"What is your interest in the wreck?" Summer asked.
"We have a sizeable collection of Southeast Asian artifacts in the museum, as well as an extensive exhibit from a fourteenth-century Chinese vessel excavated from the Straits of Malacca. Though it is not my specific area of expertise, I have some knowledge of Yuan and Ming dynasty pottery. I am interested in what you have retrieved, and thought I might offer assistance in identifying the age of the vessel through its artifacts. I, like many others, would revel in the discovery of a thirteenth-century Chinese royal vessel in the western Pacific."
"Identifying the age of the vessel is a key question," Summer replied. "I'm afraid we've uncovered just a limited number of ceramic artifacts. We sent a sampling to the University of California for analysis, but I'd be happy to let you examine the remaining items."
"Perhaps the context of the artifact finds will be useful. Can you share with me the condition and configuration of the wreck?"
Dirk unrolled a large script of paper sitting on the table. "I was just going to walk you through the excavation profile before Summer walked in."
They all took a seat at the table and examined the chart. It was a computer-aided diagram of the wreck site from an overhead view. Sections of timbers and scattered artifacts were displayed in a horseshoe-shaped region next to the lava bed. Tong was surprised by the tiny amount of remains and artifacts documented in the drawing, hardly indicative of a large sailing vessel.
"We've worked with the archaeologists from the University of Hawaii to excavate nearly all of the accessible portions of the wreck. Unfortunately, we are only seeing about ten percent of the entire vessel," Dirk said.
"The rest is under coral?" Tong asked.
"No, the wreck actually lies perpendicular to two reefs under a sandbar, with her nose to the shore,"
Summer said. She pointed to the diagram, which showed two coral mounds on either side of the excavation field. "The sand has protected the existing artifacts from consumption by the coral. We think this section of sand may have been a natural channel cut through the reef eons ago when the seas were lower."
"If the coral has not imprisoned the wreck, then why are there not more remains visible?"
"In a word, lava." Summer pointed to the closed end of the horseshoe, which showed a rocky bed that ran off the chart in the direction of the shoreline. "If you look out the window, you can see that this section of coastline is one big lava field. The rest of the wreck, I'm sorry to say, is buried under a bed of lava rock."
"Remarkable," Tong said with a cocked brow. "So the rest of the wreck and its cargo is intact under the lava?"
"The rest of the ship is either under the lava or was consumed by it. If the ship sank and was buried under sand before the lava flow arrived, then it may well be preserved intact beneath the lava field. The timbers we've found adjacent to the lava field are well buried, which suggests that the rest of the ship may indeed still be there."
"The upside is that we may be able to use the lava to help age the wreck," Dirk said. "We have a local vulcanologist studying the historical record of volcanic eruptions and associated lava flows on this part of the island. So far, we know that there has been no volcanic activity in this immediate area for at least two hundred years, and possibly much longer. We hope to receive more definitive information in a few days."
"And what of the actual ship have you identified?"
"Just a few pieces, which appear to be from the stern section. The timbers are thick, indicating a potentially large ship, perhaps even two hundred feet or more. Then there is the anchor stone, which is consistent with known Chinese design, and also indicative of a sizeable vessel."
"A vessel that size and age would most certainly be Chinese," Tong said.
"Yes," Dirk replied, "the European vessels of the day were half as large. I've read of the legend of the Chinese admiral Zheng He, who purportedly sailed around the world with his massive Treasure Fleet in 1405. This is no six-masted, five-hundred-foot behemoth, though, like Zheng He supposedly sailed, if such massive ships even existed."
"History tends to exaggerate," Tong said. "But crossing half the Pacific a hundred years before Zheng He's purported voyage would be an astounding accomplishment."
"The ceramic artifacts recovered present the most intriguing evidence that the wreck is that old," Summer said. "We've found comparable design patterns in our research which suggest the ship may date to the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries. Perhaps you can confirm our assessment with an examination of the ceramics?"
"I am most interested to see what you have recovered."
