the rear wheels bounded into and over the curb. The combined forces flipped the van onto its side atop the retaining wall. It slid a few feet, then tumbled over the wall, splashing roof first into the road’s namesake, the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, flowing just beyond.
Dirk skidded the Packard to a halt before the stoplight and raced across the street, with Summer running a step behind. They reached the retaining wall and peered over. The canal had swallowed most of the van, leaving only a portion of its still-spinning tires protruding. A dull glow brightened the murky water at one end, where the van’s headlights had yet to short out.
Dirk slipped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. “I’ll try and get them out,” he said. “See if you can get the campus police to help.”
He jumped into the canal and swam to the van, diving along the passenger door. The glowing headlights turned the water’s visibility from zero to next to nothing, and he had to find the open window frame by touch. The frame height was barely a foot high, telling him the roof had collapsed at impact. It didn’t bode well for the occupants.
Reaching inside the open window, he felt a lifeless body strapped in the seat. Groping blindly, he found the buckle release and freed the seat belt. The body dropped loosely, and he pulled on the victim’s shoulders, dragging him through the narrow window.
Dirk shot to the surface, gasping for air, as he pulled the head and torso free of the water. A bright flashlight beam, aimed by the campus policeman, shined on the victim, and Dirk knew he had wasted his time. The passenger’s head tilted at a grotesque angle, his neck broken.
Dirk pulled the body to the bank and called up to the policeman. “Give me your light.”
He passed Dirk the light as he reached out to help pull the body ashore. Dirk swam to the van’s other side and dove once more. With the flashlight, he could now see the driver was also dead, his torso pinned between the crushed roof and the steering wheel. Unlike his partner, he hadn’t been wearing a seat belt.
Though running short of breath, Dirk shined the light past the driver and into the rear compartment. A row of electronic processing devices was mounted on a shelf. Sitting nearby was a large acrylic parabolic dish used for eavesdropping.
Pushing off from the door, he swam to the back of the van and checked its license plate before popping to the surface. He stroked to the bank, where Summer helped him up the incline.
“No luck with the other one?”
“No, he’s dead, too.”
“I’ve got paramedics on the way,” the policeman said. His inexperience with fatalities was betrayed by a pale face. He regained his composure but spoke with a forced tone of authority. “Who are those people? And why were you chasing them?”
“I don’t know who they are, but they stole something from us.”
“They get your money? Or was it jewelry or electronics?”
“No,” Dirk replied, looking at the dead man. “It was our words.”
55
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT WHEN DIRK AND SUMMER staggered back into the NUMA computer center. Gunn and Yaeger were still examining images on the large viewing screen.
“I didn’t realize you were taking time for a seven-course meal,” Gunn said. Then he noticed their appearance. Dirk’s hair was disheveled and his clothes damp, while Summer’s outfit sported a large stain, and she reeked of stale beer. “What on earth happened to you two?”
Summer related the series of events, including a two-hour interrogation by the District of Columbia police.
“Any idea who would have tailed you?” Yaeger asked.
“None,” Dirk said. “I suspect it may have something to do with Dad.”
“Could be,” Gunn said, “especially if they saw you leave his hangar this morning. From a distance, there is a strong resemblance between the two of you.”
Summer handed Yaeger a slip of paper. “Here’s the van’s license number. The police wouldn’t tell us, but maybe you can identify the owner.”
“With ease,” Yaeger said.
“How’re things progressing with the
“Not well,” Gunn said. “We’ve been in contact with every major port authority along the coast of North, South, and Central America. No one has a record of the
“Guess that leaves two options,” Dirk said. “They either off-loaded at a private facility or they headed in another direction.” He neglected to mention a third option, that the ship had sunk.
“We’ve been talking about those scenarios,” Yaeger said, “and we don’t believe they headed west. First, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to hijack a ship out of Australia in the eastern Pacific if you plan to take the cargo someplace in the western Pacific. The second problem is fuel. Fully loaded, the
“Makes sense. That only leaves about a thousand other places she could have ducked into along the coast.”
Gunn and Yaeger nodded. They were searching for a transparent needle in a very large haystack. Gunn described the details of their port searches and the latest surveillance images while Yaeger grabbed the keyboard and began typing. A few minutes later, he called to the others.
“Got something on your van,” he said, as a Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles registration form appeared on the screen. “The owner is SecureTek of Tysons Corner, Virginia.”
Yaeger brought up another site on his screen. “The state corporate commission describes their business as providing data encryption links for closed network computer systems. They have eight employees, and their primary customer is the U.S. government.”
“Doesn’t sound like the type of security company that would be eavesdropping on people,” Summer said.
“Unless,” Dirk said, “their declared business is a front.”
“It doesn’t appear to be,” Yaeger said after some additional research. “They have a number of valid contracts with the Army and Navy for data line installations.”
Returning to the corporate commission’s site, he noted that SecureTek was a wholly owned subsidiary of Habsburg Industries. “It’s a privately held firm, so information is rather limited, but they’re based in Panama and have interests in mining and shipping.”
Yaeger performed several searches but found only brief mention of the firm. A shipping periodical displayed a photo of one of the firm’s bulk carriers, the
Dirk glanced at the photo and sat up in his chair. “Hiram, can you enlarge that photo?”
Yaeger nodded, blowing up the image until it filled the entire screen.
“What is it?” Summer asked.
“The logo on the funnel.”
Everyone peered at the image of a white flower centered on the ship’s squat gold funnel.
“I think that’s an edelweiss,” Summer said. “In keeping with the ship’s Austrian name, I imagine.”
“I saw that same flower on the freighter docked in Madagascar,” Dirk said.
The computer room fell silent. Then Gunn asked, “Hiram, can you determine what kind of mining this Habsburg Industries is actually involved in?”
“They operate a small gold mine in Panama near the Colombian border. The firm also has an active brokerage business in specialty ores, including samarium, lanthanum, and dysprosium.”
“Rare earth elements?” Summer asked.
Gunn nodded. “Rare earth elements. Habsburg Industries suddenly looks very interesting.”
“I’d wager the operation in Madagascar was stealing rare earth minerals,” Dirk said. “The reason they
