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Suddenly he felt impotent. Matters of vast consequences stretched beyond his view, his comprehension.
The world, the government had grown too complex for a mere handful of men to control adequately. He saw himself being swept along on a tidal wave that was racing toward the rocks.
His depression was interrupted by an aide who entered his office and motioned toward the telephone.
"You have a call, Sir, from Dr. Klein."
"Hello, Ron, I take it you don't have enough hours in the day either."
"Right you are," Klein came back. "I thought you might like to know I have a lead on your expensive gizmo."
"What is it exactly?"
"I can't say. No one around here has the vaguest idea."
"You'll have to explain."
"The funding came to the Department of Energy all right. But then it was immediately siphoned off to another government agency."
"Which one?"
"The National Underwater and Marine Agency." Mercier did not respond. He went silent, thinking.
"You there, Alan?"
"Yes, I'm sorry."
"Seems we were only the middleman," Klein went on. "Wish I could give you more information, but that's all I found."
"Sounds devious," mused Mercier. "Why would Energy quietly switch such a large sum of money to an agency concerned with marine science?"
"Can't say. Shall I have my staff pursue it further?" Mercier thought a moment. "No, better let me handle it. A probe from a neutral source might encounter less hassle."
"I don't envy you, tangling with Sandecker."
"Ah, yes, the director of NUMA. I've never met him, but I hear he's a testy bastard."
"I know him," Klein said. "That description is an understatement. You nail his hide on the barn door and I guarantee half of Washington will present you with a medal."
"Talk has it h
e's a good man."
"The guy is no idiot. He skirts politics but keeps the right company. He won't hesitate to step on feet,
'damn the torpedoes' and all that, to get a job done. No one who ever picked a fight with him came out a winner. If you have evil thoughts in his direction, I suggest you have a strong case."
"Innocent until proved guilty," said Mercier.
"He's also a tough man to catch. Almost never returns his phone calls or sits around his office."
"I'll think of a way to pin him down," Mercier said confidently. "Thanks for your help."
"Not at all," said Klein. "Good luck. I have a feeling you'll need it."
Every afternoon at exactly five minutes to four, Admiral James Sandecker, the chief director of the National Underwater and Marine Agency, left his office and took the elevator down to the tenth-floor communications department.
He was a bantam-size man, a few inches over five feet with a neatly trimmed red beard matching a thick head of hair that showed little indication of white. At age sixty-one, he was a confirmed health nut. He nurtured a trim body by downing daily doses of vitamins and garlic pills supplemented by a six-mile morning run from his apartment to the tall, glassed headquarters of NUMA.
