Iceberg Read online

  The rest of the meal was eaten with a minimum of small talk, everyone relaxed and comfortable in the atmosphere of friendliness and good food. Two hours later, during a strawberry and ice cream flambo, especially concocted by Pitt and an agreeable chef, Kirsti began to make apologies for an early departure.

  "I hope you will not think me rude, Admiral Sandecker, but I am afraid I must leave you, Miss Royal and Major Pitt very shortly. My fiance has insisted on taking me to a poetry reading tonight, and since I am only a woman, it is difficult to refuse his wishes." She gave Tidi a soft female look of understanding. "I'm sure Miss Royal can appreciate my situation."

  Tidi instantly grasped the romantic inference. "I envy you, Miss Fyrie. A fiance who loves poetry is a rare catch."

  Admiral Sandecker beamed a felicitating smile.

  "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.

  38

  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 goodnaturedly 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."

  39

  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."

  Sandecker shook his head. "You're assuming too much. Kirsti Fyrie would never go along with an international power play."

  "She will have no choice in the matter," Pitt said.

  "In marriage the spoils go to the dominant personality."

  "A woman in love is blind. Is that it?"

  "No," Pitt answered. "I don't think this is a match based on love."

  "Now you're an expert on affairs of the heart," Sandecker said sarcastically.

  "No contest," Pitt said, grinning, "but we are fortunate in having an expert in our Midst who has a built-in natural intuition for such things." He turned to Tidi.

  "Care to give us a feminen opinion, dearheart?"

  Tidi nodded. "She was terrified of him."

  Sandecker looked at her speculatively. "What do you mean by that?"

  "Just what I said," Tidi said firmly. "Miss Fyrie was scared to death of Mr. Rondheim. Didn't you see how he clutched her neck? I guarantee that she'll be wearing high collars for the next week until the bruises disappear.

  "Are you sure you're not imagining or exaggerating?" Tidi shook her head. "It was all she could do to keep from screaming."

  Sandecker's eyes were suddenly full of hostility.

  "That rotten son-of-a-bitch." He gazed at Pitt steadily.

  "Did you catch it?"

  "Yes."

  This increased Sandecker's anger. "Then why in hell didn't you stop it?"

  "I couldn't," Pitt said. "I would have had to step out of character. Rondheim has every reason to think I'm a faggot. I want him to go right on thinking that."

  "I'd like to think you have a hazy idea of what You're doing," Sandecker said grimly. "However, I'm afraid you bricked yourself into a corner with that crap about being an artist. I know for a fact that you can't draw a straight line. Natural eruption of light-my God."

  "I don't have to. Tidi will handle that little chore for me. I've seen samples of her work. It's quite good."

  "I do abstracts," Tidi said, a pained look on her pretty face. "I've never tried a true-life seascape."

  "Fake it," Pitt said briskly. "Do an abstract seascape. We're not out to impress the head curator at the Louvre."

  "But I have no supplies," Tidi whined. "Besides, the Admiral and I are leaving for Washington the day after tomorrow."

  "Your flight has just been canceled." Pitt turned to Sandecker. "Right, Admiral?"

  Sandecker folded his hands and mulled for a few moments. "In view of what we've learned in the last five minutes, I think it best if I hang around for a few days."

  "The change of climate will do you good," Pitt said. "You might even get in a fishing trip."

  Sandecker studied Pitts face. "Fairy queen imitations, painting classes, fishing expeditions. Would you humor an old man and tell me what's running through that agile mind of yours?"

  Pitt picked up a glass of water and swilled the lucid contents. "A black airplane," he said quietly. "A black airplane resting beneath a watery death shroud."

  40

  Chapter 9

  They found Pier Twelve at about ten in the morning and were passed through the entrance barrier by a tali swarthy Fyrie guard. Sandecker dressed in old rumpled clothes, a floppy, soiled hat, carrying a tackle box and fishing rod. Tidi in slacks and knotted blouse warmly covered by a man's windbreaker. She held a sketching pad under one arm and a satchel-sized handbag under the other, both hands jammed deeply in the windbreaker's pockets. The guard did a classic double-take at Pitt, who brought up the rear moving along the pier in a short sissyish gait.

  If Sandecker and Tidi looked and dressed like a pair of fishermen, Pitt came on like the queen of the May. He wore red suede pull-on boots, multicolored striped duck pants, so tight the seams were strained beyond endurance, supported by a two-inchwide tapestry belt and a -stretched purple sweater trimmed at the collar by a yellow neckerchief. His eyes blinked rapidly behind a pair of Ben Franklin glasses and his head was covered by a tasseled knit cap. The guard's mouth slowly drifted agape.

