Raise the Titanic! by Clive Cussler Read Free Book Online Page B

that’s true. But don’t tell me I look good. Because that’s a gross lie.”
    Seagram pulled a chair up to the bed and smiled. “We don’t have much time, Sid, so if you feel up to it, we’ll jump right in.”
    Koplin nodded to the tubes connected to his arm. “These drugs are fogging my mind, but I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
    Donner nodded. “We came for the answer to the billion-dollar question.”
    â€œI found traces of byzanium, if that’s what you mean.”
    â€œYou actually found it! Are you certain?”
    â€œMy field tests were by no stroke of the imagination as accurate as lab analysis might have been, but I’m ninety-nine-percent positive it was byzanium.”
    â€œThank God.” Seagram sighed. “Did you come up with an assay figure?” he asked.
    â€œI did.”
    â€œHow much…how many pounds of byzanium do you reckon can be extracted from Bednaya Mountain?”
    â€œWith luck, maybe a teaspoonful.”
    At first Seagram didn’t get it, then it sunk in. Donner sat frozen and expressionless, his hands clenched over the armrests of the chair.
    â€œA teaspoonful,” Seagram mumbled gloomily. “Are you certain?”
    â€œYou keep asking me if I’m certain.” Koplin’s drawn face reddened with indignation. “If you don’t buy my word for it, send somebody else to that asshole of creation.”
    â€œJust a minute.” Donner’s hand was on Koplin’s shoulder. “Novaya Zemlya was our only hope. You took more punishment than we had any right to expect. We’re grateful, Sid, truly grateful.”
    â€œAll hope isn’t lost yet,” Koplin murmured. His eyelids drooped.
    Seagram didn’t hear. He leaned over the bed. “What was that, Sid?”
    â€œYou’ve not lost yet. The byzanium was there.”
    Donner moved closer. “What do you mean, the byzanium was there?”
    â€œGone…mined….”
    â€œYou’re not making sense.”
    â€œI stumbled over the tailings on the side of the mountain.” Koplin hesitated a moment. “Dug into them…”
    â€œAre you saying someone has already mined the byzanium from Bednaya Mountain?” Seagram asked incredulously.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDear God.” Donner moaned. “The Russians are on the same track.”
    â€œNo…no…” Koplin whispered.
    Seagram placed his ear next to Koplin’s lips.
    â€œNot the Russians—”
    Seagram and Donner exchanged confused stares.
    Koplin feebly clutched Seagram’s hand. “The…the Coloradans…”
    Then his eyes closed and he drifted into unconsciousness.
    They walked through the parking lot as a siren whined in the distance. “What do you suppose he meant?” Donner asked.
    â€œIt doesn’t figure,” Seagram answered vaguely. “It doesn’t figure at all.”

8
    â€œWhat’s so important that you have to wake me on my day off?” Prevlov grunted. Without waiting for an answer, he shoved open the door and motioned Marganin into the apartment. Prevlov was wearing a silk Japanese robe. His face was drawn and tired.
    As he followed Prevlov through the living room into the kitchen, Marganin’s eyes traveled professionally over the furnishings and touched each piece. To someone who lived in a tiny six-by-eight-foot barracks room, the décor, the vastness of the apartment seemed like the interior east wing of Peter the Great’s summer palace. It was all there, the crystal chandeliers, the floor to ceiling tapestries, the French furniture. His eyes also noted two glasses and a half-empty bottle of Chartreuse on the fireplace mantel; and on the floor, beneath the sofa, rested a pair of women’s shoes. Expensive, Western, by the look of them. He palmed a strand of hair and found himself staring at the closed bedroom door. She would have to be