Marganin nodded. But he had planned his confrontation with the admiral carefully. Bypassing Prevlov and the normal chain of command to approach Sloyuk had been a risky business indeed, but the trap had been exactingly set and timing was critical. Calmly, he reached into his pocket and produced an envelope which he passed across the desk to Sloyuk.

    "Here are transaction records of account number AZF seven-six-oh-nine at the Banque de Lausanne in Switzerland. You will note, sir, that it receives large deposits on a regular basis from one V. Volper, a clumsy anagram derived from the name Prevlov."

    Sloyuk studied the bank records and then shot Marganin a very skeptical look. "You must forgive my suspicious nature, Lieutenant Marganin, but this has all the earmarks of trumped-up material."

    Marganin passed across another envelope. "This one contains a secret communication from the American ambassador here in Moscow to the Defense Department in Washington. In it he states that Captain Andre Prevlov has been a vital source of Soviet naval secrets. The ambassador has also included the plans for our fleet deployment in the event of a first nuclear strike against the United States." Marganin felt satisfaction surge through him as the admiral's normally impassive face wrinkled in uncertainty. "I think the picture is clear, there is nothing trumped up here. A low-ranking officer in my position could not possibly obtain such highly classified fleet orders. Captain Prevlov, on the other hand, enjoys the confidence of the Soviet Naval Strategy Committee."

    The barriers were down and the road was open; Sloyuk had no option but to acquiesce. He shook his head in perplexity. "The son of a great party leader who betrays his country for money . . . I find it impossible to accept."

    "If one takes into consideration Captain Prevlov's extravagant lifestyle, it is not difficult to see the excessive demands made his financial resources."

    "I am well, aware of Captain Prevlov's tastes."

    "Are you also aware that he is having an affair with a woman who passes herself off as the wife of the American ambassador's chief aide?"

    An annoyed look crossed Sloyuk's face. "You know about her?" he asked guardedly. "Prevlov led me to believe that he was using her to obtain secrets from her husband at the embassy."

    "Not so," Marganin said. "In fact, she is a divorcee and an agent of the Central Intelligence Agency." Marganin paused and then drove the point home. "The only secrets that pass through her hands are those provided by Captain Prevlov. It is he who is her source."

    Sloyuk was silent for a few moments. Then he locked Marganin with a penetrating gaze. "How did you come by all this?"

    "I would rather not divulge my informant's identity, Comrade Admiral. I mean no disrespect, but I have nurtured and developed his trust for nearly two years, and I gave him a solemn oath that his name and position with the American government would remain known only to me."

    Sloyuk nodded. He accepted it. "You realize, of course, that this puts us in a very grave situation."

    "The byzanium?"

    "Exactly," Sloyuk said tersely. "If Prevlov told the Americans of our plan, it could prove disastrous. Once the byzanium is in their hands and the Sicilian Project is operational, the balance of power would be theirs for the next decade."

    "Perhaps Captain Prevlov has not leaked our plan yet," Marganin said. "Perhaps he was waiting until the Titanic was raised."

    "She has risen," Sloyuk said. "Not more than three hours ago, Captain Parotkin of the Mikhail Kurkov reported that the Titanic is on the surface and ready to be taken in tow."

    Marganin looked up surprised. "But our agents, Silver and Gold, assured us the raising would not be attempted for another seventy-two hours."

    Sloyuk shrugged. "The Americans are always in a hurry."

    "Then we must cancel Captain Prevlov's plan to seize the byzanium in favor of one with credence."

    Prevlov's plan--Marganin had to suppress a grin when he said it. The shrewd captain's colossal ego would be his downfall. From here on in, Marganin thought confidently, the drama would have to be played out very, very carefully.

    "It is too late to change our strategy now," Sloyuk said slowly. "The men and ships are in place. We will go ahead as scheduled."

    "But what about Captain Prevlov? Surely you will order his arrest?"

    Sloyuk looked at Marganin coldly. "No, Lieutenant, he will remain at his duties."

    "He cannot be trusted," Marganin said desperately. "You have seen the evidence-"

    "I have seen nothing that cannot be manufactured," Sloyuk snapped brusquely. "Your little package comes too neatly wrapped, too meticulously tied with ribbon to be bought at first glance. What I do see is a young upstart who is stabbing his superior in the back in order to reach the next rung on the ladder of promotion. Purges went out before you were born, Lieutenant. You played a dangerous game and you lost."

    "I assure you--"

    "Enough!" Sloyuk's tone was hard as granite. "I am secure in the knowledge that the byzanium will be safely on board a Soviet ship no later than three days from now; an event that will prove Captain Prevlov's loyalty and your guilt."

51

    The Titanic lay motionless and dead against the unending onslaught of the waves as they swirled. around her huge mass, then closed ranks again and swept onward toward some as yet unknown and distant shore. She lay there and drifted with the current, her sodden wooden decks steaming under the fading evening sun. She was a dead ship that had returned among the living. A dead ship, but not an empty ship. The compass tower on the raised deck over her first-class lounge had been quickly cleared away to accommodate the helicopter, and soon a steady stream of men and equipment was being ferried on board to begin the arduous task of correcting the list and preparing her for the long tow to New York Harbor.

    For a few short minutes after the half-dead crew of the Deep Fathom were airlifted to the Capricorn, Giordino had had the Titanic all to himself. The fact that he was the first to set foot on her decks in seventy-six years never entered his head, and though it was still broad daylight, he shied away from any exploring. Each time he gazed down the 882-foot length of the ship, he felt as if he was staring at an empty crypt. Nervously, he lit a cigarette, sat on a wet capstan, and waited for the invasion that wasn't long in coming.

    Pitt experienced no pangs of uneasiness when he came on board, but, rather, a feeling of reverence. He walked to the bridge and stood alone, absorbed in the legend of the Titanic. God only knew, he'd wondered a hundred times what it was like that Sunday night nearly eight decades ago when Captain Edward J. Smith stood on the very same spot and realized that his great command was slowly and irreversibly sinking beneath his feet. What were his thoughts, knowing the lifeboats could hold only 1180 people, while on the maiden voyage the ship was carrying 2200 passengers and crew? Then he wondered what the venerable old captain would have thought had he known the decks of his ship would one day be walked again by men as yet unborn in his time.

    After what seemed hours, but was in reality only a minute or two, Pitt broke out of his reverie and moved aft along the Boat Deck, past the sealed door of the wireless cabin, where First Operator John G. Phillips had sent history's first SOS; past the empty davits of lifeboat No. 6, in which Mrs. J. J. Brown of Denver later achieved enduring fame as the "Unsinkable Molly Brown"; past the entrance to the grand stairway, where Graham Farley and the ship's band had played to the end; past the spot where millionaire Benjamin Guggenheim and his secretary had stood calmly waiting for death, dressed in the finery of their evening clothes so that they could go down like gentlemen.