The road curved past another residence hall before descending a landscaped hill out of campus. Dirk saw the van accelerate sharply down the hill and he tried to keep pace. At the bottom of the hill, a stoplight marked the intersection with Canal Road, a busy thoroughfare that fed into suburban Maryland.
The light was green, and Dirk feared it would change before he drew close. Then it flashed to yellow, and he knew the van would have to stop.
Only it didn’t.
With the van’s passenger urging him on, the driver floored the gas when the light turned yellow. The van was still fifty feet from the intersection when the light turned red. Remarkably, the stopped cross traffic hesitated, perhaps detecting the bouncing rays of the van’s headlights as it roared down the hill.
Charging into the intersection at better than seventy miles an hour, the van crossed the near lanes of traffic and attempted to turn left into the far lanes. But its speed was far too great, and the panicked driver slammed on the brakes, sending the van into a skid. It slid across the asphalt until its right front tire kissed the curb. The tire burst, but the van kept moving, hopping the curb and plowing into a low retaining wall, the front fender buckling as the rear wheels bounded into and over the curb. The combined forces flipped the van onto its side atop the retaining wall. It slid a few feet, then tumbled over the wall, splashing roof first into the road’s namesake, the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, flowing just beyond.
Dirk skidded the Packard to a halt before the stoplight and raced across the street, with Summer running a step behind. They reached the retaining wall and peered over. The canal had swallowed most of the van, leaving only a portion of its still-spinning tires protruding. A dull glow brightened the murky water at one end, where the van’s headlights had yet to short out.
Dirk slipped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “I’ll try and get them out,” he said. “See if you can get the campus police to help.”
He jumped into the canal and swam to the van, diving along the passenger door. The glowing headlights turned the water’s visibility from zero to next to nothing, and he had to find the open window frame by touch. The frame height was barely a foot high, telling him the roof had collapsed at impact. It didn’t bode well for the occupants.
Reaching inside the open window, he felt a lifeless body strapped in the seat. Groping blindly, he found the buckle release and freed the seat belt. The body dropped loosely, and he pulled on the victim’s shoulders, dragging him through the narrow window.
Dirk shot to the surface, gasping for air, as he pulled the head and torso free of the water. A bright flashlight beam, aimed by the campus policeman, shined on the victim, and Dirk knew he had wasted his time. The passenger’s head tilted at a grotesque angle, his neck broken.
Dirk pulled the body to the bank and called up to the policeman. “Give me your light.”
He passed Dirk the light as he reached out to help pull the body ashore. Dirk swam to the van’s other side and dove once more. With the flashlight, he could now see the driver was also dead, his torso pinned between the crushed roof and the steering wheel. Unlike his partner, he hadn’t been wearing a seat belt.
Though running short of breath, Dirk shined the light past the driver and into the rear compartment. A row of electronic processing devices was mounted on a shelf. Sitting nearby was a large acrylic parabolic dish used for eavesdropping.
Pushing off from the door, he swam to the back of the van and checked its license plate before popping to the surface. He stroked to the bank, where Summer helped him up the incline.
“No luck with the other one?”
“No, he’s dead, too.”
“I’ve got paramedics on the way,” the policeman said. His inexperience with fatalities was betrayed by a pale face. He regained his composure but spoke with a forced tone of authority. “Who are those people? And why were you chasing them?”
“I don’t know who they are, but they stole something from us.”
“They get your money? Or was it jewelry or electronics?”
“No,” Dirk replied, looking at the dead man. “It was our words.”
55
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT WHEN DIRK AND SUMMER staggered back into the NUMA computer center. Gunn and Yaeger were still examining images on the large viewing screen.
“I didn’t realize you were taking time for a seven-course meal,” Gunn said. Then he noticed their appearance. Dirk’s hair was disheveled and his clothes damp, while Summer’s outfit sported a large stain, and she reeked of stale beer. “What on earth happened to you two?”
Summer related the series of events, including a two-hour interrogation by the District of Columbia police.
“Any idea who would have tailed you?” Yaeger asked.
“None,” Dirk said. “I suspect it may have something to do with Dad.”
“Could be,” Gunn said, “especially if they saw you leave his hangar this morning. From a distance, there is a strong resemblance between the two of you.”
Summer handed Yaeger a slip of paper. “Here’s the van’s license number. The police wouldn’t tell us, but maybe you can identify the owner.”
“With ease,” Yaeger said.
“How’re things progressing with the Adelaide?” Dirk asked.
“Not well,” Gunn said. “We’ve been in contact with every major port authority along the coast of North, South, and Central America. No one has a record of the Adelaide making an appearance in the past week.”
“Guess that leaves two options,” Dirk said. “They either off-loaded at a private facility or they headed in another direction.” He neglected to mention a third option, that the ship had sunk.
“We’ve been talking about those scenarios,” Yaeger said, “and we don’t believe they headed west. First, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to hijack a ship out of Australia in the eastern Pacific if you plan to take the cargo someplace in the western Pacific. The second problem is fuel. Fully loaded, the Adelaide would be stretching it to make a double crossing of the Pacific without refueling.”
