AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Spencer shivered. "There's a chilling thought for you."
The interior of the Sappho I fell silent.
25
The antique Ford trimotor aircraft, famed in aviation history as the Tin Goose, looked too awkward to fly, and yet she banked as gracefully and majestically as an albatross when she lined up for her final approach to the runway of the Washington National Airport.
Pitt eased back the three throttles and the old bird touched down with all the delicacy of an autumn leaf kissing high grass. He taxied over to one of the NUMA hangars at the north end of the airport, where his waiting maintenance crew chocked the wheels and made the routine throatcutting sign. Flipping off the ignition switches, he watched the silver-bladed propellers gradually slow their revolutions and come to rest, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Then he removed the headphones, draped them on the control column, undid the latch on his side window and pushed it open.
A bewildered frown slowly creased Pitt's forehead and hung there in the tanned, leathery skin. A man was standing on the asphalt below, frantically waving his hands.
"May I come aboard?" Gene Seagram shouted.
"I'll come down," Pitt yelled back.
"No, please stay where you are."
Pitt shrugged and leaned back in his seat. It took Seagram only a few seconds to climb aboard the trimotor and push open the cockpit door. He wore a stylish tan suit with vest, but his well-tailored appearance was diluted by a sea of wrinkles that creased the material, making it obvious that he hadn't seen a bed for at least twenty-four hours.
"Where did you ever find such a gorgeous old machine?" Seagram asked.
"I ran across it at Keflavik, Iceland," Pitt replied. "Managed to buy it at a fair price and have it shipped back to the States."
"She's a beauty."
Pitt motioned Seagram to the empty copilot's seat. "You sure you want to talk in here? In a few minutes the sun will make this cabin feel like the inside of an incinerator."
"What I have to say won't take long." Seagram eased into the seat and let out a long sigh.
Pitt studied him. He looked like a man who was unwilling and trapped . . . a proud man who had placed himself in an uncompromising position.
Seagram did not face Pitt when he spoke, but stared nervously through the windshield. "I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here," he said.
"The thought crossed my mind."
"I need your help."
That was it. No mention of the harsh words from the past. No preliminaries; only a straight-to-the-gut request.
Pitt's eyes narrowed. "For some strange reason I had the feeling that my company was about as welcome to you as a dose of syphilis."
"Your feelings, my feelings, they don't matter. What does matter is that your talents are in desperate demand by our government."
"Talents . . . desperate demand . . ." Pitt did not disguise his surprise "You're putting me on, Seagram."
"Believe me, I wish I was, but Admiral Sandecker assures me that you're the only man who stands a remote chance of pulling off a ticklish job."
"What Job?"
"Salvaging the Titanic. "
"Of course! Nothing like a salvage operation to break the monotony of-" Pitt broke off in mid-sentence; his deep green eyes widened and the blood rose to his face. "What ship did you say?" His voice came in a hoarse murmur this time.
Seagram looked at him with an amused expression. "The Titanic. Surely you've heard of it?"
Perhaps ten seconds ticked by in utter silence while Pitt sat there stunned. Then he said, "Do you know what you're proposing?"
"Absolutely."