Summer led them down a flight of stairs to a brightly illuminated laboratory. Racks of plastic bins lined the back bulkhead, all filled with various artifacts recovered from the wreck and now soaking in fresh water.
"Most of the items recovered were fragments of the actual ship," she explained. "The cargo holds and living quarters must all be under the lava, as we recovered few personal artifacts. We did find a few everyday cooking utensils and a large pot," she said, pointing to an end rack, "but you will probably be most interested in these."
She pulled two trays off one of the racks and set them on a stainless steel table. Inside the trays were several plates, a bowl, and numerous fragments of porcelain. Most of the items were sugary white in color, though the bowl was made of black clay. Tong's eyes lit up as he slipped on a pair of reading glasses and began examining the artifacts.
"Yes, very nice," he muttered as he quickly ran through the inventory.
"What can you tell us about the design?" Summer asked.
"The patterns and material are consistent with the product of the Chinese kilns at Jingdezhen and Jianyang. The overall quality appears less advanced than the work produced during the later Ming Dynasty. The fish emblem here," he said, holding up one of the plates. "I have seen this before on a Yuan-period bowl. I would concur with your assessment, these ceramics are characteristic of items manufactured in the Song and Yuan dynasties of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries."
A broad smile crossed Summer's lips and she gave a happy wink to Dirk. Tong reached over and pulled the last artifact from the tray, a large teal-and-white plate with a pie-slice section missing from the platter.
The glazed image of a peacock strutted across the center, while smaller images of a cheetah chasing a herd of deer circled the plate's perimeter. Tong studied the plate with a renewed intensity, looking again and again at the ornate glazing and animal portrayal.
"One of the lab conservators found a similar design in the database used by Yuan royalty," Dirk said.
"Yes, it is," Tong muttered, then put the plate down and backtracked. "Similar, that is, but surely not made for royalty. A close design used for trade, most likely," he added. "But I would agree that it is from the Yuan era, which, as you know, lasted from 1264 to 1368. Well ahead of Admiral Zheng."
"That's what we believe, remarkable as it is to think a ship of that era found its way to Hawaiian waters."
The door to the lab opened and in walked the Mariana Explorer's captain. A towering sandy-haired man, Bill Stenseth commanded the respect of the entire ship by his quiet intelligence and his good-natured sense of fair play.
"Dahlgren has completed loading the fuel and supplies onto your floating hotel. Whenever you two are set to jump ship, we'll be on our way."
"We're about finished, Captain. Dirk and I will get our things and join Jack on the barge."
"You are still working on the wreck?" Tong asked.
"We have a final section of timber to uncover, which we believe may be part of the rudder post,"
Summer explained. "If so, it will give us a better idea of the ship's dimension. The Mariana Explorer needs to continue a reef survey project on the other side of the island, so Dirk, Jack Dahlgren, and I are going to camp out on the barge for a few days and complete the excavation work."
"I see," Tong replied. "Well, thank you for sharing the recovered artifacts with m
e. When I return to Malaysia, I will research our museum's records and see if I can't provide you some additional information about the ceramics I have seen today."
"Thank you for taking the time to visit us and share your insights. We are excited that you have confirmed our initial assessment of the ship's age and possible ancestry."
Dirk and Summer quickly threw together a few personal belongings and jumped onto the barge, where Dahlgren was busily removing the ship's mooring lines. With a blast of the horn, Captain Stenseth backed the Explorer away from the barge and in a short while the turquoise ship disappeared around the jagged coastline heading toward Hilo.
"Well, what did you two find out about our Chinese lava ship?" Dahlgren asked, digging into a large cooler for a drink.
"Dr. Tong agrees that the age of the ceramics matches our initial readings, which put the wreck at seven to eight hundred years old," Summer replied.
"The good doctor seemed mighty interested in the plate our lab boys thought had royal markings, though he wasn't willing to bite," Dirk said.
"Professional jealousy, I think," Summer grinned. "It's a royal ship, I just know it."
"Royalty," Dahlgren said, plopping into a canvas chair with a can of beer and hoisting his feet to the side rail. "Now, don't that beat all?"
