Emmett picked up the photograph and examined it. “Lee Tong Bougainville,” he said. “Not a good likeness, but one of the few photos I’ve ever seen of him. He avoids publicity like herpes. You’re making a grave error, Mr. Pitt, in accusing him of any crime.”
“No error,” Pitt said firmly. “This man tried to kill me. I have reason to believe he is accountable for the explosion that burned and sank the
“Congresswoman Smith’s kidnapping is pure conjecture on your part.”
“Didn’t Congressman Moran explain what occurred on board the ship?” Pitt asked.
“He refuses to be questioned by us,” Mercier answered. “All we know is what he told the press.”
Emmett was becoming angry. He saw Pitt’s revelations as an indictment of FBI fumbling. He leaned across the table with fire in his eyes. “Do you honestly expect us to believe your ridiculous fairy tales?” he demanded in a cracking voice.
“I don’t much care what you believe,” Pitt replied, pinning the FBI director with his stare.
“Can you say how you collared the Bougainvilles?” asked Oates.
“My involvement stems from the death of a friend by Nerve Agent S. I began a hunt for the responsible parties, I admit, purely for revenge. As my investigations gradually centered on Bougainville Maritime, other avenues of their illicit organization suddenly unfolded.”
“And you can prove your accusations?”
“Of course,” Pitt answered. “Computer data describing their hijacking activities, drug business and smuggling operations is in a safe at NUMA.”
Brogan held up a hand. “Wait one moment. You stated the Bougainvilles were also behind the hijacking of the
“I did.”
“And you know who was abducted?”
“I do.”
“Not possible,” Brogan stated flatly.
“Shall I name names, gentlemen?” said Pitt. “Let’s begin with the President, then Vice President Margolin, Senator Larimer and House Speaker Moran. I was with Larimer when he died. Margolin is still alive and held somewhere by the Bougainvilles. Moran is now here in Washington, no doubt conspiring to become the next messiah. The President sits in the White House immune to the political disaster he’s causing, while his brain is wired to the apron strings of a Soviet psychologist whose name is Dr. Aleksei Lugovoy.”
If Oates and the others sat stunned before, they were absolutely petrified now. Brogan looked as if he’d just consumed a bottle of Tabasco sauce.
“You couldn’t know all that!” he gasped.
“Quite obviously, I do,” said Pitt calmly.
“My God, how?” demanded Oates.
“A few hours prior to the holocaust on the
Pitt took the tobacco pouch from under his shirt, opened it, and casually tossed the notebook on the table.
It lay there for several moments until Oates finally reached over and pulled it toward him slowly, as if it might bite his hand. Then he thumbed through the pages.
“That’s odd,” he said after a lapse. “The writing is in English. I would have expected some sort of Russian worded code.”
“Not so strange,” said Brogan. “A good operative will write in the language of the country he’s assigned to. What is unusual is that this Suvorov took notes at all. I can only assume he was keeping an eye on Lugovoy, and the mind-control project was too technical for him to commit to memory, so he recorded his observations.”
“Mr. Pitt,” Fawcett demanded. “Do you have enough evidence for the Justice Department to indict Min Koryo Bougainville?”
“Indict yes, convict no,” Pitt answered. “The government will never put an eighty-six-year-old woman as rich and powerful as Min Koryo behind bars. And if she thought her chances were on the down side, she’d skip the country and move her operations elsewhere.”
“Considering her crimes,” Fawcett mused, “extradition shouldn’t be too tough to negotiate.”
“Min Koryo has strong ties with the North Koreans,” said Pitt. “She goes there and you’ll never see her stand trial.”
Emmett considered that and said stonily, “I think we can take over at this point.” Then he turned to Sandecker as if dismissing Pitt. “Admiral, can you arrange to have Mr. Pitt available for further questioning, and supply us with the computer data he’s accumulated on the Bougainvilles?”
“You can bank on full cooperation from NUMA,” Sandecker said. Then he added caustically, “Always glad to help the FBI off a reef.”
“That’s settled,” said Oates, stepping in as referee. “Mr. Pitt, do you have any idea where they might be holding Vice President Margolin?”
“No, sir. I don’t think Suvorov did either. According to his notes, after he escaped from Lugovoy’s laboratory, he flew over the area in a helicopter but failed to pinpoint the location or building. The only reference he mentions is a river south of Charleston, South Carolina.”
Oates looked from Emmett to Brogan to Mercier. “Well, gentlemen, we have a starting point.”
“I think we owe a round of thanks to Mr. Pitt,” said Fawcett.
“Yes, indeed,” said Mercier. “You’ve been most helpful.”
Christ! Pitt thought to himself. They’re beginning to sound like the Chamber of Commerce expressing their gratitude to a street cleaner who followed a parade.
“That’s all there is?” he asked.
“For the moment,” replied Oates.
“What about Loren Smith and Vince Margolin?”
“We’ll see to their safety,” said Emmett coldly.
Pitt awkwardly struggled to his feet. Sandecker came over and took his arm. Then Pitt placed his hands on the table and leaned toward Emmett, his stare enough to wither cactus.
“You better,” he said with a voice like steel. “You damned well better.”
62
As the
Friends and relatives of the passengers, frantic with anxiety, began collecting at the Russian cruise line offices. Here and there around the country flags were flown at half-mast. The tragedy was a subject of conversation in every home. Newspapers and television networks temporarily swept the President’s closing of Congress out of the limelight and devoted special editions and newscasts to covering the disaster.
The Navy began airlifting the people whom their rescue operation had pulled from the water, flying them to naval air stations and hospitals nearest their homes. These were the first to be interviewed, and their conflicting stories blamed the explosion on everything from a floating mine of World War Two, to a cargo of weapons and munitions being smuggled by the Russians into Central America.
The Soviet diplomatic missions across the United States reacted badly by accusing the U.S. Navy of carelessly launching a missile at the
