“Will do.” Yaeger studied the rock as he headed for the door. “Not our bauxite?”

Pitt shook his head. “A pang in my stomach and a large, grounded ghost ship says not.”

Chapter 9

9

PITT JOGGED UP THE ENTRY STEPS TO THE EISENHOWER Executive Office Building, trying to shake his creeping jet lag. Adjacent to the White House, the imposing stone structure was Pitt’s favorite federal building. Built in 1888 in the French Second Empire style of architecture, it featured a steep-pitched mansard roof and towering windows, making it look like a transplant from a Victor Hugo story. A monument to the use of granite and slate, almost no wood had been used in its construction, to reduce the risk of fire. Ironically, a fire on the second floor had nearly destroyed Vice President Cheney’s office in 2007.

Recent Vice Presidents had maintained only a ceremonial office in the building, preferring to inhabit the West Wing, where they could stay glued to the President. That all changed with the arrival of Admiral James Sandecker. A reluctant appointee when his predecessor had died in office, Sandecker preferred to keep his distance from the spinmasters that infiltrated every administration. Instead he made the vice presidential office in the old Executive Office Building his primary work domain. He gladly hiked the underground tunnel to the White House several times a day, if need be, to the chagrin of his less physically fit aides.

After passing through several layers of security, Pitt reached the foyer to the Vice President’s suite on the second floor and was escorted into the private office. The large room was decorated with the nautical motif befitting a retired admiral, showcasing several antique oil paintings of long-forgotten clipper ships battling the high seas. Though right on time, Pitt walked into a meeting in progress. Two men and a woman sat in wingback chairs around a coffee table, listening to the Vice President, who paced the lush carpet while clenching a large cigar.

“Dirk, there you are.” He zipped across the room to shake Pitt’s hand. “Come, take a seat.”

Though diminutive in stature, Sandecker had the energy of ten men. A fiery intensity burned in his blue eyes, which contrasted with his flaming red hair and matching Van Dyke beard. A Washington veteran who despised politics, he was both respected and feared for bluntness and integrity. For Pitt, he was something of a father figure, having been his boss at NUMA for many years before becoming Vice President.

“Good to see you, Admiral. You’re looking fit.”

“One keeps plenty fit in this office just smacking down the gadflies,” he said. “Dirk, let me introduce you around. Dan Fowler, here, is with DARPA, Tom Cerny is a special aide to the President, and Ann Bennett is from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.”

Pitt shook hands then took a seat, glancing at his watch.

“You’re not late,” Fowler said. “We just had some earlier business with the Vice President.”