“What about a submarine?” asked Turbee, going back to one of his original ideas.
Dan interrupted. “Listen Turb. Now you’ve become completely ridiculous. What next? A transporter beam, maybe? Alien conspiracy?” he asked sarcastically.
“Nevermind those things,” interrupted Rhodes. “From everything that we now know, we need to keep watching that ship. We’ve seen a lot of engineering excellence so far. A sub might not be out of the question, Dan. And when the ship arrives in Vancouver, she should be searched from end to end. Again.”
“Again?” asked Dan.
“Yes, again,” said Rhodes. “If our Canadian friends would consent to such a process, given the twisted history of this ship.”
The room was silent for a few seconds as everyone studied the three photographs that Turbee, with Kingston’s assistance, had developed. There was no mistaking it. No fuzziness lending itself to argument or contrary point of view. It was Semtex. A pallet full, being moved from the Mankial Star to the Haramosh Star.
“There are only two possibilities,” said Turbee. “Only two. Either the Semtex is still on the Haramosh Star, or it’s been off-loaded at some point.”
“Looks like the SEALs missed it after all,” said Rhodes.
“Well assuming that Turbee’s right — which I’m not admitting, yet, but assuming maybe he is — it could have been off-loaded before the SEALs got to the ship, in which case they didn’t miss it,” argued Dan.
“No way could it have been off-loaded between the Maldives and the east coast of Ceylon, where the intercept took place. We have satellites focused on that area and would have photos of it happening,” Rahlson answered. “It was still on the ship. The SEALs missed it.”
“Damn right they did,” said George. “And in the process, made us an international laughing stock, almost got the President impeached, got the Secretary of Defense fired, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs too, and double dammit, almost got Turbee here killed.” He chucked a thumb toward the still wounded and bandaged Turbee.
“We need to find the Haramosh Star again,” sighed Rhodes.
Dan swelled defensively. “If you think I’m going to be party to a move like that you’re nuts. No way. And I’m the guy running the show. No way,” he snapped. He was no longer trying to get along with his crew.
“Aw fuck, Alexander will you—” started Rahlson.
“I already know where she is,” Turbee interrupted.
“Who?” retorted Dan.
“The Haramosh Star. She’s sailing along the Hecate Straights, between the Queen Charlotte Islands and the British Columbia mainland. She’ll be in the port of Vancouver in 17 hours and 30 minutes.”
“You see, Dan, that’s why we need this kid,” said Rahlson, with an edge in his voice.
“How’d you do that, Turb?” asked Khasha in amazement.
“Well, I read somewhere that the Canadian Coast Guard tracks all Pacific ships destined for either Prince Rupert or Vancouver. I got into their web site. Didn’t even need to hack into it or do anything illegal because Canada is on board with TTIC. They have a continually updated database that shows the present location of all inbound ships. The Haramosh Star is in the database, and…” His voice trailed off for a few seconds.
“What is it, Turbee?” asked Khasha.
“There’s a note here about the course deviation. It doesn’t say where, or how, or why. It just says there was a deviation,” said Turbee, slowly. “It also indicates that the Haramosh Star was boarded by a Captain LaMaitre. We should probably talk to him.”
“Yes, I guess so,” muttered Dan. “Johnson, god dammit, get me someone in the Canadian Coast Guard who knows more about this. And make it fast.”
“This is Captain Jean Lamaitre from the bridge of the HMS John A. MacDonald. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Daniel Alexander, Director of the Terrorist Threat Integration Center in Washington, DC. You are on the speakerphone in our central control room. There are some two dozen TTIC members listening to this conversation.”
“Very nice. Good morning, TTIC. I gather you need some information from us.”
“Yes, Captain, we do,” replied Dan. “We certainly do. We need to know about the course deviation of the Haramosh Star. What can you tell us about that?”
“An ill-fated vessel, to be sure,” said LaMaitre. “First that delightful incident off the coast of Ceylon, and now this. Yes, the Haramosh Star was plenty off course all right. So far off that I boarded the vessel with a small group of my men and had a look around. Those SEALs made quite a mess of things, by the way.”
“OK,” said George. “This is George Lexia, with TTIC. I’m the map keeper here. Can you tell me where she should have been, and where she actually was?”
“Sure. She should have taken a great circular route, the same as jet planes would, going north from the Philippines, turning to cut just south of the Aleutians, and then straight on, to approach British Columbia from the northwest. Let me give you a few coordinates.”
As the points of latitude and longitude were given, George plotted them on the Atlas Screen, and created a red curve connecting them. He sent an “I told you so” smirk in Dan’s direction. “OK,” he said, sitting back. “I’ve got it plotted. Now where did you board her?”
“Just outside of Prince Rupert. North of Dundas Island.” The Captain gave George those coordinates as well.
“I see what you mean,” said George. “She’s 200 miles east of where she should have been. What did her Captain say about that?” At this point George actually mouthed the phrase “I told you so” at a red-faced Dan.
“I knew the Captain of that ship from other encounters. Vince Ramballa. Decent guy. Very experienced sea hand. He said that he’d become confused about their point of destination. He thought it was Prince Rupert, and not Vancouver. When I looked at the papers, they stated very clearly that Vancouver was the destination. He said that the SEAL episode two weeks ago had created havoc on his ship, and that was where the confusion stemmed from. So I told him it was fine, and ordered him to hightail it to Vancouver, which he’s currently doing. Funny thing, though.”
“What’s that?” asked Rhodes.
“Even if she was going to Prince Rupert, she would still have been off course. They were about ten miles northeast of Dundas Island, near the mouth of the Portland Canal, whereas they should have been about 12 miles south of Dundas, to approach Prince Rupert. An experienced sailor would never make a mistake like that.”
“Did he say why he was off course for an intended destination of Prince Rupert?” Rhodes responded.
“I never pointed that part out. Didn’t occur to me until I was back in my own quarters.”
“What’s at the end of the Portland Canal?” George asked slowly, tapping his pencil on the desk as he stared at the map.
“A mostly abandoned mining and fishing village called Stewart,” came the reply.
“Are there docking facilities there?”
“Yes, in fact there are. It used to be quite a mining hub, so they have infrastructure left over. Hundreds of feet of abandoned docks. Just the odd fishing boat hooked up to them now, though.”
“OK, thanks,” said George. He and Turbee glanced at each other. As far as they were concerned, that answered the question of where the Semtex was.