Dirk looked to his father. “You think Al and the others may be at risk sooner?”
Pitt explained his encounter with Zhou. “Once those charges go off, I expect Bolcke’s forces to execute all the prisoners and hide their remains. Do we have any U.S. forces that can go in solo?”
Dirk shook his head. “Special Ops forces out of the Southern Command are our best bet. They’ve been put on alert but are still ten hours away. Rudi said the only presence nearby he’s been able to find is a Navy ship out in the Pacific headed for the canal.”
After traveling just a short distance across Balboa, Dirk drove up a hill to a large, ornate building that overlooked the port district and the canal. A sign on the manicured lawn proclaiming it the PANAMA CANAL AUTHORITY ADMINISTRATION BUILDING.
“The Authority is responsible for security of the canal and the adjacent Canal Zone,” Summer said. “Rudi says they are our only hope for an immediate response.”
Inside the building, Pitt’s appearance drew stares from the staff and visitors. A receptionist escorted them to the office of the director of Canal Security, a poised man named Madrid who wore a thin mustache. He gave Pitt second and third looks as he introduced himself. “I have been advised of the urgent nature of your visit. Your Vice President is a very persuasive gentleman,” he said, shocked to have received a personal call.
“Lives are at stake, and time is short,” Pitt said.
“I’ll call our nurse, and get you some fresh clothes, while we talk.”
Madrid led them into his office, which had an oversized map of the canal on one wall. A man in fatigues was studying some aerial photographs at a table.
“May I introduce Commander Alvarez. He heads our field security operations and will be leading your rescue operation.”
They joined him at the table, where Pitt described his abduction and the operation at Bolcke’s hidden facility.
“We’ve pulled the Habsburg’s company transit records and have found an odd pattern of canal crossings,” Madrid said.
“Their ships enter at one end,” Pitt said, “and don’t exit the other until days later.”
“Exactly correct.”
“They are delivering purchased or stolen raw ore at the facility and then shipping out the refined product.”
Madrid nodded with a pained look. “The passage of commercial ships through the canal is a tightly controlled operation. They apparently have assistance from the pilots, and perhaps our own locks personnel, to make such transits without attracting attention.”
“There’s a lot of money involved with their product,” Pitt said. “They can afford substantial bribes.”
“Mr. Pitt, can you show us where the facility is located?” Alvarez asked.
Pitt walked to the map and tracked the Panama Canal Railway line that ran near the canal’s eastern edge.
“I can only guess that I caught the rail line somewhere in this area.” He pointed to a remote area off Gatun Lake, about thirty miles from Panama City. “The facility would be somewhere between the canal and the rail line.”
Alvarez rifled through a folder and pulled out a packet of color aerial photographs.
“This would be the approximate region.” He examined each photo closely before passing it around the table. The photos showed swaths of dense jungle that occasionally bordered Gatun Lake. A few pictures showed the Panama Railway line cutting through the jungle, but none gave any sign of Bolcke’s facility. They pored through forty photos as skepticism grew on Madrid’s face.
“Wait a second,” Summer said. “Pass that last photo back.”
Dirk handed her the photograph and she lined it up against another on the table. “Take a look at the jungle in these two pictures.”
The four men craned their necks, seeing a uniform blanket of green jungle flowing across both photos.
Nobody said anything until Pitt slid over a third photograph. “It’s the color,” he said. “It changes.”
“Exactly.” Summer pointed to one of the photos. “There’s a linear seam here where the jungle color seems to turn a bit gray.”
“I see it,” Madrid said.
“It’s the artificial canopies over the facility,” Pitt said. “They’ve faded with age and no longer match the surrounding jungle.”