Valhalla Rising (16 page)

“Afraid of what?” he asked quietly.

She flushed, not from embarrassment, but more from an apprehension of what she might find inside. “I don’t know.”

“If you’re afraid I’m an evildoer out to abscond with your father’s precious papers, you can forget it. I’ll sit comfortably across the room while you peek inside with the lid up so I won’t see anything.”

Suddenly, it all seemed so ludicrous to her. She held the leather case on her lap and giggled softly. “You know, I don’t have the foggiest idea what’s inside. For all I know, it’s Dad’s laundry or notepads of his undecipherable scribbles.”

“Then it won’t hurt to look.”

She sat there hesitating for a long moment. Then very slowly, as if she were opening a canister holding one of those pop-up clowns, she clicked the latches and lifted the lid.

“Oh, good lord!” she gasped.

Pitt sat up. “What is it?”

As if in slow motion, she turned the case around and let it fall from her hands to the deck. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “It’s never been out of my hands.”

Pitt leaned down and peered inside the leather case.

It was empty.

T
wo hundred miles out of Wellington, the meteorological instruments predicted calm seas and clear skies for the next four days. Now that
Deep Encounter
was no longer in any immediate danger of flooding and sinking, Captain Nevins ordered his containership to pass ahead and reach port as quickly as possible. The sooner the
Earl of Wattlesfield
reached Wellington, the better. With two thousand unexpected passengers on board, food supplies were critically low.

As the great ship surged past, the crew and passengers of the
Emerald Dolphin
waved good-bye. A voice began singing a Woody Guthrie song, and soon over a thousand voices picked it up and serenaded the men and women on board the little survey vessel with
So long, it’s been good to know yuh.

It was a moving moment as they sang the last line of the chorus …
An’ I’ve got to be driftin’ along.
Before another hour passed by, the
Earl of Wattlesfield
was hull down over the horizon.

Captain Nevins sailed his ship into Wellington six hours ahead of
Deep Encounter
and met with a joyous, yet solemn, welcome. Thousands of people lined the waterfront, staring silently and talking softly as the containership slowly eased into a berth. New Zealand’s heart went out to those who had miraculously survived the worst ship fire in maritime history.

A spontaneous outpouring of sympathy for the living and the dead swept the country. Homes were thrown open to the survivors. Food and clothing were passed out in abundance. Customs officials cleared them through with only a few questions, since almost all had lost their passports in the fire. Airlines put on extra aircraft to fly them to their home cities. High-ranking New Zealand government leaders and the United States ambassador formed a greeting committee. Members of the news media descended in swarms and besieged the survivors, who were eager to get ashore and notify friends and relatives of their rescue. It was the largest news event in the country’s recent history, and the lead story was the heroic rescue by the crew and scientists of the
Deep Encounter.

Already, an investigation was launched. Most of the passengers volunteered to answer questions and give statements regarding the crew’s actions during the fire. The surviving crew members, required to remain silent by the cruise company attorneys, were provided with quarters for an indefinite stay until their examination and subsequent testimony could be heard and recorded during an inquiry.

If the arrival of the
Earl of Wattlesfield
was a melancholy affair, the welcome awaiting the
Deep Encounter
took on the atmosphere of a wild and crazy party. As the survey ship came through Cook Strait and headed for Wellington, it was met by a small fleet of private yachts that swelled to hundreds of vessels of every description by the time her bow nosed into the harbor. Fireboats escorted the ship to a dock, their hoses spraying a curtain of water high in the air that formed rainbows under the bright sun.

The crowds could easily see the scraped turquoise paint and mangled plates of the hull where she had beaten herself against the cruise ship during the incredible rescue of nearly two thousand people. Captain Burch had to use a bullhorn to shout his orders for the docking procedure because of the noise from all the shouting and cheers, backed by the blare of a thousand car horns, the ringing of church bells and the shriek of sirens, while a storm of streamers and confetti showered the decks of the ship.

The crew and scientists had no idea they had become instant international celebrities and acclaimed heroes. They stood amazed at the resounding reception, unable to believe that it was for them. They no longer looked like tired, bedraggled scientists and crew members. At seeing the welcoming armada, everyone had quickly prettied up and changed into their best clothes. Women wore dresses, the male scientists slacks and sport coats, the crew in NUMA uniforms. They all stood on the work deck, devoid of all oceanographic equipment except the two submersibles, and waved back.

Kelly perched next to Pitt on the bridge wing, elated yet saddened at the sight and wishing her father was with her to see it. She turned and looked into Pitt’s eyes. “I guess this is good-bye.”

“You’ll be flying to the States?”

“Just as soon as I can make reservations on the first available flight home.”

“Where do you call home?” he asked her.

“New York,” she replied, catching a paper streamer that drifted down from above. “I have a brownstone on the Upper West Side.”

“You live alone?”

“No.” She smiled. “I have a tabby cat called Zippy and a basset hound that answers to Shagnasty.”

“I don’t get to the city often, but next time I’m in town, I’ll call you for dinner.”

“I’d like that.” She scribbled her phone number on a scrap of paper and gave it to him.

“I’ll miss you, Kelly Egan.”

