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Chapters (95)
  1. ALSO BY CLIVE CUSSLER
  2. TITLE PAGE
  3. COPYRIGHT
  4. CONTENTS
  5. MAP
  6. PROLOGUE: BARBARIGO
  7. PART I: POSEIDON’S ARROW
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Chapter 18
  26. Chapter 19
  27. Chapter 20
  28. Chapter 21
  29. Chapter 22
  30. Chapter 23
  31. Chapter 24
  32. Chapter 25
  33. PART II: RARE EARTH
  34. Chapter 26
  35. Chapter 27
  36. Chapter 28
  37. Chapter 29
  38. Chapter 30
  39. Chapter 31
  40. Chapter 32
  41. Chapter 33
  42. Chapter 34
  43. Chapter 35
  44. Chapter 36
  45. Chapter 37
  46. Chapter 38
  47. Chapter 39
  48. Chapter 40
  49. Chapter 41
  50. Chapter 42
  51. PART III: PANAMA RUN
  52. Chapter 43
  53. Chapter 44
  54. Chapter 45
  55. Chapter 46
  56. Chapter 47
  57. Chapter 48
  58. Chapter 49
  59. Chapter 50
  60. Chapter 51
  61. Chapter 52
  62. Chapter 53
  63. Chapter 54
  64. Chapter 55
  65. Chapter 56
  66. Chapter 57
  67. Chapter 58
  68. Chapter 59
  69. Chapter 60
  70. Chapter 61
  71. Chapter 62
  72. Chapter 63
  73. Chapter 64
  74. Chapter 65
  75. Chapter 66
  76. Chapter 67
  77. Chapter 68
  78. Chapter 69
  79. Chapter 70
  80. Chapter 71
  81. Chapter 72
  82. Chapter 73
  83. Chapter 74
  84. Chapter 75
  85. Chapter 76
  86. Chapter 77
  87. Chapter 78
  88. Chapter 79
  89. Chapter 80
  90. Chapter 81
  91. EPILOGUE: RED DEATH
  92. Chapter 82
  93. Chapter 83
  94. Chapter 84
  95. Chapter 85

“They’ve told us as much. Once the Australians stepped in and took over Edward Bolcke’s mine at Mount Weld, the Chinese lost hope of monopolizing the market. And our rebuilding efforts at Mountain Pass are well ahead of schedule. Fortunately, the remnant materials we acquired from Bolcke’s former operations in Panama and Madagascar have kept us humming.”

An aide materialized at Sandecker’s side, informing the Vice President that the ceremony was about to start.

“Duty calls.” He bowed to Loren and shook Pitt’s hand before returning to his seat.

A moment later, Ann Bennett worked her way down the aisle and took an empty seat next to Loren. “Hello,” she said warmly. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.”

“Did you just fly in?” Loren asked.

“Yes. Dan Fowler’s sentencing was this morning, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Ironic timing,” Pitt said. “What did he get?”

She gave a satisfied smile. “Thirty years, as the prosecutors hoped.”

An admiral took to the podium and introduced the Vice President, who gave a rousing speech about protecting the seas from all forms of enemies. A string of Navy officials followed with the expected words of ceremony.

During the speeches, Ann leaned across Loren and whispered to Pitt, “Is it in the water?”

Pitt nodded. “Two nights ago, under the downpour they were waiting for.”

“And ready for sea trials?”

“All systems look good, I’m told.”

“I thought the North Dakota already had her sea trials,” Loren said.

“Yes, that’s right, dear,” Pitt said, tightening his lips.

At the podium, the North Dakota’s honorary sponsor was introduced and sang out the traditional commissioning first order. “Man our ship and bring her to life!”

The crew and officers of the North Dakota stepped aboard the submarine to the cheers of the attending crowd. Pitt’s eyes looked beyond the vessel, focused on a motorized barge surrounded by numerous red-and-white warning buoys.

“Where is she?” Ann whispered.

“By the barge on the other side.”

Loren noticed that some of the Navy officials also seemed more interested in the barge than the newly minted North Dakota.

“What’s with everybody?” she asked. “You all act like there’s something more important going on here than the North Dakota’s launching. And why is everyone staring at those buoys by the barge?”

Pitt smiled at his wife and squeezed her hand.

“The sea doesn’t always reveal all her mysteries,” he said. “Even under the threat of a rusty butter knife.”

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