AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What brings you to the Nile?"
"Admiral Sandecker sent me to pull you and Al off your project. I have a NUMA plane waiting to fly
us to Port Harcourt. The Admiral will meet us there."
"Where's Port Harcourt?" Pitt asked blankly.
"A seaport on the delta of the Niger River in Nigeria,"
"What's the big hurry? You could have instructed us by satellite communications. Why make the time and effort to tell us in person?"
Gunn made a negative gesture with his hands. "I can't say. The Admiral didn't make me privy to the reason for secrecy or the mad rush."
If Rudi Gunn didn't know what Sandecker had up his sleeve, no one did. He was slim, with narrow shoulders and matching hips. Extremely competent, a master of logistics, Gunn was a graduate of Annapolis and a former Commander in the Navy. He had come on board NUMA at the same time as Pitt and Giordino. Gunn stared at the world through thick horn-rimmed glasses and spoke past lips that were most always curled in a mischievous grin. Giordino likened him Wan IRS agent about to make a kill.
"Your timing is ideal," said Pitt. "Come on inside. Let's get out of the heat. I've something I want to show you."
Giordino had his back to the cabin door as Pitt and Gunn entered. "What did the goochers want?" he asked irritably.
"For you to drop dead," Gunn answered, laughing.
Giordino spun around, recognizing the little man, and affecting great surprise. "Oh for God's sake!" He came to his feet and shook Gunn's outstretched hand. "What are you doing here?"
"To transfer you to another project."
"Great timing."
"My thoughts exactly," Pitt grinned.
"Hi, Mr. Gunn," greeted Gary Marx, ducking into the electronics cabin. "Good to have you on board."
"Hello, Gary."
"Am I being transferred too?"
Gunn shook his head. "No, you have to stay here on the project. Dick White and Stan Shaw will be arriving tomorrow to replace Dirk and Al."
"A waste of time," said Marx. "We're ready to wrap up."
Gunn stared at Pitt questioningly for a moment, then understanding grew iii concert with his widening eyes. "The pharaoh's funeral barge," he muttered. "You found it?"
"A lucky hit," Pitt revealed. "And only the second day on the job."
"Where?" Gunn blurted.
"You're standing on it, in a manner of speaking. She's resting 9 meters under our keel."
Pitt displayed the digital isometric model of the wreck on the computer monitor. The hours spent in enhancing the colored imagery paid off with a vivid, extremely detailed view of every square meter of the centuries-old ship.
"Indescribable," muttered Gunn in awe.
"We've also recorded and positioned over a hundred other wrecks dating from 2800 B.C. to 1000 A.D.," said Giordino.
"Congratulations to the three of you," Gunn beamed warmly. "You've pulled off an incredible accomplishment. One for the history books. The Egyptian government will pin medals on you."
"And the Admiral?" Giordino asked succinctly. "What will he pin on us?"
Gunn turned from the monitor and looked at them, his face suddenly turned dead serious. "A dirty, rotten job, I suspect."
