"I am in the lobby and will be up directly," a cold voice said. "What is your room number?"
The courier hung up as soon as Holtz replied.
Holtz looked at Dietz. "The courier is on his way up." Several minutes later a soft rap on the door was heard and Holtz rose from the couch to answer. The man at the door stood almost six feet tall; his black hair was cut close to the sides of his head, and his eyes were almond shaped and dark brown. He moved furtively, his motions concealing a certain danger. He did not bother to attempt any small talk.
After an uneasy pause Holtz introduced himself.
"My name's Chou Tsing," he said coldly. "Now where are the documents?" Holtz walked to the wet bar and retrieved a briefcase that was stored underneath. Returning to the sitting room, he opened the case. The bundle recovered from the Windforce was still wrapped in oilskin, covered in black rubber, and sealed in tape. Dietz handed Tsing another small packet. "These are instant photos we took. They show where we found the papers in the sailboat," he said as he handed over the packet.
"Good," Tsing replied. "You and your crew are to meet at Logan Airport this afternoon at five. You are being flown to Nova Scotia."
Dietz looked surprised. "Who will crew the Deep Search if we leave?"
"We have another crew flying in to take care of the ship," Tsing said quietly. "You and your crew are needed in Canada. We have another assignment for you."
"The sailboat is still inside the recovery bay," Holtz said.
"The other crew will handle the removal of the sailboat," Tsing said easily. Holtz looked at Dietz before speaking. "Will the same wages be paid for this assignment?"
"Yes, the same wages and bonus will be in effect," Tsing said coldly. Holtz glanced away. For a moment he saw the home on the Outer Banks he had dreamed of so often. This next job would give him the down payment.
"That's fine," Holtz said. "If you have another job for us, my crew will be at the airport at five."
Tsing closed the briefcase, then left the room without a goodbye. Holtz and Dietz quietly resumed watching the game. They still had a couple of hours to wait before leaving for the airport.
A few hours left to live.
"What do you think we'll be looking for next?" Dietz asked Holtz.
"I don't know, but all this secrecy is a bit unnerving," said Holtz. Bigger forces were at work, but they had no way of knowing that. They would take their secrets to the grave.
CHAPTER 22
The Deep Search remained deathly quiet all afternoon. Taft and Martinez spent the time studying the blueprints, waiting for the dock to clear. Near five in the afternoon Taft and Martinez watched two seamen from the Deep Search leave the vessel, lock the hatches, and pull in the gangplank. Jumping down to the dock, the two sailors gave the mooring lines one last check and then walked down the pier toward the city. Taft tossed Martinez a portable radio and set off after the pair. Ambling slowly along, appearing to be without purpose, he followed the sailors toward the main road outside the port. Near the port terminal the pair stopped. Taft moved closer and noticed the men were standing below a pick-up sign for the local bus service.
The strong smell of fish assailed his nostrils as he crept behind a rack holding fishing nets to continue his surveillance. The sun was behind Taft as he shooed several cats out of the way and crouched down to radio Martinez. "Yoo-hoo. It's me." "Yeah?"
"They're waiting for the bus. Can you have them followed?" Taft whispered.
"Affirmative. I'll get someone on it right away," Martinez answered. Taft placed the radio back in his pocket and sat back on a pile of nets. After a short wait he noticed a bus heading down the hill trailing diesel smoke. The seamen lifted their duffel bags in anticipation and shuffled from foot to foot. Taft walked from behind the nets and started down the sidewalk below the bus stop. He continued down the hill with his back to the bus, listening carefully.
Hearing the bus slow then stop, Taft waited until the sound of the engine grew louder. When he sensed the bus was just behind him, he turned to read the bus destination tag on the sign above the driver then turned back quickly. The glance was too short for anyone to identify him but long enough for him to read the sign on the bus. It read: Airport/Center. As soon as the bus was out of sight, he raced back to the pier.
"The front of the bus said Airport/Center," Taft said to Martinez.
"I have a couple of Boston policemen following in an unmarked car," Martinez said. He looked at Taft with anticipation.
"Shall we get this show on the road?"
"Sounds about right," Taft said as he led the way to Martinez's rental car. From the trunk of the car, Taft removed a shoulder holster containing a laser-sighted 9
mm Browning and strapped it across his chest. Reaching into a duffel bag, he removed, then zipped up a lightweight bulletproof jacket and grabbed one out of the trunk for Martinez.
"Body armor. How thoughtful of you."
Martinez zipped up the jacket without a word. A dramatic change had come over both men. The intrigue of the chase now past, it was time for the dirty work. The two stood for a few minutes in silence.
Martinez quietly looked over at Taft; his eyes seemed to be burning with a lowintensity glow. Waves of heat were flowing from his body as if his mental and physical functions were supercharged.
"Show time," Taft said.
Racing down the dock followed by Martinez, they came to the Deep Search tied fast to the pier.
"Move fast … don't get hurt … here we go," Taft said. In a single leap he jumped the short distance from the dock to the deck of the Deep Search then shot a hole in the lock on the main cabin door with his pistol. Twisting the broken pieces, he tossed them to the side and opened the door.
Followed closely behind by Martinez, Taft ran up a passageway through the ship. The pair entered the wheelhouse first. Finding it empty, Taft silently signaled for Martinez to follow. Moving cautiously, still expecting to be confronted, the men climbed down a ladder and entered the recovery bay.
Suddenly in the hold there was a loud creaking sound that made both men jump. Taft headed for the bulkhead, which the blueprints had shown housed the light switches. He flicked the breakers on. The bay was instantly illuminated by the bright fluorescent lighting.
And then, frozen in place, both men stared at the center of the recovery bay in stunned silence.
Slung from the ceiling was a sailboat minus its stern. It was dripping water into a small puddle on the deck. As the harbor waves rocked the Deep Search in its slip, so it did the sailboat riding in the sling like a joey in a kangaroo's pouch.
"The Windforce," Martinez said finally.
"I'd have to agree," Taft said quietly.
Taft and Martinez began to search the recovery bay. They immediately found the skeletal remains of Ivar Halversen stacked like cordwood in a corner. The pile was three feet long and crowned with his skull. The bizarre sight brought a shiver to both men's spines.
"The report said Windforce sank on its way to be scrapped. Those bones must belong to the captain hired to deliver her," Martinez said.
"The rear quarter is caved in," Taft noted. "I doubt she sank in a storm." Taft walked to the winch and began to lower the sailboat. When the Windforce dropped to a level at which he could enter, he slammed the lever to stop the winches. Entering the sailboat by leaping over the side, he immediately noticed the spot where the interior planks had been removed and carelessly tossed into a pile on the berth. It looked as though the searchers had tried several spots before finding what they were looking for. The entire cabin of Einstein's former sailboat was a mess. Taft dug through the boards but could not find anything remotely tied to the theory. Climbing over the side of the Windforce, he yelled to Martinez, who was searching through the pile of Halversen's bones for any clues.