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her eyes, searching for something he wasn’t sure he’d find. All he could read was her dead seriousness.
    “I think, to be on the safe side, I’d better contact the admiral and confirm.”
    “You can do that on the way to Langley,” she said, her tone unyielding. “I’ve seen to your personal affairs. Your clothes and whatever else you might need for a two-week operation have already been packed and loaded on board.” She paused and stared him squarely in the eye. “So much for small talk, Mr. Pitt. While we stand here, people are dying. You couldn’t know that. But take my word for it. If you’re half the man you’re reported to be, you’ll stop screwing around and get on the plane—now!”
    “You really go for the jugular, don’t you, lady?”
    “If I have to.”
    There was an icy silence. Pitt took a deep breath, then blew it out. He faced Giordino.
    “I hear Alaska is beautiful this time of year.”
    Giordino managed a faraway look. “Some great saloons in Skagway we should check out.”
    Pitt gestured to the other diver, who was peeling off his dry suit. “She’s all yours, Charlie. Go ahead and bring up the Merrimack’s ram and get it over to the conservation lab.”
    “I’ll see to it.”
    Pitt nodded, and then along with Giordino walked toward the Catalina, talking between themselves as if Julie Mendoza no longer existed.
    “I hope she packed my fishing gear,” said Giordino with a straight voice. “The salmon should be running.”
    “I’ve a mind to ride a caribou,” Pitt carried on. “Heard tell they can outrun a dog sled.”
    As Mendoza followed them, the words of Admiral Sandecker came back to haunt her: “I don’t envy you riding herd on those two devils, Pitt in particular. He could con a great white shark into becoming a vegetarian. So keep a sharp eye and your legs crossed.”

4
    JAMES SANDECKER was considered a prime catch by the feminine circles of Washington society. A dedicated bachelor whose only mistress was his work, he seldom entered into a relationship with the opposite sex that lasted more than a few weeks. Sentiment and romance, the qualities women thrive on, were beyond him. In another life he might have been a hermit—or, some suggested, Ebenezer Scrooge.
    In his late fifties and an exercise addict, he still cut a trim figure. He was short and muscular, and his red hair and beard had yet to show a trace of gray. He possessed an aloofness and coarse personality that appealed to women. Many cast out lures, but few ever put a hook in him.
    Bonnie Cowan, an attorney for one of the city’s most respected law firms, considered herself fortunate to have wrangled a dinner date with him. “You look pensive tonight, Jim,” she said.
    He did not look directly at her. His gaze drifted over the other diners seated amid the quiet decor of the Company Inkwell restaurant. “I was wondering how many people would dine out if there were no seafood.”
    She gave him a puzzled stare, then laughed. “After dealing with dull legal minds all day, I’ll confess it’s like inhaling mountain air to be with someone who wanders in aimless circles.”
    His stare returned over the table’s candle and into her eyes. Bonnie Cowan was thirty-five years old, and unusually attractive. She had learned long ago that beauty was an asset in her career and never tried to disguise it. Her hair was fine, silken and fell below her shoulders. Her breasts were small but nicely proportioned, as were the legs that were amply displayed by a short skirt. She was also highly intelligent and could hold her own in any courtroom. Sandecker felt remiss at his inattentiveness.
    “That’s a damned pretty dress,” he said, making a feeble attempt at looking attentive.
    “Yes, I think the red material goes well with my blond hair.”
    “A nice match,” he came back vaguely.
    “You’re hopeless, Jim Sandecker,” she said, shaking her head. “You’d say the same thing if I were sitting here