Then a woman appeared and jumped lightly onto the battered wooden deck. She was slim, her elegant body covered by a narrow falling tan overshirt, worn long and loose, held low on the hip by a thin sash, over tapering pants in green cotton. She wore moccasin style boater shoes on her feet. In her min-forties, she was about five foot seven; her hair was the color of aspen gold and her skin a copper tan. Her face was handsome, with high cheekbones, the face of a woman who fits no mold but her own.

She picked her way around a maze of cables and salvage equipment and stopped when she found herself surrounded by a gallery of male stares registering speculation mixed with undisguised fascination. She raised her sunglasses and stared back through plumbrown eyes.

"Which one of you is Dirk Pitt?" she demanded without preamble.

A rugged indivinual, shorter than she was, but with shoulders twice the winth of his waist stepped forward and pointed into the river.

"You'll find him down there."

She turned and her eyes followed the protruding finger. A large orange buoy swayed in the rippling current, its cable angling into the dirty green depths. About thirty feet beyond, she could see the diver's bubbles boil to the surface.

"How soon before he comes up?"

"Another five minutes."

"I see," she said, pondering a moment. Then she asked, "Is Albert Giordino with him?"

"He's standing here talking to you."

Clad only in shabby sneakers, cutoff jeans and torn T-shirt, Giordino's tacky outfit was matched by his black, curly windblown hair and a two-week heard. He definitely did not fit her picture of NUMA's deputy director of special projects.

She seemed ;more amused than taken aback. "My name is Julie Mendoza, Environmental Protection Agency. I have an urgent matter to discuss with the two of you, but perhaps I should wait until Mr. Pitt surfaces."

Giordino shrugged. "Suit yourself." He broke into a friendly smile. "We don't stock much in the way of creature comforts but we do have cold beer."

"Love one, thank you."

Giordino pulled a can of Coors from an ice bucket and handed it to her. "What's an EPA man-ah-woman doing flying around in a NUMA plane?"

"A suggestion of Admiral Sandecker."

Mendoza didn't offer more, so Giordino didn't press.

"What project is this?" Mendoza asked.

"The Cumberland."

"A Civil War ship, wasn't she?"

"Yes, historically very significant. She was a Union frigate sunk in 1862 by the Confederate ironclad Merrimack-or the Virginia, as she was known to the South."

"As I recall, she went down before the Merrimack fought the Monitor, making her the first ship ever destroyed by one that was armored."

"You know your history," said Giordino, properly impressed.

"And NUMA is going to raise her?"

Giordino shook his head. "Too costly. We're only after the ram."

"Ram?"