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"Maybe I missed something," Pitt said harshly. "But I had this crazy idea that we were on the same side."
"We are, Mr. Pitt, I assure you," Jordan answered quietly. He nodded at Admiral Sandecker. "Your facility, Soggy Acres as' you called it, was built under such tight secrecy that none of our intelligence agencies were aware that it was authorized."
Pitt cut him short. "So when you got wind of the project, your nose was bent out of joint and you had to investigate."
Jordan was not used to being on the defensive, yet he did not meet Pitt's stare. "What's done is done. I regret the tragic loss of so many people, but we cannot entirely be blamed for putting our operatives in an unfortunate position at the wrong time. We had no advance warning of a Japanese auto transport that was smuggling nuclear bombs across the ocean, nor could we predict those bombs would accidentally explode almost on top of two innocent ships and your mining colony."
For a moment Pitt was stunned by the revelation, then his surprise was gone as quickly as it came.
Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. He stared at Sandecker and sensed hurt as he spoke. "You knew, Admiral, you knew before you left Washington and said nothing. The Tucson wasn't on station to rescue Plunkett and me. It was there to record radioactivity and search for debris."
It was one of the few times Pitt and Giordino ever witnessed Sandecker redden with chagrin. "The President asked that I be sworn to secrecy," he said slowly. "I've never lied to you, Dirk, but I had no choice but to remain mute."
Pitt felt sorry for the admiral, he knew it must have been difficult to be evasive with two close friends, but he made no effort to disguise his resentment of Jordan. "Why are we here?" he demanded.
"The President has personally approved of the selection of each individual to the team," replied Jordan.
"You all have a background and expertise that is indispensable for the success of this operation. The admiral and Mr. Giordino will put together a project to search the ocean floor and salvage any evidence from the ship that blew up. For the record, their code is `Mercedes.' "
Pitt's tired eyes squinted at Jordan steadily. "You only half answered the question."
Jordan obliged him by saying, "I'm coming to it. You and Mr. Mancuso, who I believe you met, will act as a support team."
"Support for what?"
"For the phase of the operation that requires an underground or underwater search."
"When and where?"
"Yet to be determined."
"And our code name?"
Jordan stared at Kern, who shuffled through a file of papers and then shook his head. "They haven't been assigned one yet."
"May the condemned create their own code?" asked Pitt.
Jordan exchanged looks with Kern, and then shrugged. "I don't see why not."
Pitt smiled at Mancuso. "You have a preference?"
Mancuso lowered the pipe from his lips. "I leave it to you," he said affably.
"Then we'll bèTeam Stutz.'
Jordan cocked his head. "I beg your pardon."
"I never heard of it," growled Kern.
"Stutz," Pitt pronounced distinctly. "One of America's finest classic automobiles, built from nineteen eleven until nineteen thirty-five in Indianapolis, Indiana."
"I like it." Mancuso nodded agreeably.
Kern squinted at Pitt, and his eyes took on a ferrety look. "You don't strike me as taking this operation seriously."
Jordan made an acquiescent shrug. "Whatever makes them happy."
"Okay," Pitt said steadily, "now that vital item of the agenda is settled, I'm going to get up and walk out of here." He paused to read the orange dial on his old Doxa dive watch. "I was dragged here against my will. I've slept three hours out of the last forty-eight, and only eaten one meal in that time. I have to go to the bathroom. And I still don't know what's going down. Your plainclothes security guards and your detachment of marines can stop me, of course, but then I might get hurt and can't play on the team. Oh, yes, there is one other point that no one has thought toy bring up."