-37-
Five thousand miles to the east, Pitt and Giordino tramped into the lobby of the Continental Hotel in Ulaanbaatar looking like a pair of worn saddlebags. Their wrinkled clothes were laden in dust, which permeated their hair, skin, and shoes. Sunbaked blisters tainted the portion of their faces where scraggly growths of beard failed to sprout. All that was missing was a circle of flies buzzing around their heads.
The hotel manager looked down his nose with disdain as the two stragglers approached the front desk with bleary eyes.
"Any messages for rooms 4024 or 4025?" Pitt asked, his white teeth sparkling brightly behind his blistered lips.
The desk manager raised a brow in recognition, then briefly retreated to a small side room.
"One message and a delivery, sir," he said, handing Pitt a slip of paper and a small box plastered with overnight-shipping labels.
Pitt took the message and handed the package to Giordino while stepping away from the desk.
"It's from Corsov," he said quietly to Giordino.
"Pray tell, what does our favorite KGB agent have to say?"
"He was called away to a Foreign Ministry conference in Irkutsk. Sends his regards, hopes our foray south was productive. He'll contact us in a few days when he gets back to town."
"Very polite of him," Giordino said with a touch of sarcasm. "I wonder if Theresa and Jim will have the luxury of awaiting his return." He ripped open the overnight package, revealing an old leather book and a heavy jar of vitamins. A small card fell out, which he picked up and handed to Pitt.
"From the wife?"
Pitt nodded, silently reading the handwritten note inside.
Your favorite book, along with some extra vitamins to keep you healthy. Please use sparingly, my love.
The kids send their best from Hawaii. They have created quite a stir by discovering an old wreck.
Washington is a bore without you, so hurry home.
Loren
"A book and vitamins? Not very romantic of Mrs. Pitt," Giordino chided.
"Ah, but it is my favorite story. Always packs a wallop." Pitt held up the leather-bound novel, displaying the spine to Giordino.
"Melville's Moby-Dick. A tasteful choice," Giordino said, "though the adventures of Archie and Veronica work fine for me."
Pitt opened the book and flipped through the pages until a cutout section revealed itself. Buried in the center of the mock book was a Colt .45 automatic.
"I see she comes with a harpoon, Ahab," Giordino whispered, letting out a low whistle.
Pitt popped open the vitamin bottle cap, displaying a dozen or so .45 caliber rounds that matched the Colt.
"Wouldn't a congresswoman get in a bit of trouble for shipping firearms around the world?" Giordino asked.
"Only if she got caught," Pitt smiled, sealing the bottle and closing the book.
"With a little canned heat, there's no sense in waiting for Corsov," Giordino urged.
Pitt shook his head slowly. "Nope, I think we make for a quick turnaround. It probably wouldn't be safe lolling about here for long anyway, once Borjin fails to hear back from his Buddhist hit man."
"A shower and a beer should aid the planning process."
"First some facts," Pitt said, walking to a cramped business center off the main lobby. He fished into his pocket and pulled out the silver pendant taken from Borjin's lab and laid it on a copy machine. He scribbled a note on the resulting photocopy, then fed it through an adjacent fax machine, dialing up a long-distance number by rote. He then fed the pages from the seismic-imaging manual through the fax, dialing a second number.
"That ought to keep a few pair of idle hands out of the devil's workshop," he said to himself as he made his way up to his room.
***
The exterior of the Georgetown carriage house looked like any other upscale residence in the swanky quarter of Washington, D.C. The weathered-brick structure had freshly painted eaves, its nineteenth-century glass windows were sparkling clean, and the small surrounding yard was neatly manicured. It was a stark contrast to the home's interior, which resembled the book depository for the New York Public Library. Polished wooden bookshelves lined nearly every wall in the house, each packed to the brim with historical books on ships and seafaring. More books littered the dining table and the kitchen counters, in addition to strategic stockpiles at various locales on the floor.
