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ertainty that waits for everyone。
The farmer； a big handsome outdoor…hardened man； drove slowly up a narrow road to the top of the cliff and through the meadows； pulling a small cloud of volcanic red dust behind the tailgate。 Within minutes he stopped at a small cottage on the outskirts of a village of white farmhouses dominated by the traditional Icelandic churchyard。
A somber little man with soft green eyes enlarged by thick steelrimmed glasses came out； introduced himself as Dr。 Jonsson and； after examining Hunnewell； led Pitt into the cottage where he stitched and bandaged Pitts three…inch head gash and made him change into some dry clothes。 Later； as Pitt was drinking a strong brew of coffee and schnaps forced on him by the doctor； the boy and his father entered。
The boy nodded to Pitt and spoke。 〃My father would consider it a great honor if he could transport you and your friend to Reykjavik if that is where you wish to go。〃
Pitt stood and stared a moment into the father's warm gray eyes。 〃You tell your father that I am deeply grateful； and that the honor is mine。〃 Pitt held out his hand and the Icelander gripped it hard。
The boy translated。 His father simply nodded and then they both turned and left the room without another word。
Pitt lit a cigarette and looked quizzically at Dr。 Jonsson。 〃You're a member of a strange people； Doctor。 You all seem to be brimming with warmth and courtesy within； but your exterior seems pletely dry of any emotion。〃
〃You'll find the citizens of Reykjavik more open。 This is the country； we are born into an isolated and stark but beautiful land。 Icelanders who live away from the city are not noted for gossip； we can almost e to understand each other's thoughts before we speak。 Life and love are monplace； death is merely an accepted occurrence。〃
〃I wondered why the children appeared so unconcerned when sitting next to a corpse。〃
〃Death to us is merely a separation； and only a visual one at that。 For you see；〃 the doctor's hand pointed through a large picture window at the gravestones in the churchyard； 〃they who went before us are still here。〃
Pitt stared several moments at the grave markers； all rising on their individual crooked angles among the green mossy grass。 Then his attention was caught by the farmer； who was carrying a handcrafted pine coffin to the Land Rover。 He watched attentively as the big； silent man lifted Hunnewell's form into the traditional tapered box with all the strength and tenderness of a new father with a baby。
〃What is the farmer's name？〃 Pitt asked。
〃Mundsson； Thorsteinn Mundsson。 His son's name is Bjarni。〃
Pitt stared through the window until the coffin was pushed onto the truckbed。 Then he turned away。
〃I'll always wonder if Dr。 Hunnewell would still be alive if I'd done things differently。〃
〃Who will ever know？ Remember； my friend； if you had been born ten minutes sooner or ten minutes later； your path might never have crossed his。〃
Pitt smiled。 〃I get what you mean。 But the fact is； his life was in my hands； and I fumbled and lost it。〃 He hesitated； seeing the scene again in his mind。 〃On the beach I passed out for half an hour after I bandaged his arm。 If I had stayed awake； he might not have bled to death。〃
〃Put your conscience to rest。 Your Dr。 Hunnewell did not die from loss of blood。 It was the shock of his injury； the shock of your crash； the shock of below freezing sea water。 No； I'm certain an autopsy will show that his aging heart gave out long before his blood。 He was getting on in years； and he was not； from what I could determine； a physically athletic man。〃
〃He was a scientist； an oceanographer； the best。〃
〃Then I envy him。〃
Pitt looked at the village physician speculatively。
〃Why do you say that？〃
〃He was a man of the sea； and he died by the sea he loved； and perhaps his last 'thoughts were as serene as the water。〃
〃He talked of God；〃 Pitt murmured。
〃He was fortunate； yet I feel I will be fortunate when my time es to be laid to rest over there in the churchyard only a hundred steps from where I was born and among so many of the people I have loved and cared for。〃
〃I wish I could share your affinity for staying in one spot； Doctor； but somewhere in the distant past one of my ancestors was a gypsy。 I've inherited his wandering ways。 Three years is my all…time record for living in the same location。〃
〃An interesting question； which of us is the most fortunate？〃
Pitt shrugged。 〃Who can tell？ We both hear the beat of a different drummer。〃
〃In Iceland；〃 Jonsson said； 〃we follow the lure of a different fisherman。〃
〃You missed your true calling； Doctor。 You should have been a poet。〃
〃Ah； but I am a poet。〃 Dr。 Jonsson laughed。 〃Every village has at least four or five。 You will have to search far and wide for a more literate country than Iceland。 Over five hundred thousand books are sold annually to two hundred thousand people； our entire population…〃 He broke off as the door opened and two men walked in。 They stood calm； efficient and very official in their police uniforms。 One nodded a greeting to the doctor； and Pitt suddenly got the entire picture。
〃You needn't have been secretive about calling the police； Dr。 Jonsson。 I have nothing to conceal from anyone。〃
〃No offense； but Dr。 Hunnewell's arm was obviously mangled by gun shots。 I've treated enough injured hunters to know the correct signs。 The law is explicit； as I'm sure it is in your country。 I must report all bullet wounds。〃
Pitt didn't like it much； but he had little option。
The two muscular policemen standing before him would hardly buy a story about a phantom black jet attacking and shooting the Ulysses full of holes before being rammed in midair。 A connection betAeen the derelict in the iceberg and the jet was neither coincidental nor accidental。 He was certain now that what started out as a simple search for a missing ship had turned out to be an unwanted involvement in a plex； farflung conspiracy。 He was tired…tired of lying； sick of the whole goddamn mess。 only one thought gripped his mind： Hunnewell was dead； and someone had to pay。
〃Were you the pilot of the helicopter that crashed； sir？〃 one of the policemen inquired。 An ut＇Mistakable British accent and a courteous tone； but the 〃sir〃 seemed forced。
〃Yes；〃 was all Pitt answered。
The policemen seemed taken aback for a moment by Pitts terse reply。 He was blond； had dirty fingernails； and was dressed in a uniform that left his wrists and ankles showing。 〃Your name； and the name of the deceased？〃
〃Pitt； Major Dirk Pitt； United States Air Force。
The man in the coffin was Dr。 William Hunnewell； National Underwater Marine Agency。〃 Pitt thought it strange that neither policeman made an attempt to write the information down。
〃Your destination？ It was undoubtedly the airfield at Keflavik？〃
〃No； the heliport in Reykjavik。〃
A flicker of surprise crossed the blond policeman's eyes。 It was barely perceptible； but Pitt caught it。 The interrogator turned to his partner； a dark…skinned； burly character with glasses； and said something in Icelandic。
He swung his head toward t