“Of course,” Pitt said. “I’d forgotten you chair the committee for merchant marine transport.”
Loren nodded and patted her mouth with her napkin. “The last cruise ship to fly the Stars and Stripes was taken out of service in 1984. To many people this is a national disgrace. The President feels strongly that we should be represented in ocean commerce as well as naval defense. He’s asking Congress for a budget outlay of ninety million dollars to restore the S.S. United States,which has been laid up at Norfolk for twenty years, and put her back in service to compete with the foreign cruise lines.”
“And you’re going to study the Russian method of lavishing their passengers with vodka and caviar?”
“That,” she said, looking suddenly official, “and the economics of their government-operated cruise ship.”
“When do you sail?”
“Day after tomorrow. I fly to Miami and board the Leonid Andreyev.I’ll be back in five days. What will you do?”
“The admiral has given me time off to pursue the Pilottowninvestigation.”
“Does any of this information help you?”
“Every bit helps,” he said, straining to focus on a thought that was a distant shadow on the horizon. Then he looked at her. “Have you heard anything through the congressional grapevine?”
“You mean gossip? Like who’s screwing who?”
“Something heavier. Rumors of a missing party high in government or a foreign diplomat.”
Loren shook her head. “No, nothing quite so sinister. The Capitol scene is pretty dull while Congress is in recess. Why? You know of a scandal brewing I don’t?”
“Just asking,” Pitt said noncommittally.
Her hand crept across the table and clasped his. “I have no idea where all this is taking you, but please be careful. Fu Manchu might get wise you’re on his scent and lay in ambush.”
Pitt turned and laughed. “I haven’t read Sax Rohmer since I was a kid. Fu Manchu, the yellow peril. What made you think of him?”
She gave a little shrug. “I don’t really know. A mental association with an old Peter Sellers movie, the Sosan Trading Company and the Korean crew of the Buras,I guess.”
A faraway look came over Pitt’s eyes and then they widened. The thought on the horizon crystallized. He hailed the waiter and paid the bill with a credit card.
“I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls,” he explained briefly. He kissed her lightly on the lips and hurried onto the crowded sidewalk.
32
Pitt quickly drove to the NUMA building and closed himself in his office. He assembled his priorities for several moments and dialed Los Angeles on his private phone line. On the fifth ring a girl answered who couldn’t pronounce her r’s.
“Casio and Associates Investigatahs.”
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Casio, please.”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“My name is Pitt.”
“He’s with a client. Can you call back?”
“No!” Pitt growled menacingly. “I’m calling from Washington and it’s urgent.”
Suitably intimidated, the receptionist replied, “One moment.”
Casio came on the line almost immediately. “Mr. Pitt. Good to hear from you.”
“Sorry to interrupt your meeting,” said Pitt, “but I need a few answers.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“What do you know about the crew of the San Marino?”
“Not much. I ran a make on the officers, but nothing unusual turned up. They were all professional merchant mariners. The captain, as I recall, had a very respectable record.”
“No ties to any kind of organized crime?”
“Nothing that came to light in the computers of the National Crime Information Center.”
“How about the rest of the crew?”
“Not much there. Only a few had maritime union records.”
“Nationality?” Pitt asked.
“Nationality?” Casio repeated, thought a moment, then said, “A mixture. A few Greek, a few Americans, several Koreans.”
“Koreans?” Pitt came back, suddenly alert. “There were Koreans on board?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Now that you mention it, as I remember, a group of about ten signed on just before the San Marinosailed.”
“Would it be possible to trace the ships and companies they served prior to the San Marino?”
“You’re going back a long time, but the files should be available.”
“Could you throw in the history of the Pilottown’screw as well?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“What are you after exactly?” Casio asked.
“Should be obvious to you.”
“A link between the crew and our unknown parent company, is that it?”
“Close enough.”
“You’re going back before the ship disappeared,” said Casio thoughtfully.
“The most practical way to take over a ship is by the crew.”
“I thought mutiny went out with the Bounty.”
“The modern term is hijacking.”
“You’ve got a good hunch going,” said Casio. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Casio.”
“We’ve danced enough to know each other. Call me Sal.”
“Okay, Sal, and make it Dirk.”
“I’ll do that,” Casio said seriously. “Goodbye.”
After he hung up, Pitt leaned back and put his feet on the desk. He felt good, optimistic that a vague instinct was about to pay off. Now he was about to try another long shot, one that was so crazy he almost felt foolish for pursuing it. He copied a number out of the National University Directory and called it.
“University of Pennsylvania, Department of Anthropology.”
“May I speak to Dr. Grace Perth?”
“Just a sec.”
“Thank you.”
Pitt waited for nearly two minutes before a motherly voice said, “Hello.”
“Dr. Perth?”
“Speaking.”
“My name is Dirk Pitt and I’m with the National Underwater and Marine Agency. Have you got a moment to answer a couple of academic questions for me?”
“What do you wish to know, Mr. Pitt?” Dr. Perth asked sweetly.
Pitt tried to picture her in his mind. His initial image was that of a prim, white-haired lady in a tweed suit. He erased it as a stereotype.
“If we take a male between the ages of thirty and forty, of medium height and weight, who was a native of Peking, China, and another male of the same description from Seoul, South Korea, how could we tell them apart?”
“You’re not doing a number on me, are you, Mr. Pitt?”
Pitt laughed. “No, Doctor, I’m quite serious,” he assured her.
“Hmmm, Chinese versus Korean,” she muttered while thinking. “By and large, people of Korean ancestry tend to be more classic, or extreme, Mongoloid. Chinese features, on the other hand, lean more generally to Asian. But I wouldn’t want to make my living guessing which was which, because the overlap is so great. It would be far simpler to judge them by their clothes or behavior, or the way they cut their hair — in short, their cultural characteristics.”
“I thought they might have certain racial features that could separate them, such as you find between Chinese and Japanese.”
“Well now, here the genetic spread is more obvious. If your Oriental male has a fairly dense beard growth, you’d have a rather strong indication that he’s Japanese. But in the case of China and Korea, you’re dealing with two racial groups that have intermixed for centuries, so much so that the individual variations would tend to blur out any distinction.”
“You make it sound hopeless.”
“Awfully difficult, maybe, but not hopeless,” Dr. Perth said. “A series of laboratory tests could raise your probability factor.”