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He was sitting there like that when Kippmann and Lazard came charging across the deck, followed by a small army of security men. They said nothing. there was nothing they could say, at least not for a full sixty seconds, not until the full significance of what Pitt had done became clear to them.
Finally Kippmann broke the silence. "A little rough on him, weren't you?"
"He's Oskar Rondheim," Pitt said vaguely.
Are you sure?"
"I seldom forget a face," Pitt said. "Especially when it belongs to a man who kicked the hell out of me."
Lazard tur-led to look at him. His lips twisted in a wry smile. "What was it I said about you hardly being in shape for hand-to-hand combat?"
"Sorry I couldn't get to Rondheim before he started popping away with his silencer," Pitt said. "Did he hit anyone?"
"Castile was nicked in the arm," Lazard said.
"After we cold-cocked those two clowns in the stern seat, I turned and saw you playing Errol Flynn on the bridge. I knew then we weren't out of the woods yet, so I threw myself over the family up front and forced them to the bottom of the boat."
"Likewise with our visitors from Latin America."
Kippmann smiled and rubbed a bruise on his forehead.
"They thought I was crazy and gave me a rough go for a minute."
"What happens to Kelly and Hermit Limited?" Pitt asked.
"We'll arrest Mr. Kelly along with his internationally wealthy partners, of course, but the chances of convicting men of their stature are almost impossible. I should imagine the governments involved will hurt them where it hurts them most-in the pocketbook. The fines they'll probably have to pay should build the Navy a new aircraft carrier."
"That's a small price to pay for the suffering they've caused," Pitt said wearily.
"None the less, it is a price," Kippmann murmured.
"Yes . . . yes, it is that. Thank God they were stopped."
Kippmann nodded to Pitt. "We have you to thank, Major Pitt, for blowing the whistle on Hermit Limited."
Lazard smbed suddenly. "And I'd like to be the first to express my gratitude for your Horatius-at-the-bridge act. Kippmann and I couldn't be standing here now if you hadn't taken the cue when you did." He put his hand on Pitts shoulder. "Tell me something. I'm curious."
"About what?"
"How did you know those pirates on the bridge were real flesh and blood?"
"As the man once said," Pitt said casually, "there we were just sitting on the bridge eyeball to eyeball . . . and I could swear I saw the other guys blink."
Epilogue
It was a pleasant Southern California evening. The day's smog had cleared away and a cool breeze from the west carried the strong, clean smell of the Pacific Ocean through the center garden of the Disneyland Hotel, soothing the soreness of Pitts 100
injuries and tranquilizing
his mind for the task ahead. He stood silent, waiting for the glass-enclosed elevator to descend along the exterior of the building.
The elevator hummed and stopped and the doors slid open. He scratched an imaginary itch in his eye and lowered his head, shielding his face as a young man and woman, arm in arm, laughing gaily to themselves, stepped past him without noticing his worse-for-wear features or the arm enclosed in a plaster cast and supported by a black cloth sling.
He entered and pushed the button marked six. The elevator rose swiftly, and he turned and looked through the windows at the skyline of Orange County. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, watching the sparkling carpet of lights spread and widen toward the dark horizon as the first three floors slid by. The lights blinked in the crystal air, reminding him of a jewel box.
It hardly seemed like two hours since the park doctor had set his wrist and Pitt had showered and shaved and eaten his first solid meal since leaving Iceland.
The doctor was quite definite that he go to a hospital but Pitt wouldn't hear of it.
