Pitt concentrated on skirting the river traffic, smiling to himself at the shaking fists and angry curses thrown at the Calliope as she roared perilously close to small boats that rolled wickedly from the wash of her churning wake. Once free of the port, he relaxed and released his hands from the wheel and flexed his fingers. He had been at the helm for nearly six hours, but suffered little stiffness or fatigue. His chair at the controls was as comfortable as any enjoyed by a corporate executive and the steering as light as that of an expensive, luxury automobile.

Giordino appeared with a bottle of Coors beer and a tuna sandwich. “Thought you might need a little nutrition. You haven’t eaten since we left the Sounder.”

“Thanks, I couldn’t hear my stomach grumbling above the noise of the engines.” Pitt turned over the helm to his friend and nodded past the bow. “Be wary of that tug towing those barges as you come abeam to pass. He’s fishtailing all over the channel.”

“I’ll keep a wide passage to port,” Giordino acknowledged.

“Are we in shape to repel boarders?” Pitt grinned.

“As ready as we’ll ever be. Any suspicious characters lurking about?”

Pitt shook his head. “A couple of flybys by the Nigerian air force, and friendly waves from passing patrol boats. Otherwise, a lazy, hazy day cruising up the river.”

“The local bureaucrats must have bought the Admiral’s scam.”

“Let’s hope the countries further upriver are as gullible.”

Giordino tossed a thumb at the French tricolor flapping on the stern. “I’d feel a whole lot better if we had the Stars and Stripes, the State Department, Ralph Nader, the Denver Broncos, and a company of Marines behind us.”

“The battleship Iowa would be nice too.”

“Is the beer cold? I put a case in the galley fridge only an hour ago.”

“Cold enough,” Pitt answered between bites of the sandwich. “Any startling revelations from Rudi?”

Giordino gave a negative dip of his head. “He’s wrapped up in a chemical never, never land. I tried to make conversation but he waved me off.”

“I think I’ll pay him a visit.”

Giordino yawned. “Careful he doesn’t bite your knee off.”

Pitt laughed and went down the stairway into Gunn’s lab. The little NUMA scientist was studying a computer printout, his glasses pushed up on his forehead. Giordino had misread Gunn’s disposition. He was actually in a good mood.

“Having any luck?” asked Pitt.

“This damn river has every pollutant in it known to man and then some,” replied Gunn. “It’s far more contaminated than the bad old days on the Hudson, the James, and the Cuyahoga.”

“Looks complicated,” said Pitt as he stepped around the cabin, studying the sophisticated equipment that was packed together from deck to ceiling. “What function do these instruments serve?”

“Where did you get the brew?”

“Want one?”

“Sure.”