"And a small metal plate?"
"I have it," said Steiger. "It fell out of your sleeve."
Pitt relaxed against the side of the boat and took another swallow of the steaming coffee. "The cargo cabin is filled with large canisters-stainless steel, judging by the negligible degree of corrosion. What they contain is anybody's guess. There were no markings on them."
"How are they shaped?" asked Giordino.
"Cylindrical."
Steiger looked thoughtful. "I can't imagine what kind of military cargo would call for the protection of stainless-steel canisters."
Then his mind shifted gear and he looked at Pitt piercingly. "What of the crew? Was there any sign of the crew?"
"What's left of them is still strapped in their seats."
Giordino gently pried open one end of the vinyl folder. "The papers may be readable. I think I can separate and dry them back at the cabin."
"Probably the flight plan," said Steiger. "A few of the old die-hard Air Force pilots still prefer that particular type of folder to the newer, plastic ones for holding their paperwork."
"Maybe it will tell us what the crew was doing that far off course."
"I for one hope so," said Steiger. "I want all the facts in hand and the mystery neatly gift wrapped before I drop it on a desk at the Pentagon."
"Ah . . . Steiger."
The colonel looked at Pitt questioningly.
"I hate to bear tidings that will screw up your well-laid plans, but there's more than meets the eye concerning the enigma of Air Force 03-much more."
"We've found the wreck intact, haven't we?" Steiger fought to keep his voice down. He was not to be denied a moment of triumph. "The answers lie only afew yards away. Now it's only a matter of salvaging the remains from the lake. What else is there?"
"A rather unpleasant dilemma none of us counted on."
17
"What dilemma?"
"I'm afraid," Pitt said quietly, "that we also have a murder on our hands."
10
Giordino spread the contents of the folder on the kitchen table. There were six sheets in all. The small aluminum plate Pitt had found in the pocket of the pilot was simmering in a solution Giordino had concocted to bring out the traces of etching in the metal.
Pitt and Steiger stood before a crackling fire and sipped coffee. The fireplace was built of native rock; its heat warmed the entire room.
"You realize the enormous consequences of what you're suggesting?" Steiger asked. "You're conjuring up a serious crime out of thin air, without a shred of evidence. . . ."
"Stick it in your ear," Pitt said. "You act as though I'm accusing the entire United States Air Force of murder. I am accusing no one. Granted, the evidence is circumstantial, but I'll stake my life's savings that a forensic pathologist will bear me out. The skeleton in the cargo hold did not die thirty-four years ago with the original crew."
"How can you be sure?"
"Several items don't jibe. To begin with, our unaccounted-for passenger still has flesh on his bones. The others were stripped clean decades ago. This indicates, to me at least, that he died long after the crash. Also, he was tied hand and foot to the cargo tie-down rings. With a little imagination you could almost envision the earmarks of an old-fashioned gangland slaying."
"You're beginning to wax melodramatic."
"The whole scene reeks of it. One mystery ties illogically to another."
"Okay, let's take what we know to be true," said Steiger. "The aircraft with serial number 75403 exists not where it is supposed to. But nonethe-less it exists.