The home's eccentric owner, St. Julien Perlmutter, wouldn't want it any other way. Books were a major passion for one of the nation's preeminent maritime historians, who had assembled a reference collection that librarians and private collectors salivated over. Generous with his archives, he gladly shared his knowledge and resources with those like him who had a love of the sea.
The beep and whir of a fax machine startled Perlmutter awake from an overstuffed leather chair, where he had fallen asleep while perusing the ship's log from the famous ghost ship Mary Celeste. Hoisting his rotund, nearly four-hundred-pound frame from the chair, he walked to his den and retrieved the fax. He stroked a thick gray beard as he read the brief note on the cover page:
St. Julien,
A bottle of fresh brewed airag for you, if you can identify this.
Pitt
"Airag? That's bloody blackmail," he muttered with a grin.
Perlmutter was a grand gourmand who loved rich and exotic food, as evidenced by his immense belly.
Pitt had touched a culinary nerve with a bribe of the Mongolian fermented mare's milk. Perlmutter closely examined the following fax pages, which showed the front and back side of a silver pendant.
"Dirk, I'm no jeweler, but I know who just might peg this," he said aloud. Picking up a telephone, he dialed a number and waited for a voice to answer.
"Gordon? St. Julien here. Say, I know we had lunch scheduled for Thursday but I could use your help on something. Could you meet today instead? Fine, fine, I'll take care of the reservation and see you at noon."
Perlmutter hung up the phone and gazed again at the image of the pendant. Coming from Pitt, that meant there was probably a wild tale behind it. Wild and dangerous.
***
The Monocle near Capitol Hill was bustling with a workday lunch crowd when Perlmutter walked in the door. A popular haunt of Washington politicians, the restaurant was filled with senators, lobbyists, and Hill staffers. Perlmutter quickly spotted his friend Gordon Eeten in a side booth, as he was one of the few occupants not wearing a blue suit.
"St. Julien, good to see you again my friend," Eeten greeted. A large man himself, Eeten had a humorous demeanor mixed with the observant eye of a detective.
"I see I have some catching up to do," Perlmutter grinned, eyeing a nearly empty ma
rtini glass on the table.
Perlmutter hailed the bartender for a Sapphire Bombay Gibson, then the two men ordered lunch. As they waited for the meal, Perlmutter handed Pitt's fax to Eeten.
"Business before dining pleasure, I'm afraid," Perlmutter said. "A friend ran across this brooch in Mongolia and would like to know its significance. Can you shed any light?"
Eeten studied the photocopies with a poker face. As an antiquities appraiser with the famed auction house of Sotheby's, he had assessed literally thousands of historic artifacts before they were put up for public auction. A childhood friend of Perlmutter's, he regularly tipped off the marine historian when a pending auction contained items of maritime interest.
"Difficult to gauge the quality," Eeten prefaced. "Hate to give an estimate over a fax copy."
"Knowing my friend, he could care less about its value. I believe he is more interested in its age and historical context."
"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Eeten replied, visibly relaxing.
"So you know what it is?"
"Yes, I believe so. I've seen something similar in a lot we auctioned a few months ago. Of course, I would have to examine the piece in person to verify its authenticity."
"What can you tell me about it?" Perlmutter asked, taking notes in a small book.
"It appears to be Seljuk in origin. The double-headed eagle, a very unique motif, was a favored symbol of the dynasty."
"If my memory serves, the Seljuks were a band of Turkish Muslims who briefly controlled a large chunk of old Byzantium," Perlmutter said.
"Yes, they overran Persia around 1000 A.D., but their power peaked about two hundred years later, before they were crushed by the rival Khwarezmid Empire under Ala ad-Din Muhammad. The Seljuks were fine artisans, particularly in carving stone, but were also skilled in metallurgy. They even minted coins of silver and copper for a time."
"So this pendant is within their skill base."
"Absolutely. The minute calligraphy is consistent with a Seljuk practice of inscribing an Islamic prayer or dedication on their later metalwork. There's a professor at Columbia who could translate the inscription for you, which is probably written in Kufic. Who knows, perhaps it is a personal inscription to a sultan."
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