Clive Cussler - Treasure

Rojas's official bearing crumbled. He had not expected such a compliment. He began to loosen up. "I regret I can't give you encouraging news. No new evidence has turned up since you departed the United States. I can, however, offer you a drink of our fine Uruguayan brandy."

"Sounds good to me," Giordino said without hesitation. "Especially on a rainy day."

Rojas nodded to his aide. "Lieutenant, if you will do us the honors."

Then the Colonel leaned over the table and pieced together several enlarged black-and-white satellite images until he had a mosaic of the waters stretching three hundred kilometers off the coast. "I take it you're all familiar with satellite imagery?"

Rudi Gunn nodded. "NUMA currently has three satellite oceanography programs in progress to study currents, eddys, surface winds and sea ice."

"But none are focusing on this section of the South Atlantic," said Rojas. "Most geographic information systems are aimed north."

"Yes, you're quite right." Gunn adjusted his glasses and examined the photo blowups on the table. "I see you've used the Earth Resources Tech Satellite."

"Yes, the Landsat."

"And you used a powerful graphic system to show ships at sea. "

"We had a piece of luck," Rojas continued. "The polar orbit of the satellite takes it over the sea off Uruguay only once every sixteen days. It arrived at a most opportune time.

"The Landsat's primary use is for geological survey," said Gunn. "The cameras are usually shut down when it orbits over the oceans to conserve energy. How did you get the images?"

"Immediately after the search was ordered," explained Rojas, "our meteorological defense section was alerted to provide weather forecasts for the patrol boats and aircraft. One of the meteorologists had an inspiration and checked the Landsat's orbit and found it would pass over the search area. He sent an urgent request to your government to Turn it on. The cameras were engaged with an hour to spare and the signals sent to a receiving station in Buenos Aires."

"Could a target the size of the Lady Flamborough show up on a Landsat image?" asked Giordino.

"You won't see detail like you would in a high-resolution photo from a defense intelligence satellite," replied Pitt, "but she should be as visible as a pinprick."

"You described her perfectly," said Rojas. "See for yourselves."

He set a large magnified viewing lens with an interior light over a tiny section of the satellite photo mosaic. Then he stood back.

Pitt was the first to look. "I can make out two, no, three vessels."

"We have identified all three."

Rojas turned and nodded to Captain Flores, who began to read aloud from a sheet of paper, struggling with his English as if reciting in front of a class. "The largest ship is a Chilean ore carrier, the Cabo Gallegos, bound from Punta Arenas to Dakar with a load of coal."

"The northbound vessel, just coming into view on the bottom edge of the image?" asked Pitt.

"Yes," Flores agreed. "That is the Cabo Gallegos. The one opposite on the top is southbound. She's of Mexican registry. A container ship, the General Bravo, carrying supplies and oil-drilling equipment to San Pablo."

"Where's San Pablo?" asked Giordino.

"A small port city on the tip of Argentina," replied Rojas. "There was an oil strike there last year."

"The vessel between them and closer toward shore is the Lady Flamborough. " Flores spoke the cruise liner's name as if he were giving a eulogy.

Rojas's aide appeared with the bottle of brandy and five glasses. The Colonel raised his and said, "Saludos."

"Salute," the Americans acknowledged.

Pitt took a large sip that he swore later incinerated his tonsils and resumed his study of the tiny dot for several seconds before giving up the viewing glass to Gunn. "I can't make out her heading."

"After sneaking out of Punta del Este she sailed due east without a course change."

"You've been in contact with the other ships?"

Flores nodded. "Neither one reported seeing her."

"What time did the satellite pass over?"

"The exact time was 03: 10 hours."

"The imagery was infrared."

'Yes .

"The guy who thought of using the Landsat ought to get a medal," said Giordino as he took his Turn at the viewer.

"A promotion is already in channels," Rojas said, smiling.

Pitt looked at the Colonel. "What time did your aerial reconnaissance get off the ground?"

"Our aircraft began searching at first light. By noon we had received and analyzed the Landsat imagery. We then could calculate the speed and course of the Lady Flamborough and direct our ships and planes to an interception point."

"But they found an empty sea."

"Quite right."

"No wreckage?"

Captain Flores spoke up. "Our patrol boats did run on several pieces of debris."

"Was it identified?"

"Some was pulled on board and examined but quickly discarded. It appeared to have come from a cargo ship rather than a luxury cruise liner."

"What sort of debris?"

Flores checked through a briefcase and removed a thin file. "I have a short inventory received from the Captain of the search vessel. He lists one worn overstaffed chair; two faded life-jackets, at least fifteen years old, with operation instructions stenciled in almost illegible Spanish; several unmarked wooden crates; a bunk mattress; food containers; three newspapers, one from Veracmz, Mexico, the other two from Recife, Brazil '

"Dates?" Pitt interrupted.

Flores looked questioningly at Pitt for a moment and then he averted his gaze. "The Captain did not give them."

"An oversight that will be corrected," said Rojas sternly, immediately picking up on Pitts thoughts.

"If it isn't already too late," Flores came back uneasily. "You must admit, Colonel, the debris appears to be trash, not ship's wreckage."

"Could you plot the coordinates of the ships as they're shown on the satellite photo?" asked Pitt.

Hores nodded and began plotting the positions on to a nautical chart.

"Another brandy, gentlemen?" Rojas offered.

"It's quite vibrant," said Gunn, holding out his glass to the lieutenant. "I detect a very slight coffee flavor."

Rojas smiled. "I can see you're a connoisseur, Mr. Gunn. Quite right.

My uncle distills it on his coffee plantation."

"Too sweet," said Giordino. "Reminds me of licorice .

"It also contains anisette." Rojas turned to Pitt. "And you Mr. Pitt.

How do you taste it?"

Pitt held up the glass and studied it under the light. "I'd say about two hundred proof."

North Americans never ceased to amaze Rojas. All business one moment, complete jesters the next. He often wondered how they built such a superpower.

Then Pitt laughed his infectious laugh. "Only kidding. Tell your uncle if he ever exports it to the U.S., I'll be the first in line to distribute it."

Flores threw down his dividers and tapped a penciled box on the chart.

"They were here at 03:10 yesterday morning."

Everyone moved back to the table and hovered over the chart.

"All three were on converging courses all right," observed Gunn. He took a small calculator from his pocket and began punching its buttons.

"If I make a rough estimate of speeds, say about thirty knots for the Lady Flamborough, eighteen for the Cabo Gallegos, and twenty-two for the General Bravo . . ." his voice trailed off as he made notations on the edge of the chart. After several moments he stood back and tapped the figures with a pencil. "Not surprising the Chilean coal carrier didn't make visual contact. She would have crossed the cruise liner's bow a good sixty-four kilometers to the east."

Pitt stared thoughtfully at the lines across the chart. "The Mexican container ship, on the other hand, looks as if she missed the Lady Flamborough by no more than three or four kilometers."