"You're driving in circles," said Hollis in aggravation. "Make sense."
"Nothing complicated: The Lady Flamborough didn't enter the Antarctic."
"Didn't enter the Antarctic," repeated Hollis mechanically. "Face the facts, man. The last satellite photo of the ship showed her halfway between Cape Horn and the tip of the peninsula, steaming hell-bent to the south."
"She had no place else to go," protested Dillenger.
Pitt tapped a finger on the ragged mass of islands scattered around the Straits of Magellan. "Want to bet?"
Hollis stood frowning, baffled for a moment. And then he caught on. His confusion vanished and total understanding beamed in his eyes. "She doubled back," he said flatly.
"Rudi had the key," Pitt acknowledged. "The hijackers weren't about to commit suicide, nor were they going to risk detection by infrared photos. They never had any intention of heading into the ice pack.
Instead, they cut northwest and skirted the barren islands above Cape Horn."
Gunn looked relieved. "The temperatures are not nearly as severe around Tierra del Fuego. Everyone on board would be damned uncomfortable without warmth, but they'd survive."
"Then why the iceberg scam?" queried Giordino.
"To appear as if they calved from a glacier."
"Calved, like in cow?"
"Calving is the breaking away of an ice mass from an ice front or wall,"
Gunn clarified.
Giordino stared down at the infrared photo. "Glaciers this far north?"
"Several flow down the mountains and meet the sea within eight hundred kilometers from where we're docked here in Punta Arenas," replied Pitt.
"Where do you'reckon she is?" Hollis asked.
Pitt took a chart showing the desolate fringe islands west of Tierra del Fuego. "Two possibilities within the Lady Flamborough's sailing range since she was last spotted by satellite." He paused to place an X beside two names on the chart. "Directly south of here, glaciers flow from Mounts Italia and S ento."
Hollis said, "They're off the beaten track all right."
"But too close to the oil fields," said Pitt. "A low-flying oil-company survey plane might notice the phony ice cover.
Me, if I was calling the plays for the hijackers, I'd head another hundred and sixty kilometers northwest. Which would put them near a glacier on Santa Inez Island."
Dillenger studied the small island's irregular shoreline on the chart for a moment. He glanced at the colored photograph, but the southern foot of Chile was blotted by clouds. He pushed it aside and peered through the magnifying glass at the upper half of the infrared image Pitt had folded to condense the search region.
After a few seconds he looked up in wonder and delight. "Unless Mother Nature makes icebergs with a pointed bow and a rounded stern, I think we've found our phantom ship."
Hollis took the glass from his subordinate and examined the tiny oblong shape. "It's the right contour all right. And as Pitt said, there's no sign of heat radiation. She's reading almost as cold as the glacier.
Not quite pure black, but a very dark blue."
Gunn leaned in. "Yes, I see. The glacier flows into a fjord that empties in a bay crowded with small islands. One or two medium-size bergs, broken from the glacial wall. No more. The water is reasonably free of ice." He paused, a curious expression in the eyes behind the glasses. "I wonder how they moored the Lady Flamborough directly under the glacier's forward wall."
Pitts eyes narrowed. "Let me have a look." He squeezed between Dillenger and Gunn, bent over and gazed through the powerful glass.
After a time he straightened, his face clouded with a rising anger.
"What do you see?" asked Captain Stewart.
"They mean for every one to die."
Stewart looked at the others, puzzled. "How does he know?"
"When an ice slab fractures off the glacier and falls on the ship,"
Giordino said stonily, "she'll be shoved under the water and mashed into the bottom. No trace of her would ever be found."
Dillenger gave Pitt a hard look. "After all the lost opportunities, do you think they finally intend to murder the crew and passengers?"
"I do."
"Why not before now?"
"The myriad of deceptions was a stall for time. Whoever ordered the hijacking had reasons for keeping Presidents Hasan and De Lorenzo alive.
I can't tell you why-"
"I can," said Hollis. "Akhmad Yazid is the instigator. He planned to take control of Egypt soon after it was announced that President Hasan and U.N. SecretaryGeneral Hala Kamil were abducted and presumed killed by unknown terrorists at sea. After he and his close supporters established a solid power base, he would claim his agents had found the ship, and then act the benevolent man of God and negotiate the hostages'
release."
"Crafty bastard," murmured Giordino. "A Nobel Peace Prize candidate for sure if he saved President De Lorenzo and Senator Pitt as a bonus."
"Naturally, Yazid would see that Hasan and Kamil met with an unfortunate accident on their return to Egypt."
"And he'd still come out pure as the driven snow," Giordino grunted.
"A grand sting," admitted Pitt. "Yet, according to the latest news reports, the military has remained neutral, and Hasan's cabinet has refused to resign and fold the present government.
Hollis nodded. "Yes, throwing Yazid's carefully calculated schedule out the window."
"So he's plotted himself into a corner," said Pitt. "End of stalling tactics, end of masquerades; this time around he has to send the Lady Flamborough into oblivion, or face the very real threat of intelligence sources ferreting out his role in the operation. "
"A theory with no leaks," agreed Hollis.
"So while we stand here the hijack leader is playing Russian Roulette with the glacier," said Gunn in a low voice. "He and his terrorist tewn may have already abandoned the ship and escaped by boat or helicopter, leaving the crew and passengers confined below, helpless."
"Could be we've missed the boat," Dillenger speculated somberly.
Hollis didn't see it that way. He scribbled a number on a slip of paper and handed it to Stewart. "Captain, please signal my communications officer on this frequency. Tell him the Major and I are returning to the airfield and to assemble the men for an immediate briefing."
"We'd like to go along," said Pitt with quiet determination. Hollis shook his head. "No way. You're civilians. You've had no assault training. Your request is out of line."
"My father is on that ship."
"I'm sorry," he said, but didn't sound it. "WMark it off to tough luck."
Pitt looked at Hollis, and his eyes were very cold. "One call to Washington and I could queer your entire service career."
Hollis's mouth tightened. "You get your kicks making threats, Mr.
Pitt?" He took a step forward. "We're not playing touch football here.
A lot of bodies are going to mess the decks of that ship in the next twelve hours. If my men and I do our jobs the way we've been trained, a thousand phone calls to the White House and Congress won't make a damn."
He took another step toward Pitt. "I know more rotten tricks than you'd learn in a lifetime. I could tear you to shreds with my bare hands '
No one in the room saw the movement, saw where it came from. One instant Pitt was standing casually with his arms at his sides, the next he was pressing the muzzle of a Colt forty-five-caliber automatic into Hollis's groin.
Dillenger crouched as if ready to spring. That was as far as he got.
Giordino came from behind and pinned the Major's arms to his sides in a bear hug that clamped like a steel trap.
"I won't bore you with our credentials," Pitt said calmly. "Take my word. Rudi, Al and I have enough experience to hold our own in a shooting war. I promise we won't interfere. I presume you'll lead your Special Operations Forces against the Lady Flamborough in a combined air and sea assault. We'll stay out of your way and follow from the land side."