“Makes sense. That only leaves about a thousand other places she could have ducked into along the coast.”
Gunn and Yaeger nodded. They were searching for a transparent needle in a very large haystack. Gunn described the details of their port searches and the latest surveillance images while Yaeger grabbed the keyboard and began typing. A few minutes later, he called to the others.
“Got something on your van,” he said, as a Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles registration form appeared on the screen. “The owner is SecureTek of Tysons Corner, Virginia.”
Yaeger brought up another site on his screen. “The state corporate commission describes their business as providing data encryption links for closed network computer systems. They have eight employees, and their primary customer is the U.S. government.”
“Doesn’t sound like the type of security company that would be eavesdropping on people,” Summer said.
“Unless,” Dirk said, “their declared business is a front.”
“It doesn’t appear to be,” Yaeger said after some additional research. “They have a number of valid contracts with the Army and Navy for data line installations.”
Returning to the corporate commission’s site, he noted that SecureTek was a wholly owned subsidiary of Habsburg Industries. “It’s a privately held firm, so information is rather limited, but they’re based in Panama and have interests in mining and shipping.”
Yaeger performed several searches but found only brief mention of the firm. A shipping periodical displayed a photo of one of the firm’s bulk carriers, the Graz, dockside in Singapore.
Dirk glanced at the photo and sat up in his chair. “Hiram, can you enlarge that photo?”
Yaeger nodded, blowing up the image until it filled the entire screen
.
“What is it?” Summer asked.
“The logo on the funnel.”
Everyone peered at the image of a white flower centered on the ship’s squat gold funnel.
“I think that’s an edelweiss,” Summer said. “In keeping with the ship’s Austrian name, I imagine.”
“I saw that same flower on the freighter docked in Madagascar,” Dirk said.
The computer room fell silent. Then Gunn asked, “Hiram, can you determine what kind of mining this Habsburg Industries is actually involved in?”
“They operate a small gold mine in Panama near the Colombian border. The firm also has an active brokerage business in specialty ores, including samarium, lanthanum, and dysprosium.”
“Rare earth elements?” Summer asked.
Gunn nodded. “Rare earth elements. Habsburg Industries suddenly looks very interesting.”
“I’d wager the operation in Madagascar was stealing rare earth minerals,” Dirk said. “The reason they attacked our submersible was because we were working around the spot where they sank a hijacked ore ship.”
“We found a pristine wreck in the area that had recently been sunk,” Summer said. “There was no apparent damage, and the ship’s name was intentionally obscured.”
“Jack Dahlgren did some digging and thinks it was a bulk carrier called the Norseman,” Dirk said. “She was lost in the Indian Ocean four months ago, carrying bastnasite ore from Malaysia. In case you hadn’t guessed, bastnasite contains rare earth elements.”
“Could the Habsburg ship in Madagascar have been hijacked, too?” Summer asked.
Yaeger checked the Panamanian ship registry. “Habsburg owns four ships, all dry bulk carriers, named Graz, Innsbruck, Linz, and Salzburg.”
“What’s the Austrian connection?” Dirk asked.
“The company is owned by Edward Bolcke, a mining engineer originally from Austria,” Yaeger said. “I can’t find mention of any of the four ships reported missing.”
“Then that makes Habsburg a likely suspect in the disappearance of the Adelaide,” Summer said.
“The key,” Gunn said, “will be their four ships.”
Yaeger flexed his fingers over the keyboard. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Summer found coffee for everyone while Yaeger taxed his mainframe’s circuitry, pursuing inquiries on the four ships and their recent whereabouts. It took the better part of an hour before he could narrow their locations. He displayed a map of the world on which a multitude of colored dots shone, signifying the ships’ recent ports of call.
“The blue lights represent the Graz,” Yaeger said. “She is currently believed to be in or about Malaysia. Over the last three weeks, she was seen in Tianjin, Shanghai, and Hong Kong.”
“So she’s not in play,” Gunn said.
“The yellow lights represent the Innsbruck. She made a transit through the Panama Canal three weeks ago and was seen in Cape Town, South Africa, eight days ago.”
“Dollars to donuts, that’s the ship I saw in Madagascar,” Dirk said.
“Likely so. That leaves the Linz and Salzburg. The Linz was reported in a Jakarta dry dock ten days ago, and is believed to still be there for repairs.”
“So the green lights are the Salzburg?” Summer asked.
“Yes. She appeared in Manila a month ago, then in the Panama Canal, making a northerly crossing, four days ago. Homeland Security port surveillance indicates she was docked in New Orleans just yesterday.”
Yaeger drew a line on the map across the Pacific from Manila to Panama. Then he inserted a red triangle at a spot in the eastern part of the ocean. “The red mark is our last known position of the Adelaide, about six days ago.”
The track of the Salzburg passed within two hundred miles of the Adelaide’s mark.
“Wouldn’t have needed much of a course deviation to cross paths,” Dirk said.
“The timing is about right,” Gunn said. “The Salzburg would have been in that area five or six days before reaching the canal, which is when the Adelaide went quiet.”
