Valhalla Rising (55 page)

“So what you are suggesting is that the Vikings showed them how to farm crops and build sturdy houses. And, after the great battle, the Indians began throwing up stockades for defense in case of another mass attack by foreigners.”

“I’m a realist, Mr. Pitt,” said Wednesday. “I’m not suggesting anything. What I’ve told you is ancient hearsay and supposition. Until absolute proof is found that goes beyond the inscriptions on the rune stones, whose authenticity is in doubt by most archaeologists, we can only accept the stories as legends and myths, nothing more.”

“I believe my father found evidence of a Viking settlement,” said Kelly quietly. “But he died before revealing his research, and we cannot find his notes or journals.”

“I sincerely hope you’re successful,” said Wednesday honestly. “I would like nothing better than to believe the Hudson Valley was visited and settled six hundred years earlier than the Spanish and Dutch. It might be fun to rewrite the history books.”

Pitt rose, leaned across the desk and shook Dr. Wednesday’s hand. “Thank you, Doctor. We’re grateful for your time.”

“Not at all, I enjoyed it.” He smiled at Kelly. “Please let me know if you turn up anything.”

“There
is
one more question.”

“Yes?”

“Did any other Viking artifacts ever turn up besides those mentioned by the early explorers?”

Wednesday thought a moment. “Come to think of it, a farmer reported finding old rusty chain mail back in the nineteen twenties, but I don’t know what became of it or whether a scientist ever examined it.”

“Thank you again.”

They offered their farewells, left Wednesday’s office and headed for the parking lot. Dark clouds were massing and it looked as if rain was only minutes away. They reached the car and climbed in just as the first drops began to fall. The mood was somber as Giordino inserted the keys in the ignition and started the engine.

“Dad found the settlement,” Kelly said intently. “I know it.”

“My problem,” said Giordino, “is that I can’t make a connection between a settlement and a cave. It looks to me as if no cave, no settlement.”

“Though any trace of the settlement was destroyed, I’m betting there was a cave and that it still exists,” said Pitt.

“I wish I knew where,” Kelly said wistfully. “Josh and I never found it.”

“The Indians could have sealed off the entrance,” advised Giordino.

Kelly stared out the window dreamily at the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Then we’ll never find it.”

“I suggest that we make a search from the river below the palisades,” said Pitt confidently. “Finding a cavity in the rock under the surface is very possible with the use of side-scan sonar. We can round up a NUMA boat and sensor and be ready to go the day after tomorrow.”

Giordino was shifting into gear and pulling out of the college parking area when his cell phone buzzed. “Giordino.” A pause and then, “One moment, Admiral. He’s right here” He passed the phone to Pitt in the rear seat. “It’s Sandecker.”

“Yes, Admiral,” said Pitt. Then, for the next three minutes, he went mute and listened without replying. Then finally, “Yes, sir. We’re on our way.” He handed the phone back to Giordino. “He wants us back in Washington as quickly as we can get there.”

“A problem?”

“More like an emergency.”

“Did he say what it was?” asked Kelly.

“It seems Curtis Merlin Zale and his pals at Cerberus are about to cause a catastrophe even worse than the
Emerald Dolphin.
”

A
UGUST 8, 2003
W
ASHINGTON,
D
.
C
.

C
ongresswoman Loren Smith felt as though she’d been tied to a wild horse and dragged across the desert. Though the directors of Cerberus had been subpoenaed to appear before her Congressional Investigative Committee into Illegal Marketing Practices, they had failed to show. Instead, they were represented by an army of their corporate attorneys who laid an impenetrable smoke screen over the entire proceedings.

“Spin-and-stall tactics,” she muttered under her breath, as she gaveled the hearings to a close until the following morning. “They don’t come any slimier than we’ve seen here this morning.”

She was sitting there in utter anger and frustration when Congressman Leonard Sturgis, a Democrat from North Dakota, walked up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t be discouraged, Loren.”

“I can’t say that you were much help today,” she said, with a hard edge to her voice. “You agreed with everything they threw at us when you knew perfectly well it was nothing but distortions and lies.”

“You can’t deny everything they testified about was perfectly legal.”

“I want to see Curtis Merlin Zale in front of the committee, along with his board of directors. Not a bunch of shysters throwing mud in the water.”

“I’m sure Mr. Zale will appear at the proper time,” said Sturgis. “I think you will find him a quite reasonable man.” Loren gave Sturgis a withering look. “Zale crudely interrupted my dinner the other night, and I found him to be utter vermin.”

Sturgis frowned, which was atypical for him. His face was rarely without a smile. In Congress he was known as the great pacifier. He had the weathered look of a man who’d spent most of his life on a farm. His brothers still farmed the family homestead in Buffalo, North Dakota, and he was continually reelected because of his unending fight to preserve the farming way of life. His only liability, as Loren saw it, was his coziness with Curtis Merlin Zale.

“You met Zale?” he asked in genuine surprise.

