Clive Cussler - Iceberg

"My sincerest wishes for your happiness, Miss Fyrie. I had no idea you were engaged. Who is the lucky man?"

The admiral held his composure exceedingly well, Pitt thought. He knew the Old man was stunned right down to his shoe soles. This development would call for a different set of ground rules-already Pitt found himself wondering what the competition was like.

"Rondheim-Oskar Rondheim," Kristi announced.

"My brother introduced v, in a letter. Oskar and I exchanged pictures and corresponded for two years before we finally met."

Sandecker stared at her. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "I think I know of him. Isn't he the one who owns an international chain of canneries? Rondheim Industries? A fishing fleet the size of Spain's navy? Or am I thinking of some other Rondheim?"

"No, that's right," Kirsti said. "His executive offices are right here in Reykjavik."

"The fishing boats, painted blue, flying a red flag with an albatross?" Pitt inquired.

Kirsti nodded. "The P.I'oatross is Oskar's good luck symbol. Do you know his boats?"

"I've had occasion to fly over them," Pitt said.

Of course Pitt knew the boats and their symbol. So did every fisherman of every country north of the fortieth parallel. Rondheim's fishing fleets were notorious for wiping out fishing grounds, almost to the verge of extinction, robbing the nets of the other fishermen, and dropping their own distinctive red-dyed nets inside the territorial boundaries of other countries. 'The Rondheim albatross carried as much respect as the Nazi swastika, "A merger between Fyrie Limited and Rondheim Industries would result in a most powerful empire," Sandecker said slowly, almost as if he were weighing the consequences.

Pitts mind was running along the same channels.

Suddenly, his train of thought was broken when Kirsti waved her hand.

"There he is. There!"

They turned and followed Kirsti's gaze to a tall, snow-haired, distinguished-looking figure vigorously stepping toward them. fie was fairly young, late thirties, his face strong and lined by years of ocean gales and salt air. the eyes were cool blue-gray above a strong narrow nose and a mouth that looked good-naturedly warm, though Pitt mused-rightly-that it could quickly straighten and harden to an aggressive line during business hours. Pitt mentally wrote him down as a sharp and cunning opponent. He made a note never to turn his back to him.

Rondheim stopped before the table, his even white teeth flashing in a seemingly cordial smile. "Kristi darling. How delightful you look tonight." Then he affectionately embraced her.

Pitt waited to see where the blue-gray eyes would move to next-to himself or the admiral.

He guessed wrong. Rondheim turned to Tidi.

"Ah-and who is this lovely young lady?"

"Admiral Sandecker's secretary, Miss Tidi Royal," Kirsti said. "May I present Oskar Rondheim."

"Miss Royal." He made a slight bow. "I am charmed by such interesting eyes."

Pitt had to hold his napkin to his mouth to muffle the laughter. "I think this is where I came in."

Tidi began to giggle, and Sandecker joined in with a hearty laugh that turned heads at the nearby tables.

Pitt kept his eyes on Kirsti. He was intrigued by a frightened, almost panicky expression that flickered across her face before she forced a thin smile and went along with the surrounding mirth.

Rondheim didn't go along with it at all. He stood there, his eyes staring blankly in confusion and his mouth pressed tightly together in anger-one didn't need to be a mind reader to see that he wasn't in the habit of being laughed at.

"I said something humorous?" he asked.

"This seems to be the night for complementing women on their eyes," Pitt said.

Kristi explained to Rondheim and then hurriedly introduced Sandecker.

"It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Admiral."

The cool look was back in Rondheim's eyes. "Your reputation as a mariner and oceanographer is widely known throughout seafaring circles."

"Your reputation is known widely throughout seafaring circles, Mr. Rondheim," 'The admiral shook Rondheim's hand and turned to Pitt. "Major Dirk Pitt, my special projects director."

Rondheim paused a moment, making a coldly professional assessment of the man standing before him before he extended his hand, "Major Pitt."

"How do you do." Pitt gritted his teeth as Rondheim's hand closed like a vise. Pitt fought a desire to squeeze back; instead he let his hand go limp in a deadfish grip. "Good heavens, Mr. Rondheim, you're a very strong man."

"I'm sorry, Major." Rondheim winced with surprised disgust and jerked his hand back as though he had been shocked by an electrical circuit. "The men who work for me are a rugged breed and have to be treated as such. When I am off the deck of a fishing boat, I sometimes forget to act like a gentleman of the land."

"Goodness, Mr. Rondheim, you needn't apologize. I admire virile men." Pitt held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. "No harm done as long as I can still wield a brush."

"Do you paint, Major?" Kirsti asked.

"Yes, landscapes mostly. I also enjoy doing floral still lifes- There is something about flowers that inspires the soul, don't you think?"

Kirsti looked at Pitt curiously. "I would love to see your work sometime."

"Unfortunately all of my canvases are in Washington. However, I'd be delighted to present you with my impressions of Iceland while I'm here." Pitt held a finger against his lips in a femine gesture. "Watercolors, yes, that's it. I'll do a series of watercolors. Perhaps you can hang them in your office."

"You are very kind, but I could not accept-"

"Nonsense," Pitt interrupted. "Your coastline is magnificent. I'm simply dying to see if I can capture its contrasting forces of sea and rock meeting one another in a natural eruption of light and color."

Kirsti smiled politely. "If you insist, but you must permit me to do something for you in return."

"I ask one favor-a boat. To do your shoreline justice, I must sketch it from the sea. Nothing fancy. Any small cruiser will do."

"See my dockmaster, Major. He will have a cruiser ready for you." She hesitated a moment as Rondheim loomed up and placed his hand on her neck and shoulder. "Our boats are moored at Pier Twelve."

"Come, darling," Rondheim said, white-teethed and softly. "Max is reading his new anthology tonight.

We must not be late." His hand tightened, and she closed her eyes. "I hope you good people will excuse US "Yes, of course," Sandecker said. "It's been a very enjoyable two hours, Miss Fyrie. Thank you for joining US."

Before anyone could say anything further, Rondheim hooked his hand through Kirsti's arm and led her from the dining room. As soon as they passed beyond the door, Sandecker threw his napkin down on the table.

"Okay, Dirk, suppose you explain your little act."

"What little act?" Pitt asked innocently.

"I admire virile men," Sandecker mimicked. "That goddamned homo act-that's what I mean. All that was missing was the lisp."

Pitt leaned forward, elbows on the table, his face dead serious. "There are situations that offer a definite advantage in being underestimated. This is one of them."

"Rondheim?"

"Exactly. He's your reason behind Fyrie's sudden reluctance to cooperate with the United States and NUMA. The man is no dummy. Once he marries Kirsti Fyrie, control of two of the largest privately owned corporations in the world will come under one roof. The possibilities are immense. Iceland and its government are too small, too dependent on the future Fyrie Rondheim cartel for its economy to offer even a token resistance against a highly financed takeover. Then, with the right strategy, the Faero islands and Greenland giving Rondheim virtual control over the North Atlantic. After that, one can only guess in which direction his ambitions lie."