"Al Giordino!" Pitt exclaimed happily. "I thought he was still working on the Atlantis Project in the Antarctic."

"Not anymore. He's in the air now and should be landing in Wellington tomorrow morning."

"You couldn't have sent a better man."

Sandecker relished toying with Pitt. "Yes," he said slyly. "I thought you'd think so."

Albert Giordino trudged across the gangway leading from the top of the dry dock to the deck of the Deep Encounter, lugging an old-fashioned steamer trunk over a burly shoulder. The sides were covered with colorful labels advertising hotels and countries around the world. One hand was clutched to a strap of the metal trunk, with its varnished wooden bands running across the top and bottom, while the other hand clutched an equally antique leather satchel. He paused at the top of the gangway and dropped his load on the deck. He gazed around the empty work deck and up at the vacant bridge wing. Except for shipyard workers repairing the exterior hull, the ship looked deserted.

Giordino's shoulders were almost as wide as his body was tall. At five feet four inches and a hundred and seventy-five pounds, he was all muscle. His Italian ancestry was apparent in his olive skin, black curly hair and walnut-colored eyes. Gregarious, sarcastic and jovial, his cutting humor often made those in his presence either laugh or cringe.

Friends since childhood, Pitt and Giordino had played on the same football teams in high school and at the Air Force Academy.

Wherever one went, the other was sure to follow. Giordino didn't think twice about joining Pitt at the National Underwater and Marine Agency. Their adventures together above and under the sea had become legend. Unlike Pitt and his aircraft hangar full of antique cars, Giordino lived in a condo with decor that would incite an interior decorator to suicide. For transportation, he drove an old Corvette. Besides his work, Al's passion was women. He saw nothing wrong with playing the role of a gigolo.

"Ahoy the ship!" he shouted. He waited before shouting again, as a figure walked out onto the bridge from the pilothouse and a familiar face stared down at him.

"Can you restrain yourself?" Pitt said in mock seriousness. "We don't take kindly to barbarians coming aboard an elegant vessel."

"In that case, you're in luck," said Giordino, flashing a vast smile. "You could use a vulgar rowdy to liven up the place."

"Stay put," Pitt said. "I'll come down."

In a minute, they were unashamedly embracing like the old friends they were. Though Giordino was three times stronger, Pitt always delighted in lifting the shorter man off the ground.

"What kept you? Sandecker said to expect you yesterday morning."

"You know the admiral. He was too cheap to let me borrow a NUMA jet, so I came commercial. As was expected, all flights were late and I missed my connection in San Francisco."

Pitt slapped his friend on the back. "Good to see you, pal. I thought you were on the Atlantis Project in the Antarctic." Then he stood back and stared at Giordino with a questioning look. "The last I heard, you were engaged to be married?"