“Your reasonable man threatened my life if I didn’t drop the investigation.”

“I find that hard to accept.”

“Believe it!” Loren said nastily. “Take my advice, Leo. Distance yourself from Cerberus. They’re going down, and going down big time, and Zale will be lucky if he doesn’t end up on death row.”

Sturgis watched her turn and stride away, immaculate in a beige tweed wool suit cinched at the waist with a suede belt. She carried a briefcase whose dyed leather matched the color of her suit. It was her trademark.

Loren did not go back to her office. It was late in the evening, and she went directly to her car in the congressional underground parking level of her office building. Her mind wandered over the day’s events as she made her way through the tail end of the rush-hour traffic. Forty-five minutes later, she reached her town house in Alexandria. As she stopped and clicked the remote to her garage door, a woman stepped from the shadows and approached her from the driver’s side. Unafraid, Loren turned and rolled down her window.

“Congresswoman Smith. Forgive the intrusion, but it’s most urgent that we talk.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Sally Morse. I am the chairman of the Yukon Oil Company.”

Loren studied the woman, who was dressed only in denim slacks with a light blue cotton sweater. There was a sincerity in the eyes that appealed to Loren. “Step into the garage.”

Loren parked the car and closed the garage door. “Please come inside.” She led the way into a living room. The decor was ultramodern, each piece of furniture individually designed by artisans. “Please sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I’d prefer something a little stronger, thank you.”

“Name your poison,” Loren said, as she opened a liquor cabinet whose glass doors were etched with exotic floral designs.

“Scotch on the rocks?”

“Spoken like a man.”

Loren poured a shot of Cutty Sark scotch over ice and handed the glass to Sally. Then she opened a Coors beer and sat across a coffee table from her. “Now, Ms. Morse, why come to me?”

“Because you’re heading the congressional investigation into the Cerberus empire and its impact on the oil market.”

Loren’s heart began to increase its beat and she forced herself to act composed. “Am I to assume you have information you’d like to share with me?”

Sally took a large swallow of the scotch, made a sour face and took a deep breath. “I hope you’ll understand something. From this moment on, my life is in extreme danger, my property will likely be destroyed and my reputation and my position that I worked so long and hard to achieve will be scourged.”

Loren did not push Sally, but sat patiently. “You’re a very brave woman.”

Sally shook her head sadly. “Not really. I’m only fortunate that I have no family for Curtis Merlin Zale to threaten or murder, as his henchmen have done with so many others.”

Loren’s adrenaline was beginning to pump. The mere mention of Zale’s name came like a lightning strike on the roof.

“You’re privy to his criminal activities,” she ventured.

“From the time he recruited me and formed the cartel with other major oil companies’ corporate executive officers.”

“I wasn’t aware of a cartel.” Loren was beginning to feel she had struck the mother lode.

“Oh yes, indeed,” said Sally. “Zale’s plan was to form a secret merger of our companies in order to create a nation that is no longer dependent on foreign oil. At first, it seemed like a noble cause. But then it became apparent that his plans went far beyond simply cutting off OPEC supplies.”

“What is his ultimate goal?”

“To become more powerful than the United States government. To dictate his schemes to a country so dependent on fair-priced oil and abundant supplies that it’ll applaud his efforts, never knowing that someday he’ll pull the rug out from under it once he has a total monopoly and foreign oil is banned from our shores.”

“I don’t see how that is possible,” said Loren, unable to grasp the full extent of what Sally was saying. “How can he achieve a monopoly without bringing in huge new oil fields in North America?”

“By having all American and Canadian restrictions on drilling and on exploiting government-owned lands lifted. By casting aside all environmental concerns. And by buying off and controlling Washington. Worst of all, convincing the American public to protest and riot against foreign oil shipments into the country.”

“Impossible!” Loren snapped. “No one man can achieve that much power on top of the backs of so many.”

“The protests have already started,” Sally said somberly. “Rioting is just around the corner. You’ll understand when I tell you his latest planned catastrophe. At the moment, little stands between him and a total oil monopoly.”

“It’s unthinkable.”

Sally smiled grimly. “It’s a cliché to say nothing can stand in his way or that he will not hesitate to use any means to achieve his goals, even mass murder, but it’s all too true.”

“The
Emerald Dolphin
and the
Golden Marlin.
”

Sally stared at Loren, confused. “You know about his involvement with those tragedies?”

“Since you’re telling me what you know, I feel safe in telling you that the FBI, working closely with NUMA, has proven the disasters were not accidents, but caused by agents of Cerberus called the Vipers. From what we gathered, the burning of the cruise ship and the sinking of the underwater cruise boat were meant to be blamed on Dr. Elmore Egan’s magnetohydrodynamic engines. Zale wanted to halt their production because of a revolutionary oil Egan had formulated that virtually eliminates friction. If sold on the market, it would put a huge dent in oil sales and make the difference between profit and loss for the refinery corporations.”