Free Black wind by Clive Cussler Page A

We can go grab a late lunch.”
    “I would like to know the results,” he agreed, then led the two on board to retrieve the frozen sea lion.
    Once the mammal was hauled away, Dirk and Dahlgren helped secure the ship, transferring ashore the sensitive high-tech survey gear that was stored in an adjacent warehouse. With their docking shores complete, the crew of the Deep Endeavor gradually dispersed to enjoy a few days of R&R before the next project set sail.
    Dahlgren approached Dirk with a rucksack tossed over one shoulder and the pair of crutches under one arm. Only a slight limp was noticeable from his calf wound when he walked.
    “Dirk, I’m off to rustle up a date with a sexy teller I met at the bank before we shipped out. Should I see if she has a cute friend?”
    “No, thanks. Think I’ll get cleaned up and go see what Sarah and Sandy discovered from our sea lion Popsicle.”
    “You always did have a thing for the brainy types,” Dahlgren chuckled.
    “What’s with the crutches? You’ve been off those things for three days now.”
    “Never underestimate a woman’s sense of sympathy,” Dahlgren grinned, placing one crutch under an arm and pretending to limp in agony.
    “If I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate a woman’s ability to detect bad acting,” Dirk replied with a laugh. “Happy hunting.”
    Dirk borrowed the keys to a turquoise NUMA Jeep Cherokee and drove a short distance to his rented town house overlooking Lake Washington. Although he called Washington, D.C.” his home, he enjoyed the temporary assignment in the Northwest. The lush wooded surroundings, the cold, clear waters, and the youthful and vibrant residents who thrived in the sometimes bleak and damp weather made for a refreshing environment.
    Dirk showered and threw on a pair of dark slacks and a thin pullover sweater, then downed a peanut butter sandwich and an Olympia beer while listening to a litany of messages on his answering machine. Satisfied that the earth had not come to a stop in his absence, he hopped into the Jeep and headed north on 1-5. Exiting east past the lush Jackson Park Golf Course, Dirk turned north and soon entered the park like grounds of Fircrest Campus. Fircrest was an old military complex that had been turned over to the state of Washington and now housed offices and operations for a variety of state government agencies. Dirk spotted a complex of square white buildings surrounded by mature trees and parked in an adjacent lot fronted by a large sign, stating: Washington state public health laboratories.
    A perky receptionist phoned up to the small CDC office shared by the state lab and a few moments later Sarah and Sandy appeared in the lobby. A portion of the cheeriness they showed earlier in the day had clearly left their faces.
    “Dirk, it’s good of you to come. There’s a quiet Italian restaurant
    down the street where we can talk. The Pasta Alfredo is great, too,” Sarah suggested.
    “Sure thing. Ladies first,” Dirk replied as he held the front door open for the two scientists.
    After the threesome shoehorned into a red vinyl booth at the nearby neighborhood restaurant, Sarah explained their findings.
    “An examination of the sea lion revealed the classic signs of respiratory seizure as the cause of death. An initial blood test failed to reveal any concentrated levels of toxicity, however.”
    “Similar to the test results for you three in Anchorage,” Dirk added between bites of bread.
    “Exactly. Our vitals showed fine, though we still experienced weakness, headaches, and signs of respiratory irritation by the time we reached Anchorage,” Sandy added.
    “So we went back and carefully reexamined the animal’s blood and tissue and finally detected trace elements of the toxin,” Sarah continued. “Though not one hundred percent certain, we are fairly confident the sea lion was killed by hydrogen cyanide poisoning.”
    “Cyanide?” Dirk asked with an arched eyebrow.
    “Yes,” Sandy