Sea of Fire

Hood conducted a computer search through Interpol and FBI files. Nothing showed up. That was good. It suggested the man was telling the truth, that he had been used and shanghied. Hood also did a wider off-line search and came across the registry filing for the Hosannah. There was information about Peter Kannaday. He was the owner of the yacht before it was 'sold' to the apparently nonexistent Arvids March. It included copies of his license and dates when the yacht had visited various ports in the South Pacific and the Caribbean. Hood forwarded that information to Herbert's computer. If the Hosannah had been used to traffic nuclear material, the abbreviated log might help to track pickups or drop-offs.

Hood felt the way Warrant Officer Jelbart did. The man was a guest, not a prisoner. That was very easy to forget in times of high emotion, which occurred with some frequency whenever Bob Herbert was involved.

That's why you have to hold tight to what you once determined was right, Hood told himself. Otherwise, police officers became bullies, presidents became tyrants, and intelligence officers became both.

Hood sent the Kannaday file to Herbert with an audible prompt. He knew the intelligence chief would be sitting in the cabin, stewing. He wanted to make sure Herbert got the E-mail.

Hood heard the wheelchair beep over the phone. The data file had arrived. He still found it pretty amazing that information could be sent around the world so quickly, so completely, and so secretly. He remembered when he was still in school, and telexes were a big, innovative deal. That was about the time when Pong was the rage at airports and college lounges.

At least most forms of terrorism still had to be done the old-fashioned way. The killing tools of that despicable trade had to be moved slowly, by hand. And like a slug trailing slime across a slate walk, there was no way to erase all evidence of its passage. In days of depressing reality, that was a cheering thought.

It was at once sad and astonishing what passed for hope in the twenty-first century.

Chapter Sixty-five

The Coral Sea Sunday, 3:33 A.M.

Herbert was stewing.

The intelligence chief did not think that Warrant Officer Jelbart was wrong about backing off Kannaday. He just did not think that Jelbart was right.

Captain Kannaday was hurt. Herbert had no doubt that the man was exhausted. But he did not believe the man was asleep. Kannaday's nap was the Australian equivalent of cover-your-ass. Whatever had happened on the yacht was illegal. Kannaday had said as much. He was not going to say anything else without a barrister or solicitor or whatever they called criminal attorneys Down Under.

It had also been imprudent of Jelbart to mention the pirate. That information had not been made public. If Kannaday were asleep, it would not matter. If he were awake, he might be less inclined to talk. The captain might say things that contradicted what officials already knew from the pirate. That would not be good for Kannaday.

Herbert's E-mail alert beeped. 'Christ,' he said.

'What's wrong?' Jelbart asked.

Herbert turned and snapped the cell phone from the armrest of the wheelchair.

'Paul, are you still there?'

'I am,' Hood said.

'Sorry, boss,' Herbert told him. 'I forgot you were hanging on. What have you got?'

'A file on Peter Kannaday,' Hood said. 'I thought you might like to have a look at it.'

'Absolutely,' Herbert said. The laptop monitor was anchored in the left armrest of the wheelchair. Herbert craned around and swung the screen toward him. He punched the On button. It activated with a hiss. He opened and downloaded Hood's E-mail.

'Do you think the captain is really asleep?' Hood asked.

'Yeah,' Herbert said. 'And I'm going to be the next president of the United States.'

'Do you believe anything he said?' Hood asked.

'I don't know,' Herbert admitted. He was watching the monitor as the file downloaded. 'I don't have enough information.'

'And there's nothing you or Officer Loh can do to get that information,' Hood said.

'Well, there is—' Herbert said.

'Lawfully, I mean,' Hood interrupted. 'Peter Kannaday is an Australian captain working in international waters. He was rescued by an Australian helicopter. They're going to have the first swing at him.'

'Paul, we've got to fight that,' Herbert said. 'Maybe Lowell can pull some legal precedent out of his brain pan.' The intelligence chief looked out the window as the computer continued opening the file. It was dark out there. But not as dark as Herbert felt inside.

'Come on, Bob. You know better.'

'Unfortunately, I do,' Herbert replied.

'Even if Lowell got us in to talk to Kannaday, he's not going to let an interview turn rough,' Hood said.

'He'd rather see some psycho warlord get heavy artillery?'

'The Australians won't let that happen,' Hood replied. 'Give them some credit.'

'In a perfect world, I would,' Herbert said. 'But if the authorities find out our other friend may be involved, I'll tell you exactly what they'll do. They'll circle the wagons around the big man. They have to. It would bring down his empire, do damage to the national economy. They'll scapegoat some secondary guy to keep their national treasure from being sullied. If that happens, we'll never get all the names we're after. And we'll never know if we've cut this caravan off completely.'

Herbert did not want to mention Darling's name in case Kannaday was awake. If the man were going to talk, Herbert wanted him to mention Darling without being prompted. A lie or cover-up could usually be identified quickly. A half-truth was much more troublesome.

'I don't agree that they'll protect Darling,' Hood said. 'Something this big would leak eventually. They will have to cut a deal.'

'I don't like the smell of that,' Herbert said.

'It's done in business all the time,' Hood said. 'The alternative is closing your eyes or bringing down the whole system to get one man. In exchange for cooperation, regulators or investigators give executives a degree of immunity and time to turn the companies over to associates.'

'Jesus, Paul,' Herbert complained. 'We're not talking about insider trading here.'

'I recognize that—'

'I don't want to see this guy have his passport revoked and agree to the equivalent of house arrest,' Herbert said. 'That isn't right.'

'I agree. And I don't want you to forget that this isn't about retribution,' Hood said. 'That's why a Richard Nixon resigns and gets a pardon, or a Kurt Waldheim has his visa shredded and any war crimes he may have been involved in are locked in a filing cabinet. It's about fixing a problem with a minimum of embarrassment, if possible.'

'That's the solution of a bureaucrat,' Herbert said. 'I want this guy's tanned hide.'

'That is the self-righteous indignation of the Lone Ranger,' Hood replied. 'Bob, if Darling is guilty, I'd love to see him get life in prison. But that probably won't happen. Right or wrong, you can't just remove a foundation of international industry like that. Maybe over time, but not immediately.'

'Over time people will forget,' Herbert said. 'They'll forgive.'

'That's possible,' Hood agreed.

'It's inevitable,' Herbert said.

'Not if he was trying to kill people,' Hood said. 'Al Capone was a folk hero until he ordered the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre. People will cheer someone who beats the establishment. They won't tolerate mass murder.'

The computer beeped, signaling that the file had been downloaded. Herbert terminated the link and opened the file. He was angry. He was not angry at Hood. He was angry because Hood was right. Jervis Darling would