“Well,” Gunn began, “King Solomon, I ain’t. But since you asked for it. My theory on the proliferation of the algae, as any school child can tell you, is that after generations of dumping untreated sewage, garbage, and toxic chemicals in the oceans, the saturation point has finally been reached. The delicate chemical balance of the seas is irretrievably lost. They’re heating up, and we’re all, particularly our grandchildren, going to pay a heavy price.”

Pitt had never seen Gunn so solemn. “That bad.”

“I believe we’ve crossed the point of no return.”

“You’re not optimistic for a turnaround?”

“No,” Gunn said sadly. “The disastrous effects of bad water quality have been ignored too long.”

Pitt stared at Gunn, mildly surprised that the second-in-command of NUMA was prey to his own thoughts of doom and gloom. Gunn had painted a dire picture. Pitt did not share Gunn’s total pessimism. The oceans might be sick, but they were far from terminal.

“Loosen up, Rudi,” Pitt said cheerfully. “Whatever assignment the Admiral has up his sleeve, he’s not about to expect the three of us to sally forth and save the seas of the world.”

Gunn looked at him and made a wan smile. “I never second guess the Admiral.”

If either of them had known or even guessed how wrong they were, they’d have threatened the pilot with great bodily harm if he didn’t turn the plane around and fly them directly back to Cairo.

Their ground time at an oil company airstrip outside of Port Harcourt was short and sweet. Within minutes they were airborne in a helicopter beating out over the Gulf of Guinea. Forty minutes later, the craft was hovering over the Sounder, a NUMA-owned research vessel Pitt and Giordino knew quite well, having directed survey projects aboard her on three different occasions. Built at a cost of eighty million dollars, the 120-meter ship was loaded with the most sophisticated seismic, sonar, and bathymetric systems afloat.

The pilot swung around the huge crane on the Sounder’s stern and settled onto the landing pad aft of the superstructure. Pitt was the first to step down to the deck, followed by Gunn. Giordino, moving like a zombie, brought up the rear, yawning every step of the way. Several crewmen and scientists, who were old friends, met and exchanged greetings with them as the rotor blades spun to a stop and the helicopter was tied down.

Pitt knew his way about and headed up a ladder to the hatch that led to one of the Sounder’s marine laboratories. He passed through the counters piled with chemical apparatus and into a conference and lecture room. For a working research ship, the room was pleasantly furnished like an executive boardroom with a long, mahogany table and comfortably padded leather chairs.