Clive Cussler - Trojan Odyssey

Almost before the words left her lips, the door to the admiral's office opened and two old friends stepped into the anteroom. Kurt Austin, with a premature forest of gray hair, who was Pitt's counterpart as director of special projects, and Joe Zavala, the wiry engineer who often worked on submersible designs and construction with Giordino, stepped forward and shook hands.

"Where is the old geezer sending you two?" asked Giordino.

"Heading for the Canadian north country. There's rumors of mutant fish in some of the lakes. The admiral asked us to check it out."

"We heard about your rescue of the Ocean Wanderer in the middle of Hurricane Lizzie," said Zavala. "I didn't expect to see you back in the harness so soon."

"No rest for the weary in Sandecker's book," Pitt said with a half grin.

Austin nodded at Dirk and Summer. "One of these days I'll have you and the kids over for a barbecue."

"I'd like that," accepted Pitt. "I've always wanted to see your antique gun collection."

"And I've yet to see your auto collection."

"Why not arrange a tour? We'll have cocktails and hors d'oeuvres at my place and then drive to your house for the barbecue."

"Consider it a done deal."

Sandecker's secretary approached. "The admiral is ready for you now."

They bid their goodbyes, as Austin and Zavala headed toward the elevators and Pitt's group was ushered into Sandecker's office, where the admiral sat behind an immense desk fashioned from the salvaged hatch cover from a Confederate blockade runner.

A gentleman of the old school, he rose as Summer entered, and motioned her to a chair across from the desk. Amazingly, Giordino had arrived early. He was dressed in casual slacks and a Hawaiian flowered-print shirt. Rudi Gunn came up from his office on the twenty-eighth floor and joined them.

Without prelude, Sandecker launched the meeting. "We have two intriguing problems to deal with. The most important is the brown crud which is spreading throughout the Caribbean, which I'll come to later." He looked across his desk with piercing eyes, first at Summer and then at Dirk. "You two certainly opened up a Pandora's box with your discoveries on Navidad Bank."

"I haven't heard of the test results since Captain Barnum sent the amphor to the lab," said Summer.

"The lab is still in the process of cleaning it," clarified Gunn. "It was Hiram Yaeger and his computer magic that established a date and culture."

Before Summer could ask, Sandecker said, "Hiram dated the amphor sometime prior to eleven hundred B.C. He also established that it was Celtic."

"Celtic?" Summer echoed. "Is he sure?"

"It matches every other amphor known to have been created by ancient Celts around three thousand years ago."

"What about the comb we photographed?" asked Summer.

"Without having the actual objects to study," answered Sandecker, "Hiram's computer could only make an approximation as to the date. However, his best guess is they're also three thousand years old."

"Where does Yaeger think the artifact came from?" queried Pitt.

Sandecker stared at the ceiling. "Since the Celts weren't a seafaring people and are not known to have sailed across the Atlantic to the new world, it must have been thrown or lost off a passing ship."

"No ships sailed over Navidad Bank unless they wanted to have their hulls ripped apart by shallow coral and file a phony insurance claim," said Pitt. "The only other possibility is that the ship was driven onto the bank by a storm."

Gunn gazed down at the carpet as if something had entered his mind. "According to insurance records, an old steamer called Vandalia smashed onto the reef."

"I surveyed her remains," said Summer, looking at her brother expectantly.

Dirk nodded at her and grinned. "The amphor was not all we found."

"What Dirk is hinting is that we also discovered a labyrinth of caverns or rooms carved from rock that is now covered with the coral." She reached into her purse and retrieved the digital camera. "We took pictures of the architecture and a large cauldron sculpted with images of ancient warriors. It was filled with small, everyday artifacts."

Sandecker looked at her in disbelief. "A city beneath the sea in the Western Hemisphere predating the Olmecs, Mayans and Incas? It doesn't seem possible."

"We won't have answers until a thorough exploration is conducted." Summer held the camera as if it was a piece of expensive jewelry. "The structure we observed looked like some sort of temple."

Sandecker turned to Gunn. "Rudi?"

Gunn nodded in understanding, took the camera from Summer's hand and pushed a switch on the wall that raised a panel, revealing a large digital television. He then connected the cable into the TV, picked up the remote and began running through the images recorded by Dirk and Summer of the sunken temple.

There were more than thirty images, beginning with the entry arch and the steps leading to the interior with what looked like a large stone bed. The cauldron and its contents were in another chamber.

Dirk and Summer narrated as Gunn moved from one picture to the next. When the last image flashed on the monitor, they all sat silently for a few moments.

Finally, Pitt spoke first. "I think we should get St. Julien Perlmutter in on this."

Gunn looked skeptical. "St. Julien isn't an archaeologist."

"True, but if anyone has theories on early seafarers and navigators sailing to this side of the ocean three thousand years ago, he would."

"Worth a shot," Sandecker agreed. He looked at Dirk and Summer. "Your research project for the next two weeks. Find answers. Consider it a working vacation." He swung in his big leather executive's chair until he faced Pitt and Giordino. "And now to the matter of the brown crud. All we know at this moment is that it is not associated with a diatom or a form of algae. Nor is it a biotoxin linked to the red tide phenomenon. What we do know is that it leaves a swath of devastation as it is carried out into the open Atlantic and swept north by the southern equatorial current toward the Gulf and Florida. Ocean scientists believe the crud has already reached American waters. Reports coming in from Key West say sponge beds are suffering from an unknown source of devastation."

"I'm sorry the glass jars containing my water samples and dead sea life specimens were destroyed when the waves tumbled Pisces into the crevasse," said Summer.

"Don't concern yourself. We have samples and specimens coming in daily from fifty different locations throughout the Caribbean."

"Any indications where the crud might originate?" asked Pitt.

Gunn pulled off his glasses and wiped the lenses with a small cloth. "Not really. Our scientists have sorted through water samples, wind and current data, satellite images and ship sightings. Their best guess at the moment is that the crud is spawned somewhere off the coast of Nicaragua. But that's all it is, a guess."

"Could it be some kind of chemical flushed from a river?" inquired Dirk.

Sandecker rolled one of his immense cigars in his fingers without lighting it. "Possible, but we have yet to discover a trail to its source."

"Something nasty is going on," said Gunn. "This stuff is deadly to most sea life and the coral. We've got to find a solution soon before it spreads out of control throughout the entire Caribbean and creates a sea of sludge and a dead zone for all water life."

Pitt stared at Gunn. "You don't paint a very pretty picture."

"The source must be found and a counteraction developed," added Sandecker. "That's where you and Al come in. Your mission is to investigate the waters off the west coast of Nicaragua. I've lined up one of NUMA's Neptune-class research vessels. I don't have to tell you that she's small, requiring no more than a five-man crew. She carries the latest state-of-the-art research equipment and instrumentation for specialized projects such as this one. Unlike our other ocean research and survey ships, she's as fast as anything in the oceans, with speed to spare."