Текст книги "Treasure"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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"A fleet!" Lily cried. Her eyes gleamed, her whole body taut. "They did save the collection."

Redfem nodded delightedly. "A damned good chunk of it anyway.

Two-to-three-hundred-ton-ships were representative of large merchantmen of that era. allowing for two ships to carry men and provisions, and taking an average tonnage of two hundred for the other fourteen ships, you have a gross tonnage for the fleet of 2,800 tons. Enough to transport a third of the Library's books and a fair share of the museum's art treasures."

Pitt called for a break. He went to the galley counter and brought back two cups of coffee. He set one in front of Lily and returned for a plate of doughnuts. He remained standing. He thought and concentrated better on his feet.

"So far the great Library snatch is theory," he said. "I've heard nothing that proves the goods were actually spirited away."

"Rufinus nails it down further on," said Redfem. "The description of the Serapis's cargo comes near the end of the log."

Pitt gave the marine archaeologist an impatient look and sat back, waiting.

"On the next tablet Rufinus mentions minor repairs to the ship, dockside gossip, and a tourist's eye of Carthago Nova, now Cartagena, Spain.

Oddly, he doesn't express any further uneasiness about the coming voyage. He even failed to note the date the fleet left port. But the really offbeat part is the censorship. Listen to the next paragraph.

"We sailed today toward great sea. The faster ships towing the slower ones. I can write no more. The soldiers are watching. Under strict orders of Junius Venator there can be no record of the voyage."

"Just when we set the straight pieces of the puzzle together," Pitt muttered, "the center section is missing."

"There must be more," Lily insisted. "I know I copied beyond that part of the report."

"You did," acknowledged Redfem, shuffling the pages. "Rufinus takes up the tale eleven months later.

"I am free now to record our cruel voyage without fear of punishment.

Venator and his small army of slaves, Se verus and his legionaries, all the ship's crews, have all been slain by the barbarians and the fleet burned. The Serapes escaped because my fear of Venator made me cautious.

"I learned the source and contents of the fleet's cargo and know its hiding place in the hills. Secrets such as these must be kept from mortal men. I suspected Venator and Severus meant to murder all but a few of their trusted soldiers and the crew of one ship to insure their return home.

"I feared for the life of my daughter so I armed my crew and ordered them to remain close to the ship so we could cast off at the first sign of treachery. But the barbarians struck first, slaughtering Venator's slaves and Se verus's legion. Our guards died in the battle, and we cut the lines and heaved our ship from the beach. Venator tried to save himself by running into the water. He shouted for rescue. I could not risk the lives of Hypatia and the crew to save him and refused to Turn back. To do so against the current would have been suicidal."

Redfem paused in the translation before continuing. "At this point Rufinus jumps around and flashes back to the fleet's departure from Cartagena.

"The voyage from Hispania to our destination in the strange land took fifty-eight days. The weather was favorable with winds at our backs.

for this good fortune, Serapis demanded a sacrifice. Two of our crew died from a malady unknown to me."

"He must mean scurvy," said Lily.

"Ancient seamen rarely sailed more than a week or two without touching land," Pitt clarified. "Scurvy did not become common until the long voyages of the Spanish. Could be they died from any number of reasons."

Lily nodded at Redfem. "Sorry for interrupting. Please go on.

"We first stepped ashore on a large island inhabited by barbarians who resembled Scythians, but with darker skins. They proved friendly and willingly helped the fleet replenish our food and fresh water supplies.

"We sighted more islands, but the flagship sailed on.

Only Venator knew where the fleet was to land. At last we sighted a barren shore and came to the wide mouth of a river. We stood off for five days and nights until the winds blew to our advantage. Then we set sail up the river, rowing at times, until we reached the hills of Rome."

"The hills of Rome?" Lily repeated absently. "That's a twist."

"He must have meant it as a comparison," said Pitt.

"A tough riddle to crack," Redfem admitted.

"The slaves under the overseer Latiriius Macer dug into the hills above the river. Eight months later the fleet's cargo was carried from the ships to the hiding ground."

"Did he describe the 'hiding ground'?" asked Pitt.

Redfern picked up a tablet and compared it to Lily's copy. "Parts of the wording are indistinct. I'll have to fill in as best I can.

"Thus, the secret of the secrets lies within the hill inside a chamber dug by the slaves. The place cannot be seen because of the palisade.

After all was stored, the barbarian horde swarmed from the hills. I do not know if the chamber was sealed in time as I was busy helping my crew push the boat from the sand."

