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"I'll settle for a cup of coffee and half a grapefruit."
Pitt served as they sat down at a kitchen table and poured the coffee. Sandecker frowned and waved a newspaper in the air. "You made page two."
"I hope I do as well in other papers."
"What do you expect to prove?" Sandecker demanded. "Holding a press conference and claiming you found the San Marino, which you didn't, and the Pilottown, which is supposed to be top secret.
Have you lost your gray matter?"
Pitt paused between bites of the omelet. "I made no mention of the nerve agent."
"Fortunately the Army quietly buried it yesterday."
"No harm done. Now that the Pilottown is empty, she's just another rusting shipwreck."
"The President won't see it that way. If he wasn't in New Mexico, we'd both be
picking our asses out of a White House carpet by now."
Sandecker was interrupted by a buzzing noise. Pitt rose from the table and pushed a switch on a small panel.
"Somebody at the door?" inquired Sandecker.
Pitt nodded.
"This is a Florida grapefruit." Sandecker grumbled, spitting out a seed.
"So?"
"I prefer Texas,"
"I'll make a note," said Pitt with a grin.
"Getting back to your cockamamie story," Sandecker said, squeezing out the last drops of juice in a spoon, "I'd-like to know your reasoning."
Pitt told him.
"Why not let the Justice Department handle it?" Sandecker asked.
"That's what they're pain for."
Pitts eyes hardened and he pointed his fork menacingly. "Because the justice people will never be called in to investigate. The government isn't about to admit over three hundred deaths were caused by a stolen nerve agent that isn't supposed to exist. Lawsuits and damaging publicity would go on for years. They want to whitewash the whole mess into oblivion. The Augustine Volcano eruption was timely.
Later today the President's press secretary will hand out a bogus cover-up blaming sulphuric gas clouds for the deaths."
Sandecker looked at him sternly for a moment. Then he asked, "Who told you that?"
"i did," came a feminine voice from the doorway.
Loren's face was wrapped in a disarming smile. She had been out jogging and was dressed in brief red satin shorts with a matching tank top and headband. The Virginia huminity had brought out the sweat and she was still a little breathless. She dried her face with a small towel that was tucked in her waistband.
Pitt made the introductions. "Admiral James Sandecker, Congresswoman Loren Smith."
"We've sat across from each other during Maritime Committee meetings," said Loren, extending her hand.
Sandecker didn't need clairvoyance to read Pitt and Loren's relationship. "Now I see why you've always looked kindly on my NUMA budget proposals."
If Loren felt any embarrassment at his insinuation, she didn't show it. "Dirk is a very persuasive lobbyist," she said sweetly.
