"When I know, you'll know," he promised. "Now, enjoy yourselves."

Wolf rose and left the box, accompanied by one of the bodyguards, while the other remained outside the box. He hurried out a side exit and slipped into a waiting limousine, a 1969 Mercedes-Benz 600, a car that after more than thirty years still retained its reputation as the world's most luxurious limousine. The traffic was heavy, but then it was never light in Argentina. The streets were busy from late evening through to the early-morning hours. The driver steered the big Mercedes to the barrio of Recoleta, which was centered around the lush gardens of the Plaza Francia and Plaza Intendente Alvear. It was considered Buenos Aires' answer to Michigan Avenue in Chicago and Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, with its tree-lined boulevards featuring chic stores, exclusive hotels, and palatial residences.

The car pa.s.sed the renowned Recoleta cemetery, with its narrow stone paths squeezed between more than seven thousand ornate and statued mausoleums with bands of concrete angels watching over the inhabitants. Eva Peron rests in one belonging to the Duarte family. Foreign tourists are usually amazed that her epitaph on the gate to the crypt actually reads, "Don't cry for me, Argentina. I remain quite near you."

The chauffeur turned through guarded gates, past a spectacular wrought-iron fence, and up a circular drive, stopping at the portal of a huge nineteenth-century mansion with tall colonnades and ivy-covered walls that had been the German Emba.s.sy prior to World War II. Four years after the war, the German government had moved its diplomats to a fashionable enclave known as Palermo Chico. Since then, the mansion had served as the corporate headquarters of Destiny Enterprises Limited.

Wolf exited the car and entered the mansion. The interior was anything but sumptuous. The marble floors and columns, the richly paneled walls, and the tile-inlaid ceilings were a reminder of a fabulous past, but the furnishings were spa.r.s.e and any sign of elaborate decor was nonexistent. There was a white marble staircase leading to the offices above, but Wolf stepped into a small elevator concealed in one wall. The elevator rose silently and opened into a vast conference room, where ten members of the Wolf family, four women, six men, were waiting seated around a thirty-foot-long teakwood conference table.

They all stood and greeted Karl. The most astute and perceptive of his vast family, at only thirty-eight he was accepted and respected as the family's chief adviser and director.

"Forgive my tardiness, my brothers and sisters, but I came as soon as I received word of the tragedy." Then he walked over to a gray-haired man and embraced him. "Is it true, Father, the U-2015 is gone, and Heidi with it?"

Max Wolf nodded sadly. "It's true. Your sister, along with Kurt's son Eric and the entire crew, now lie on the bottom of the sea off Antarctica."

"Eric?" said Karl Wolf. "I wasn't told at the opera that he was dead, too. I did not know he was on board. Can you be certain of all this?"

"We've intercepted the National Underwater and Marine Agency's satellite transmissions to Washington," said a tall man seated across the table who could have pa.s.sed for Karl's twin. Bruno Wolf's face was a mask of anger. "The transcriptions tell the story. While carrying out our plan to eliminate all witnesses to the Amenes' artifacts, our U-boat was firing on the NUMA research ship when a United States nuclear submarine arrived and launched a missile, destroying the submarine and everyone on board. There was no mention of survivors."

"A terrible loss," Karl murmured solemnly. "Two family members and the venerable old U-2015. Let us not forget that she transported our grandparents and the core of our empire from Germany after the war."

"Not forgetting the valuable service she provided over the years," added Otto Wolf, one of eight of the family's physicians. "She will be sorely missed."

The men and women at the table sat hushed. This was clearly a group who had never experienced failure. For fifty-five years, since its inception, Destiny Enterprises Limited had operated with success piled on success. Every project, every operation, was planned with detailed discipline. No contingency was overlooked. Problems were expected and dealt with. Negligence and incompetency simply did not exist. The Wolf family had reigned supreme until now. They found it nearly impossible to accept reverses beyond their control.

Wolf settled into a chair at the head of the table. "What are our losses in family and hired personnel over the past two weeks?"

Bruno Wolf, who was married to Karl's sister, Geli, opened a file and examined a column of numbers. "Seven agents in Colorado; seven on St. Paul Island, including our cousin Fritz, who directed the operation from his helicopter; forty-seven crewmen of the U-2015, plus Heidi and Eric."

"Sixty-seven of our best people and three of our family in less than ten days," spoke up Elsie Wolf. "It doesn't seem possible."

"Not when you consider the people responsible are a bunch of academic oceanographers who are little more than spineless jellyfish," Otto snarled angrily.

Karl rubbed his eyes wearily. "I might remind you, dear Otto, those spineless jellyfish killed twelve of our best agents, not including the two we were forced to eliminate to keep them from talking."

"Marine scientists and engineers are not professionnel killers," said Elsie. "Our agent working undercover at the National Underwater and Marine Agency in Washington sent me the personnel files of the men who were responsible for our dead in Colorado and on St. Paul Island. They are not ordinary men. Their exploits within NUMA read like an adventure-novel series." Elsie paused and pa.s.sed several photographs around the table. "The first face you see belongs to Admiral James Sandecker, the chief director of NUMA. Sandecker is very respected among the political power elite of the United States government. After an enviable war record in Vietnam, he was personally selected to instigate and run the agency. He carries great weight among members of the American Congress."

"I met him once at an ocean sciences conference in Ma.r.s.eilles," said Karl. "He is not an adversary to underestimate."