"Rufinus fails to record distances," said Pitt, disillusioned, and never'gives directions. Now we have an odds-on chance the barbarians, whoever the hell they were, robbed the store."

Redfem's expression turned grim. "We can't ignore the possibility. "

"I don't think the worst happened," said Lily optimistically. "An immense collection can't be erased as though it never existed. A few pieces would have eventually turned up."

"Depends on the area where the action took place," said Pitt"Fifty-eight days at an average speed of-say three and a half knots, a vessel designed along the adcient lines of the Serapis-might have sailed over four thousand nautical miles."

"Providing they sailed in a straight line," said Redfem. "Not a likely prospect. Rufinus merely states they sailed fifty-eight days before stepping ashore. Traveling in unknown waters, they probably hugged the coastlines."

"But traveling to where?" Lily asked.

"The southern coast of Western Africa is the most logical destination,"

answered Redfem. "A crew of Phoenicians sailed around Africa clockwise in the fifth century B.C. Quite a bit of it was charted by Rufinus's time. Stands to reason Venator would have turned his fleet south after passing through the Straits of Gibraltar."

"Never sell a jury," said Pitt. "Rufinus described islands."

"Could be the Madeira, Canary or Cape Verde Islands."

"Still won't sell. You can't explain how the Serapes ended up halfway across the globe from the tip of Africa to Greenland. You're talking a distance of eight thousand miles."

"That's true. I'm confused on that count."

"My vote goes for a northern course," said Lily. "The islands also might be the Shetlands or the Faroes. That would put the excavation site along the Norwegian coast or, better yet, Iceland."

"She makes a good case," Pitt agreed. "Her theory would explain how the Serapes came to be stranded in Greenland."

"What does Rufinus tell us after he escaped the barbarians?"

she asked.

Redfern paused to finish off his hot chocolate. "He goes on to say: "We reached the open sea. Navigating was difficult. The stars are in different positions. The sun is not the same also. Violent storms struck us from the south. One crewman was swept overboard on the tenth day, a gale. We continued to be driven toward the north. On the first day our god led us to a safe bay where we made repairs and took what provisions we could find from the land. We also added extra ballast stone. Some distance beyond the beach there is a great sea of dwarflike pines. Fresh water seeps from sand with the jab of a stick.

"Six days of good sailing and then another tempest, worse than the last.

Our sails are split and useless. The great gale shattered the mast, and the steering oars were swept away. We drifted helplessly under the merciless wind for many days. I lost record of days. Sleep became impossible. The weather turned very cold. Ice formed on the deck. The ship became very unstable. I ordered my frozen and exhausted crew to throw our water and wine jars over the side."

"The amphoras you found on the bottom outside the fjord."

Redfem paused, nodding at Pitt. Then he continued reading.

"Shortly after we were driven into this long bay, we managed to beach the ship and fall into a dead sleep for two days and nights.

"The god Serapis is unkind. winter has set in and ice has bound the ship. We have no choice but to brave out the winter until the days warm. A barbarian village lies across the bay and we have found them open to trade. We barter with them for food. They use our gold coins as trinkets, having no idea of their value. They have showed us how to keep warm by burning oil from a monstrous fish. Our stomachs are full, and I think we shall survive.

"While I am comfortable with much time on my hands I will write a few words each day. This entry I shall recall the amount and type of cargo that Venator's slaves unloaded from the hold of the Serapis as I watched unseen from the galley and made an accounting. At the sight of the great object, everyone sank to their knees in proper reverence."

"What does he mean?" asked Lily.

Patience," said Redfem. "Listen.

"Three hundred twenty copper tubes marked' Geologic Charts. Sixty-three large tapestries. These were packed around the grand gold-and-glass casket of Alexander. My knees trembled. I could see his face through

"Rufinus wrote no more," Redfem said sadly. "He didn't finish the sentence. The last tablet is a drawing showing the general configuration of the shoreline and the course of the river."

"The lost coffin of Alexander the Great," Lily said, slightly above a whisper. "Can he still lie buried in a cavern somewhere?"

"Along with treasures from the Alexandria Library?" Redfem added to Lily's question. "We can do little else but hope."

Pitts reaction was quite different; it was one of profound confidence.

"Hope is for spectators-I figure I can find your antiques in thirty . .

. make that twenty days."

Lily's and Redfem's eyes opened wide. They regarded Pitt with the suspicion usually awarded a politician promising to lower taxes. They flatly didn't believe him.

They should have.

"You sound pretty cocky," said Lily.

