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Maeve shook her head. "I can't imagine who would want to break into the security chief's diggings."
"Any live-in help?"
"They're housed in a different compound."
"The back door it is," Pitt whispered.
"I hope we find a well-stocked kitchen," muttered Giordino. "I'm not comfortable sneaking around in the dark on an empty stomach, a very empty stomach, I might add."
"You can have first crack at the refrigerator," Pitt promised.
Pitt stepped out of the shadows and slipped up to one side of the back door and peered through a window. The interior was lit only by a dim light over a hallway that ended at a stairwell leading to the second floor. Cautiously, he reached over and gently twisted the latch. There was a barely audible click as the shaft slipped from its catch. He took a deep breath and cracked the door ever so slightly. It swung on its hinges noiselessly, so he pushed it wide open and stepped into a rear entryway that opened into a small kitchen. He stepped across the kitchen and quietly closed a sliding door leading to a hallway. Then he turned on the light. At the signal, Maeve and Giordino followed him in.
"Oh, thank you, God," muttered Giordino in ecstasy at seeing a beautifully decorated kitchen over whose counters and oven hung expensive cooking utensils fit for a gourmet chef.
"Warm air," Maeve whispered happily. "I haven't felt warm air in weeks."
"I can taste the ham and eggs already," said Giordino.
"First things first," Pitt said quietly.
Turning the light out again, he slipped the hallway door open, leveled the assault rifle and stepped into the hallway. He cocked his head and listened, hearing only the soft noise of a heater fan. Flattening himself against the wall, he moved along the hallway under the muted light before starting up the carpeted stairway, testing each step for a squeak before setting his weight on it.
At the landing at the top of the stairs, he found two closed doors, one on either side. He tried the one to his right. The room was furnished as a private office with computer, telephones and file cabinets. The desk was incredibly orderly and free of clutter, the same as the kitchen. Pitt smiled to himself. He expected no less from the inhabitant. Sure of himself now, he stepped over to the left door, kicked it open and switched on the light.
A beautiful Asian girl, no more than eighteen, with long black silken hair falling over the side of the bed to the floor, stared in bulging-eyed fright at the figure standing in the doorway with an assault rifle. She opened her mouth as if to scream but emitted a muted gurgling sound.
The man next to her was a cool customer. He lay on his side, eyes closed, and made no attempt to turn and look at Pitt. Pitt would have missed the fractional movement but for the apparent indifference of the man. He lightly pulled the trigger, sending two quick shots into the pillow. The muzzle blast was muffled by the gun's suppressor and came like a pair of handclaps. Only then did the man in bed bolt upright and stare at a hand that was bleeding from a bullet through the palm.
Now the girl shrieked, but neither man seemed to care. They both waited patiently until she froze into silence.
"Good morning, Chief," said Pitt cheerfully. "Sorry to inconvenience you."
John Merchant blinked in the light and focused his eyes on his intruder. "My guards will have heard the screams and come on the run," he said calmly.
"I doubt that. Knowing you, I should judge that feminine screams coming from your living quarters are considered a nightly occurrence by your neighbors."
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"How quickly they forget."
Merchant squinted and then his mouth dropped open in recognition. His face registered abject disbelief. "You can't-be . . . you can't be . . . Dirk Pitt!"
As if prompted, Maeve and Giordino came into the room. They stood there behind Pitt, saying nothing, looking at the two people in bed as if watching a staged drama.
"This has to be a nightmare," Merchant gasped.
"Do you bleed in your dreams?" asked Pitt, slipping his hand under Merchant's pillow, retrieving the nine-millimeter automatic the security chief was reaching for and throwing it to Giordino. He thought the slimy little man would come around to accepting the situation, but Merchant was too stunned at seeing the ghosts of three people he thought were dead.
"I saw you cast adrift with my own eyes, before the storm struck," Merchant said in a dull monotone.
"How is it possible you all survived?"
"We were swallowed by a whale," said Giordino, pulling the window curtains closed. "We upset his tummy, and you can guess what happened next."
"You people are crazy. Give up your weapons. You'll never get off the island alive."
Pitt placed the muzzle of his assault rifle against Merchant's forehead. "The only words I want to hear from you concern the location of Miss Fletcher's sons. Where are they?"
