"I think not. No man in history has accumulated as much wealth. He did not accomplish this out of ignorance. Soon you will come to believe that he can also wield absolute control over your government and its economy." Kamatori paused, and his eyes turned down, gazing at the rounded flesh of Loren's breasts that were pressing against the upper folds of the kimono. "In view of the coming transition, you might do well to consider a new turn of loyalty."
Loren could not believe she was hearing such gibberish. "If anything happens to Senator Diaz or me, you and Mr. Suma will suffer. The President and Congress will not stand by and do nothing while we're held hostage."
"Moslem terrorists have been taking American hostages for years and you do nothing." Kamatori's eyes showed amusement. "Your President was informed within an hour of your disappearance, and was told who was responsible. Trust what I say. He has ordered that no rescue attempt be made and no word be leaked to the news media. Your aides, relatives, and fellow congressmen-- none are aware that you were flown secretly to Japan."
"You're lying. My friends wouldn't keep quiet."
"By friends, do you mean Dirk Pitt and Alfred Giordino?"
Loren's mind was in a ferment. She was teetering off balance. "You know of them?"
"Yes, they meddled in affairs that were not their concern and had an accident."
"Were they injured?" she stammered.
"I don't know, but it's safe to say they did not escape unscathed."
Loren's lips trembled. She searched for something to say. "Why me? Why Senator Diaz?"
"You and the senator are mere pawns in a strategic game of economic power," Kamatori continued.
"So do not expect deliverance until
Mr. Suma permits it. An assault by your Special Forces would be a wasted effort, because your intelligence agencies haven't the slightest clue to your whereabouts. And if they did, there is no way for an army to penetrate our defenses. In any case, you and the Senator will be free and on a flight to Washington the day after tomorrow."
The bewilderment in Loren's eyes was what Kamatori hoped for. He removed his hands from the wide sleeves of his yukata, reached out suddenly, and pulled Loren's kimono down around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.
Kamatori smiled sadistically. "I'll do everything at my command to make your short stay enjoyable.
Perhaps I might even give you a lesson on how women should defer to men."
Then he turned and gave two heavy raps on the door. It opened from the outside by an unseen guard, and Kamatori was gone, leaving little doubt in Loren's mind of what was in store for her before she would be released.
"There she is," said Mel Penner as he yanked the cover off a large table with the flourish of a magician, revealing a three-dimensional model of an island surrounded by a blue plaster-of-paris sea and inlaid with tiny trees and buildings. "Soseki Island, known in the past as Ajima,
"You did a marvelous job," Stacy complimented Penner. "It looks so real."
"I'm an old model railroad buff," said the Director of Field Operations proudly. "My hobby is building dioramas."
Weatherhill leaned over the table examining the steep realistic cliffs rising from the sea. "What's its size?"
"Fourteen kilometers long by five at its widest point. About the same configuration as San Miguel, one of the channel islands off the coast of California."
Penner pulled a blue bandanna from a hip pocket and dabbed at the sweat rolling down his temples.
The air conditioner kept a comfortable temperature inside the small building, not much larger than a hut actually, that stood in the sand of a beach on Koror Island in Palau, but the 98 percent humidity could not be overcome.
Stacy, dressed in snug shorts and a halter top, walked around the table staring at Penner's exacting model. The rocky crags spanned by miniature Oriental bridges and the twisted pine trees gave the island a mystical quality. "It must be. . . " She hesitated, groping for the right description. "Heavenly," she said finally.
"Hardly the word that leaps to mind," Pitt muttered while swilling a glass half filled with tequila, lime, and ice from a bottle he'd carried from Washington. He wore swimming trunks and a NUMA T-shirt.
His long tan legs were propped on the back of the chair in front of him, his feet in leather sandals. "A garden spot on the outside, maybe, but with a monster lurking inside."
"You think Suma's nuclear arsenal and detonation control center is under the island?" asked Frank Mancuso, who was the last of the five team members to arrive at the South Pacific Information Gathering and Collection Point.
Penner nodded. "We're sure of it."