Not much later, Dirk patted his flat stomach. "The shrimp was so good I'm afraid I made a pig of myself."
"You weren't alone," Summer groaned softly, fully sated.
"Now then, what can I do for you kids?" said Perlmutter. "Your Dad said something about you finding Celtic artifacts."
Summer opened a briefcase she'd brought with her, retrieved the report she and Dirk had written on the airplane to Washington and photos of the ancient relics. "This pretty well sums up our findings. It also includes Hiram Yaeger's conclusions on the amphor, comb and printed photocopies of the artifacts and chambers."
Perlmutter poured himself another glass of wine, dropped his spectacles over his nose and began reading. "Help yourself to more shrimp. There's plenty."
"I don't think either of us could manage another bite," Dirk muttered, holding his stomach.
Wordlessly, Perlmutter dabbed around his beard that hid most of his mouth. He paused occasionally, staring up at the ceiling in thought before he went back to studying the report. Finally, he laid it on the table and fixed the Pitts with a steady stare.
"Do you realize what you've done?"
Summer shrugged unknowingly. "We think it's an archaeological find of some significance."
"Some significance," Perlmutter parroted, with a slight tone of sarcasm. "If what you've discovered is the genuine article, you've thrown a thousand accepted archaeological theories down the sink."
"Oh dear," said Summer, looking at her brother, who was containing laughter. "Is it all that bad?"
"Depends from what direction you look at it," Perlmutter said between sips of wine. If the report was an earthshaking revelation, he was acting buoyantly calm. "Very little is known about Celtic culture much before five hundred B.C. They didn't keep written records until the Middle Ages. All that is known through the mists of time is that sometime around two thousand B.C., the Celts fanned out from Eastern Europe after originating around the Caspian Sea. Some historians theorize that the Celts and Hindus shared a common ancestry because their language was similar."
"How widespread were their settlements?" asked Dirk.
"They moved into the north of Italy and Switzerland, then on to France, Germany, Britain and Ireland, reaching as far north as Denmark in the Scandinavian region and as far south as Spain and Greece. Archaeologists have even found Celtic artifacts across the Mediterranean in Morocco. Also, graves of well-preserved mummies have been discovered in northern China from a culture called the Urumchi people. They were most certainly Celtic, since they had Caucasian skin and facial features, blond and red hair, and were dressed in tartan-woven cloth."
Dirk leaned back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the floor. "I've read of the Urumchi. But I had no idea the Celts migrated into Greece. I always thought the Greeks were indigenous."
"Though some of them originated in the region, it has generally been accepted that most filtered south from Central Europe." Perlmutter shifted his bulk into a more comfortable position before continuing. "The Celts eventually ruled lands almost as vast as the Roman Empire. Displacing the neolithic people who built megalithic monuments around Europe such as Stonehenge, they continued the traditions of the Druid religion of mysticism. Druids, by the way, means 'the very wise ones.' "
"Strange, so little has come down through the ages about them," said Summer.
Perlmutter nodded in agreement. "Unlike the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, they never built an empire nor formed a national unity. They were made up of a loose confederation of tribes that often fought each other but came together and banded against a common enemy. After fifteen hundred years their village culture eventually gave way to hill forts constructed of earthworks and wooden palisades that evolved into crowded communities. Quite a number of modern cities are built on the sites of old Celt fortresses. Zurich, Paris, Munich and Copenhagen, for example, and half the towns across Europe rest on top of what were once Celtic villages."
"Hard to believe nonbuilders of palaces and citadels became the dominant culture of Western Europe."
"Celtic society leaned mainly toward the pastoral. Their primary endeavor in life was the raising of cattle and sheep. They engaged in agriculture but their yield was small, raised only to feed individual families. But for the fact they were not nomadic, their tribal existence was very similar to that of the American Indian. They often raided other villages for cattle and women. Not until three hundred B.C. did they turn to growing crops to feed their animals during harsh winters. Those who lived along the coasts became traders, dealing in bronze weapons and selling precious tin for other cultures to produce the metal. Most of the gold for the production of exotic adornments for the ruling chieftains and upper-caste classes was imported."
"Strange, a culture with so little going for it grew so strong over such a vast territory."
"You can't say the Celts had nothing going for them," Perlmutter lectured Dirk. "They led the way into the Bronze Age by developing the metal using copper alloyed with the tin found in huge reserves in Britain. They were later credited with smelting iron and ushering in the Iron Age as well. They were superb horsemen and brought to Europe knowledge of the wheel, built war chariots and were the first to use four-wheeled farm wagons and metal implements for plowing and harvesting. They created tools still in use today like pincers and pliers. They were the first to have shod their horses with bronze shoes and made iron rims for chariot and wagon wheels. The Celts educated the ancient world on the use of soap. Their craftsmanship in metal was second to none, and their mastery of gold in the decoration of jewelry, ornaments, warriors' helmets, swords and axes was exquisite. Celtic ceramics and pottery were also creatively designed, and they mastered the art of producing glass. They also taught the art of enameling to the Greeks and Romans. Celts excelled in poetry and music. Their poets were placed in greater esteem than their priests. And their practice of beginning the day at midnight has been passed down to us today."