Pitts green eyes glowed with a look of utter sincerity. "Let's have a look at the map." Redfem handed him a rendering Lily had made from the tablet and then enlarged. There was little to examine except a series of wavy lines.

"Won't tell us much," he said. "Rufinus didn't label anything."

"It's enough," said Pitt, his tone dry and unperturbed. "Enough to lead us to the front door."

It was four in the morning when Pitt awoke. He automatically rolled over to return to sleep but realized through the cobwebs that someone had turned on the light and was talking to him.

"Sorry, pal, but you've got to rise and shine."

Pitt groggily squinted into the serious face of Commander Knight. "What gives?"

"Orders from the top. You're to shove off for Washington immediately."

"They say why?"

"They is the Pentagon, and, no, they didn't grace me with an explanation."

Pitt sat up and swung his bare feet onto the deck. "I was hoping to hang around a bit longer and watch the excavation."

"No such luck," said Knight. "You, Giordino and Dr. Sharp have to be on your way within the hour."

"Lily?" Pitt stood and made his way to the head. "I can understand the big brass wanting to question Al and me about the Soviet sub, but why are they interested in Lily?"

"The Joint Chiefs don't confide in the serfs." Knight smiled wryly. "I haven't a clue."

"What about transportation?"

"Same way Redfem came in. Helicopter to the Eskimo village and weather station, a Navy plane to Iceland, where you transfer to an Air Force B-52 bomber that's rotating back to the States for overhaul."

"Not the way it's done," mumbled Pitt with a toothbrush in his mouth.

"If they want my wholehearted cooperation, it's private jet or nothing."

"You're pretty heady for this early in the morning."

"When I'm kicked out of bed before dawn I'm not shy about telling the Joint Chiefs to insert it among their hemorrhoids."

"There goes my next promotion," moaned Knight. "Guilt by association."

"Stick with me and you'll wind up Fleet Admiral."

"I bet."

Pitt tapped his head with the toothbrush. "Gemus has struck. Fire off a message. Say we'll meet them halfway. Giordino and I will fly our NUMA 'copter direct to Thule Air Force Base. They can damn well have a government jet waiting to zap us to the Capital."

"You might as well tease a Doberman when he's eating-"

Pitt threw up his hands. "Why is it nobody around here has any faith in my creative smartst'

Washington closed down after a dazzling clear day. The crisp fall weather sharpened the air as the setting sun glazed the white granite of the government buildings into a goldue porcelain. The sky was sprinkled with cotton-ball clouds that looked solid enough for the Gulfstream IV

jetliner to land on.

The plane could carry up to nineteen passengers, but Pitt, Giordino and Lily had the main cabin all to themselves. Giordino had promptly fallen asleep before the plane's wheels lifted from the U.S. Air Force Base at

'nule and hadn't opened an eye since. Lily had dozed on and off or read Marlys Milihiser's The Threshold.

Pitt stayed awake, lost in his thoughts, occasionally making entries in a small notebOOk. He turned and stared out the small window at the homeward-bound traffic slowly beating its way from the core of the Capital.

His thoughts wandered back to the frozen crew of the Serapis, its skipper, Rufinus, and his daughter, Hypatia. Pitt was sorry his eyes had failed to find the girl in the darkness of the cargo hold even though the video camera had recorded her quite clearly, arms circled around a s, all long-haired dog.

Gronquist almost cried when he described her. Pitt wondered if she would end up as a frozen display in a museum, viewed in hushed astonishment by endless lines of the curious.

Gazing down at the Washington mall as the Gulfstream circled for its approach, Pitt put off his thoughts of the Serapis and focused on the search for the Alexandria Library treasures. He knew exactly how he was going about it. The part of his plan that didn't thrill him was putting all his eggs in one basket. He had to bank his entire search on a few crudely scratched in wax by the freezing hand of a dying man. Murphy's Law-Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong was already erecting the barricades against him.

The lines in the map might not fit a known geographical location for any number of reasons: distortion in the wax from rapid temperature changes during the initial freeze on the Serapis and later thaw on board the Polar Explorer; or perhaps Ruflnus erred in the scale and misplaced the curves and angles of the shoreline and river; or the worst and most probable scenario-great changes in the landscape due to soil buildup or erosion, earthquakes or extreme changes in climate during the past 1,600

years. No river in the world had maintained an unvarying course over a thousand years.

Pitt smelled the intoxicating scent of challenge. To restless men it is a real scent that wafts somewhere between a sexually aroused woman and newly cut grass after a rain. It tempts and addicts until the challenger is oblivious to any thought of failure or danger. The excitement of the chase meant as much to Pitt as actual success. And yet, when he did achieve the nearimpossible, there was always the inevitable letdown afterward.

