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"All right, gentlemen. I regret coming on a little too strong. I'm not used to dealing with civilians."
There was no malice in Pitts face, just a look of amusement. "If it will make you feel more comfortable, I carry the rank of Major in the Air Force."
Hollis frowned. "May I ask what you're doing on a NUMA vessel?"
"Call it a permanent assignment-a long story we don't have time to get into."
Dillenger caught it first. Hollis should have caught it the minute they were introduced, but his mind was saturated with questions.
"Are you by chance related to Senator George Pitt?" asked Dillenger.
"Father and son,"
A small piece of the curtain lifted atld the two officers saw a shaft of light beneath. Hollis pulled up a chair and settled in. "Okay, Mr.
Pitt, please tell me what you've got."
Dillenger cut in, "The last report showed The Lady Flamborough heading for the Antarctic. You say she's still on the surface. New photos will easily pick her out amid the ice floes. "
"If you're betting on the SR-ninety Casper," said Pitt, "save your money."
Dillenger gave Hollis a bleak look. They were outdistanced. This oddball group of ocean engineers had as much information in hand as they did.
"from a hundred thousand kilometers an SR-ninety can reveal three-dimensional images so sharp that you can distinguish the stitching on a soccer ball," stated Hollis.
"No question. But suppose the ball is camouflaged to look like a rock."
"I still don't know-"
"You'd see more clearly if we showed you," said Pitt. "The crew has set up a demonstration on deck."
The open deck on the stern had been covered over with a large, opaque blanket of white plastic, firmly secured to keep it taut and prevent it from billowing under the constant breeze. Captain Stewart stood by with two crew members who manned a fire hose.
"During our survey of the area around the General Bravo we recovered a roll of this plastic," Pitt lectured. "I believe it accidentally fell off the Lady Flamborough when the two vessels rendezvoused. It was sitting on the seabed among empty barrels of paint the hijackers used to remodel the cruise liner to resemble the Mexican container ship.
Granted, the evidence is inconclusive. You'll have to take my word for that. But it all points to another makeup job. Nothing showed on the last satellite photo because all eyes were searching for a ship. The Lady Flamborough no longer looks like one. The hijack leader must be into art appreciation. He took a page from the controversial sculptor Christo, who's famous for his outdoor sculptures in plastic. He wraps the stuff around buildings, coastlines and islands. He hung a monstrous curtain in Rifle Gap, Colorado, and made a fence running for miles in Mwill County, California. The chief hijacker went one better and wrapped the entire cruise liner. The liner is not a huge ship. The basic outline of her hull could have been altered by props and scaffolding. With the sheets all cut and numbered as to position, a hundred hostages and hijackers might have done the job in ten hours flat. They were working at it when the Landsat orbited overhead. The enhanced blowup was not clear enough to reveal details of the activity.
When the Seasat followed half a day later there was nothing to identify, no features conforming to a ship, any ship. Am I going too fast?"
"No . . ." Hollis said slowly. "But none of it makes a hell of a lot of sense."
"He must be from Missouri," Giordino said wryly. "Shall we show him?"
Pitt gave a brief nod to Captain Stewart.
"Okay, boys," said Stewart to his crewmen. "Once over lightly. "
One man turned the valve while the other aimed the nozzle.
A fine spray was turned on the plastic sheeting. At first the wind carried half the mist over the side. The crewman had ajusted the angle, and soon the plastic was coated with a watery film.
Before a full minute passed, the frigid atmosphere turned the water to ice.
Hollis observed the transformation pensively Then he walked up to Pitt and held out his hand. "My respects, sir. You made a sound call."
Dillenger stared like a rube who'd been suckered at a traveling carnival. "An iceberg," he muttered angrily. ,The sons of bitches made the ship into an iceberg."
Hala awoke cold and stiff. It was midmorning, yet there was still a level of darkness. The cargo container facade, combined with the ice-coated plastic shrouding the cruise liner, shut out most of the light. What little penetrated into the VIP suites was just sufficient to reveal the figures of Presidents Hasan and De Lorenzo on the bed next to her. Under one pitifully inadequate blanket, they huddled against one another for warmth,