"The next photo is of Rudolph Gunn, the deputy director of NUMA."

"An insignificant-looking little fellow," observed Felix Wolf, the corporate attorney for the family. "He certainly doesn't look like he has the strength to be a killer."

"He doesn't have to know how to kill with his hands," said Elsie. "As near as we can tell, he was the genius behind the loss of our search group on St. Paul Island. A graduate of the United States Naval Academy, he went on to a brilliant career in the Navy before joining NUMA and becoming Admiral Sandecker's right-hand man."

Bruno held up a third photo. "Now, this one looks like he could tear coins from your stomach and give you change."

"Albert Giordino, NUMA's a.s.sistant special projects director," explained Elsie. "A graduate of America's Air Force Academy. He served in Vietnam with distinction. Bruno is right, Giordino is known as a very tough customer. His record at NUMA is remarkable. The file on projects he has directed to successful conclusions is quite thick. He has been known to kill, and from what little information we have been able to gather, it was he, along with Gunn, who is responsible for the annihilation of our St. Paul search team."

"And the final photo," Otto prompted Elsie gently.

"His name is Dirk Pitt. Considered a legend among oceanographic circles. The special projects director for NUMA, he is known as something of a Renaissance man. Unmarried, he collects cla.s.sic cars. Also a graduate of the Air Force Academy, with several decorations from Vietnam for heroism. His achievements make for heavy reading. It was he who frustrated our plans in Colorado. He was also present in the Antarctic during the sinking of the U-2015 by the American nuclear submarine."

"A great pity," said Otto in quiet anger. He looked from one face to the next around the table. "A mistake to have used her instead of a modern surface ship."

"A misguided attempt on all our parts," said Karl, "to confuse our enemies."

Bruno pounded the desk with his fist. "We must exact vengeance from these men. They must die."

"You ordered an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on Pitt without the approval of the rest of us," said Karl sharply. "An attempt that failed, I might add. We cannot afford the luxury of vengeance. We have a schedule to maintain, and I do not want our attentions misdirected to petty revenge."

"I see nothing petty about it," argued Bruno. "These four men are directly accountable for the deaths of our brothers and sister. They cannot go unpunished."

Karl looked at Bruno icily. "Did it ever occur to you, dear brother, that when the New Destiny Project reaches its climax, they will all die violent deaths?"

"Karl is right," said Elsie. "We cannot afford distractions from our true purpose, regardless of how tragic they are to the family."

"The matter is settled," stated Karl firmly. "We concentrate on the work at hand and accept our grief as part of the cost."

"Now that the chambers in Colorado and St. Paul Island have been discovered by outsiders," said Otto, "I see little to be gained by continuing to expend time, money, and more lives in concealing the existence of our ancient ancestors."

"I agree," said Bruno. "With the inscriptions now in the hands of American government officials, we should stand in the shadows while they decipher the message and announce the Amenes' warning of disaster through the international news media, thereby saving us the effort."

Karl stared at the surface of the table, his expression pensive. "Our gravest concern is having the story come out too soon before the New Destiny Project is launched and the disinformation leads to our doorstep."

"Then we must muddy the waters before scientific investigators penetrate our ruse."

"Thanks to those meddling rogues from the National Underwater and Marine Agency, the world will be onto us in two weeks." Bruno gazed across the table at Karl. "Is there any chance, brother, that our people at Valhalla can move up the timetable?"

"If I explain the urgency and make them aware of the dangers arising around us, yes, I believe I can inspire them to move up the launch date to ten days from now."

"Ten days," Christa repeated heatedly. "Only ten days before the old world is destroyed and the Fourth Empire rises from the ashes."

Karl nodded solemnly. "If all goes according to the carefully laid plans of our family since 1945, we will completely alter mankind for the next ten thousand years."

23

AFTER BEING AIRLIFTED TO an ice station and flown across the western end of the Indian Ocean to Cape Town, Pitt joined Pat O'Connell, who had flown down from Washington. She was accompanied by Dr. Bradford Hatfield, a pathologist/ archaeologist who specialized in the study of ancient mummies. Together, they flew to St. Paul Island by a tilt-rotor aircraft. A heavy drizzle, unleashed by hostile clouds and hurled by a stiff breeze, stung their exposed faces like pellets shot from air rifles. They were met by a team of SEALs, an elite group of fighters belonging to the United States Navy. They were big quiet men, dead set with a purpose, dressed in camouflage fatigues that matched the gray volcanic rock of the island.

"Welcome to h.e.l.l's lost acre," said a big, lanky man with a friendly smile. He was toting a huge weapon slung over one shoulder upside down. It looked like a combination automatic rifle, missile launcher, sniper rifle, and twelve-gauge shotgun. "I'm Lieutenant Miles Jacobs. I'll be your tour guide."

"Admiral Sandecker isn't taking any chances of terrorists returning," Pitt remarked, as he shook Jacobs's hand.

"He may be retired from the Navy," said Jacobs, "but he still carries a lot of weight in the upper echelons. My orders to protect you NUMA people came direct from the secretary of the Navy."

Without further conversation, Jacobs and four of his men, two in front, two bringing up the rear, led Pitt and his party up the slope of the mountain onto the ancient road leading to the tunnel. Pat was half-soaked beneath her rain gear and couldn't wait to get out of the damp. When they reached the archway, Giordino stepped out to greet them. He looked weary but swaggered as boldly as if he were the winning captain of a football team.