Poseidon's Arrow (Dirk Pitt 22)

They found Gunn and Yaeger parked in front of a wall-sized video screen, examining satellite photos of an empty sea. With bedraggled hair and circles under their eyes, both looked as if they hadn’t slept in days. But the men perked up at the sight of Pitt’s children. “Glad to have you back,” Gunn said. “You gave us quite a scare when your submersible went missing.”

Summer smiled. “Us, too.”

“I thought we were going to have to sedate Rudi,” Yaeger said. “Your leg okay, Summer?”

“Just fine. I think the coach seat from Johannesburg was more painful than the bends.” She eyed a collection of dirty coffee cups on the table before breaking the mood. “What’s the latest on Dad and Al?”

Both men turned grim. “Unfortunately, there’s not much to report,” Gunn said. He described Pitt’s mission of protecting the ore carrier, while Yaeger dialed up a map of the eastern Pacific.

“They boarded the Adelaide about a thousand miles southeast of Hawaii,” Yaeger said. “A Navy frigate on exercise out of San Diego was scheduled to meet them when they neared the coast and escort them to Long Beach. The Adelaide never appeared.”

“Any sign of debris?” Dirk asked.

“No,” Gunn said. “We’ve had search-and-rescue craft from Hawaii and the mainland overflying the area for days. The Navy has dispatched two vessels to the scene, and the Air Force has even sent in some long-range reconnaissance drones. They’ve all come up empty.”

Dirk noted a white horizontal line beginning at the left edge of the screen that ended when it intersected a red line from Hawaii. “Is that the Adelaide’s track?”

“Her AIS beacon provided her track to that point shortly after your dad and the SWAT team went aboard,” Yaeger said. “After that, the AIS signal went dead.”

“So she sank?” Summer asked, her voice breaking.

“Not necessarily,” Gunn said. “She could have simply disengaged the tracking system, which would be an obvious move after a hijacking.”

“We’ve drawn a couple of big circles around her last reported position to see where she could have gone.” Yaeger replaced the ocean map with a split screen of two satellite ocean photos. At the bottom was overlaid a stock photo of a large green bulk carrier labeled Adelaide. “We’re looking at coastal satellite photos to see if she might have popped up somewhere.”

“Hiram has accessed every public and not-so-public source of satellite reconnaissance. Unfortunately, the point of disappearance is smack in the middle of a large dead zone in satellite coverage, so we’re jumping to the coastlines.”

“North, South, and Central America, for starters.” Yaeger stifled a yawn. “Should keep us busy till Christmas.”

“How can we help?” Summer asked.

“We’ve got satellite images for most of the major West Coast ports from the past four days. I’ll divvy them up and see if anyone can spot a ship resembling the Adelaide.”

Yaeger set up two laptops and downloaded the images. Everyone went to work, scouring the photos for a large green cargo ship. They worked all through the day, studying image after image, until their eyes burned. Yet hopes were raised as they pegged eleven ships from the sometimes fuzzy and obscured photos that appeared to fit the Adelaide’s profile.

“Three in Long Beach, two in Manzanillo, four to the Panama Canal, and one each to San Antonio, Chile, and Puerto Caldera, Costa Rica,” Yaeger said.

“I can’t imagine any of the Long Beach vessels would be ours,” Dirk said, “unless they ran to another port to off-load first.”

Gunn looked at his watch. “It’s still early out west. How about we break for dinner? When we reconvene, we can begin calling the port authorities at each location. They should be able to confirm if the Adelaide cleared their local facilities.”

/> “Good thought,” Dirk said, standing and stretching. “I’ve run out of gas on a diet of airline food and coffee.”

“Just a second,” Summer said. “Before we break, I need a quick favor from Hiram, and then I’ll need your help in making a delivery.” She picked up her travel pack, which clinked with the sound of bottles inside.

“I’m pretty hungry. Can we grab a bite on the way?”

“Where we’re headed,” she said, “I can positively guarantee there will be something good to eat.”

53

THE PACKARD ROARED OUT OF THE PARKING garage and skirted past a white van at the edge of the outside lot before merging into the evening rush-hour traffic. Dirk crossed into Georgetown as an evening breeze tousled Summer’s hair in the open car. Turning down a shady residential street filled with elegant homes, Dirk stopped in front of a former carriage house that ages ago had been transformed into a courtly freestanding residence.

They had barely rung the bell when the front door was thrown open by a gargantuan man sporting an overflowing gray beard. St. Julien Perlmutter’s eyes twinkled as he greeted Dirk and Summer and invited them inside.

“I nearly ate without you,” he said.

“You were expecting us?” Dirk asked.