Clive Cussler: The Mediterranean Caper

Pitt laughed. “That’s good enough for me.” He swung the towel over his shoulder and pulled at his swim trunks. “Well it’s been nice talking to you…“

“Airman Second Class Moody, sir.”

“I’m Major Pitt.”

The AP’s face went blank. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you were an officer. I thought you were one of those civilians with NUMA. I’ll let you out this time, Major, but I’d appreciate it if you got a base pass.”

"I'll see to it first thing after breakfast.”

“My replacement comes on at 0800. If you’re not back by then, I’ll leave word so he’ll let you in without any trouble.”

“Thank you, Moody. Perhaps I’ll see you later.” Pitt waved and then turned and walked down the road towards the beach.

Pitt kept to the right side of the narrow paved road and in about a mile came to a small cove that was flanked by large craggy rocks. The moonlight showed him a path, and he took it until his feet crunched softly in the sandy beach. He dropped the towel and walked to the tide line. A wave broke, and the white of its crest slid smoothly across the packed sand and licked his feet The dying wave hesitated for a moment and then fell back, forming the trough for the next crest There was barely a breath of wind, and the glistening sea was relatively calm. The moon cast its glow on the dark water and left a shaft of silver that traveled over the surface to the horizon where the sea and sky melted together into absolute blackness. Pitt soaked up the warm stillness and moved into the water, swimming along the silver shaft An inner feeling always overcame Pitt when he was alone and near the sea. It was as though his soul seeped out of his body, and he became a thing without substance, without form. His mind was purified and cleansed: all mental labor ceased and all thoughts vanished. He was only vaguely aware of hot and cold, smells, touch, and all the other senses, except hearing. He listened to the nothingness of silence; the greatest, but most unknown, treasure of man. Forgotten for the moment were all his failures, all his victories and all his loves, even life itself was buried and lost in the stillness.

He lay dead and floated in the water for nearly an hour. Finally, a small swell slapped at his face and he unwittingly inhaled a few drops of salt water. He snorted, dispelling the discomfort and again became aware of his bodily sensations. Without watching his progress, he effortlessly backstroked toward the shore. When his hands arched and touched the dense sand, he stopped swimming and drifted onto the beach like a piece of flotsam. Then he dragged himself forward until he was only half-out of the water, letting it swirl around his legs and buttocks. The warm Aegean surf rose out of the dim light and flooded up the beach, caressing his skin, and he dozed off.

The stars were beginning to blink out one by one with the pale light of the approaching dawn when an inner alarm sounded in Pitt’s brain, and he suddenly became alert to a presence. Instantly he was awake, but he made no movement, other than peering through half-open eyes. He barely could make out a shadowy form standing over him. Focusing and straining his eyes in the faint light, he tried to distinguish a detailed shape.

Slowly, an outline materialized. It was a woman.

“Good morning,” he said and sat up.

“Oh my God,” the woman gasped. She threw a hand to her mouth as if to scream.

It was still too dark to see the wild look in her eyes, but Pitt knew it was there. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The hand slowly dropped. She just stood there looking down at him. Finally she found her voice. “I… I thought you were dead.” She stammered the words softly.

“I can hardly blame you. I suppose if I stumbled on someone sleeping in the tide at this time of morning I would think the same thing.”

“You gave me quite a frightful shock, you know, sitting up and talking like that.”

“Again, my sincere apologies.” It suddenly occurred to Pitt that the woman was speaking English. Her accent was decidedly British, but it had a trace of German. He rose to his feet. “Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dirk Pitt.”

“I’m Teri,” she said, “and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you alive and healthy. Mister Pitt”

She didn’t offer her last name, and Pitt didn’t press for it.

“Believe me, Teri, the pleasure is all mine.” He pointed to the sand. “Won’t you join me and help raise the sun?”

She laughed. “Thank you, I’d like that But then again, I can hardly see you. For all I know you might be a monster or something.” There was a note of whimsy in her tone. “Can I trust you?”

“To be perfectly honest, no. I think it only fair to Warn you that I’ve assaulted over two hundred innocent virgins right here on this very spot.” Pitt’s humor was overly forward, but he knew it was a good system for testing a female’s personality.

“Oh blimey, I would dearly loved to have been number two hundred and one, but I’m not an innocent virgin.” There was enough light now for Pitt to see the White of her teeth arched in a smile. “I certainly hope you won’t hold that against me.”

“No, I’m very broadminded about that sort of thing. But I must ask you to keep secret the fact that two hundred and one wasn’t pure as the driven snow. If it ever leaked out, my reputation as a monster would be ruined.”

They both laughed and sat down together on Pitt’s towel and talked while the hot sun reluctantly began its climb over the Aegean Sea. As the blazing orange ball threw its first golden rays over the shimmering horizon, Pitt gazed at the woman in the new light and studied her closely.

She was about thirty and wore a red bikini swim suit. The bikini was not the exaggerated brief kind, even though the lower half began a good two inches below the navel. The material had a satin sheen to it and clung tautly to her body like an outer layer of skin. Her figure was a beguiling mixture of grace and firmness: the stomach looked smooth and flat and the breasts were perfect, not too small but not too large and out of scale.

Her legs were long, creamy colored and slightly on the thin side. Pitt decided to overlook this faint imperfection and swung his eyes to her face. The profile was exquisite. Her features possessed the beauty and mystery of a Grecian statue and would have rated near perfection except for a round pockmark beside her right temple. Ordinarily the scar would have been covered by her shoulder length black hair but she had thrown her head back as she watched the sunrise and the ebony strands angled back behind her shoulders, touching the sand and revealing the thin blemish.

Suddenly she turned and caught Pitt’s examining stare.

“You’re supposed to be watching the sunrise,” she said with a bemused smile.

“I’ve seen sunrises before, but this is the first time I've ever come face to face with a lovely, genuine Grecian Aphrodite.” Pitt could see her dark brown eyes flashing with enjoyment at his compliment.

“Thank you for the flattery, but Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and beauty, and I’m only half Greek.”

“What’s the other half?”

“My father was German.”

“in that case I must thank the gods that you look after your mother’s side.”

She gave a pouting glance. “You’d better not let my uncle hear you say that.”

“A typical kraut?

“Yes, indeed. In fact he’s why I happen to be on Thasos.”

“Then he can’t be all bad,” Pitt said, admiring her hazel eyes. “DO you live with him?”

“No, actually l was born here but I was raised in England. I suffered through school there and when I was eighteen I fell in love with a dashing motorcar salesman and married him.”