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Hollis was far from frightened, but he was dazed. He couldn't begin to imagine how Pitt produced a large-caliber weapon with such lightning speed.
"Dirk is asking little of you, Colonel," said Gunn in a patient tone. "I suggest you demonstrate a small degree of mature logic and go along."
"I don't believe for a second you'd murder me," growled Hollis at Pitt.
"No, but I can guarantee you won't have a very pr
oductive sex life."
"Who are you people? Are you with the company?"
"The CIA?" said Giordino. "No, we didn't qualify. So we enlisted with NUMA instead,"
Hollis shook his head. "I don't understand any of this."
"You don't have to," said Pitt. "Is it a deal?"
Hollis considered for half a second. Then he leaned forward until his nose was only a few millimeters from Pitts and spoke as would a drill instructor to a raw recruit. "I'll see you weirdos are airlifted by an Osprey to within ten kilometers of the ship. No closer, or we'll lose the element of surprise. from there you can damn well hike in. If I'm lucky, you won't arrive until it's all over."
"Fair enough," Pitt agreed.
Hollis backed off then. He looked at Giordino and snapped, "I'd be grateful if you'd release my second in command."
Then he refaced Pitt. "We're shoving off, now. In fact, if you don't leave with Major Dillenger and me, you ain't going. Because, five minutes after boarding my command aircraft, our entire assault team will be airborne. "
Pitt eased the automatic from Hollis's groin. "We'll be right behind you."
"I'll tag along with the Major," said Giordino, giving Dillenger a friendly pat on the back. "Great minds run in the same channels."
Dillenger gave him a sour look indeed. "Yours might run in a gutter but mine don't."
The room cleared out in fifteen seconds. Pitt hurried to his cabin and snatched up a tote bag. He made a quick trip to the bridge and conversed with Captain Stewart.
"How long for the Sounder to reach Santa Inez?"
Stewart stepped into the chart room and made a quick calculation.
"Pushing throttles to the stops, our diesels should put us off the glacier in nine or ten hours."
"Do it," Pitt ordered. "We'll look for you around dawn."
Stewart shook Pitts hand. "You take care, you hear?"
"I'll try not to get my feet wet."
One of the ship's scientists stepped over from the bridge counter. He was black, medium height, and wore a stern expression that looked as if it was chiseled there. His name Clayton Findley, and he spoke in a deep, rich bass voice.
"Excuse me for eavesdropping, gentlemen, but I could have sworn you mentioned Santa Inez Island."
Pitt nodded. "Yes, that's right."
"There's an old zinc mine near the glacier. Closed down when Chile halted government-subsidized production."
"You're familiar with the island?" Pitt asked in surprise.
Findley nodded. "I was chief geologist of an Arizona mining company who thought they might make the army pay through efficient, cost-cutting operations. They sent me down along with a couple of engineers to make a survey. Spent three months in that hell hole. We found the ore grade about played out. Soon after, the mine was shuttered and the equipment abandoned."
:'How are you with a rifle?"
