Pitt held her tightly. "Your children?" he asked.
She nodded between sobs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you."
Strangely, female emotions had never been a big mystery with Pitt as with most men, and he was never confused or mystified when the tears came. He looked upon women's sometimes emotional behavior more with compassion than discomfort. "Put a woman's concern for her offspring against her sex drive, and motherly concern wins every time."
Maeve would never comprehend how Pitt could be so understanding. To her, he didn't seem human.
He certainly was unlike any man she'd ever known. "I'm so lost and afraid. I've never been more helpless in my life."
He rose from the couch and came back with a box of tissues. "Sorry I can't offer you a handkerchief, but I don't carry them much anymore."
"You don't mind . . . my disappointing you?"
Pitt smiled as Maeve wiped her eyes and blew her nose with a loud snort. "The truth is, I had ulterior motives."
Her eyes widened questioningly. "You don't want to go to bed with me?"
"I'd turn in my testosterone card if I didn't. But that's not entirely why I brought you here."
"I don't understand."
"I need your help in consolidating my plans."
"Plans for what?"
He looked at her as if he was surprised she asked. "To sneak onto Gladiator Island, of course, snatch your boys and make a clean getaway."
Maeve made nervous gestures of incomprehension with her hands. "You'd do that?" she gasped.
"You'd risk your life for me?"
"And your sons," Pitt added firmly.
"But why?"
He had an overpowering urge to tell her she was lithe and lovely and that he harbored feelings of deep affection for her, but he couldn't bring himself to sound like a lovesick adolescent. True to form, he swerved to the light side.
"Why? Because Admiral Sandecker gave me ten days off, and I hate to sit around and not be productive."
A smile returned to her damp face, and she pulled him against her. "That's not even a good lie."
"Why is it," he said just before he kissed her, "that women always see right through me?"
DIAMONDS. . . THE GRAND ILLUSION
January 30, 2000
Gladiator Island, Tasman Sea
The Dorsett manor house sat in the saddle of the island, between the two dormant volcanoes. The front overlooked the lagoon, which had become a bustling port for the diamond mining activities. Two mines in both volcanic chutes had been in continuous operation almost from the day Charles and Mary Dorsett returned from England after their marriage. There were those who claimed the family empire began then, but those who knew better held that the empire was truly launched by Betsy Fletcher when she found the unusual stones and gave them to her children to play with.
The original dwelling, mostly built from logs, with a palm frond or palapa roof, was torn down by Anson Dorsett. It was he who designed and built the large mansion that still stood after being remodeled by later generations until eventually taken over by Arthur Dorsett. The style was based on the classical layout-a central courtyard surrounded by verandas from which doors opened onto thirty rooms, all furnished in English colonial antiques. The only visible modern convenience was a large satellite dish, rising from a luxuriant garden, and a modern swimming pool in the center courtyard.
Arthur Dorsett hung up the phone, stepped out of his office-study and walked over to the pool where Deirdre was languidly stretched on a lounge chair, in a string bikini, carefully absorbing the tropical sun into her smooth skin.
"You'd better not let my superintendents see you like that," he said gruffly.
She slowly raised her head and looked down over a sea of skin. "I see no problem. I have my bra on."
"And women wonder why they're raped."
"Surely you don't want me to go around wearing a sack," she said mockingly.
"I have just gotten off the phone with Washington," he said heavily. "It seems your sister has vanished."
Deirdre sat up, startled, and lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sun. "Are your sources reliable? I personally hired the best investigators, former Secret Service agents, to keep her under surveillance."
"It's confirmed. They bungled their assignment and lost her after a wild ride through the countryside."
"Maeve isn't smart enough to lose professional investigators."
"From what I've been told, she had help." Her lips twisted into a scowl. "Let me guess Dirk Pitt."
Dorsett nodded. "The man is everywhere. Boudicca had him in her grasp at our Kunghit Island mine, but he slipped through her fingers."
"I sensed he was dangerous when he saved Maeve. I should have known how dangerous when he interrupted my plans to be airlifted off the Polar Queen by our helicopter after I set the ship on a collision course toward the rocks. I thought we were rid of him after that. I never imagined he would pop up without warning at our Canadian operation."
Dorsett motioned to a pretty little Chinese girl who was standing by a column supporting the roof over the veranda. She was dressed in a silk dress with long slits up the sides. "Bring me a gin," he ordered.
"Make it a tall one. I don't like skimpy drinks."
Deirdre held up a tall, empty glass. "Another rum collins."
The girl hurried off to bring the drinks. Deirdre caught her father eyeing the girl's backside and rolled her eyes. "Really, Daddy. You should know better than to bed the hired help. The world expects better from a man of your wealth and status."
"There are some things that go beyond class," he said sternly.
"What do we do about Maeve? She's obviously enlisted Dirk Pitt and his friends from NUMA to help her retrieve the twins."
Dorsett pulled his attention from the departing Chinese servant. "He may be a resourceful man, but he won't find Gladiator Island as easy to penetrate as our Kunghit Island property."
"Maeve knows the island better than any of us. She'll find a way."
