"Now what?" Casio demanded.
"Now I tell you what happened to the San Marino. And by breakfast I may also be able to tell you who killed your daughter."
FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER SUNRISE, the photoelectric controllers in all of Washington's streetlights closed off their circuits. One by one, separated by no more than a few seconds, the yellow and red rays of the high-pressure sodium lamps faded and died, to wait through the daylight hours until fifteen minutes before sunset, when their light-sensitive controllers would boost them to life again.
Beneath the dimming glow of the streetlights, Sam Emmett could hear the vibration from the early-morning traffic as he walked hurriedly through the utility tunnel. There was no Marine Corps or Secret Service escort. He came alone, as did the others.
The only person he'd met since leaving his car under the Treasury building was the White House guard stationed at the basement door. At the head of the hallway leading to the Situation Room, Emmett was greeted by Alan Mercier.
"You're the last," Mercier informed him.
Emmett checked his watch and noted he was five minutes early.
"Everyone?" he questioned.
"Except for Simmons in Egypt and Lucas, who's giving your speech at Princeton, they're all present."
As he entered, Oates motioned him to a chair beside his, while Dan Fawcett, General Metcalf, CIA chief Martin Brogan and Mercier gathered around the conference table.
"I'm sorry for moving the scheduled meeting up by four hours," Oates began, "but Sam informed me that his investigators have determined how the kidnapping took place." Without further explanation he nodded to the FBI Director.
Emmett passed out folders to each of the men at the table, then rose, moved to a blackboard and took a piece of chalk. Quickly and to precise scale he drew in the river, the grounds of Mount Vernon and the presidential yacht tied to the dock. Then he filled in the detail and labeled specific areas. The completed drawing had a realism about it that suggested a talent for architectural design.
Satisfied finally that each piece of the scene was in its correct place, he turned and faced his audience. "We'll walk through the event chronologically," he explained. "I'll briefly summarize while you gentlemen study the details shown in the report. Some of what I'm about to describe is based on fact and hard evidence. Some is conjecture. We have to fill in the blanks as best we can."
Emmett wrote in a time on the upper left corner of the blackboard.
"1825: The Eagle arrives at Mount Vernon, where the Secret Service has installed its security network and the surveillance begins.
"2015: The President and his guests sit down to dinner. In the same hour, officers and the crew began their meal in the messroom.
The only men on duty were the chef, one assistant and the dining room steward. This fact is important because we feel that it was during dinner that the President, his party, and the ship's crew were drugged."
"Drugged or poisoned?" Oates said, looking up.
"Nothing so drastic as poison," Emmett answered. "A mild drug that induced a gradual state of drowsidess was probably administered in their food by either the chef or the steward who served the table."
"Sounds practical," said Brogan. "It wouldn't do to have bodies dropping all over the decks."
Emmett paused to gather his thoughts. "The Secret Service agent whose post was onboard the yacht the hour before midnight reported the President and Vice President Margolin were the last to retire. Time: 2310."
"That's too early for the President," said Dan Fawcett. "I've seldom known him to be in bed before two in the morning."
"0025: A light mist drifts in from the northeast. Followed at by a heavy fog caused by two Navy surplus fogging generators concealed in the trees one hundred and sixty yards upriver from the Eagle."
"They could blanket the entire area?" Oates asked.
"Under the right atmospheric conditions-in this case, no wind the units left on site by the kinnappers can cover two square acres."
Fawcett looked lost. "My God, this operation must have taken an army."
Emmett shook his head. "Our projections figure it took as few as seven and certainly no more than ten men."
"Surely the Secret Service scouted the woods surrounding Mount Vernon before the President's arrival," said Fawcett. "How did they miss the foggers?"
"The units weren't in place prior to 1700 the night of the abduction," replied Emmett.
"How could the equipment operators see what they were doing in the dark?" Fawcett pressed. "Why weren't their movements and the sound of the generators overheard?"