She looked into those incredible eyes and saw that he was serious. The blood suddenly rushed to Kelly’s face and she felt her knees weaken. She clutched the railing, wondering what was coming over her. Stunned at losing control, she stood on her toes, abruptly circled her arms around Pitt’s head, pulled him down and kissed his lips long and hard. Her eyes were closed, but his widened in pleasurable surprise.

When she pulled back, she willed herself into a state of feminine composure. “Thank you, Dirk Pitt, for saving my life, and much, much more.” She took a few steps and then turned. “My father’s leather case.”

“Yes?” he answered, unsure of her meaning.

“It’s yours.”

With that, Kelly turned and stepped down the companionway to the work deck. As soon as the gangway was lowered onto the dock, she stepped ashore and was swallowed up by a crowd of reporters.

P
itt left the glory to Burch and the others. While they were feted in the city at hastily thrown-together banquets, he remained aboard ship and gave a full report over his Globalstar satellite phone to Admiral Sandecker in the NUMA headquarters building in Washington.

“The
Encounter
took quite a beating,” he explained. “I’ve made arrangements with the shipyard to take her into dry dock in the morning. The shipyard foreman estimated that the damage will take three days to repair.”

“Newspapers and television have been running the rescue story all morning, noon and night,” the Admiral replied. “The aircraft took fantastic photos of the burning cruise ship and the
Encounter.
NUMA phone lines have been jammed by calls congratulating us, and there’s a hive of reporters swarming throughout the building. I owe you and everybody on board the
Encounter
a sincere vote of thanks on behalf of the agency.”

Pitt could picture the admiral in his office, brimming with pride and loving every minute of the limelight. He could see the flaming red hair with all trace of gray tinted away, the matching Vandyke beard, trimmed to a sharp point, the blue eyes that had to be flashing like neon signs from heartfelt satisfaction. And, he could almost smell the acrid smoke of one of Sandecker’s personalized cigars.

“Does that mean we all get a raise?” asked Pitt sarcastically.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Sandecker snapped back. “Money can’t buy glory.”

“A bonus might be a nice gesture on your part.”

“Don’t push your luck. You’re lucky I don’t take the ship repairs out of your pay.”

Pitt wasn’t fooled for a second by the gruff attitude. Sandecker had a reputation for generosity among the employees of NUMA. Pitt would have bet the admiral was already computing bonus checks, and he would have been right. Not that Sandecker didn’t have a mercenary streak when it came to his beloved NUMA. Pitt didn’t need a crystal ball to know that Sandecker was already planning on how he would milk the rescue and its resulting publicity to obtain an extra fifty million dollars out of Congress for his next year’s budget.

“That’s not all you might want to deduct,” said Pitt roguishly. “To stay afloat we had to jettison almost all our equipment into the sea.”

“The submersibles, too?” Sandecker’s voice took on a serious tone.

“We set them adrift but picked them up later.”

“Good, you’re going to need them.”

“I don’t follow you, Admiral. With half our underwater research gear lying on the seabed, there is no way we can carry out our original mission of mapping the Tonga Trench.”

“I don’t expect you to map the trench,” he said slowly. “I expect you to dive on the
Emerald Dolphin.
Your job now is to survey what’s left of her for evidence relating to the fire and the cause of her unexplained rapid sinking.” He paused. “You
did
know she inexplicably sank while under tow.”

“Yes, Captain Burch and I monitored communications between the tug and its home office.”

“The
Deep Encounter
is the only vessel within a thousand miles that can do the job.”

“Exploring a monstrous cruise ship from a submersible at twenty thousand or more feet is not the same as sifting through the ashes of a burned-out house. Besides, we had to deep-six the crane.”

“Buy or rent a new one. Do the best you can and try to come back with something. The cruise ship industry is going to suffer regardless of what you find, and the insurance companies are more than willing to compensate NUMA for our efforts.”

“I’m not a fire insurance investigator. Just what exactly am I supposed to look for?”

“Don’t worry,” said Sandecker. “I’m sending someone who has experience in marine disasters. He’s also an expert in deep submergence vehicles.”

“Anybody I know?” asked Pitt.

“You should,” said Sandecker cagily. “He’s your assistant special projects director.”

“Al Giordino!” Pitt exclaimed happily. “I thought he was still working on the Atlantis Project in the Antarctic.”

“Not anymore. He’s in the air now and should be landing in Wellington tomorrow morning.”

“You couldn’t have sent a better man.”

Sandecker relished toying with Pitt. “Yes,” he said slyly. “I thought you’d think so.”

A
lbert Giordino trudged across the gangway leading from the top of the dry dock to the deck of the
Deep Encounter,
lugging an old-fashioned steamer trunk over a burly shoulder. The sides were covered with colorful labels advertising hotels and countries around the world. One hand was clutched to a strap of the metal trunk, with its varnished wooden bands running across the top and bottom, while the other hand clutched an equally antique leather satchel. He paused at the top of the gangway and dropped his load on the deck. He gazed around the empty work deck and up at the vacant bridge wing. Except for shipyard workers repairing the exterior hull, the ship looked deserted.

Giordino’s shoulders were almost as wide as his body was tall. At five feet four inches and a hundred and seventy-five pounds, he was all muscle. His Italian ancestry was apparent in his olive skin, black curly hair and walnut-colored eyes. Gregarious, sarcastic and jovial, his cutting humor often made those in his presence either laugh or cringe.