"Only that it's alive and still swimming," Sandecker answered. "Since Gunn had it flown over last week in a special tank, I haven't been able to get near the goddamn thing—a horde of scientists have been crowded around it, ogling their damn eyes right out of their sockets. They promised me a preliminary report by morning."

Zacynthus came across to greet Pitt. He seemed younger, much more relaxed than when Pitt had last seen him, three weeks previously.

"Good to see you walking again," Zacynthus said, smiling. "You look as mean and nasty as ever."

He took Pitt by the arm and led him over to a tall man standing by the window and introduced them. Pitt studied the Director of the Bureau and was studied in return by hard gray eyes that peered intently from a high-cheeked, pockmarked face; it was a face straight out of a police lineup. Pitt amusingly reflected that the Director looked more like a narcotics smuggler than the chief administrator of several thousand federal investigators. The Director spoke first.

"I've looked forward to meeting you, Major Pitt. The Bureau is deeply grateful for your assistance." The voice was low and very precise.

"I didn't do much. Inspector Zacynthus and Colonel Zeno carried most of the load."

The Director met his eyes evenly. "That may be, but you carry the scars." He motioned Pitt to a chair and offered him a cigarette. "Did you have a good flight from Greece?"

Pitt lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Air Force cargo planes aren't exactly famous for their cuisine and royal coachman service, but I must admit that it was considerably more relaxing than the flight in."

Admiral Sandecker gave Pitt a puzzled look. "Why the Air Force? You could have flown from Athens on Pan Am or TWA."

"Souvenirs." Pitt laughed. "One of my mementos of Thasos was too bulky to fit in the luggage compartment of a commercial airliner. Colonel Lewis came to my rescue and helped me hitch a ride on a half empty Air Force cargo plane that was headed stateside."

"Your wound." Sandecker nodded at Pitt's leg. "Healing all right?"

"It's still a bit stiff," Pitt answered. "Nothing a thirty-day medical leave won't cure."

The admiral eyed Pitt shrewdly for a moment through a blue haze of cigar smoke. "Two weeks." The tone reeked of cool authority. "I have more faith in your recuperative powers than you have."

The Director cleared his throat. "I've read Inspector Zacynthus' report with a great deal of interest. There is, however, one point he didn't cover. It isn't important, but out of personal curiosity, I wonder if you could tell me, Major, how you came to the conclusion that Minerva Lines ships had the capacity to carry submarines?"

Pitt smiled with his eyes. "I guess you might say, sir, the secret was written in the sand."