Treasure

"The Landsat," answered Brogan, "a few Defense meteorological satellites, and a Seasat used by NUMA for Antarctic ice and sea current surveys. But our best bet is the SR-90 Casper.

"Do we have SR-90 reco

"A tight security airfield in Texas is as close as we come."

"How long to fly one down and back?"

"A Casper is capable of reaching mach five, or just under five thousand kilometers per hour. One can fly to the tip of Antarctica, make a photo run and have the film back in five hours."

The President slowly shook his head in dismay. "Will someone please tell me why the United States government is always caught with our pants down? I swear to God, nobody screws up like we do. We build the most sophisticated detection systems the world has ever known, and when we need them, they're all concentrated in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Nobody spoke, nobody moved. The President's men avoided his eyes and stared uncomfortably at the table, papers, wall, anything but one another's face.

At last Nichols spoke in a quiet, confident voice. "We'll find the ship, Mr. President. If anyone can get them out alive, the Special Forces will."

"Yes," the President drawled softly. "They're highly trained for such a mission. The only question in my mind is whether the crew and passengers will be there to be rescued. Or will the Special Forces find a silent ship filled with corpses?"

Colonel Morton Hollis wasn't overjoyed at leaving his family in the middle of his wife's birthday party. The understanding look in her eyes wrenched his gut. The cost would hit him dearly, he knew. The red coral necklace was about to be enhanced by the five-day cruise to the BAHamas she'd always pestered him about.

He sat at a desk in a specially designed office compartment inside the C-140 transport, flying south over Venezuela. He Puffed away deeply on a large Havana cigar he had purchased at the base store, now that the embargo on Cuban imports had been lifted.

Hollis studied the latest weather reports on the Antarctic peninsula and peered at photographs showing the rugged, icy coastline. He'd already been over the difficulfies in his mind a dozen times since takeoff.

During their brief history the newly formed Special Operations Forces had already achieved a notable record, but they had yet to tackle a major rescue of the magnitude of the Lady Flamborough hijacking.

The orphan child of the Pentagon, the Special Operations Forces were not molded into a single command until the fall of 1989. At that time the Army's Delta Force, whose fighters were drawn from the elite Ranger and Green Beret units and a secret aviation unit known as Task Force 160, merged with the top-of-the-line Navy SEAL Team Six and the Air Force's Special Operations wing.

The unified forces cut across service lines and boundaries and became a separate command, numbering twelve thousand men, headquartered at a tightly restricted base in southeast Virginia. The crack fighters were heavily trained in guerrilla tactics, parachuting, wilderness survival and scuba diving, with special emphasis on storming buildings, ships and aircraft for rescue missions.

Hollis was short-he'd barely met the height requirements of the Special Forces-and almost as wide in the shoulders as he was tall. Forty years old but immensely tough, he had survived a rigorous simulated guerrilla war in the swamps of Florida for three weeks, and parachuted right back in for another exercise. His closely cropped brown hair was dun and graying early. His eyes were a blue-green, the whites slightly yellowed from too much time in the sun without proper glasses.

An astute man who always looked over the next hill and pla

His second in command, Major John Dillenger, rapped on the door and stuck his head in. "You busy, Mort?" he asked in a decided Texas twang.

Hollis waved a casual hand. "My office is your office," he assured Dillenger jovially. "Squeeze in and sit yourself in my new French leather designer couch."

Dillenger, a lean, stringy man with a pinched face, but hard as an anvil, stared dubiously at the canvas seat bolted to the floor and sat down. Forever kidded about being saddled with the same name as the famous bank robber, he was a master of the art of tactical pla

"Covering the bases?" he asked Hollis.

"Going over meteorological forecasts, ice and terrain conditions. "

"See any jazz in your crystal ball?"

"Too early." Hollis raised an eyebrow. "What plans are forming in your perverted mind?"

"I can recite and draw pictures of six different ways to board a ship by stealth. I've already familiarized myself with the design and deck layout of the Lady Flamborough, but until we learn whether we're coming in by parachute, by scuba, or by foot from hard beach or ice, I can only plot an outline."

Hollis nodded solemnly. "Over a hundred i

God help us if one steps in our line of fire."

"We can't go in with blanks," Dillenger said caustically.

"No, and we can't drop from noisy helicopters with all weapons blasting.

We've got to infiltrate before the hijackers know we're there. Complete surprise is crucial."

"Then we hit 'em by 'stealth parachute' at night."

"Could be," Hollis acknowledged tersely.

Dillenger shifted uncomfortably in the canvas seat. "A night landing is dangerous enough, but dropping blindly on a darkened ship can mean slaughter. You know it, and I know it, Mort. Out of forty men, fifteen will miss the target and fall in the sea. Twenty will sustain injuries impacting on hard, protruding surfaces of the ship. I'll be lucky to have five men in fighting trim."

"We can't rule it out."

"Let's wait until more info comes in," suggested Dillenger. "Everything hinges on where the ship is found. Whether she's moored or sailing across the sea makes all the difference in the world. As soon as we receive word on her final status, I'll formulate a tight assault plan and lay it in your hands for final approval. "

"Fair enough," said Hollis agreeably. "How are the men?"

"Doing their homework. By the time we land at Punta Arenas, they'll have memorized the Lady Flamborough well enough to run around her decks blindfolded."

"A lot is riding on them this time out."

"They'll do the job. The trick is to get them on board in one piece.

"There is one thing," Hollis said, a deep apprehension on his face. "The latest estimate from intelligence sources on the strength of the hijackers . . . it just came in from the Pentagon. "

"How many are we talking about, five, ten, maybe twelve?"