"Okay, Brady Control, we're coming in. But you'd better know your aircraft identification or you're going to make a pair of little old silver-haired mothers damn sad if my co-pilot and I buy the farm. Over and out." Pitt turned to Giordino and spoke quickly without facial expression, his tone confident and calculating. "Go aft and throw open the side hatches. Use one of the carbines and make like a sharpshooter."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Giordino said, stunned.

Pitt shook his head. "I can't quite accept it either, but we've got to give those guys down there on the ground a helping hand. Now hurry it up."

"I'll do it," Giordino muttered. "But I still don't believe it."

"Yours is not to reason why, my friend." Pitt lightly punched Giordino on the arm and smiled briefly. "Good luck."

"Save it for yourself, you bleed just as easily as I do," Giordino said soberly. Then, muttering quietly under his breath, he rose from the co-pilot's seat and made his way to the ship's waist. Once there he pulled the thirty caliber carbine from an upright cabinet and shoved a fifteen shot clip into the receiver. A blast of warm air struck his face, filling the compartment when he opened the waist hatches. He checked the gun once more and sat down to wait; his thoughts drifting to the big man who was piloting the plane.

Giordino had known Pitt for a long time. They'd played together as boys, ran on the same high school track team and dated the same girls. He knew Pitt better than any man alive; any woman too, for that matter. Pitt was, in a sense, two men, neither of them directly related to the other. There was the coldly efficient Dirk Pitt who rarely made a mistake, and yet was humorous, unpretentious and easily made friends with everyone who came in contact with him; a rare combination. Then there was the other Pitt, the moody one, the one who often withdrew to himself for hours at a time and became remote and aloof, as though his mind were constantly churning over some distant dream. There had to be a key that unlocked and opened the door between the two Pitts, but Giordino had never found it. He did know, however, that the transition from one Dirk Pitt to the other took place more frequently in the past year—since Pitt lost a woman in the sea near Hawaii; a woman he had loved deeply.

Giordino remembered noticing Pitt's eyes before coming back to the main cabin; how the deep green had transformed to a glinting brightness at the call of danger. Giordino had never seen eyes quite like them, except once, and he shuddered slightly at the recollection as he glanced at the missing finger on his right hand. He jerked his thoughts back to the reality of the present and slid off the safety catch on the carbine. Then, strangely, he felt secure.