"What were the causes behind their fading glory," asked Summer.
"Mainly defeats by the invading Romans. The world of the Gauls, as the Romans called the Celts, began to unravel, as other cultures such as the Germans, the Goths and the Saxons began to expand throughout Europe. In a way, the Celts were their own worst enemy. A wild, untamed people who loved adventure and individual freedom, they were mercurial, impetuous and completely undisciplined, factors that hastened their downfall. By the time Rome fell, the Celts had been driven across the North Sea to England and Ireland, where their influence is still felt today."
"What was their appearance--and how did they treat their women?" asked Summer, with a kittenish grin.
Perlmutter sighed. "I wondered when you'd get around to that." He poured the last of the wine in their glasses. "The Celts were a hardy race, tall and fair. Their hair ran from blond to red to brown. They were described as a boisterous lot, with deep-sounding and harsh voices. You'll be happy to know, Summer, that women were held on a pedestal in Celtic society. They could marry whom they desired and inherit property. And unlike most cultures since their time, women could claim damages if they were molested. Celtic women were described as being as large as their men and fought alongside them in battle." Perlmutter hesitated and grinned before continuing. "An army of Celtic men and women must have been quite a sight."
"Why is that?" asked Summer, falling into the trap.
"Because they often went into battle naked."
Summer was too intrepid to blush, but she did roll her eyes and stare at the floor.
"Which brings us back around to the Celtic artifacts we found on Navidad Bank," said Dirk seriously. "If they weren't being transported aboard a ship three thousand years later, where did they come from?"
"And what about the room and chambers we found that were carved from the rock?" added Summer.
"Are you sure they were carved from the rock and not stones laid one on the other?" Perlmutter questioned.
Dirk looked at his sister. "I suppose it's poss
ible. The encrustation could easily have covered the cracks between the stones."
"It wasn't like the Celts to carve chambers out of solid rock. They rarely built structures from stone," said Perlmutter. "It may have been there were no trees to fell as lumber when Navidad Bank rose above the sea. Tropical palms, for example, because of their curved and fiber trunks, were not practical for livable structures."
"But how could they have crossed six thousand miles of ocean in eleven hundred B.C.?"
"A tough question," Perlmutter admitted. "Those who lived on the Atlantic shores were a seafaring people, often called 'people of the oars.' They are known to have sailed into the Mediterranean from ports in the North Sea. But there are no legends of Celts crossing the Atlantic, other than possibly Saint Brendan, the Irish priest, whose voyage of seven years is thought by many to have reached the east coast of America."
"When did this the voyage occur?" Dirk asked.
"Sometime between 520 and 530 a.d."
"Fifteen hundred years too late for our find," said Summer.
Dirk reached down and petted Fritz, who promptly sat up and licked his hand. "We seem to strike out with every pitch."
Summer looked down and smoothed her dress. "So where do we go from here?"
"The first item on your list of enigmas to be solved," Perlmutter advised, "is to find out when and if Navidad Bank sat above the surface of the sea three thousand years ago."
"A geomorphologist who studies the origin and age of land surfaces might come up with some theories," Summer suggested knowledgeably.
Perlmutter gazed at the model of the famed Confederate submarine Hunley. "You might begin with Hiram Yaeger and his computer wizardry. The world's most extensive accumulation of data on marine sciences is in his library. If any scientific study on the geology of Navidad Bank was ever conducted, he'd have a record of it."
"And if it were compiled by a German or Russian team of scientists?"
"Yaeger will have a translation. You can count on it."
Dirk came to his feet and began pacing the floor. "Our first stop on returning to NUMA headquarters is to meet with Hiram and ask him to probe his files."
Summer smiled. "And then what?"
Dirk didn't hesitate. "Next stop, Admiral Sandecker's office. If we want to get to the bottom of this thing, we must persuade him to loan us a crew, research ship and the necessary equipment to conduct a thorough investigation of the sunken chambers and retrieve their artifacts."
"You mean, go back."
"Is there any other way?"
"I suppose not," she said slowly. For some reason she could not fathom, a fear welled up inside her. "But I don't think I could bring myself to look at Pisces again."
"Knowing Sandecker," said Perlmutter, "he'll save NUMA funds by combining your exploration with another project."
"You have to agree that's a reasonable assumption," Dirk said, turning to his sister. "Shall we go? We've taken up enough of St. Julien's time."
Summer gave Perlmutter a cautious hug. "Thank you for the glorious lunch."
"Always a joy for an old bachelor to have a pretty young girl for company."
Dirk shook Perlmutter's hand. "Goodbye and thank you."
"Give your dad my best and tell him to drop by."
"We will."
After the kids had left, Perlmutter sat for a long time lost in his thoughts, until the phone rang. It was Pitt.
"Dirk, your son and daughter just left."
"Did you steer them in the right direction?" asked Pitt.
"I whetted their appetite a bit. Not a great deal I could offer them. There is little recorded history of the seafaring Celts."
