Pitt shrugged. "As I've said, it's a habit."
"An irritating one at that." Koski looked at Pitt with a hint of uneasiness. "I wonder if you're really what you say you are."
"Dr. Hunnewell and I are bona fide," Pitt said reassuringly.
"We'll know for certain in approximately two minutes, Major." Koski's tone suddenly turned cynical. "I like to do my homework too."
"You don't trust me," Pitt said dryly. "A pity. Your mental anxiety is all for nothing. Dr. Hunnewell and I have no intent, or the means, for that matter, of endangering the safety of your ship or crew."
"You've given me no opportunity for trust." Koski's eyes were bleak, his voice icy. "You carry no written orders, I've received no radio signals regarding your authority, nothing… nothing but a vague message from Coast Guard Headquarters announcing your arrival. I might point out that anyone with a know'ledge of our call signal could have sent that communication."
"Nothing's impossible," Pitt said. He couldn't help but admire Koski's perception. The commander had struck the nail precisely on the head.
"If you're playing a shady game, Major, I want no part of it-I, Koski broke off to accept a signal form from a seaman, and studied it carefully, taking his time about it. A strange considering look crossed his face. Then he frowned as he passed the sheet across to Pitt. "It seems that you're a never-ending source of surprise."
If Pitt didn't look uncomfortable, he certainly felt it. The,ohous exposure had been a long time coming, and he d had plenty of time to prepare. Unfortunately, he hadn't come up with a plausible back-up story. Pitt quickly decided there was little he couldd do but take the form from the commander's hand and appear unconcerned. It said: "Regarding your inquiry of Dr. William Hunnewell and Major Dirk Pitt, Dr. Hunnewell's credentials are of the highest caliber. He is Director of the California Institute of Oceanography. Major Pitt is indeed Special Projects Director for NUMA. He also is the son of Senator George Pitt. These men are engaged in oceanographic research vital to the interests Of the goverdment and are to be extended every assistance and courtesy, Also, inform Major Pitt that Admiral Sandecker requests that the major beware of frigid women." It was signed by the Commandant of the Coast Guard.
"The defense rests,"' Pitt said, savoring each syllable to the hilt. Sandecker, the old fox, had used his influence to finagle the Coast Guard Commandant into playing the game. Pitt let out a deep breath and handed the message form back to Koski. l "It must be nice to have friends in high places, Koski said, a touch of anger in his voice.
"It helps on occasion."
"I have no choice but to be satisfied," Koski said heavily. "That last part, if I'm not infringing upon some sacred trust, was code'3"
"No great secret," Pitt answered. "It's only Admiral Sandecker's sly way of telling Dr. Hunnewell and me to continue on to Iceland after our investigation of the iceberg."
Koski stood there for a moment not saying anything. He shook his head slowly in puzzlement and was still shaking it when Hunnewell thumped his fist on the chart table.
"There it is, gentlemen. The precise location of our ghost ship-give or take a few square miles." Hunnewell was magnificent. If he had been aware of the tension a few moments before, he showed absolutely no evidence of it. He folded the chart and shoved it into the pocket of his windbreaker. "Major Pitt, I think it best if we take off as soon as possible."
"Whatever you say, Dog" Pitt said agreeably. "I can have the chopper warmed up and ready to go in ten minutes."
"Good." Hunnewell nodded. "We're now in the area where the berg was sighted by the patrol plane.
According to my calculations, at the present rate of drift, the iceberg should reach the edge of the Gulf Stream sometime tomorrow. If the ice patrol's estimate of the size is correct, the berg is already melting to the tune of a thousand tons an hour. When it hits the warmer water of the Gulf Stream, it won't last ten days.
The only unanswered question is when Will the derelict be released from the ice? Conceivably it could already be lost; hopefully it's still there and will be for a few more days."
"What do you figure for the flight distance?" Pitt asked.
"Approximately ninety miles to the general vicinity," Hunnewell answered.
Koski looked up at Pitt. "As Soon as you take off, I'll reduce speed to one third and maintain a heading of one-zero-six degrees. How long do you make it before we rendezvous?"
"Three and a half hours should do the job," Pitt replied.
Koski looked thoughtful. "Four hours-after four hours I'm coming into the icepack after you."
"Thank you, Commander," Pitt said. "Believe me when I say I'm grateful for your concern."
Koski believed him. "Are you certain I can't bring the Catawaba in closer to Your search area? if you should have an accident on the berg or have to dive in the sea, I doubt if I could reach you in time. In forty-degree water a man in full clothing only has a life expectancy Of twenty-five minutes."
"We'll have to risk it." Pitt took a final sip of his coffee and stared idly at the empty cup. "The Russians might already smell a rat if one of their trawlers has sighted your Coast Guard vessel Sunday cruising in an area outside its regular patrol station. That's why the end run with the helicopter. We can stay low enough to avoid any radar scanner and still be tough to sight visually. Time is important also. A copter can get in and out of the Novgorod's location in one tenth the time it would take the Catawaba."
"Okay." Koski sighed.
"It's your show. Just see that you're back on the landing platform by… he hesitated looking at his watch "no later than 1030." Then he grinned. "If you're a good boy and arrive on time, I'll have a fifth Of Johnnie Walker waiting." Pitt laughed. "Now that's what I call one hell of an incentive."
"I don't like it," Hunnewell shouted above the racket of the helicopter's engine exhaust. "We should have sighted something by now."
Pitt looked at his watch. "Timewise, we're in good shape. Still over two hours to go."
"Can't you go higher? If we double our range of vision, we'd double our chances of detecting the iceberg."
Pitt shook his head. "No can do. We'd also double the possibility of our own detection. It's safer if we stay at a hundred and fifty feet."
"We must find it today," Hunnewell said, an anxious expression on his cherub face. "Tomorrow may be too late for a second try." He studied the chart draped across his knees for a moment then picked up a pair of binoculars and focused off to the north at several icebergs floating together in a cluster.
"Have you noticed any bergs that come close to matching the description we're looking for?" Pitt asked.
"We crossed one about an hour ago that passed the size and configuration requirements, but there was no red dye on its walls." Hunnewell swung the binoculars, scanning a flat restless ocean studded with hundreds of massive icebergs, some broken and jagged, others rounded and smooth, like paper-white geometric solids thrown haphazardly over the blue sea.
"My ego is shattered," Hunnewell said mournfully" Never since my high school trigonometr-j class have my calculations been so far off."
"Perhaps a change in wind direction blew the berg on a different course."
"Hardly," Hunnewell grunted. "An iceberg's underwater mass is seven times the size of what shows on the surface. Nothing but an ocean current has the slightest effect on its movement. It can easily move with the current against a twenty-knot wind."