  "Hi, sweetie," Pitt said, smiling slyly. "Is our boat ready?"

  The guard's mouth remained agape, his eyes blank and unable to communicate to the brain the apparition they were focusing on.

  "Come, come," Pitt said. "Miss Fyrie has generously loaned us the use of one of her boats. Which one is it?" Pitt stared fixedly at the guard's crotch.

  The guard jerked alive as if he had been kicked, the stunned look on his face quickly turning to one of abject disgust.

  Without a word he led them down the pier, stopping in a hundred feet and pointing down at a gleaming thirty-two-foot Chris Craft cruiser.

  Pitt leaped aboard and disappeared below. In a minute he was back on the pier.

  "No, no, this won't do at all. Too mundane, too ostentatious. To create properly I must have a creative atmosphere." He looked accross the pier. "There, how about that one?"

  Before the guard could reply, Pitt trotted the width of the pier and dropped to the deck of a forty-foot fishing boat. He explored it briefly, then popped his head through a hatchway.

  "This is perfect. It has character, a crude uniqueness. We'll take this one."

  The guard hesitated for a moment. Finally, with that twitch of the shoulders that indicated a shrug, he nodded and left them, walking along the pier back to the entrance, throwing a backward look at Pitt every so often and shaking his head.

  When he was out of earshot. Tidi said, "Why this old dirty tub? Why not that nice yacht?"

  "Dirk knows what he's doing." Sandecker set the rod and tackle box down on the worn deck planking and looked at Pitt.

  "Does it have a fathometer?"

  "A Fleming six-ten, the top of the line. Extrasensitive frequencies for detecting fish at different depths."

  Pitt motioned down a narrow companionway. "This boat was a lucky choice. Let me show you the engine room, Admiral."

  "You mean we ignored that beautiful Chris Craft simply because it doesn't have a fathometer?" Tidi asked disappointingly.

  "That's right," Pitt answered. "A fathometer is our only hope of finding the black plane."

  Pitt turned and led Sandecker through the companionway down into the engine room. The stale air and the dank smell of oil and bilge immediately filled their nostrils, making them gasp at the drastic change from the diamond-pure atmosphere above.

  There was another odor. Sandecker looked at Pitt questioningly.

  "Gas fumes?"

  Pitt nodded. "Take a look at the engines."

  A diesel engine is the most efficient means of propelling a small boat, particularly a fishing boat. Heavy, low revolutions-per-minute, slow, but cheap to run and reliable, the diesel is used in nearly every workboat on the sea that doesn't rely on sails for power, that is, except this boat. Sitting side by side, their propeller shafts vanishing into the bilge, a pair of Sterling 420 h.p.

  gas-fed engines gleamed in the dim light of the engine room like sleeping giants awaiting the starting switch to goad them into thunderous action' "What in hell would a scow like this be doing with all this power?" Sandecker queried quietly.

  "Unless I miss my guess," Pitt murmured, "the guard goofed."

  "Meaning?"

  "On a shelf in the main cabin I found a pennant with an albatross on it."

  Pitt ran a hand o
ver one of the Sterling's intake manifolds; it was clean enough to pass a naval inspection.

  "This boat belongs to Rondheim, not Fyrie."

  Sandecker thought for a moment. "Miss Fyrie instructed us to see her dockmaster. For some unknown reason he was absent, and the pier was left in charge of that grizzled character with the tobacco-stained mustache. It makes one wonder if we weren't set up."

  "I don't think so," Pitt said. "Rondheim will undoubtedly keep a tight eye on us, but we've given him no cause to be suspicious of our actions-not yet, at any rate. The guard made an honest mistake. Without special instructions he probably figured we were given permission to select any boat on the pier, so he quite naturally showed us the best of the lot first. There was nothing in the script that said we would pick this little gem."

  41

  "What is it doing here? Rondheim surely can't be hard up for dock space."

  "Who cares," Pitt said, a wide grin stretching his features. "As long as the keys are in the ignition, I suggest we take it and run before the guard changes his mind." The admiral needed no persuasion. When it came to indulging in devious games to achieve-in his mind-an honest purpose, he was sneaky to a fault.

  Squaring his battered hat, he lost no time in issuing the first order of his new command.

  "Cast off the lines, Major. I'm anxious to see what these Sterlings can do."

  Precisely one minute later, the guard came running down the pier waving his arms like a crazy man. It was too late. Pitt stood on the deck and waved back good naturedly as Sandecker, happy as a child with a new toy, gunned the engines and steered the deceptivelooking boat out into Reykjavik harbor.