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"Will you be leaving soon?" Flidais asked Epona.
"In a few days. I have to take care of a little damage control in Washington. A congressional committee is investigating our newly acquired mining operations in Montana. The state's politicians are upset because we're taking all of the iridium ore for our own use and leaving none for sale to U.S. commercial enterprises or their government."
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bsp; Epona leaned back comfortably in the thick pillows. "And you, my dear friend, what is on your agenda?"
"I've hired an international investigation company to track down the two men who penetrated our security and roamed the tunnels before escaping through the lighthouse ventilator."
"Any idea of their identities?"
"I suspect they were members of the National Underwater and Marine Agency. The same ones I escaped from after they destroyed our yacht."
"You think our efforts for secrecy have been compromised?"
Flidais shook her head. "I don't think so. At least not yet. Our agents have reported no activity by U.S. intelligence agencies to investigate the tunnels. There has been a strange silence. It's as if those devils from NUMA disappeared off the face of the earth."
"We need not be unduly concerned. It's too late for the Americans to stop our operation. And besides, it's doubtful they've discovered the tunnel's true purpose. Only eight more days and they'll be open and pumping the South Equatorial Current into the Pacific."
"I'm hoping the reason for their silence is that they haven't put two and two together and found a threat."
"That would explain their inaction."
"On the other hand," Epona said, thoughtfully, "one would think they'd seek retaliation for the murder of a member of their crew."
"An execution that was a matter of necessity," Flidais assured her.
"I disagree," said Pitt. "Cold-blooded murder is never a matter of necessity."
There was a stunned moment in time, the champagne glass held between Epona's manicured fingers fell silently to the thick carpet. Both heads whirled around, their long hair snapping around like whips. The long-lashed eyes flashed from surprise to irritation at being interrupted by an unauthorized intrusion by one of their own security personnel. Then came surprise at seeing Pitt's Colt aimed in their direction.
Pitt caught the flick of Epona's eyes toward a small golden remote on the carpet under the glass table. Her foot began slipping toward it. "Not a smart move, dear heart," he said casually.
The foot stopped, her toe inches from one of the buttons. Then she slowly withdrew her foot.
In that instant Flidais recognized Pitt. "You!" she said sharply.
"Hello, Rita, or whatever you call yourself." His eyes swept the room. "You seem to have come up in the world."
The amber-brown eyes glared at him in cold anger. "How did you get in here?"
"Don't you like my designer jumpsuit?" he said, as if modeling at a fashion show. "It's amazing the doors they open."
"Flidais, who is this man?" Epona asked, studying Pitt as one would a specimen in a zoo.
"My name is Dirk Pitt. Your friend and I met off the east coast of Nicaragua. As I recall, she wore a yellow bikini and owned an elegant yacht."
"Which you destroyed," Flidais hissed like a flared cobra.
"I don't recall you giving us a choice."
"What do you want?" inquired Epona, staring at him through jade eyes flecked with gold.
"I think it only fair that Flidais--is that what you call her?--answer for her crimes."
"May I ask what you have in mind?" she asked, staring at him enigmatically.
This woman was a class act, Pitt decided, nothing fazed her, not even the muzzle of his gun. "I'm taking her on a little flight north."
