He was interrupted by a knock on the metal door.

The cabin boy entered, carrying a tray containing three brown bottles.

“Keep them coming,” Pitt ordered. “And, keep them cold.”

“Yes sir,” the boy mumbled. He set the tray down on the desk and hurried from the cabin.

Giordino passed Lewis a beer. “Here Colonel, drink up and forget the damage to Brady. The taxpayers will absorb the cost anyway.”

“In the meantime I’ll probably suffer a coronary,”

Lewis said gloomily. He sat back down in the chair, collapsing like a leaky inner tube.

Pitt held up the ice frosted bottle and rolled its cold surface across his forehead. The red and silver label was stuck on crooked. He stared idly at the reversed printing that proudly proclaimed: BY

APPOINTMENT TO THE ROYAL GREEK COURT.

“Where do we go from here?” Giordino said between gulps.

Pitt shrugged, “I'm not sure yet. A lot depends on what Gunn finds in the wreckage of the Albatros.”

“Any idea?’

“None at the moment.”

Giordino mashed his cigarette into an ashtray. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re well ahead of the game, especially compared to this time yesterday. Thanks to you our ghost from World War I is kaput, and we have a pretty good lead on the instigator behind the attacks. All we have to do now is have the Greek authorities pick up von Till”

“Not good enough,” Pitt said thoughtfully. “That

would be the same as a district attorney demanding the indictment of a suspect for murder ‘who had no motive. No, there has to be a reason, not a valid one in our eyes necessarily, but still a reason for all this intrigue and destruction.”

“Whatever the cause, it isn’t treasure.”

Pitt stared at Giordino. “I'd forgotten to ask. Did Admiral Sandecker send a reply to your message?”

Giordino dropped an emptied bottle in a wastebasket. “It came through this morning, just before the Colonel and I left Brady Field for the First Attempt.” He paused, gazing up at a fly walking across the ceiling, Then he belched.

“Well?” Pitt grunted impatiently.

“The Admiral had a crew of ten men pour through the national Archives on a crash research program.

When they were finished they all agreed on the same conclusion: there is no recorded document anywhere that indicates shipwrecked treasure near the Thasos coastline.”

“Cargos, could any of the recorded wrecked vessels have carried valuable cargo?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Giordino pulled a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “The Admiral’s secretary dictated over the radio the names of all the ships that were lost on or around Thasos in the last two hundred years. The list isn’t impressive.”

Pitt wiped the salty sting of sweat from his eyes. “Let’s have a sample.”

Giordino set the list on his knees and began reading aloud in a rapid monotone. “Mistral, French frigate, sunk 1753. Clara G., British coal collier, sunk 1856. Admiral DeFosse, French ironclad, sunk 1872.

Scyla, Italian brig, sunk 1876. Daphne. British gunboat.

“Skip to 1915,” Pitt interrupted.

"H.M.S. Forshire, British cruiser, sunk by German shore batteries on the mainland, 1915. Von Schroder, German destroyer, sunk by British warship, 1916. U-19, German submarine, sunk by British aircraft, 1918.”

“No need to continue,” Pitt said yawning. “Most of the lost wrecks on your list were warships. The chances are slim that one of them might have carried a king’s ransom in gold.”

Giordino nodded. “As the boys in Washington said, ‘no recorded documents of sunken treasure’.”

The talk over treasure brought an alert gleam in Lewis’ eyes. “What about ancient Greek or Roman vessels?” Most records wouldn’t go back that far.”

“That’s true,” said Giordino. “But, as Dirk previously pointed out, Thasos is a long way off the beaten’ shipping paths. The same holds true for the trade routes of antiquity.”

“But if there is a fortune under our feet,” Lewis persisted, “and von Till found it, he’d most certainly keep it a secret.”

“‘There’s no law against finding sunken treasure.”

Giordino exhaled two streams of smoke through his nose. “Why bother to hide it?”

“Greed,” said Pitt. “Insane greed; wanting one hundred percent, refusing to share with others or having to pay the government under which the riches were found any taxes or assessments.”

“Considering the huge cut most governments demand,” Lewis said angrily, “I can’t say as I’d blame von Till for keeping the discovery a secret.”

The cabin boy came and went, Leaving three more bottles of beer. Giordino downed his ‘with one tilt of the head and then dropped the empty bottle beside its mate in the wastebasket “‘This whole game is like a bad deal,” he complained. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either,” Pitt said quietly. “Every logical avenue winds up in a cul-de-sac. Even this talk about treasure is meaningless. I tried to bait von Till into admitting he was after treasure, but the wily old bastard offered no indication of interest. He’s trying to hide something, but it’s not sunken gold bullion or lost diamonds.” He broke off and pointed out a porthole across the sea where Thasos slept under the rising heat waves. “The solution lies elsewhere, either near the island, or on it, or maybe, both. We’ll soon know more when Gunn raises the Albatros and its occupant.”

Giordino, both hands clasped behind his head, leaned his chair back on two legs. “By all rights, we could leave now and be back in Washington this time tomorrow. Since the mysterious renegade plane is destroyed, and we know who instigated the accidents on board the First Attempt, things should settle back to normal. I see no reason why we can’t pack up and head for home.” He threw Lewis an indifferent look. “I’m certain the Colonel can handle any further emergencies that might crop up on Brady Field.”

“You can’t leave now!” Lewis was sweating heavily, his breath in gasps, barely controlling his temper.

“I’ll contact Admiral Sandecker and have… “

“Don’t worry, Colonel,” Gunn interrupted from the doorway. He had pushed the cabin door open silently and now stood leaning against the bulkhead.

“Major Pitt and Captain Giordino won’t be leaving Thasos just yet.”

Pitt looked up quickly, expectantly. There was no elated expression on Gunn’s face, it merely reflected a mixture of blank nothingness and dejection. It was the face of a man who ceased to care. The small bone structure showed through the shoulders, drooped from exhaustion, and the skin glistened with drops of salt water that dung to the body hair in tiny droplets. He wore nothing but the ever present horn-rimmed glasses and a:

European style black bikini that did little to enhance the slender frame it covered. Four straight hours of diving had left Gunn exhausted, every bone, every muscle begging for relief.

“Sorry Sir,” Gunn mumbled softly. “Bad news I’m afraid?

“For God’s sake, Rudi,” Pitt asked, “What is it? Weren’t you able to raise the plane and recover the pilot’s body?”

“Gunn shrugged his thin shoulders. “Neither.”

“As bad as that?” Pitt queried, voice and face deadly serious.

“Worse,” Gunn replied grimly.

“Let’s have it.”

For almost thirty seconds, Gunn remained silent The others in the cabin could hear the faint creaking noises of the ship, rolling in the gentle swells of the Mediterranean, and see the tightening of Gunn’s mouth.

“Believe me, we tried,” Gunn said wearily. “We used every underwater search trick in the book, but we, couldn’t locate the wreck.” He gestured helplessly with his bands. “It was gone, vanished, God knows where.”’

10

“The Thasians were great lovers of the theatre, considering it a vital part of their education, and everyone, including the town beggar, was encouraged to come. In the ancient city of Thasos, during the premieres of new dramas from the mainland, all shops were closed, all business ceased and prisoners were released from jail Even the city’s whores, barred from most public events, were allowed to practice their trade in the shrubbery by the theatre gateways without fear of legal harassment.”