Poseidon's Arrow

“Search-and-rescue teams still haven’t found a thing. The Navy’s calling off their efforts today.” He looked at Sandecker and waited for him to react.

He wasn’t disappointed. The Vice President’s face turned red, and he marched to his desk and buzzed his secretary. “Martha. Get me the Chief of Naval Operations on the line.”

A few seconds later, he was chewing out an admiral who had previously outranked him. He slammed down the receiver and returned to the table. “The Navy’s search has been extended three more days.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

“What about that ship you told me about?” Sandecker asked.

“The Salzburg?” Gu

“What’s the co

“Mostly circumstantial,” Gu

“We know the feeling,” Meyers said.

“Sorry?” Gu

“Rudi,” Sandecker explained, “before Pitt disappeared, he was involved in the recovery of some highly classified plans related to a submarine project called Sea Arrow.”

“The Sea Arrow. Isn’t that a concept for a high-speed attack sub?”

“There is nothing conceptual about it. At least there wasn’t until now.”

“I’m guessing,” Gu

“Exactly,” Sandecker said. “Only things have escalated into a full-blown national security disaster. Elizabeth, why don’t you fill him in?”

The FBI woman cleared her throat. “I should caution you this is classified information. Four days ago, an advanced propulsion motor built for the Sea Arrow was hijacked during transport from the Navy’s research lab at Chesapeake, Maryland.”

“Is that why a recent Homeland Security alert was issued?” Gu

“It was,” Meyers said. “Our agency has been working around the clock, examining every airport, shipping terminal, and truck stop in the country. I can’t begin to tell you the amount of resources assigned to the case.”

“And still no leads?” Sandecker asked.

“Plenty that have been false or dead ends. The best we have is a description of a Latino male who purchased a derelict Toyota, which was later involved in the hijacking. Beyond that, we’re still grasping for clues.”

“Do you think it’s still in the country?” Gu

“We’d like to think so,” Meyers said, uncertainty evident in her voice.

“That’s part of the reason you’re here, Rudi,” Sandecker said. “The FBI’s looking at all available resources and would like the NUMA fleet to help. Since your ships are often stationed in out-of-the-way places, they want to be made aware of any unusual behavior that might be seen concerning domestic shipping.”

“We’ve made the same request to the Navy, Coast Guard, and some of the major port operators,” Meyers added.

“Absolutely,” Gu

Sandecker turned to Fowler. “Dan, do you have anything to add?”

“No, sir. Just that we’ve confirmed that A

“A

“Yes, and we fear the worst,” Meyers said. “She’s been missing for five days now.”

Gu

“She’s still alive?” Fowler asked.

“Yes. It was a cryptic e-mail we received at NUMA. It must have been a warning or a plea for help. We don’t understand the full text, but I think part of it indicates she was abducted with the Sea Arrow motor.”

Meyers stiffened in her chair. “I’ll get the local field office mobilized.”

Fowler looked blankly at the Vice President. “Why Lexington, Kentucky?”

“Perhaps a local airfield that’s friendly to the thieves.”

“They could still be in transit,” Meyers said. “Perhaps they were on their way to the West Coast or Mexico.”

“Looks like you have your work cut out for you, Elizabeth,” Sandecker said. “All right, let’s get after it. I’ll want an update, same time tomorrow.”

The Vice President’s visitors rose to leave. As they walked to the door, Meyers approached Gu

“Of course,” Gu

61

THE CABIN DOOR BURST OPEN WITH A BANG. ANN was sitting atop a corner writing desk, peering out a small porthole at the sea rushing by. She had spent most of the journey perched there. Aside from an early bout of seasickness after leaving the Mississippi Delta, the trip had been a voyage of tedium. Her only excitement was the two meals a day brought by an ugly bald man who she presumed was the ship’s cook.

From her hours of staring out the starboard port, she had determined they were sailing south. Guessing their speed was somewhere between fifteen and twenty knots, she figured that put them roughly a thousand miles south of New Orleans by the second day. Her southern geography wasn’t that great, but she figured they weren’t far off Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula.

She hadn’t seen Pablo since coming aboard but had braced herself for his appearance. When the door sprang open, she knew it was him. He plodded into the cabin and slammed the door behind him. He appeared more relaxed than A

“Miss me?” he asked, gri

A

“Where are we headed?” she replied, hoping to redirect his thoughts.

“Somewhere hot and steamy.”

“Colombia?”

Pablo cocked his head, surprised that she knew—or guessed—his nationality.

“No, but perhaps after we make our delivery the two of us can fly to Bogotá for a long romantic weekend.”

He moved closer to the edge of the desk.

“When will the delivery occur?”

“Always the questions.” He leaned over to plant a slobbery kiss on her face.

A

A

“I knew you were a wildcat underneath,” he said.

“I don’t like being caged like one.” She held up her cuffed wrists. “Why don’t you take these off first?”

“Both wild and smart,” he said. “No, I think that will be the one thing I let you leave on.”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, staring at her with an unfocused leer.

She trembled in the corner, still atop the desk, and contemplated a break for the door.

Sensing her thoughts, Pablo stepped over and blocked the way, then began inching closer.

A

It was audio static, emanating from a ceiling speaker wired to the shipboard intercom. Then a voice roared through the cabin, as well as the rest of the ship. “Señor Pablo, please report to the bridge. Señor Pablo, to the bridge.”

Pablo shook his head and gazed at the speaker with disgust. Fumbling to button his shirt, he stared at A