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"It died a quick death when we opened the Titanic's vault," Donner said. "We have no alternative but to spill the entire can of worms from the beginning to the sorry end."

"Why does the dirty laundry have to be washed in the open? What good will it do?"

"The woes of a democracy," Donner said resignedly. "Everything has to be open and above board, even if it means giving away secrets to an unfriendly foreign government."

Sandecker placed his hands on his face and sighed. "Well, I guess I'll be looking for a new job."

"Not necessarily. The President has promised to issue a statement to the effect that the whole failure of the project was his responsibility and his alone."

Sandecker shook his head. "No good. I have several enemies in Congress. They're just drooling in anticipation of turning the screws on my resignation from NUMA."

"It may not come to that."

"For the past fifteen years, ever since I attained the rank of admiral, I've had to double-deal with politicians. Take my word for it, it's a dirty business. Before this thing is over with, everyone remotely connected with the Sicilian Project and the raising of the Titanic will be lucky if they can find a job cleaning stables."

"I'm truly sorry it had to end like this, Admiral."

"Believe me, so am I" Sandecker finished off his coffee and patted a napkin against his mouth. "Tell me, Donner, what's the batting order? Who has the illustrious senator from Wyoming named as the lead-off witness?"

"My understanding is that he intends taking the Titanic's salvage operation first, and then working backward to involve Meta Section and finally the President." Donner picked up the subpoena and shoved it back in his coat pocket. "The first witness they're most likely to call is Dirk Pitt."

Sandecker looked at him. "Pitt, did you say?"

"That's right."

"Interesting," Sandecker said softly. "Most interesting."

"You've lost me somewhere."

Sandecker neatly folded the napkin and laid it on the table. "What you don't know, Donner, what you couldn't know, is that immediately after the men in the little white coats carried Seagram off the Titanic, Pitt vanished into thin air."

Donner's eyes narrowed. "Surely you know where he is. His friends? Giordino?"

"Don't you think we all tried to find him?" Sandecker snarled. "He's gone. Disappeared. It's as though the earth swallowed him up."

"But he must have left some clue."

"He did say something, but it didn't make any sense."

"What was that?"

"He said he was going to look for Southby."

"Who in hell is Southby?"

"Damned if I know," Sandecker said. "Damned if I know."

80

Pitt steered the rented Rover sedan cautiously down the narrow, rain-slickened country road. The tall beech trees lining the shoulders seemed to close in and attack the moving car as they pelted its steel roof with the heavy runoff from their leaves.

Pitt was tired, dead tired. He had set out on his odyssey not sure of what it was he might find, if anything. He'd begun as Joshua Hays Brewster and his crew of miners had begun, on the docks of Aberdeen, Scotland, and then he'd followed their death-strewn path across Britain almost to the old Ocean Duck at Southampton from which the Titanic had set out on her maiden voyage.

He turned his gaze from the pounding wipers on the windshield and glanced down at the blue notebook lying on the passenger seat. It was filled with dates, places, miscellaneous jottings, and torn newspaper articles he had accumulated along the way. The musty files of the past had told him little.

"TWO AMERICANS FOUND DEAD"

The April 7, 1912, editions of the Glasgow papers noted fifteen pages back from the headline. The detail-barren stories were as deeply buried as the bodies of Coloradans John Caldwell and Thomas Price were in a local cemetery.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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