"H-two-oh," answered Bass. "The organism can only exist in an atmosphere with a high gaseous-oxygen content. You might say it suffocates when immersed in water, just as we do."

"It strikes me as odd that Vetterly was the only one who knew how to produce it." This from Pitt.

Bass smiled thinly. "I would have never permitted one man to keep the critical data to himself."

"So you destroyed the doctor's records."

"I also falsified all orders and paperwork I could lay my hands on that related to the project. which included, by the way. the original flight plan of Vixen 03."

Steiger sat back and sighed with apparent relief. "At least that's one part of the puzzle that won't bug me any longer."

"But surely the project left tracks," Sandecker said speculatively.

"Skeletons still lie on Rongelo Island," said Pitt. "And what keeps unsuspecting fishermen or yachtsmen off its beaches?"

"I'll answer your question in reverse," said Bass. "First, all nautical charts of that area designate Rongelo Island as a dumping ground for hydrogen cyanide. The shores are also ringed with buoys warning of danger."

"Hydrogen cyanide," Giordino repeated. "Sounds like bad medicine."

"Truely. It is a blood agent that interferes with all respiration. In certain doses it causes almost immediate death. This is spelled out on the charts and in six languages on signs attached to the buoys." Bass paused and pulled out a handkerchief and patted the sweat that gleamed on his bald head. "Also, what few records that remain dealing with the QD project are lying deep in a Pentagon high-security vault that contains documents classified as FEW'

"FEO?"

" 'Future eyes only,' " Bass explained. "Each file is sealed and marked with a date when it can be opened. Even the President lacks the power to examine a document's contents before the specified time. It has been referred to as the closet where our nation's skeletons are kept. The file on Amelia Earhart, UFOs, the truth behind the government's insistence on the swine-flu shots in the mid-seventies, political scandals that make the old Watergate stories seem like Boy Scout adventures. They're all there. The QD-project file, for example, cannot be opened until the year 2550. By then, President Eisenhower hoped, our descendants would fail to glean its true implications."

The other men in the NUMA conference room had never heard of the Future Eyes Only file, and they were astonished.

"I suppose the next obvious question," said Pitt, "is why, Admiral, are you taking us into your confidence?"

"I requested this meeting to clear the air on Vixen 03 because I find myself in the position of having to trust someone to recover the QD in the aircraft and destroy it."

"You're asking a great deal," Sandecker said. He relit another cigar and puffed it to life. "If the Pentagon gets wind of this, we could all be branded as traitors."

"A disagreeable possibility that cannot be overlooked," admitted Bass. "Our only comfort would be in knowing that public and moral opinion stand on our side."

"Somehow I've never quite been able to picture myself as a savior to mankind," Giordino mumbled.

Steiger looked steadily at Bass. perhaps seeing his Air Force career going up in smoke for the second time in as many weeks. "I get the feeling your choice of accomplices is backed by mad logic, Admiral. Myself, for instance — where do I fit in with the recovery of Vixen 03?"

Bass's tight smile loosened. "Believe it or not, Colonel, you're the critical man on the team. Your report alerted the Air Force to the existence of the aircraft. Fortunately, someone high in government found it inconvenient to pursue the matter further. Your job will be to see that any Pentagon interest remains negative."

There was understanding on Pitt's face now. "Okay, so Admiral Sandecker bankrolls the overall effort with NUMA resources while Giordino and I handle the actual salvage work. How do you intend to destroy QD's lethal properties once we raise the canisters?"

"We deep-six the warheads in the ocean," Bass replied without hesitation. "In time, as their exterior surface erodes, the water will neutralize the disease strain."

Pitt turned to Sandecker and found himself saying, "I can transfer jack Folsom and his crew from the Chenago job and have them on site at Table Lake with all necessary equipment inside forty-eight hours."

Admiral Sandecker was a realist. His choice was clear. He had known Bass well enough not to write off the old man as an alarmist. Every head angled toward the fiery little director of NUMA. He seemed lost in the blue cigar smoke that curled to the ceiling. Then at last he nodded.

"All right, gentlemen, we go."

"Thank you, James," Bass said, obviously pleased. "I fully realize the gamble you're taking merely on the word of a rusty old sea dog."

"I'd say those were pretty good odds," Sandecker replied.

"A thought just occurred to me," Giordino cut in. "If water kills this QD stuff, why don't we simply leave it on the bottom of thel ake?"

Bass shook his head solemnly. "No thank you. If you found it, so can someone else. It's far better we deposit it for eternity where no human will ever set eyes on it. I can only thank God the canisters have gone undiscovered all these years."

"Which brings up another matter," Pitt said, noting the sudden uneasy lowering of Giordino's and Steiger's eyes.

Sandecker flicked an ash into an abaloneshell tray. "What is that?"

"According to the original flight plan, Vixen 03 departed Buckley Field with a crew of four. Is that correct, Admiral Bass?"

Bass's expression went quizzical. "Yes, there were four."

"Perhaps I should have brought this up sooner," Pitt said, "but I was afraid of complicating the issue at hand."

"You're not the type to beat around the bush," Sandecker said impatiently. "What are you getting at?"

"The fifth skeleton."

"The fifth what?"

"When I dove on the wreckage, I found the bones of a fifth man tied to the floor of the cargo section."

Sandecker looked at Bass. "Have you any idea who he's talking about?"

Bass sat like a man who had been slapped in the face. "A ground maintenance man," he murmured vacantly. "One must have somehow been left on board when the plane took off."

"Won't wash," said Pitt. "Flesh was still evident. The remains haven't been immersed as long as the others."

"You said the canisters were still sealed," replied Bass, snatching at threads.

"Yes, sir, I saw no evidence of tampering," Pitt reassured him.

"My God, my God!" Bass held his hands to his face. "Someone besides ourselves knows about the aircraft. "

"We can't be sure of that," said Steiger.

Bass lowered his hands and stared at Pitt through glazed eyes. "Bring her up, Mr. Pitt. For the sake of humanity, bring up Vixen 03 from the bottom of that lake — and do it quickly."

Pitt could not shake the feeling of dread as he left the meeting and passed through the main entrance of the NUMA building. The Washington night was heavy with humidity, the stickiness adding to his depression. He walked across the deserted parking lot and opened the door to his car. He was halfway behind the wheel before he noticed a small figure on the passenger seat.