"I have a question for you."
"I'm here."
"Ever hear of a pirate named Hunt?"
"Yes, a buccaneer who achieved minor fame in the late sixteen hundreds. Why do you ask?"
"I'm told he's a restless ghost known as the Wandering Buccaneer."
Perlmutter sighed. "I've read the reports. Another Flying Dutchman fable. Although, several of the ships and boats that radioed that they'd seen his ship disappeared without a trace."
"So there is cause to be concerned when sailing in Nicaraguan waters?"
"I suppose so. What's your interest?"
"Curiosity."
"Would you like whatever history I have on Hunt?"
"I'd be grateful if you could send it to my hangar by courier," said Pitt. "I've a plane to catch first thing in the morning."
"It's on its way."
"Thank you, St. Julien."
"I'm having a little soiree in two weeks. Can you make it?"
"I never miss one of your fabulous parties."
After he rang off, Perlmutter assembled his papers on Hunt, called a courier service and went to his bedroom, where he stood before a case tightly packed with books. Unerringly, he pulled one from the shelf and walked heavily to his study, where he reclined his bulk on a leather Recamier doctor's couch made in Philadelphia in 1840. Fritz jumped up and lay on Perlmutter's stomach, staring at him through doleful brown eyes.
He opened the book by Iman Wilkens titled Where Troy Once Stood and began reading. After an hour, he closed the cover and gazed at Fritz. "Could it be?" he murmured to the dog. "Could it be?"
Then he allowed the lingering effects of the vintage Chardonnay to put him to sleep.
18
Pitt and Giordino left for Nicaragua the next day on a NUMA Citation jet to Managua. There, they switched to a commercial Spanish-built Cassa 212 turboprop for the hour-and-ten-minute flight over the mountains and across the lowlands to the Caribbean sea and over an area known as the Mosquito Coast. They could have made the short flight in the NUMA jet, but Sandecker thought it best they arrive like ordinary tourists, in order to blend in.
The setting sun in the west bathed the mountain peaks gold before the rays were lost in shadows on the eastern slopes. It was hard for Pitt to imagine a canal crossing such difficult terrain, and yet throughout history Nicaragua was always considered the better route for an inter-oceanic channel than Panama. It had a healthier climate, the surveyed route was easier to excavate, and the canal would have been three hundred miles closer to the United States; six hundred miles, if you consider the mileage down and up from the Panama passage.
Before the turn of the century, as with too many far-reaching and historic turning points, politics crawled out of its lair and came to a bad verdict. Panama had a powerful lobby and worked hard to push their cause and disrupt relations between Nicaragua and the U.S. government. For a while, it was a toss-up, but with Teddy Roosevelt working behind the scenes to hammer out a sweet deal with the Panamanians, the pendulum swung the extra mile away from Nicaragua when Mount Pelee, a volcano on the Caribbean island of Martinique, erupted, killing more than thirty thousand people. In a case of incredibly bad timing, the Nicaraguans issued a series of stamps advertising the country as the land of volcanos, one of them depicting an eruption behind an illustration of a wharf and a railroad. That clinched it. The Senate voted for Panama as the site of the U.S.-built canal.
Pitt began studying a report on the Mosquito Coast soon after takeoff from Washington. Nicaragua's Caribbean lowlands were isolated from the more populated western side of the country by the rugged mountains unfolding below and dense tropical rain forests. The people and the region were never a part of the Spanish empire but came under British influence until 1905, when the entire coast fell under the jurisdiction of the Nicaraguan government.
His destination, Bluefields, was Nicaragua's main Caribbean port, named after the infamous Dutch pirate who used to hide his ship in the coastal lagoon near the city. The population of the area was made up of Miskitos, the dominant group whose diverse ancestors came from Central America, Europe and Africa; the Creoles, who are the black descendants of colonial-era slaves; and the Mestizos, whose bloodlines are a mixture of Indian and Spanish.
The economy, based on fishing, was big business along the coast.
The primary catch came mostly from shrimp, lobster and turtle. A large plant in town processed the fish for export while extensive maintenance facilities serviced, fueled and supplied the international fishing fleets.
When he looked up from the report, the sky had turned as black as coal. The drone of the propellers, the whine of the engines, took his mind and sent it on a journey into the land of nostalgia. The face he was seeing every morning in the mirror no longer revealed the smooth skin he'd seen twenty-five years earlier without the craggy lines. Time and adventurous living and the onslaught of the elements had taken its toll.
As he stared through the window into nothingness, his mind traveled back to where it had all begun on that lonely stretch of beach at Kaena Point on the island of Oahu in Hawaii. He was lying on the sand in the sun, gazing idly past the breakers out to sea, when he spotted a yellow cylinder floating in the water. Swimming through treacherous riptides, he retrieved the cylinder and struggled back to shore. Inside was the message from the captain of a missing nuclear submarine. From that moment on, his life took a new turn. He met the woman who became his first love from the moment he laid eyes on her. He had carried her vision in his memory, always believing she had died, never knowing that she had survived, until Dirk and Summer showed up on his doorstep.