you up here to play cab driver just to learn the local highway system. While your brother agents are lurking behind potted plants watching Kelly, Marks, Dupuy and the others, your assignment is to keep an eye on another member of the money boys' group. Shall I mention the name or would you like it written on paper and sealed in an envelope by Price Waterhouse?'
Lillie stared at him for a moment, considering.
'You're shooting in the dark.'
'Am I?' Pitt was homing in now. 'Okay, let's drag out the suspense and digress for a moment. Admiral Sandecker said he checked every port authority between Buenos Aires and Goose Bay and found twelve that recorded the entry and departure of an Icelandic fishing trawler matching the remodeled Lax. What he should have said was that he had them checked. Someone else did the actual work for him and that someone was the N.I.A.'
'Nothing out of the ordinary in that,' Lillie said flatly. 'Records are sometimes easier for us to obtain than a government agency concerned with marine life.'
'Except you already had the information before Sandecker requested it.'
Lillie said nothing. He didn't have to. His grim expression was all the motivation Pitt needed to continue.
'One evening a couple of months ago, I ran into an Army communications officer in a bar. It was a slow night and neither of us felt like partying or chasing girls, so we just sat around and drank together until closing time. He had just finished a tour of duty at the Smytheford radio-communications station on Hudson Bay, Canada-a complex of two hundred radio masts forming a huge dish on a thousand-acre site. Don't ask me what his name and rank were so you can turn him in for divulging military secrets. I've forgotten them anyway.'
Pitt hesitated a moment to shift his feet to a more comfortable position before he went on.
'He was proud of the installation, especially so since he was one of the engineers who helped design and construct it. The sophisticated equipment, he said, was capable of electronically monitoring every radio transmission north of New York, London and Moscow After the installation was completed, he and his crew of Army engineers were politely ordered to leave for duty elsewhere. It's only guesswork on his part, of course, but he was certain that it's currently being operated by the National Intelligence Agency which specializes in undercover eavesdropping on behalf of the Department of Defense and the Central Intelligence Agency. A rather interesting assumption when you consider that Smytheford is advertised as a satellite tracking station.'
Lillie leaned forward. 'Just where is all this leading to?'
'To two gentlemen named Matajic and O'Riley.
Both deceased.'
'You think I knew them?' Lillie asked curiously.
'Only by name. I see little reason to explain who they were. You already know. Your people at Smytheford monitored Matajic's message to Sandecker identic lying the long-lost Lax. It must have meant little to your intelligence analysts at the time, but their electronic ears undoubtedly pricked up when they received the pilot's last message seconds before the black jet blasted all three men into the sea. At this point, the plot thickens.
Admiral Sandecker played it cagy and handed the Coast Guard a phony story about missing equipment, requesting air-sea search in the area NUMA's plane disappeared. Nothing was found… or at least nothing was reported. The Coast Guard struck out, but the N.I.A. didn't-they had the Lax and its mysterious crew pinpointed right from the start. Every time the ship radioed its home base in Iceland, the Smytheford computers plotted its exact position. Now the experts at your headquarters in Washington began to smell a connection between the lost undersea probe and the mining operations takeover in South America, so they backtracked and traced the ship's movements up and down the Atlantic Coast. When Sandecker asked for the same information, they discreetly waited a few days and then, fighting to keep a straight face, handed him a previously prepared copy.'
'This?'
'Do you honestly expect me to admit to any of-'
'I don't much give a damn what you admit to,' Pitt said wearily. 'I'm merely pointing out a few facts of life. Put them all together and they spell the name of the man you have under surveillance here in Iceland.'
'How do you know it isn't a woman?' Lillie probed.
'Because you've reached the same conclusions I have-Kirsti Fyrie may control Fyrie Limited, but Oskar Rondheim controls Kirsti Fyrie.'
'So we're back to Rondheim.'
'Did we really ever leave?'
'Clever, clever deduction, Major Pitt,' Lillie murmured.
'Care to fill in any gaps?'
'Until I receive orders to the contrary, I can't fully brief an outsider on all the details of our operation.' Lillie's voice carried an official tone that didn't quite come off. 'I can, however, acknowledge your conclusions. You are quite correct in everything you've said. Yes, the N.I.A. picked up Matajic's message. Yes, we tracked the Lax. Yes, we feel Rondheim is in some way connected with the mining syndicate. Beyond that there is little I can officially tell you that you don't already know.'
'Since we've become such close friends,' Pitt said, grinning, 'why don't you call me Dirk?'
Lillie was gracious in defeat. 'Have it your way.
But don't you dare call me Jerome-it's Jerry.' He held out his hand. 'Okay, partner. Don't make me sorry I took you into the firm.'
Pitt returned the grip. 'Stick with the kid here and you'll go places.'
'That's what I'm afraid of.' Lillie sighed and gazed over the barren countryside for a moment as if weighing the turn of events. Finally he broke his thoughts and looked at his watch. 'We'd better head back to Reykjavik. No thanks to you, I've got a busy night ahead of me.'
'What's on your agenda?'
'First, I want to contact headquarters as soon as possible and pass on the serial number of the black jet.
With a bit of luck they should be able to run a make and have the owner's name back to us by morning. For your sake, after all the trouble you went to, I hope it provides an important lead. Second, I'm going to poke around and see where that hydroplane was moored.
Somebody has got to know something. You can't keep a craft like that a secret on an island this small. And third, the two scaled replicas of South American capitol buildings. I'm afraid you threw us a weird twist when you fished them from the briny deep. They must have a functional purpose. They may be vital to whoever built them, or they may not. Just to play safe, I'd better request Washington to fly in an expert on miniatures and have every square inch of those models thoroughly examined.'
'Efficient, industrious, professional. Keep it up. I may slowly become impressed.'
'I'll try to do my best.' Lillie said sarcastically.
'Would you like an extra hand?' Pitt asked. 'I'm free for the evening.'
Lillie smiled a smile that made Pitt feel a twinge of uneasiness. 'Your plans are already made, Dirk. I wish I could trade places with you, but duty calls.'
'I'm afraid to ask what's on your nasty little mind,' Pitt said dryly.
'A party, you lucky dog. You're going to a poetry reading party.'
'You've got to be kidding.'
'No, I'm serious. By special invitation from Oskar Rondheim himself. Though I suspect it was Miss Fyrie's idea.'
Pitts eyebrows came together over his penetrating green eyes. 'How do you know this? How could you know this? No invitation arrived before you picked me up at the consulate.'
'A trade secret. We do manage to pull a rabbit out of the hat occasionally.'
'Okay, I'll concede a point and stick a gold star on your chart for the day.' It was beginning to get chilly so Pitt rolled up his window. 'A poetry reading,' he said disgustedly. 'God, that ought to be a winner.'
Chapter 13