"Even if they make it ashore"-he lifted a finger and pointed through the arched door of the courtyard in the general direction of the mines-"they'll never get within two hundred meters of the house."
Deirdre smiled diabolically. "Preparing a warm welcome seems most appropriate."
"No warm welcome, my darling daughter, not here, not on Gladiator Island."
"You have an ulterior plan." It was more statement than question.
He nodded. "Through Maeve, they will, no doubt, devise a scheme to infiltrate our security.
Unfortunately for them, they won't have the opportunity of exercising it."
"I don't understand."
"We cut them off at the pass, as the Americans are fond of saying, before they touch our shore."
"A perceptive man, my father." She stood up and hugged him, inhaling his smell. Even when she was a little girl he had smelled of expensive cologne, a special brand he imported from Germany, a musky, no-nonsense smell that reminded her of leather briefcases, the indefinable scent of a corporation boardroom and the wool of an expensive business suit.
He reluctantly pushed her away, angry at a growing feeling of desire for his own flesh and blood. "I want you to coordinate the mission. As usual, Boudicca will expedite."
"I'll bet my share of Dorsett Consolidated you know where to find them." She smiled archly at him.
"What is our timetable?"
"I suspect that Mr. Pitt and Maeve have already left Washington."
Her eyes squinted at him under the sun. "So soon?"
"Since Maeve hasn't been seen at her house, nor has Pitt set foot in his NUMA office for the past two days, it goes without saying that they are together and on their way here for the twins."
"Tell me where to set a trap for them," she said, a sparkle of the feline hunter in her eyes, certain her father had the answer. "An airport or hotel in Honolulu, Auckland or Sydney?"
He shook his head. "None of those. They won't make it easy
for us by flying on commercial flights and staying at secluded inns. They'll take one of NUMA's small fleet of jet transports and use the agency's facilities as a base."
"I didn't know the Americans had a permanent base for oceanographic study in either New Zealand or Australia."
"They don't," replied Dorsett. "What they do have is a research ship, the Ocean Angler, which is on a deepsea survey project in the Bounty Trough, west of New Zealand. If all goes according to plan, Pitt and Maeve will arrive in Wellington and rendezvous with the NUMA ship at the city docks this time tomorrow."
Deirdre stared at her father with open admiration. "How could you know all this?"
He smiled imperiously. "I have my own source in NUMA, who I pay very well to keep me informed of any underwater discoveries of precious stones."
"Then our strategy is to have Boudicca and her crew intercept and board the research ship and arrange for it to disappear."
"Not wise," Dorsett said flatly. "Boudicca has learned that Dirk Pitt somehow traced the cleanup of the derelict ships to her and our yacht. We send one of NUMA's research ships and its crew to the bottom and they'll know damned well we were behind it. No, we'll treat that matter more delicately."
"Twenty-four hours isn't much time."
"Leave after lunch and you can be in Wellington by supper. John Merchant and his security force will be waiting for you at our warehouse outside of the city."
"I thought Merchant had his skull fractured on Kunghit Island."
"A hairline crack. Just enough to make him insane for revenge. He insisted on being in on the kill."
"And you and Boudicca?" asked Deirdre.
"We'll come across in the yacht and should arrive by midnight," answered Dorsett. "That still leaves us ten hours to firm up our preparations."
"That means we'll be forced into seizing them during daylight."
Dorsett gripped Deirdre by the shoulders so hard she winced. "I'm counting on you, Daughter, to overcome any obstacles."
"A mistake, thinking we could trust Maeve," Deirdre said reproachfully. "You should have guessed she would come chasing after her brats the first chance she got."
"The information she passed on to us before disappearing was useful," he insisted, angrily. Excuses for miscalculation did not come easily to Arthur Dorsett.
"If only Maeve had died on Seymour Island, we wouldn't have this mess."
"The blame is not entirely hers," said Dorsett. "She had no prior knowledge of Pitt's intrusion on Kunghit. He's cast out a net, but any information he might have obtained cannot hurt us."
Despite the minor setback, Dorsett was not overly concerned. His mines were on islands whose isolation was a barrier to any kind of organized protest. His vast resources had shifted into gear. Security was tightened to keep any reporters from coming within several kilometers of his operations. Dorsett attorneys worked long hours to keep any legal opposition at bay while the public relations people labeled the stories of deaths and disappearances throughout the Pacific Ocean as products of environmentalist rumor mills and attempted to throw the blame elsewhere, the most likely target being secret American military experiments.
When Dorsett spoke it was with renewed calm. "Twenty-three days from now any storm raised by Admiral Sandecker will die a natural death when we close the mines."
"We can't make it look as though we're admitting guilt by shutting down our operations, Daddy. We'd open ourselves to a mountain of lawsuits by environmentalists and families of those who were killed."
"Not to worry, Daughter. Obtaining evidence that proves our mining methods cause underwater ultrasonic convergence that kills organic life is next to impossible. Scientific tests would have to be conducted over a period of months. In three weeks' time, scientists will have nothing to study. Plans have been made to remove every nut and bolt from our diamond excavations. The acoustic plague, as they insist on calling it, will be yesterday's headlines."
The little Chinese girl returned with their drinks and served them from a tray. She retreated into the shadows of the veranda as soundlessly as a wraith.