His first obstacle was lack of time to conduct a search. The second was the Soviet sub. He and Giordino were the frontrunning candidates to oversee the underwater salvage operation.

Pitts reverie was interrupted by the pilot's voice over the speakers to fasten seat belts. He watched the plane's tiny shadow enlarge against the leafless trees below. The brown grass flashed past and turned to concrete. The pilot taxied off the main runway at Andrews Air Force Base and braked to a stop beside a Ford Taurus station wagon.

Pitt helped Lily step from the plane. Then he and Giordino unloaded the luggage and stacked it in the rear of the Taurus.

driver, a young athletic prep-school type, stood back as if afraid to interfere with the two hard-core types who handled the heavy suitcases and duffel bags as lightly as pillows. "What's the plan?" Pitt asked the driver.

"Dinner with Admiral Sandecker at his club."

"Admiral who?" asked Lily.

"Sandecker," answered Giordino. "Our boss at NUMA. We must have done something right. It's a rare treat when he pops for a meal."

"Not to mention an invitation to the John Paul Jones Club," added Pitt.

"Exclusive?"

Giordino nodded. "A depository for rusty old naval officers with bilge water in their bladders."

It was dark when the driver finally turned into a quiet residential street in Georgetown. Five blocks later he eased the car onto a gravel drive and stopped beneath the portico of a red-brick Victorian mansion.

In the entrance hall a short gamecock of a man stepped across the carpet dressed in a tailored silk suit with a vest. He moved in rapid, energetic steps like a cat sneaking through a door crack. His features were sharp and always rem-linded. Pitt noticed the deep red hair on his head connected to a meticulously ed Van Dyke beard. His eyes seemed filled with spit and vinegar.

Admiral James Sandecker was not the kind to creep into a room; he took it by storm.

"Good to see you boys back," he snapped in a tone more official than friendly. "I hear your ancient ship discovery may change the history books. The news media is giving it a big play."

"We had a few lucky breaks," said Pitt. "May I present Dr. Lily Sharp.

Lily, Admiral James Sandecker."

Sandecker beamed like a lighthouse when he was in the presence of an attractive woman, and he went luminous for Lily. "Doctor, you have to be the loveliest lady to ever honor these walls."

"I'm happy to see your club shows no discrimination against females."

"Not because the membership is open-said Giordino slyly. "Most women would rather get a tetanus shot than come here and hear old derelicts rehash the wars."

on toward Sandecker shot Giordino a withering stare.

Lily looked at the two men, puzzled. She thought perhaps she was caught in the middle of a long-standing feud.

Pitt forced back a laugh, but couldn't suppress a smile. He'd witnessed the give-and-take for ten years. Everyone close to them knew Giordino and Sandecker were the warmest of friends.

Lily decided to make a tactical retreat. "If one of you gentlemen will point out the ladies room, I'll freshen up."

Sandecker gestured up a hallway. "First door on the right. Please take your time." As soon as she had left, the admiral motioned Pitt and Giordino into a small sitting room and closed the door. "I have to leave for a meeting with the Secretary of the Navy in an hour. This will be our only chance to talk in private so I'll have to make it quick before Dr. Sharp returns. Let me begin by saying you did a damned fine job finding the Soviet sub and then clamping a lid on it. The President was most pleased when he received the news and asked me to thank you."

"When do we start?" asked Giordino.

"Start what?"

"A covert underwater salvage operation on the sub."

"Our intelligence people insist it be put on hold. Their scheme is to feed Soviet agents misleading information. Make it appear any further search is a waste of taxpayers' money, and we've written it off as a lost cause."

"for how long?" Pitt asked.

"Maybe a year. Whatever time it takes for the mission project people to draw up plans and construct the equipment for the project."

Pitt stared at the admiral suspiciously. "I get the feeling we won't be included."

"Dead on," Sandecker said flatly. "As they say at the police precinct, you're off the case."

"I have a more important job for you two characters."

"What could be more important than stealing the secrets of the Soviet Navy's deadliest submarine?" Pitt asked guardedly.

"A skiing holiday," Sandecker replied. "Nothing like the invigorating air and the powder snow of the rockies. You're booked on a commercial flight to Denver tomorrow morning at ten forty-five. Dr. Sharp will accompany you.", Pitt looked at Giordino, who merely shrugged. He turned back to Sandecker. "Is this a reward or exile?"

