Iceberg (Dirk Pitt Series #2)

by Clive Cussler Narrated by Scott Brick

Overview

A SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER

'Cussler is hard to beat' Daily Mail

The superb third Dirk Pitt classic from multi-million-copy king of the adventure novel, Clive Cussler.

The towering iceberg drifting in the North Atlantic was a floating tomb. Embedded in the great gleaming mass was a ship - sealed in so solidly that not even its mast protruded.

Here was a sea mystery to rank alongside the Bermuda Triangle and the Marie Celeste. But for Major Dirk Pitt, top troubleshooter for the National Underwater and Marine Agency, it was also the first link in a fantastic chain of events that would lead him too close - and too often - to violent death. And to the discovery of the most sinister and bizarre conspiracy of the century . . . ICEBERG.

'Clive Cussler is the guy I read' Tom Clancy

'The Adventure King' Daily Express

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"Cussler has developed and patented a vibrant, rollicking narrative style that seldom shows signs of relenting." -Chicago Tribune

Product Details

BN ID:	2940159860354
Publisher:	Little, Brown Book Group
Publication date:	11/30/2017
Series:	Dirk Pitt Series , #3
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

From Chapter One "Damned sorry to drag you from sunny California, but this damned bung twister has been dumped in our lap." Sandecker, a small, fire-haired, griffon-faced man, waved a seven-inch cigar in the air like a baton. "We're supposed to be engaged in scientific underwater research. Why us? Why not the Navy? You'd think the Coast Guard could handle its own problems." He shook his head in irritation, puffed on the cigar. "Anyway, we're stuck with it."

Pitt finished reading and then laid a yellow folder marked confidential on the admiral's desk. "I didn't think it was possible for a ship to freeze up in the middle of an iceberg."

"It's extremely unlikely, but Dr. Hunnewell assures me it could happen."

"Finding the right berg might prove difficult; it's already been four days since the Coast Guard's sighting. That overgrown ice cube could have dried halfway to the Azores by now."

"Dr. Hunnewell has charted the current and drift rate to within a thirty-square-mile area. If your vision is good, you shouldn't have any trouble spotting the berg, particularly since the Coast Guard dropped a red dye marker on it."

"Spotting it is one thing," Pitt said thoughtfully, "landing a helicopter on it is another. Wouldn't it be more convenient and less dangerous to arrive by --"

"No!" Sandecker interrupted. "No ships. If that thing under the ice is as important as I think it is, I don't want anyone except you and Hunnewell within fifty miles of it."

"This may come as a surprise, Admiral, but I've never set a copter down on an iceberg before."

"It's very possible no one else has either. That's why I requested you as my Special Projects Director." Sandecker smiled mischievously. "You have the annoy- ing knack of successfully -- sha11 we say -- delivering the goods."

"This time," Pitt asked slyly, "do I have the opportunity of volunteering?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Pitt shrugged helplessly. "I don't know why I always give in so easily to you, Admiral I'm beginning to think you have me pegged as a first-class pigeon."

A broad grin rode across Sandecker's face. "You said it, not me."

The latch clicked and the cabin door swung open. Pitt lazily opened one eye in time to see Dr. Hunnewell come in. The overweight doctor did a tightrope act trying to maneuver between Pitt's cot and Dover's clothes locker before he finally reached a small chair by a writing desk. Audibly, he sighed in chorus with the chair's creaking protest as he eased his bulk past the armrests.

"How in God's name does a titan like Dover get into this thing?" he incredulously asked no one in particular.

"You're late," Pitt yawned. "I expected you hours ago.

"I couldn't go sneaking around corners or slithering through ventilators as if I was on my way to a spy convention. I had to wait for an excuse to talk to you."

"An excuse?"

"Yes. Commander Koski's compliments. Dinner is served."

"Why all the subterfuge?" Pitt asked with a cagey grin. "We have nothing to hide."

"Nothing to hide! Nothing to hide! You lie there like an innocent virgin waiting for her first communion and calmly say we have nothing to hide?" Hunnewell shook his head hopelessly. "We'll both be in front of a firing squad when the Coast Guard learns we flim- flammed them out of the use of one of their new cutters."

"Helicopters have a nasty habit, they won't fly with air in their fuel tanks," Pitt said sarcastically. "We had to have a base of operations and a place to refuel. The Catawaba was the only ship in the area with the necessary facilities. Besides, you sent that phony message from the Coast Guard Commandant -- you're on the hook for that one."

"That incredible yarn about the missing Russian trawler. You can't deny that's yours from beginning to end."

Pitt placed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. "I rather thought everyone enjoyed it."

"I have to hand it to you. That was the slickest con job it's been my misfortune ever to witness."

"I know. There are times when I hate myself."

"Have you considered what may happen when Commander Koski sees through our devious little plan?"

Pitt stood up and stretched. "We simply do what any other two red-blooded American con men would do."

"And that is?" Hunnewell prompted dubiously. Pitt smiled. "We simply worry about it when the time comes."

Copyright © 1975 by Clive Cussler

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