###################################
END LISTING
=:?
“So what does that mean? We know the journal’s lost,” Margo said.
“Even if it’s lost, there should still be a detail record for it,” Moriarty said.
“Is there a restricted flag on the record?”
Moriarty shook his head and hit a few more keys.
“Here’s why,” he said at length, pointing at the screen. “The detail record’s been erased.”
“You mean the information about the journal’s [189] location has been deleted?” Smithback asked. “Can they do that?”
Moriarty shrugged. “It takes a high-security ID.”
“More importantly, why should somebody do that?” Margo asked. “Did the mainframe problem this morning have anything to do with it?”
“No.” Moriarty said. “This file compare dump I’ve just done implies the file was deleted sometime before last night’s backup. I can’t be more specific than that.”
“Deleted, eh?” Smithback said. “Gone forever. How clean, how neat. How coincidental. I’m beginning to see a pattern here—a nasty one.”
Moriarty switched off the terminal and pushed himself back from the desk. “I’m not interested in your conspiracy theories,” he said.
“Could it have been an accident? Or a malfunction?” Margo asked.
“Doubtful. The database has all sorts of referential integrity checks built-in. I’d see an error message.”
“So what, then?” Smithback pressed.
“I haven’t a clue.” Moriarty shrugged. “But it’s a trivial issue, at best.”
“Is that the best you can do?” Smithback snorted. “Some computer genius.”
Moriarty, offended, pushed his glasses up his nose and stood up. “I really don’t need this,” he said. “I think I’ll get some lunch.” He headed for the door. “Margo, I’ll take a rain check on that crossword puzzle.”
“Nice going,” Margo said as the door closed. “You’ve got a really subtle touch, you know that, Smithback? George was good enough to get us into the database.”
“Yeah, and what did we learn from it?” Smithback asked. “Diddly-squat. Only one of the crates was ever accessioned. Whittlesey’s journal is still missing.” He looked at her smugly. “I, on the other hand, have struck oil.”
[190] “Put it in your book,” Margo yawned. “I’ll read it then. Assuming I can find a copy in the library.”
The sheet was a photocopy reproduction of an article from the New Orleans
GHOST FREIGHTER FOUND BEACHED
NEAR NEW ORLEANS
By Antony Anastasia
Special to the
BAYOU GROVE, October 16 (AP)-A small freighter bound for New Orleans ran aground last night near this small coastal town. Details remain sketchy, but preliminary reports indicate that all crew members had been brutally slain while at sea. The Coast Guard first reported the grounding at 11:45 Monday night.
The ship, the
It is not presently known how the crew members met their deaths, or whether any of the crew were able to escape the ship. Henry La Plage, a private helicopter pilot who observed the beached vessel, reported that “corpses were strewn across the foredeck like some wild animal had gotten at them. I seen one guy hanging out a bridge porthole, his head all smashed up. It was like a slaughterhouse, ain’t never seen nothing like it.”
Local and federal authorities are cooperating [191] in an attempt to understand the slayings, easily one of the most brutal massacres in recent maritime history. “We are currently looking into several theories, but we’ve come to no conclusions as of yet,” said Nick Lea, a police spokesman. Although there was no official comment, federal sources said that mutiny, vengeance killings by rival Caribbean shippers, and sea piracy were all being considered as possible motives.
“Jesus,” Margo breathed. “The wounds described here—”
“—sound just like those on the three bodies found here this week,” Smithback nodded grimly.
Margo frowned. “This happened almost seven years ago. It has to be coincidental.”
“Does it?” Smithback asked. “I might be forced to agree with you—if it wasn’t for the fact that
