Piranha (32 page)

“You can fly those drones?”

Kensit nodded. “And they won't even be missed, because I can spoof the video feed and data relays. Air Force Two is currently sitting on the tarmac in Rio de Janeiro, having taken the VP there for a South American trade conference. In two days it will take off for its return flight to Washington. At the same time, this flight of six QF-16s will be flying toward the UNITAS exercise in the Bahamas for a demonstration. I will commandeer control of those planes and intercept Air Force Two when it's over Haiti.”

Washburn leaned in, now more fascinated by than appalled at the prospect of killing to reach his goals. “I get it. You're going to use the drones' missiles to shoot it down.”

“No, of course not,” Kensit said, pausing for effect. “The drones don't carry any missiles. I'm going to fly them right into Vice President Sandecker's plane.”

It was nearly midnight when Juan and Eric rendezvoused with the
Oregon
in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Juan felt proud of his quick-thinking crew as he read the after-action report about the events at Saint-Pierre. The
Oregon
had sailed from Martinique after Max and the crew gave statements to the local authorities, corroborated by the submarine passengers, that the ship's crew were simply innocent bystanders who happened to be in the right place at the right time to rescue the grateful hostages. When he assumed command again, Juan took a calculated guess as to where the evidence from the
Roraima
would lead them and ordered the ship to head west.

He and the rest of the senior officers had slept during their respective journeys, so he called a late-night meeting in the boardroom to plan their next move. Along the way, he stopped by Maria Sandoval's cabin. She answered the door wearing a pair of silk pajamas that Julia Huxley had loaned her. Juan thought they suited her well, but he made no comment.

“Thanks for seeing me, Captain Cabrillo.”

Juan leaned against the door, creating the unspoken impression that this would be a short visit. “Are you being treated all right?”

“Every amenity I could ask for. Your facilities are marvelous. I wish we had them on my ship.”

“The benefits of our chosen profession.” He left it at that to keep up the appearances that they were simply smugglers. “I understand you called your company and your friends to let them know you're alive and safe.”

“Yes, thanks for letting me do that.”

“There was no point in holding back the news any longer. Your survival of the shipwreck is known to the conspirators by now.” He didn't add how he came by that knowledge. “You're still free to go at any time, of course, but your life might be in danger until we resolve our current situation.”

“I will have to go soon. My company is demanding to debrief me.”

“I'm hoping we can get some more evidence that Admiral Ruiz was behind the attacks in a few more days. That should clear your name completely with your company.”

“The admiral is why I wanted to speak with you. The shipping industry captains in my country are tightly connected and one of them told me he saw her at Carúpano, a minor port on the eastern side of Venezuela. I also talked to a few friends who are still involved with the Navy and don't have a particular fondness for her. They told me she had left headquarters with members of her staff to join the Cuban Navy in observing a joint U.S.–Caribbean exercise going on in the Bahamas.”

“What was she doing in Carúpano?”

“He didn't know, but she was boarding a small cargo ship. She wasn't wearing her uniform. It was the government-issue car that drew his attention.”

“Any idea what the cargo was?”

She shook her head. “Nothing but a stack of shipping containers.”

“I appreciate the information. It's probably something to do with her smuggling operation. I'll let you know if we learn anything else about it.”

Juan said good night and continued on to the boardroom. When he entered, Murph was recounting the events of the sub encounter to Eric.

“That's when I drove Little Geek under the falling girders on the
Roraima
,” Murph said, his hands behind his head. “It destroyed the ROV, of course, but I didn't have a choice.”

Eddie took up the story. “Although Little Geek kept me from getting crushed, I was still pinned. I had my hands on the photo tin but I couldn't get away, and I knew the bomb inside the barrel was ticking down. Linc's the one who pried me out of there. My legs were numb by then, so he had to drag me until I got blood flow back in my feet.”

“I just wish I had gotten us fully behind that piece of coral before the bomb went off,” Linc said, munching on an apple. “Doc said you won't be going into the water for a few weeks.” The only injury among them was a perforated eardrum Eddie suffered.

Juan took his seat at the head of the table. “Good job, everyone. I'm going to have to stop taking excursions like this or you'll start thinking you can get along without me.”

“Not a chance,” Max said. “I was sweating fifty-caliber hollow points the whole time.”

“That was a tough call to keep your plan a secret, but I would have done the same thing. Where are we with the fruits of your labor?”

“Kevin Nixon worked with the techs in the lab to open the tin,” Linda said. “It was lined with zinc and sealed with paraffin, so it hadn't rusted through and water hadn't penetrated the gaps. We found four photo plates inside.”

She removed a cloth covering a white canvas sheet on which lay the five four-and-a-half- by six-and-a-half-inch glass plates. The silver bromide emulsion had been perfectly preserved. Two of the plates had cracks down the center, but the others were completely intact.

“You can look at these originals, if you want,” Linda said, “but I wouldn't handle them. Not only are they delicate but we found traces of radioactivity on them.” When she saw Hali edge away, she added, “Not enough to be dangerous, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. They were transferred to digital so we can see them in more detail.”

She lowered the screen and turned on the overhead projector. The first image showed a man standing on a dock in a dark coat and trousers, boots, and a wide-brimmed hat. He wore a serious expression, but his eyes shone with an intensity visible even in the old photo. The
Roraima
's name was stenciled on the hull of a ship behind him.

“He's a happy-looking guy,” Murph said. He looked at Eric. “Is that Gunther Lutzen?”

“I don't know. We never found a photo of him.”

“It's probably him,” Linda continued, “but there's no way to be sure. I'm showing these photos in reverse order to try to backtrack his travel from the time he reached the
Roraima
. As you can see, the numbers of the photo plates are noted on the bottom right corner. Unfortunately, there aren't any indications where this photo was taken. There's nothing distinguishing the port.”

