"Look what Zeno found." Giordino flicked off the bottle lid and sniffed the contents, screwing up his face into a mock look of ecstasy. "I've decided they're not such bad guys after all."

Pitt laughed and turned to Zeno. "You'll have to excuse Giordino. He always comes unglued at the mere sight of booze."

"If so"—Zeno grinned beneath his moustache—"we have much in common." He stepped around Giordino and set a tray with four glasses on the desk.

"How's Darius?" Pitt asked.

"He is on his feet," Zeno replied. "But he will be limping for a few days."

"Tell him I'm sorry," Pitt said sincerely. "I regret—"

"No regrets are necessary," Zeno interrupted. "In our line of work these things happen." He passed a glass to Pitt, noticing for the first time the bloodstained shirt. "You seem to have your injuries also."

"Courtesy of von Till's dog," Pitt said, holding the glass to the light.

Zac nodded silently. He now grasped more fully Pitt's hatred for von Till. He relaxed, hands hanging limply over the arms of the swivel chair, secure in the knowledge that Pitt had revenge on his mind, not sex.

"After you get back to your ship, we'll keep you posted by radio on von Till's activities."

"Good," Pitt said simply. He sipped the brandy, enjoying the fiery lava-like liquid that trickled down his throat into his stomach. "One more favor, Zac. I'd like you to use your official status and send a couple of messages to Germany."

"Of course. What do you wish to say?"

Pitt had already picked up a pad and pencil off the desk. "I'll write everything down including names and addresses, but will have to fake my German spelling." When Pitt finished he passed the pad to Zac. "Ask them to forward their reply to the First Attempt. I've added NUMA's radio frequency."

Zac scanned the pad. "I don't understand your motives."

"Just a wild hunch." Pitt poured another shot of Metaxa in his glass. "By the way, when will the Queen Artemisia make her detour by Thasos?"

"How…but how do you know that?"

"I'm psychic," Pitt said briefly. "When?"

"Tomorrow morning." Zac looked at Pitt long and consideringly. "Sometime between four and five A.M. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, just curiosity." Pitt braced himself for the burn and downed the drink. The jolt was almost too much. He shook his head from side to side, blinking away the tears that burst from his eyes.

"My God," he whispered hoarsely. "That stuff goes down like battery acid."

13

13

The eerie, phosphorescent froth gradually diminished and fell away from the old straight up and down bow of Queen Artemisia as the aging ship slowly lost way and came to a stop. Then the anchor clattered down into ten fathoms of water, and the navigation lights blinked out, leaving a black silhouette resting on an even blacker sea. It was as though the Queen Artemisia had never been.