Before Yazid could enter the archway, Ammar rose to his feet.  "The

Mexican delegate who helped fly the aircraft.  Was he also poisoned?"

Yazid turned and shook his head.  "The report states he was killed in

the crash."

Then he was gone and the carpet dropped back.

Ammar settled on the stool again.  Slowly the revelation broke through

the mists of the enigma.  He should have been maddened, but there wasn't

the slightest feeling of anger.  Instead, an amused smile curled under

his mustache.

"So there were two of us," he mused aloud to the empty room.  "And the

other one poisoned the in-flight meal service." Then he shook his head

in wonderment.  "Poison in the Beef Wellington.  My god, how quaint."

At first no one paid any attention to the tiny blur that crept across

the outer edge of the sidescan sonar's recording paper.

Six hours into the search they had found several man-made objects. Parts

of the downed aircraft that were pinpointed for retrieval, a sunken

fishing trawler, bits and pieces of junk thrown over by fishing fleets

seeking shelter in the fjord from storms, all were identified by video

camera and eliminated.

The last anomaly was not resting on the bottom of the fjord as expected.

It sat inside a small inlet encircled by sheer cliffs. Only one end

protruded into clear water; the rest was buried under a wall of ice.

Pitt was the first to realize its significance.  He was sitting in front

of the recorder, surrounded by Giordino, Commander Knight and the

archaeologists.  He spoke into a transmitter.

"Swing the fish, bearing one-five-zero degrees."

The Polar Explorer was still stationary in the icebound fjord.  Outside

on the pack a team led by Cork Simon had augered through the ice and

lowered the sensing unit into the water.  Very slowly they swung the

fish, as they called it, scanning a 360-degree grid.  After searching

one area, they unreeled more cable and tried again at another site

farther away from the ship.

Simon acknowledged Pitts command and twisted the cable until the fish's

sonar probes were trained at 150 degrees.

"How's this?" he queried.

"You're right on target," Pitt replied from the ship.

Seen from a better angle the target became more distinct. Pitt circled

it with a black felt pen.

"I think we've got something."

Gronquist moved in closer and nodded.  "Not much showing to identify.

What do you make of it?"

"Pretty vague," answered Pitt- "You have to use some imagination since

most of the object is covered by ice that has fallen from the

surrounding cliffs.  But the part that shows underwater suggests a

wooden ship.  There's a definite angular shape coming together at what

might be a high, curving sternpost.  "

"Yes," said Lily excitedly.  "High and graceful.  Typical of a

fourth-century merchant ship."

"Don't get carried away," cautioned Knight.  "She could be an old

sail-rigged fisherman."

"Possibly." Giordino looked thoughtful.  "But if my memory serves me

correctly, the Danes, Icelanders and Norwegians who have fished these