Yaeger returned to an earlier database. “Panama Canal Authority records show she made the transit last Friday, entering the Pacific locks at three in the afternoon. I might be able to find archival video of her.”
A few minutes later, he projected a clip from one of the locks. It showed, in grainy black-and-white footage, a midsized freighter waiting for the lock to flood. An edelweiss flower clearly showed on its funnel.
Dirk looked at the image with a sense of hope. “Look at her Plimsoll mark. She’s riding high in the water. Her holds must be empty.”
“You’re right,” Gunn said. “If she hijacked the Adelaide, she didn’t transfer the cargo aboard.”
Yaeger pulled up a profile of the Salzburg. “The Adelaide is a hundred feet longer. They’d have to leave a large chunk of her cargo behind if they ransacked and sank her.”
“The rare earth ore she was carrying was too valuable for that,” Gunn said. “No, she must still be afloat. I’m starting to believe she was taken to a place where her cargo could be off-loaded.”
“But where?” Summer asked. “You checked all the major ports.”
“She could easily slip into a private facility without our knowledge.”
“There’s another possibility,” Dirk said, rising from his chair. “The wreck we ran across in Madagascar, the Norseman. She had had her identity scrubbed from the hull. What if they did the same with the Adelaide only they passed her off for another vessel?”
Yaeger and Gunn both nodded, and Dirk began gathering up his things. When he began moving toward the door, Summer called out to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Panama. And you’re coming with me.”
“Panama?”
“Sure. If the Salzburg is behind the Adelaide’s disappearance, then someone at Habsburg Industries has to know something about it.”
“Maybe, but we don’t know anything about Habsburg Industries or even where they’re located.”
“That’s true,” Dirk replied, shooting Gunn and Yaeger an expectant look. “But we will by the time we get there.”
56
THE BULLWHIP CRACKED, AND EVERY MAN WITHIN earshot flinched, fearing the lick of its knotted tip. Occasionally Johansson would show compassion and simply snap it in the air for effect. But most of the time he directed the whip to the bare skin of a forced laborer, eliciting an agonized cry.
There were nearly seventy of them, slaves culled from the hijacked ships carrying rare earth. Now they were the ones carrying the rare earth, hauling the stolen ore to various extraction centers hidden in the jungle. Weakened by a regimen of hard labor and a subsistence diet, the men were quickly reduced to haggard zombies. The arriving captives from the Adelaide were shocked at the sight of them, in their ragged, soiled clothes, staring impassively at the new arrivals.
Pitt and Giordino took one look at the men and knew there would be no benefit in delaying an escape.
“I’m not impressed by the long-term medical coverage offered here,” Giordino muttered as they were divided into work teams to off-load the Adelaide’s cargo.
“I agree,” Pitt said. “I think we should look for employment elsewhere.”
“What’s with the dog collars?”
Pitt had also seen that the laborers all wore tubular steel collars. The men wearing them carefully heeded the edge of the dock, not venturing beyond their immediate work area.
Johansson cracked his whip, and the Adelaide captives were marched into a clearing. A table was set up with a box containing the collars, and one by one the men were fitted with the devices, which were locked with a key. Giordino’s bull-sized neck barely accommodated his collar, which clung tightly to his skin.
“Do we get a cattle
brand, too?” he asked of the armed man fitting the device. His reply was a cold sneer.
When all the men had been fitted, Johansson paced in front of them.
“In case you are wondering, the neck bands you are wearing are a protective device. They protect from escape.” He gave a malicious smile. “If you look to the dock, you will see a pair of white lines on the ground.”
Pitt saw two parallel faded lines, painted several feet apart. The lines looped away from the dock and disappeared into the jungle.
“The white lines encircle a five-acre area, encompassing the ore depot, the millhouse, and your living quarters. It is your little island of life. Beneath the lines are electrified cables that will emit a fifty-thousand-volt shock to your steel collars should you attempt to cross them. In other words, you will die. Would you like a demonstration?”
The men stood silent, not wishing to witness another sacrifice.
Johansson laughed. “I’m glad that we understand each other. Now, it is time to get to work.”
Gomez’s crew from the ship deployed the dock conveyor to the Adelaide’s first hold and began off-loading the crushed monazite. The ore was dumped onto a concrete pad inside the white lines, where it quickly grew to a small mountain. Shovels and rubber-tired ore carts were delivered by a weary group of captives and the new slaves went to work. Plugrad and his Coast Guard team were assigned as shovelers while Pitt, Giordino, and the others were given the less arduous task of pushing the loaded carts to the nearby millhouse and unloading them.
The equatorial heat and humidity quickly took a toll on the men, wringing the strength out of them. Pitt and Giordino worked as slowly as they could, trying to conserve energy, while sweat dripped down their faces. But always they heard the sound of the bullwhip, keeping the pace moving.
The loaded carts were difficult to push for Giordino with his injured leg. He moved unsteadily, shoving his cart with short hops. Pitt was following close behind when Johansson stepped out of the jungle. His whip cracked a second later, the leather tip striking Giordino on the forearm. Despite the eruption of a red welt, Giordino reacted as if a gnat had landed on him, turning to Johansson with an ungracious smile.
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