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〃Zirtonium。〃 Hunnewell's gaze was lost in the distance。 〃Atomic number： forty。〃
〃I barely squeaked through my geology class；〃 Pitt said； smiling。 〃zirconium？ What makes it worth mass murder？〃
〃Purified zirconium is vital in the construction of nuclear reactors because it absorbs little or no radiation。
Every nation in the world with facilities for atomic research would give their eyeteeth to have it obtainable by the carload。 Admiral Sandecker is certain that if Fyrie and his scientists did indeed discover a vast zirconium bonanza； it was under the sea close enough to the surface to be raised economically。〃
Pitt turned and stared out of the cockpit bubble at the dark ultramarine blue that stretched almost unripPled to the south。 A fishing boat with a chain of dories sailed out to sea； the tiny hulls moving as easy as if they were gliding across a tinted mirror。 He watched them through eyes that barely saw； his mind dwelling on the exotic element that lay …covered by the cold waters below。
〃A hell of an undertaking；〃 he muttered； just loud enough to be heard over the drone from the engine's exhaust。 〃The problems of raising raw ore from the sea bottom are emense。〃
〃Yes； but not insurmountable。 Fyrie Limited employs the world's leading experts at underwater mining。
That's how Kristjan Fyrie built his empire； you know； dredging diamonds off the coast of Africa。〃 Hunnewell spoke with what sounded like simple admiration。 〃He was only eighteen； a seaman on an old Greek freighter； when he jumped ship at Beira； a small port on the coast Of Mozambique。 It didn't take him long to catch the diamond fever。 There was a boom on in those days； but the big SYndicates had all the productive claims tied up。
That's where Fyrie stood out from the rest…he had a shrewd and creative mind。
〃If diamond deposits could be found on land not two miles from shore； he reasoned； why couldn't they lie underwater on the continental shelf？ So every day for five months he dove in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean until he found a section of the seabed that looked promising。 Now the trick was scrounging the financing to buy the needed dredging equipment。 Fyrie had arrived in Africa with nothing but the shirt on his back。 To beg from the white moneyed interests in the territory would have been a waste of time。 They would have taken everything and left him with nothing。〃
〃One percent of something is often better than ninety…nine percent of nothing；〃 Pitt interjected。
〃Not to Kristjan Fyrie；〃 Hunnewell replied defensively。 〃He had a true Icelander's sense of principle…share the profits but never give them away。 He went before the black people of Mozambique and sold them on forming their own syndicate； with Kristjan Fyrie； of course； as president and general manager。 After the black people raised the financing for the barge and dredging equipment； Fyrie worked twenty hours a day until the entire operation was running like a puter at IBM。 The five months of diving paid off…the dredge began to bring up high…grade diamonds almost immediately。 Within two years Fyrie was worth forty million dollars。〃
Pitt noticed a dark speck in the sky； several thousand feet higher and in front of the Ulysses。 〃You certainly seem to have studied the Fyrie history。〃
〃I know it sounds strange；〃 Hunnewell went on； 〃but Fyrie seldom stayed with a project more than a few years。 Most men would have bled the operation dry。 Not Kristjan。 After he made a fortune beyond his wildest dreams； he turned the whole business over to the people who financed the venture。〃
〃Just gave it away？〃
〃Lock； stock and the popular barrel。 He distributed every share of his stock to the native stockholders； set up a black administration that could run efficiently without him； and took the next boat back to Iceland。 Of the few white men held in high esteem by the Africans； the name of Kristjan Fyrie stands right at the top。〃
Pitt was watching the solitary dark speck in the northern sky turn into a sleek jet aircraft。 He leaned forward； screwing up his eyes against the bright blue glare。 The stranger was one of the new executive jets built by the British… fast； reliable and capable of whisking twelve passengers halfway around the world in a matter of hours without a fuel stop。 Pitt barely had time to realize that the stranger was painted an ebony black from nose to tail when it swept past his range of vision traveling in the opposite direction。
〃What did Fyrie do for an encore？〃 he asked。
〃Mined manganese off Vancouver Island in British Columbia and brought in an offshore oil field in Peru to name a few。 There were no mergers； no subsidiaries。 Kristjan built Fyrie Limited into a great industry specializing in underwater geological exploitation； nothing else。〃
〃Did he have a family？〃
〃No； his parents died in a fire when he was very young。 All he had was a twin sister。 Don't really know much about her。 Fyrie put her through a finishing school in Switzerland； and； so rumor has it； she later became a missionary somewhere in New Guinea。 Apparently her brother's fortune meant nothing to…〃 Hunnewell never finished the sentence。 He jerked sideways facing Pitt； his eyes staring blankly； his mouth open in surprise but no words ing out。 Pitt barely had time to see the old man slump forward； limp and dead to all appearances； as the plexiglass bubble encircling the cockpit shattered into a thousand jagged slivers and fell away。 Twisting to one side and throwing up an arm to protect his face from the blasting wall of cold air； Pitt momentarily lost control of the helicopter。 Its aerodynamics drastically altered； the Ulysses nosed sharply upward； almost on its end； throwing Pitt and the unconscious Hunnewell violently against their backrests。
It was then Pitt became aware of the machine gun shells striking the fuselage aft of the seats。 The sudden uncontrolled maneuver temporarily saved their lives； the gunner aboard the black jet had been caught off guard； adjusting his trajectory too late and sending most of his fire into an empty sky。 Is slow steed withUnable to match the helicopter without stalling； the mysterious jet soared forward and swung around in a hundred…and…eighty…degree turn for another assault。 The bastards must have made a sharp circle east and south and west before attacking from the rear； Pitt quickly figured as he struggled to 'bring the helicopter on a level course； a near impossible task with a two…hundred…mile…an…hour air stream tearing at his eyes。 He throttled down； trying desperately to reduce the unseen force that pinned his body against the seat。
The black jet swept by again。 but this time Pitt was ready for it。 He pulled the Ulysses to an abrupt horizontal stop； the rotor blades frantically beating the atmosphere； raising the light craft in a straight vertical climb。
The dodge worked。 The pilot of the jet roared under Pitt； unable to bring the machine gun to bear。 Twice more Pitt managed to shake his attacker； but it was only a question of time before his opponent pensated for his rapidly diminishing bag of tricks。
Pitt didn't kid himself。 There was no escape； the battle was too one…sided。 The score was seven to nothing in favor of the visitors； with only a few seconds left to play in the fourth quarter。 A grim smile wrinkled around Pitts eyes as he lowered the copter to a bare twenty feet above the water。 Victory was hopeless； but there was a slight chance； an infinitesimal fingertip chance； he thought； for a tie score。 He studied the inkblack aircraft as it jockied for the last pass。 There was nothing left now but the mad clangor of steeljacketed bullets smashing through the thin aluminum skin of the Ulysses。 Pitt steadied the small defenseless craft and hovered as the jet dove like a concrete bird； directly toward him。
The gunner； laying prone and firing out an open cargo door； played it cool this time。 He laid down a steady stream of shells； waiting for the narrowing gap to carry them into the path of the helicopter。 The barrage of death was only thirty yards away now。 Pitt braced himself for the impact and threw the Ulysses straight up into the attacking plane； the helicopter's rotor blade