Jack Du Brul - Vulcan's forge

“What are these?”

“The keys to a new, black SJX Jaguar convertible with tan interior, cellular phone, CD player, and an aftermarket turbo charger. It was the least we could do.”

Mercer looked at the keys and gave Henna a sardonic smile. “After getting me shot at a few dozen times, nearly smeared against a train, almost drowned, beaten up more than once, crashed into the ocean, and within a few minutes of being nuked, you’re right, buying me a new car is the very least you could do.”

Henna knew by Mercer’s tone that he wasn’t really angry and gave a low chuckle. “The car’s parked in front of your house. There are two things I want to know: how did you know to go to Kenji’s house rather than Ohnishi’s? And how in the hell did you pinpoint the John Dory when the experts at NSA couldn’t find a damn thing?”

Mercer smiled slyly. “Finding the John Dory was easy. Those infrared photos showed a classic shield volcano, a number of small vents surrounding a central magma outlet. Normally those smaller vents are located on the side of the volcano and therefore under deeper water. Well, on all of the photos, there was a white hot signature nearly a mile from the central vent. At that distance, the thermal image would be yellow or orange, cooler because of the water depth. That white dot couldn’t have been a natural vent; it had to be something man-made, like the nuclear reactor aboard the John Dory as she rode near the surface.”

Henna was impressed. “And what about Kenji?”

“That was a hunch really, but I felt confident. I worked for Ohnishi as a consultant a few years ago in Tennessee. Ohnishi Minerals was interested in buying the second mining rights to some disused property owned by the Tennessee Valley Authority. Second mining is when the coal pillars that support the mine tunnels are ripped down to their very weakest tolerances. It’s dangerous work and cave-ins occur frequently, but the profit margin is astronomical if the mines can be bought cheap enough.

“The TVA didn’t want the old mines stripped the usual way, citing all sorts of possible insurance liabilities. I was brought in at the TVA’s request because there had never been a cave-in on any of the second mining operations I’d worked on. TVA was still reluctant to sell after they read my geomechanic report, but Ohnishi Minerals managed to end run them. Ohnishi bought off officials, paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to some high-power lawyers, and in the end opened his own bogus insurance company to underwrite TVA’s liability.

“What he did was illegal to a degree, but American mining laws are gray enough that he got away with it. At the time the vice president in charge of Ohnishi Minerals was a guy I’d gone through the doctoral program at Penn State with, Daniel Tanaka. When his crew was reopening the mine, I met with him and explained that I had faked some of the figures, underestimating the strength of the coal pillars. I had rightly guessed that Ohnishi would order him to pull out more coal than I said could be safely removed. We both knew that I’d saved the lives of his men, so he owed me a favor. I called him just before I went to Hawaii and he told me confidentially that Ohnishi himself had no knowledge of the details of the transaction when they had acquired the mining rights. Anything that could be construed as illegal or corrupt was handled by his aide, Kenji.

“I assumed that when Ohnishi was approached by Ivan Kerikov concerning the bikinium, he’d ordered Kenji to handle any of the details. Therefore Kenji was the real linchpin, not his boss. It wasn’t until I reached Kenji’s estate that I found out the Koreans had gotten to Kenji too. He was the perfect agent-provocateur, working all sides. Koreans and Ohnishi against the middle, Ivan Kerikov.

“As near as I can figure the cycle of double-cross, Kenji screwed Ohnishi with the help of the Koreans while Ohnishi screwed Kerikov, who’d already sold him out to the same Koreans. Meanwhile those Koreans are screwing Kerikov right back by forming a partnership with Kenji. I think I have that right, but I’m not sure. The only thing that matters is that Ohnishi and Kenji are dead, Kerikov’s in hiding, and the wily Koreans have nothing to show for their effort.”

“That sounds about the same way we figured it, too,” Henna agreed.

Harry White staggered into the bar, a nearly spent cigarette clinging to his lower lip. He sat at the bar, hunching over in what he and Mercer referred to as “the bar slouch,” and took a swig of the Jack and Ginger Tiny had already poured for him.

“It’s hard to believe this all started over forty years ago with something as insignificant as the sinking of an ore carrier.”

“Not so insignificant if you were on that ship,” Mercer replied, still staring at Harry.

“You know what I mean. The crew of the Grandam Phoenix died without ever knowing that they were the beginning of a conspiracy that nearly tore this nation apart.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Mercer said quietly, then called to Harry, “What, I come back from a trip and no sarcasm from you?”

Harry heaved himself from his stool and started toward the booth. “I see you talking to a guy in a suit, I figure the IRS has finally nailed you for tax fraud. I thought it best to stay away.”

Mercer laughed as Harry slid into the booth next to Henna.

“Richard Henna, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Mercer said, drawing out each syllable, “I would like you to meet Ralph Michael Linc, former captain of the ore carrier Grandam Phoenix .”

For the rest of his life, Mercer would never again see such a look of incredulity as those on the faces of Henna and Harry. Their jaws had both dropped noticeably and they regarded Mercer with blank, expressionless eyes. Had he said he was the second coming of Jesus Christ, the reaction would have been more mundane.

Before either man could speak, Mercer explained. “After I got out of the hospital at Pearl Harbor, I went to Kauai because it’s the closest big island to the new volcano. I went there hoping to find out if there had been any survivors from that night in 1954. I found a spry old lady, Mae Turner, who remembered a sea captain named Ralph Linc who washed up on shore four days after the Phoenix went down. He had lost a leg to a shark.” Unconsciously Harry rubbed his good foot against the prosthesis strapped below his knee. “She nursed him back to health, but never heard from him again.”

“How did you guess it was me?” Harry asked calmly.

“It was the telegram that started this whole mess for me, the telegram from Tish’s dead father. At first I had no idea who sent it, but when I learned that Valery Borodin had been involved with Tish, I figured it must have been him, but he denied having sent it. I wondered who else would want me involved and knew that Jack Talbot was a friend of mine.

“Then I remembered talking to you the night before the telegram arrived from Jakarta. I remembered telling you that I thought he was working in Indonesia and wondered if he knew his daughter had been hurt. You were the only person who could have known I thought he was there. I started thinking about motive, about why you would want to get me involved and I came up with revenge so I figured you had to be a member of the Grandam Phoenix ’s crew. Mae Turner confirmed my suspicion. I never did figure out how you got the telegram sent from Jakarta.”

“Easy, really. I haven’t been to sea since ’54, but I still know mariners all over the globe. I just phoned a friend who knew someone in Indonesia and had him send the wire.”

“Why?” Henna asked softly.

“We had a deal with those bastards to scuttle the Phoenix for the insurance money. They were supposed to pick us up. Instead, they gunned us down in the lifeboats. They killed my entire crew. I caught two slugs myself.