shore.'
Three hours later and twenty miles southwest of Reykjavik they rounded the tip of the Keflavik peninsula and broke out of the fog. Iceland's seemingly eternal sun greeted them in a dazzling brilliance. A Pan American jet, arising from the runway of the Keflavik International Airport, soared over them, its polished aluminum skin reflecting the solar glare, before making a great circle toward the east and London. Pitt watched it wistfully and idly wished he were at the controls chasing the clouds instead of standing on the deck of a rolling old scow. His thoughts were interrupted by Sandecker.
'I can't begin to tell you how sad I feel about returning Rondheim's boat in such shabby condition.' A sly, devilish smile cut a swath across Sandecker's face.
'Your solicitude is touching,' Pitt returned sarcastically.
'What the hell, Rondheim can afford it.' Sandecker took a hand off the wheel and waved it around the shattered wheelhouse. 'A little wood putty, a little paint, new glass and it'll be good as new.'
'Rondheim might well laugh away the damage to The Grimsi, but he won't exactly roll in the aisle laughing when he learns the fate of his hydroplane and crew.'
Sandecker faced Pitt. 'How can you possibly connect Rondheim with the hydroplane?'
'The connection is the boat we're standing on.'
'You'll have to do better than that,' Sandecker said impatiently.
Pitt sat down on a bench over a life preserver locker and lit a cigarette. 'The best plans of mice and men. Rondheim planned well, but he overlooked the thousand-to-one chance that we would swipe his boat.
We wondered why The Grimsi was tied to the Fyrie dock… It was there to follow us. Shortly after we were to cast off and begin cruising the harbor in the luxury of the cabin cruiser, his crew would have appeared on the dock and eased this nondescript fishing boat into our wake to keep an eye on us. If we had acted suspiciously once we were at sea, there'd have been no way to shake them. The cabin cruiser's top speed probably stands near twenty knots. We know The Grimsi's to be closer to forty.'
'The expressions on a few faces must have been priceless,' Sandecker said, smiling.
'Panic undoubtedly reigned for a while,' Pitt agreed, 'until Rondheim could figure out an alternate plan. I give him credit, he's a smart bastard. He's been more suspicious of our actions than we thought. Still, he wasn't completely sure of what we were up to. The clincher came when we borrowed the wrong boat quite by accident. After the shock wore off, he guessed, mistakenly, that we were wise to him and took it on purpose to screw him up. But he now knew where we were headed.'
'The black jet,' Sandecker said positively. 'Feed us to the fish after we pinpointed its exact position.
That was the idea?'
Pitt shook his head. 'I don't think it was his original intention to eliminate us. We had him fooled on the diving equipment. He assumed we would try to find the wreck from the surface and then come back later for the underwater recovery.'
'What changed his mind?'
'The lookout on the beach.'
'But where did he pop from?'
'Reykjavik by car.' Pitt inhaled and held the smoke before letting it out and continuing. 'Having us tailed by air was no problem except that eventually losing us in an Icelandic fog bank was a foregone conclusion. He simply ordered one of his men to drive across the Keflavik peninsula and wait for us to show. When we obliged, the lookout followed us along the coast road and stopped when we anchored. Everything looked innocent enough through his binoculars, but like Rondheim, we took too much for granted and overlooked one minor point.'
'We couldn't have,' Sandecker protested. 'Every precaution was considered. Whoever was watching would have needed the Mount Palomar telescope to tell Tidi was masquerading in your clothes.'
'True. But if the sun caught them where they broke surface, any Japanese seven by fifty glasses could have picked up my air bubbles.'
'Damn!' Sandecker snapped. 'They're hardly noticeable close up, but at a distance in a calm sea with the sun just right-' He hesitated.
'The lookout then contacted Rondheim by radiophone in his car, most likely-and told him we were diving on the wreck. Rondheim's back was to the wall now. We had to be stopped before we discovered something vital to his game. He had to lay his hands on a boat capable of matching The Grimsi's speed and then some. Enter the hydroplane.'
'And the something vital to his game?' Sandecker probed.
'We know now it wasn't the aircraft or its crew.
All trace of identity was erased. That leaves the cargo.'
'The models?'
'The models,' Pitt repeated. 'They represent more than just a hobby. They have a definite purpose.'
'And how do you intend to find out what in hell they're good for?'
'Simple.' Pitt grinned cunningly. 'Rondheim will tell us. We drop them off with the consulate boys on the bait boat and then we sail right up to the Fyrie dock as if nothing happened. Rondheim will be so hungry to know if we've discovered anything. I'm counting on him to make a careless move. Then we'll shove it to him where it hurts most.'
It was four o'clock when they tied up to the Fyrie dock.
The ramp was deserted, the dockmaster and the guard obvious by their absence. Pitt and Sandecker weren't fooled. They knew their every move had been studied the second The Grimsi rounded the harbor breakwater.
Before he followed Tidi and Sandecker away from the forlorn and battered little boat, Pitt left a note on the helm.
SORRY ABOUT THE MESS. WE WERE ATTACKED BY A SWARM OF RED-NECKED FUZZWORTS. PUT THE REPAIRS ON OUR TAB.
He signed it Admiral James Sandecker.
Twenty minutes later they reached the consulate.
The young staff members who played such professional roles as bait fishermen beat them by five minutes and had already locked the two models away in the consul's vault. Sandecker thanked them warmly and promised to replace the diving gear Pitt had been forced to jettison with the best that U.S. Divers manufactured.
Pitt then quickly showered and changed clothes and took a taxi to the airport at Keflavik.
His black Volvo cab soon left the smokeless, city behind. its meter humming headed onto the narrow — asphalt belt that was the coastal road to the Keflavik airport. To his right stretched the Atlantic, at this moment as blue as the Aegean waters of the Grecian Isles. The wind was rising off the sea, and he could see a small fleet of fishing boats running for the harbor, pushed by the relentless swells. His left side took in the green countryside,