She moved on to the next photo. This one showed a jumble of crystals embedded in rock, the facets reflecting the camera's burst of flash powder. The image was marred by the crack through the middle.

“That looks like a geode,” Eric said.

“Yeah,” Murph agreed, “but without anything else in the photo, we can't get a handle on its size. The crystals don't look clear, though, like the quartz crystals in a typical geode. They look darker than that. It could be amethyst.”

“Or they could be green. Lutzen's thesis mentioned that his detection method would rely on crystals of selenium, copper, and uranium, and copper impurities in crystals give them a green hue. The uranium would also explain why the plates are radioactive.”

“Maybe he was collecting gems,” Linc said. “Whatever this is could still be buried in the
Roraima
. Not that I want to go back to look for it.”

Linda snapped to the third plate. Again the image was split by a crack, which bisected the interior of a cavern teeming with stalactites and stalagmites. A tunnel faded into black in the distance.

Juan felt a ray of hope. “Now we're getting somewhere. This narrows down our search area considerably.”

“Why?” Hali asked.

“Because caves like that form only in certain limestone terrains, in what's known as karst topography. It rules out Martinique and any other volcanic island.”

Linda nodded. “Juan's right. The problem is that it still leaves a lot of land to cover. Even if we're limiting ourselves to the Caribbean, it could be anywhere from Puerto Rico to Mexico and up through Florida.”

“I think it's a good chance we're looking at Haiti,” Juan said. “Remember, that's where tram enthusiast Hector Bazin hails from.”

“The last photo might help confirm that,” Linda said.

The final picture showed a flourishing jungle landscape of ridges, hills, and valleys. The same man from the first photo stood in the foreground, this time beaming with a smile, his foot jauntily propped on a rock. He pointed into the shallow gorge behind him where a cave opening yawned. A river wound through the bottom of the gorge.

“I don't mean to be a party pooper,” Juan said, “but how does this photo help us? It shows us the cave entrance, but I don't see anything identifying where this is.”

“The ridge in the background,” Murph said. “See the distinctive outline? Given Lutzen's height—if that
is
him—based on him standing against the
Roraima
, whose size we know, I estimated how far away the ridge is. The river gives us another reference point. The measurements aren't exact, but they're close enough to run a comparison using our worldwide topographical map—you know, the National Reconnaissance Office one that has about ten times greater resolution than NOAA's.”

“I'm sorry I doubted you,” Juan said. “How long will it take?”

“It's been running for a few hours now and should come back with a list of possible hits any minute. Oh, and I decided to start with Haiti. If we don't find any leads there, it will take a lot longer if we have to look in the Dominican Republic, Cuba, and Mexico. At least Florida is out because it's as flat as a day-old beer.”

“All right. Once we know where to look, we'll have to come up with a game plan. Remember, we only have a day left before Kensit puts into play whatever is going to change the world. However, our approach will be tricky because of the neutrino telescope that Eric thinks Lawrence Kensit has developed.”

“Who came up with
that
name?” Murph asked.

“I did,” Eric replied. “Although the existence of neutrinos was first proposed by Wolfgang Pauli in 1930, the particle Lutzen describes in his thesis much earlier is clearly a neutrino. He just didn't have a name for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, great name,” Linc said. “How does it work?”

“As far as I can tell, Lutzen theorized that intercepted neutrinos could be reconstructed to create the state of the place they passed through.”

“Like an X-ray?”

“Yes, but far more advanced. It could show you literally any spot on earth. Not only that but you could also hear what was going on in that space because it would also intercept the air particles that are conveying the sound.”

Murph said, “Think of what the NSA could do with technology like that. Say bye-bye to any secrets.”

Linc scoffed. “You think Kensit actually made this thing? A telescope that can see through walls? And around the world? Has he also cracked the code to warp drive?”

“I know it sounds bizarre,” Juan said, “but imagine explaining the idea of X-rays before they were discovered. We have to go under the assumption that this neutrino telescope exists. Kensit and Bazin have anticipated our every move. They beat us to Jamaica, New York, and Berlin, and they knew exactly where we'd be each time. Kensit could have been watching us type in log-ins and passwords, giving him full access to our communications and computer networks.”

“That's why you had me shut down any external access to our main computer,” Murph said, nodding.

“Right,” Juan said. “In the case of Berlin, Bazin knew where we'd be even though I never breathed a word of it over any line of communication. It's very possible that he's watching and listening to this meeting right now.”

Everyone paused to soak in the likelihood that their privacy was completely gone.

Finally Hali spoke. “Then how can we possibly defeat this guy? He'll know whatever plan we come up with.”

“He's obviously not infallible,” Juan said. “You proved that by foiling his sub plan in Martinique. Eric has a theory why.”

Eric cleared his throat. “I think he only can see one place at a time. It lets him spy on our plans, but if there are multiple situations happening simultaneously, he has to choose what to observe.”

“We have another advantage.” Juan looked each of his officers in the eye. “Our shared history. If we talk in code, relating key information about our upcoming plans using past experiences that only we know between us, he'll never be able to decipher it even if he's listening in. That coupled with Max's idea to wait until the last moment to reveal our tactics gives us a fighting chance against Kensit.”

Murph's tablet computer dinged. “The results are back. We got a couple of hits at more than fifty percent probability but only one that is better than a ninety-five percent match.” Murph tapped on the screen, then groaned when he saw the results.

“What's the matter?” Max asked. “Is it a false lead?”

“No, it's a match. But you're not gonna believe where the cave is.” He took over the main view screen from Linda and put up the map from his tablet.

A yellow dot was superimposed on a satellite image of the area, with the ridge outline in red. Instead of the dot appearing in a green valley, it was planted inside the blue water of a lake.