"Call it a working vacation. Senator Pitt will explain the details."

"My dad?"

"He's expecting you later this evening at his home." Sandecker pulled a large gold pocket watch from his vest pocket and read the ivory face.

"We must not keep a pretty lady waiting."

Sandecker started for the door while Pitt and Giordino stood dumbly rooted to the room's faded carpet.

"Don't hold back, Admiral!" Pitts voice was sharp. "Unless you play it straight, there's no way in hell I'll be on that plane tomorrow."

"Accept my regrets too," Giordino said. "I feel an attack of Borneo jungle fullgus coming on."

Sandecker paused in mid-stride, Mined, lifted an eyebrow and stared directly at Pitt– "You don't fool me for a Minute, mister. You don't give a damn about the Soviet sub. You want to find the relics of the Alexandria Library so bad you'd give up sex."

Pitt said with forbearance, "Your insight is flawless, as usual. So is your underground grapevine. I intended to turn over the transcription of the Serapis's log to you on our return to Washington. Apparently someone beat me to it."

"Commander Knight. He radioed Dr. Redfem's translation in code to the Navy Department, who turned it over to the National Security Council and the President. I read a copy before you left Iceland. You opened Pandora's box and didn't know it. If the cache exists and can be found, it will cause a political upheaval. But I'm not about to go into it.

That job was given to your father for reasons he's better qualified to explain. "

"How does Lily fit in the picture?"

"She's part of your cover. A backup in the event there's a leak or the KGB suspects their sub was actually found. Martin Brogan wants to Make it clear you're working on a legitimate archaeological project. That's why I'm meeting you at the club, and your father will brief you at home.

Your movements must look routine should you be tailed."

"Sounds like an ove I to me."

"The bureaucracy works in mysterious ways," said Giordino resignedly. "I wonder if I can get tickets to a Denver Bronco game."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye," Sandecker said with some satisfaction.

"Now let's find our table. I'm starved."

They dropped Lily off at the Jefferson Hotel. She gave them both a hug and entered the lobby, followed by a porter with her bags. Pitt and Giordino directed the driver to the ten-story solar-glass building that was the headquarters for the National Underwater & Agency.

Giordino went directly to his office on the fourth floor while Pitt remained on the elevator and rode up to the

communication-and-information network on the top level. He left an attached case with the receptionist and removed an envelope, slipping it in his coat pocket.

He wandered around the seemingly endless rows of electronic equipment and computer hardware until he found a man sitting cross-legged on the tiled floor contemplating a miniature tape recorder dissected from a large kangaroo doll.

"Does it sing 'Waltzing Matilda' off-key," Pitt asked.

"How'd you know?"

"A lucky guess."

Hiram Yaeger looked up and grinned. He had a droll face with straight blond hair tied in a ponytail. His beard, curled in long ringlets, looked as if he had borrowed it from a costume rental. He peered through a pair of granny spectacles and was dressed like a down-and-out rodeo performer in old Levi's and boots a bag lady would throw away.

Sandecker had pirated Yaeger away from a computer-design company in California's Silicon Valley and had given him free reign to create NUMA's data complex from scratch. It was a perfect mamage between human gemus and central processing unit. Yaeger supervised a vast library of information containing every known report and book written about the world's oceans.

Yaeger studied the doll's recording and speaker unit with a critical eye. "I could have designed a better system than this with kitchen utensils."

"Can you fix it?"

"Probably not."

Pitt shook his head and gestured around the computer complex. "You set up all this but can't repair a simple cassette player?"

"My heart isn't in it." Yaeger rose, walked into an office and stood the stuffed kangaroo on one corner of his desk.

"Maybe someday when I'm inspired I'll modify it into a talking lamp."

Pitt followed him and closed the door. "Feel in the mood for a more exotic project?"

"Along what lines?"

"Research. "

"Lay it on me."

Pitt removed the envelope from his pocket and gave it to Yaeger-NUMA's computer wizard slouched in a chair, opened the envelope flap and withdrew the contents. He rapidly scanned the typed transcript, then read through it again more slowly. After a long silence, he peered over his spectacles at Pitt.

"This from that old ship you found?"

"You know of it?"

"Have to be blind and deaf not to. The story has been all over the newspapers and TV."

Pitt nodded at the papers in Yaeger's hand. "A translation from Latin of the ship's log."

"What do you want from me?"

"Take a look at the page with the map."

Yaeger held it up and studied the uniabeled lines. "You want me to make a match with a known geographical location?"

