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What's my deadline?"
"Just stay with it until you have something," Pitt replied. "I've got to go out of town for a while. I'll check in with you the day after tomorrow to see how you're doing."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Is this really important?"
"Yes," Pitt said slowly, "I think it is. Maybe more important than you and I can ever imagine."
When Pitts father opened the door to his colonial home on Massachusetts Avenue in Bethesda, Maryland, he wore a faded Pair Of khaki Pants and a well-snagged pullover sweater. The Socrates Of the Senate was noted for his expensive and fashionable suits, always embellished with a California golden poppy in the lapel. But out of the public eye he dressed like a rancher camped out on the range.
"Dirk!" he said with pleasure, giving his son a warm bear hug. "I see you too infrequently these days."
Pitt put his arm around the Senator's shoulder, and they walked side by side into a paneled den with rifled bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling. A fire flickered under an ornate mantel carved from teak.
The Senator motioned his son to a chair and walked behind a wet bar.
"Bombay gin martini with a twist, isn't it?"
"A bit cool for gin. How about a Jack Daniel's straight up."
"Every man to his own poison."
"How's Mom?"
"She's at some highfalutin spa, a fat farm in California on her annual crusade to lose weight. She'll be back day after tomorrow, two pounds heavier."
"She never gives up."
"It keeps her happy."
The Senator passed Pitt a bourbon and then poured himself a port. He raised the glass. "Here's to a fruitful trip to Colorado. "
Pitt didn't drink. "Whose bright idea was it to send me skiing?"
"Mine."
Pitt calmly took a swallow of Jack Daniel's and gave his father a hard stare. "What is your involvement with the Alexandria Library artifacts?"
"Very heavy if they truly exist."
"Are you speaking as a private citizen or a bureaucrat?"
"A patriot."
"All right," Pitt said with a deep sigh. "Fill me in. How are classical art and literary works and the coffin of Alexander so vital to United States interests?"
"None of the above," said the Senator. "The prime meat of the inventory is maps showing geological resources of the ancient world. The lost gold mines of the Pharaohs, the forgotten emerald mines of Cleopatra, the fabled but mystic land of Punt that was famous for its riches of silver, antimony and unusual greenish gold; locations known two and three thousand years ago but buried in the oblivion of time. There was also the fabulous land of Ophir and its recorded wealth of precious minerals. Its location still remains a tantalizing mystery. The mines of King Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and Sheba, the queen of Saba, whose fabled land today is only a biblical memory. The legendary wealth of the ages still lies hidden under the sands of the Middle East."
"So it's found, so what? How can precious-mineral deposits belonging to other countries concern our government?"
"As bargaining chips," answered the Senator. "If we're able to point the way, negotiations can be opened for joint ventures in the exploitation. We can also make points with national leaders and spread a little badly needed goodwill."
Pitt shook his head and considered. "News to me Congress has turned to prospecting for good foreign relations. Must be more to this than meets the eye."
The Senator nodded, marveling at his son's insight. "There is. Are you familiar with the term 'stratigraphic trap'?"
