“I’m with you,” Giordino agreed. “The proper thing to do is find someone in authority with the answers and twist his arm.”
Pitt fastidiously straightened the jacket of his stolen uniform and brushed off the shoulders. “If he’s on the island, I know just the man.”
Twenty minutes later, after traveling over a road that wound in a series of hairpin turns over the spine of the island, they approached the compound that housed the mining engineers and the security guards. Keeping in the sheltered gloom of the underbrush, they skirted the detention camp for the Chinese laborers. Bright lights illuminated the barracks and open grounds, surrounded by a high electrified fence that was topped by rows of circular razor wire. The area was so heavily secured by electronic surveillance systems that no guards were walking around the perimeter.
In another hundred meters, Maeve stopped and gestured for Pitt and Giordino to drop behind a low hedge that bordered a concrete thoroughfare. One end of the road ended at a driveway that passed through a large arched gate to the Dorsett family manor house. A short distance in the opposite direction, the road split. One broad avenue trailed down a slope to the port in the center of the lagoon, where the docks and warehouses reflected a weird appearance under the eerie yellow glow of sodium-vapor lamps. Pitt took an extra minute to study the big boat tied beside the dock. Even at this distance, there was no mistaking the Dorsett yacht. Pitt was especially pleased to see a helicopter sitting on the upper deck.
“Does the island have an airstrip?” he asked Maeve.
She shook her head. “Daddy refused to construct one, preferring all his transportation by sea. He uses a helicopter to carry him back and forth from the Australian mainland. Why do you want to know?”
“A process of elimination. Our getaway bird sits yonder on the yacht,” Pitt said.
“You clever man, you had that in mind all along.”
“I was merely swept up in a orgy of inspiration,” Pitt said artfully, then asked, “How many men guard the yacht?”
“Only one, who monitors the dock security systems.”
“And the crewmen?”
“Whenever the boat is docked at the island, Daddy requires the crew to stay in quarters ashore.”
Pitt took note that the other fork in the road curved toward the main compound. The mines inside the volcanoes were alive with activity, but the central area of the Dorsett Consolidated Mining community was deserted. The dock beside the yacht appeared totally deserted under the floodlights mounted on a nearby warehouse. Everyone else, it seemed, was asleep in bed, a not uncommon circumstance at four o’clock in the morning.
“Point out the chief of security’s house,” Pitt said to Maeve.
“The mining engineers and my father’s servants live in the cluster of buildings closest to the lagoon,” answered Maeve. “The house you want sits on the southeast corner of the security guards’ compound. Its walls are painted gray.”
“I see it.” Pitt drew a sleeve across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. “Is there a way to reach it other than the road?”
“A walkway runs along the rear.”
“Let’s get moving. We don’t have a whole lot of time before daylight.”
They stayed in the shadows behind the hedge and the neatly trimmed trees that stretched alongside the paved shoulders of the road. Tall streetlights were spaced every fifty meters, the same as most city streets. Except for the soft rustle of wild grass and scattered leaves beneath their feet, the three of them moved quietly toward the gray house at the corner of the compound.
When they reached a clump of bushes outside the rear door, Pitt put his mouth to Maeve’s ear. “Have you ever been inside the house before?”
“Only once or twice when I was a little girl and Daddy asked me to deliver a message to the man who headed his security a long time ago,” she replied in a soft murmur.
“Can you say whether the house has an alarm system to detect intruders?”
Maeve shook her head. “I can’t imagine who would want to break into the security chief’s diggings.”
“Any live-in help?”
“They’re housed in a different compound.”
“The back door it is,” Pitt whispered.
“I hope we find a well-stocked kitchen,” muttered Giordino. “I’m not comfortable sneaking around in the dark on an empty stomach, a very empty stomach, I might add.”
“You can have first crack at the refrigerator,” Pitt promised.
Pitt stepped out of the shadows and slipped up to one side of the back door and peered through a window. The interior was lit only by a dim light over a hallway that ended at a stairwell leading to the second floor. Cautiously, he reached over and gently twisted the latch. There was a barely audible click as the shaft slipped from its catch. He took a deep breath and cracked the door ever so slightly. It swung on its hinges noiselessly, so he pushed it wide open and stepped into a rear entryway that opened into a small kitchen. He stepped across the kitchen and quietly closed a sliding door leading to a hallway. Then he turned on the light. At the signal, Maeve and Giordino followed him in.
“Oh, thank you, God,” muttered Giordino in ecstasy at seeing a beautifully decorated kitchen over whose counters and oven hung expensive cooking utensils fit for a gourmet chef.
“Warm air,” Maeve whispered happily. “I haven’t felt warm air in weeks.”
“I can taste the ham and eggs already,” said Giordino.
“First things first,” Pitt said quietly.
Turning the light out again, he slipped the hallway door open, leveled the assault rifle and stepped into the hallway. He cocked his head and listened, hearing only the soft noise of a heater fan. Flattening himself against the wall, he moved along the hallway under the muted light before starting up the carpeted stairway, testing each step for a squeak before setting his weight on it.
At the landing at the top of the stairs, he found two closed doors, one on either side. He tried the one to his right. The room was furnished as a private office with computer, telephones and file cabinets. The desk was incredibly orderly and free of clutter, the same as the kitchen. Pitt smiled to himself. He expected no less from the inhabitant. Sure of himself now, he stepped over to the left door, kicked it open and switched on the light.
A beautiful Asian girl, no more than eighteen, with long black silken hair falling over the side of the bed to the floor, stared in bulging-eyed fright at the figure standing in the doorway with an assault rifle. She opened her mouth as if to scream but emitted a muted gurgling sound.
The man next to her was a cool customer. He lay on his side, eyes closed, and made no attempt to turn and look at Pitt. Pitt would have missed the fractional movement but for the apparent indifference of the man. He lightly pulled the trigger, sending two quick shots into the pillow. The muzzle blast was muffled by the gun’s suppressor and came like a pair of handclaps. Only then did the man in bed bolt upright and stare at a hand that was bleeding from a bullet through the palm.
Now the girl shrieked, but neither man seemed to care. They both waited patiently until she froze into silence.
“Good morning, Chief,” said Pitt cheerfully. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”
John Merchant blinked in the light and focused his eyes on his intruder. “My guards will have heard the screams and come on the run,” he said calmly.
“I doubt that. Knowing you, I should judge that feminine screams coming from your living quarters are considered a nightly occurrence by your neighbors.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“How quickly they forget.”
Merchant squinted and then his mouth dropped open in recognition. His face registered abject disbelief. “You can’t?be ... you can’t be ... Dirk Pitt!”
As if prompted, Maeve and Giordino came into the room. They stood there behind Pitt, saying nothing, looking at the two people in bed as if watching a staged drama.
“This has to be a nightmare,” Merchant gasped.