"If you can," Pitt acknowledged.

"Not a hell of a lot to go on. What is it?"

"An ocean shoreline and a river."

"When was it drawn?"

"A.D. 391."

Yaeger gave Pitt a bemused look. "You might as well ask me to name the streets of Atlantis."

"Program your electronic playmates for a projection of the ship's course after the fleet left Cartagena. You might also try working backwards from the shipwreck site in Greenland. I've included the position."

"You realize this river may not exist any more."

"The thought entered my mind."

"I'll need authorization from the Admiral."

"You'll get it first thing in the morning."

"All right," Yaeger said glumly– "I'll give it my best shot.

What's my deadline?"

"Just stay with it until you have something," Pitt replied. "I've got to go out of town for a while. I'll check in with you the day after tomorrow to see how you're doing."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Is this really important?"

"Yes," Pitt said slowly, "I think it is. Maybe more important than you and I can ever imagine."

When Pitts father opened the door to his colonial home on Massachusetts Avenue in Bethesda, Maryland, he wore a faded Pair Of khaki Pants and a well-snagged pullover sweater. The Socrates Of the Senate was noted for his expensive and fashionable suits, always embellished with a California golden poppy in the lapel. But out of the public eye he dressed like a rancher camped out on the range.

"Dirk!" he said with pleasure, giving his son a warm bear hug. "I see you too infrequently these days."

Pitt put his arm around the Senator's shoulder, and they walked side by side into a paneled den with rifled bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling. A fire flickered under an ornate mantel carved from teak.

The Senator motioned his son to a chair and walked behind a wet bar.

"Bombay gin martini with a twist, isn't it?"

"A bit cool for gin. How about a Jack Daniel's straight up."

"Every man to his own poison."

"How's Mom?"

"She's at some highfalutin spa, a fat farm in California on her annual crusade to lose weight. She'll be back day after tomorrow, two pounds heavier."

"She never gives up."

"It keeps her happy."

The Senator passed Pitt a bourbon and then poured himself a port. He raised the glass. "Here's to a fruitful trip to Colorado. "

Pitt didn't drink. "Whose bright idea was it to send me skiing?"

"Mine."

Pitt calmly took a swallow of Jack Daniel's and gave his father a hard stare. "What is your involvement with the Alexandria Library artifacts?"

"Very heavy if they truly exist."

"Are you speaking as a private citizen or a bureaucrat?"

"A patriot."

"All right," Pitt said with a deep sigh. "Fill me in. How are classical art and literary works and the coffin of Alexander so vital to United States interests?"

"None of the above," said the Senator. "The prime meat of the inventory is maps showing geological resources of the ancient world. The lost gold mines of the Pharaohs, the forgotten emerald mines of Cleopatra, the fabled but mystic land of Punt that was famous for its riches of silver, antimony and unusual greenish gold; locations known two and three thousand years ago but buried in the oblivion of time. There was also the fabulous land of Ophir and its recorded wealth of precious minerals. Its location still remains a tantalizing mystery. The mines of King Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, and Sheba, the queen of Saba, whose fabled land today is only a biblical memory. The legendary wealth of the ages still lies hidden under the sands of the Middle East."

"So it's found, so what? How can precious-mineral deposits belonging to other countries concern our government?"

"As bargaining chips," answered the Senator. "If we're able to point the way, negotiations can be opened for joint ventures in the exploitation. We can also make points with national leaders and spread a little badly needed goodwill."

Pitt shook his head and considered. "News to me Congress has turned to prospecting for good foreign relations. Must be more to this than meets the eye."

The Senator nodded, marveling at his son's insight. "There is. Are you familiar with the term 'stratigraphic trap'?"

"I should be." Pitt smiled. "I found one in the Labrador Sea off Quebec Province a few years ago."

"Yes, the Doodlebug project. I remember."

"A stratigraphic trap is one of the toughest oi'l deposits to discover.

Normal seismic exploration won't detect it. Yet they often prove out to have incredibly high yields."

"Which leads us to bitumen, a hydrocarbon-like tar or asPhatt that was used in Mesopotamia as long as five thousand years ago for waterproofing buildings, canals, clay drainage pipes and caulking boats. Other uses included roads, treatment Of wounds, and adhesives. Much later the Greeks mention springs along the North African coast that bubble with oil. The Romans recorded a site in the Sinai they called Petrol Mountain. And the Bible tells of God ordering Jacob to suck oil out of flintlike rock, and describes the vale of Siddim being frill of slime pits, which can be interpreted as tar pits."