"Now that their mother has betrayed us, what will you do with Sean and Michael?"
"I'll arrange for her never to see them again."
"A great pity," Deirdre said as she rolled the icy glass over her forehead.
Dorsett downed the gin as if it were water. He lowered the glass and looked at her. "Pity? Who am I supposed to pity, Maeve or the twins?''"
"Neither."
"Who then?"
Deirdre's exotic-model features wore a sardonic grin. "The millions of women around the world, when they find out their diamonds are as worthless as glass."
"We'll take the romance out of the stone," Dorsett said, laughing. "That, I promise you."
Wellington, observed Pitt through the window of the NUMA aircraft, couldn't have rested in a more beautiful setting. Enclosed by a huge bay and a maze of islands, low mountains with Mount Victoria as the highest peak, and lush, green vegetation, the port boasted one of the finest harbors in the world. This was his fourth trip in ten years to the capital city of New Zealand, and he had seldom seen it without scattered rain showers and gusting winds.
Admiral Sandecker had given Pitt's mission his very reluctant blessing with grave misgivings. He considered Arthur Dorsett a very threatening man, a greedy sociopath who killed without a shred of remorse. The admiral cooperated by authorizing a NUMA aircraft for Pitt and Giordino to fly, with Maeve, to New Zealand and take command of a research ship as a base of operations for the rescue, but with the strict condition that no lives be risked in the attempt. Pitt gladly agreed, knowing the only people at risk, once the Ocean Angler stood a safe distance off Gladiator Island, would be the three of them.
His plan was to use an underwater submersible to slip' into the lagoon, then land and help Maeve reclaim her sons before returning to the ship. It was, Pitt thought bemusedly, a plan without technicalities.
Once on shore, everything hinged on Maeve.
He looked across the cockpit at Giordino, who was piloting the executive Gulfstream jet. His burly friend was as composed as if he were lounging under a palm tree on a sandy beach. They had been close friends since that first day they had met in elementary school and got ten into a fistfight. They played on the same high school football team, Giordino as a tackle, Pitt as quarterback, and later at the Air Force Academy. Blatantly using his father's influence-George Pitt happened to be the senior Senator from California-to keep them together, Dirk and Al had trained in the same flight school and flown two tours with the same tactical squadron in Vietnam, When it came to the ladies, however, they differed. Giordino reveled in affairs, while Pitt felt more comfortable with relationships.
Pitt rose from his seat, moved back into the main cabin and stared down at Maeve. She had slept fitfully during the long and tedious flight from Washington, and her face looked tired and drawn. Even now her eyes were closed, but the way she constantly changed position on the narrow couch indicated she had not yet crossed over the threshold into unconscious slumber. He reached over and gently shook her. "We're about to land in Wellington," he said.
Her indelible blue eyes fluttered open. "I'm awake," she murmured sleepily.
"How do you feel?" he asked with gentleness and concern.
She roused herself and nodded gamely. "Ready and willing."
Giordino flared the aircraft, dropping smoothly till the tires touched and smoked briefly on contact with the ground. He taxied off the runway onto the flight line to ward the parking area for transient and privately owned aircraft. "You see a NUMA vehicle?" he shouted over his shoulder at Pitt in the back.
The familiar turquoise and white colors were not in sight. "Must be late," said Pitt. "Or else we're early."
"Fifteen minutes early by the old timepiece on the instrument panel," replied Giordino.
A small pickup truck with a flight-line attendant in the bed motioned for Giordino to follow them to an open parking space betw
een a line of executive jet aircraft Giordino rolled to a stop when his wingtips were even with the planes on either side of him and began the procedure for shutting down the engines.
Pitt opened the passenger door and set a small step at the end of the stairs. Maeve followed him out and walked back and forth to stretch her joints and muscles, stiff and tensed after the long flight. She looked around the parking area for their transportation. "I thought someone from the ship was going to meet us," she said between yawns.
"They must be on their way."
Giordino passed out their traveling bags, locked up the aircraft and took cover with Pitt and Maeve under one wing while a sudden rain squall passed over the airport. Almost as quickly as it appeared, the storm moved across the bay, and the sun broke through a rolling mass of white clouds. A few minutes later, a small Toyota bus with the words HARBOR SHUTTLE painted on the sides splashed through the puddles and stopped. The driver stepped to the ground and jogged over to the aircraft. He was slim with a friendly face and dressed like a drugstore cowboy
"One of you Dirk Pitt?"
"Right here," Pitt acknowledged.
"Carl Marvin. Sorry I'm running late. The battery went dead in the shore van we carry aboard the Ocean Angler, so I had to borrow transportation from the harbormaster. I do hope you weren't inconvenienced."
"Not at all," said Giordino sourly. "We enjoyed the typhoon during intermission."
The sarcasm flew over the driver's head. "You haven't been waiting long, I hope."
"No more than ten minutes," said Pitt.
Marvin loaded their bags in the back of the shuttle bus and drove away from the aircraft as soon as his passengers were seated. "The dock where the ship is moored is only a short drive from the airport," he said cordially. "Just sit back and enjoy the trip."