Текст книги "Flood Tide"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

In the early hours of the morning, when most of the world was asleep, he stared into a computer monitor the size of a home-entertainment video screen and analyzed the data as it accumulated. He peered at one of the six known photographs of the Princess Dou Wan. She was a stately-looking ship, he thought. Her superstructure was set far aft of the bow and appeared small in relation to her hull. He studied the colored image of her, magnifying the white band in the center of the green funnel, focusing on the emblem of the Canton Lines, a golden lion with its left paw raised. Her maze of loading cranes suggested a ship that could carry a substantial cargo besides her passengers.

He also found photos of her sister ship, the Princess Yitng Thi, which was launched and entered service the year after the Princess Dou Wan. According to the records the Princess Yung Thi was broken up six months before the Princess Dou Wan was scheduled to be scrapped.

A tired old liner doomed for the scrappers at Singapore would not have made an ideal transport to move China's national treasures to a secret location, he thought. She was beyond her time and hardly in prime condition to weather heavy seas on an extended voyage across the Pacific. It also seemed to Perlmutter that Taiwan was the more sensible destination since it was where Chiang Kai-shek eventually set up the Chinese Nationalist government. It was not conceivable the last

known report of the ship had come from a naval radio operator in Valparaiso, Chile. What possible purpose could the Princess Dou Wan have for being over six hundred miles south of the Tropic of Capricorn in an area of the Pacific Ocean far off the traditional shipping lanes?

Even if the liner was on a clandestine mission to hide China's art treasures somewhere on the other side of the world in either Europe or Africa, why go across the vast, empty region of the South Pacific and through the Strait of Magellan when it was shorter to steer west across the Indian Ocean and around the Cape of Good Hope? Was secrecy so consuming that captain and crew could not risk going through the Panama Canal, or did Chiang Kai-shek have an unknown cavern or man-made structure hidden in the Andes to conceal the immense treasure, if indeed it could be proven the ship was carrying China's national historic wealth?

Perlmutter was a pragmatic man. He took nothing for granted. He went back to square one and restudied the photos of the ship. As he examined her outline, a vague notion began to form in his mind. He called a nautical archivist friend in Panama, waking him from a sound sleep, and charmed him into going through the records of ships passing west to east through the Canal between November 28 and December 5, 1948.

With that lead being pursued, he began reading through a list of names of the ship's officers last known to have sailed on the Princess. All were Chinese except for Captain Leigh Hunt and Chief Engineer lan Gallagher.

He felt as if he was throwing chips on every number of a roulette table. What are the odds of losing? he mused. Thirty-six out of thirty-six? But then he had to consider the zero and double zero. Perlmutter was no old fool. He covered every bet, firmly believing that if only one number paid off, he'd win.

He punched the buttons on his speakerphone and waited for a sleepy voice to answer. “Hello, this better be good.”

“Hiram, it's St. Julien Perlmutter.”

“Julien, why in God's name are you calling me at four in the morning?” Hiram Yaeger's voice sounded as if he was talking through a pillow.

“I'm in the middle of a research project for Dirk, and I need your help.”

Yaeger became marginally alert. “Anything for Dirk, but does it have to be four in the morning?”

“The data is important, and we need it as quickly as possible.”

“What do you want me to investigate?”

Perlmutter sighed with relief, knowing from experience that the NUMA computer genius had never let anyone down. “Got a pencil and paper? I'm going to give you some names.”

“Then what?” asked Yaeger, yawning.

“I'd like you to hack your way through government census, IRS and Social Security records for a match. Also, check them out through your vast file of maritime records.”

“You don't want much.”

“And while you're at it...” said Perlmutter, forging onward.

“Does it never end?”

“I also have a ship for you to trace.”

“So?”

“If my intuition is working, I'd like you to find what port it arrived at between November twenty-eighth and December tenth, nineteen forty-eight.”

“What's her name and owner?”

“The Canton Lines' Princess Dou Wan,” he replied, spelling it out.

“Okay, I'll start first thing after I arrive at NUMA headquarters.”

“Leave for work now,” urged Perlmutter. “Time is vital.”

“You sure you're doing this for Dirk?” demanded Yaeger.

“Scout's honor.”

“Can I ask what this is all about?”

“You may,” replied Perlmutter, and then he hung up.

Within minutes after he began his probe of Captain Leigh Hunt of the Princess Dou Wan, Yaeger found the old seaman mentioned in various references in maritime journals listing ships and their crews that sailed the China Sea between 1925 and 1945, in Royal Navy historical documents and old newspaper accounts describing the rescue of eighty passengers and crew from a sinking tramp steamer off the Philippines by a ship captained by Hunt in 1936. Hunt's final mention came from a Hong Kong maritime register, a short paragraph stating that the Princess Dou Wan had failed to arrive at the scrappers in Singapore. After 1948 it was as if Hunt had vanished from the face of the earth.

Yaeger then concentrated on lan Gallagher, smiling when his search ran across remarks in an Australian marine engineer's journal telling of Gallagher's colorful testimony during an investigation into a shipwreck he had survived that had gone aground near Darwin. “Hong Kong” Gallagher, as he was referred to, had little good to say about his captain and fellow crewmen, blaming them for the disaster and claiming he had never seen any of them sober during the entire voyage. The final mention of the Irishman was a brief account of his service with Canton Lines, with a footnote on the disappearance of the Princess Dou Wan.

Then, to cover all bases, Yaeger programmed his vast computer complex to conduct a search of all worldwide records pertaining to commercial engineering officers. This would take some time, so he wandered down to the NUMA building's cafeteria and had a light breakfast. Upon his return, he worked on two other marine geological projects for the agency before finally returning to see if anything turned up on his monitor.

He stared fascinated at what he saw, not willing to accept it. For several seconds the information did not register in his brain. Now suddenly out of the blue he had a hard hit. He spread the search in several different directions. Several hours later, he finally sat back in his chair, shaking his head. Feeling supremely self-satisfied, he called Perlmutter.

“St. Julien Perlmutter here,” came the familiar voice.

“Hiram Yaeger here,” the computer genius mimicked.

“Did you find anything of interest?”

“Nothing you can use on Captain Hunt.”

"What about his chief engineer?

“Are you sitting down?”

“Why?” Perlmutter asked cautiously.

“Ian 'Hong Kong' Gallagher did not go down on the Princess Dou Wan.”

“What are you saying?” demanded Perlmutter.

“Ian Gallagher became a citizen of the United States in nineteen fifty.”

“Not possible. It must be another lan Gallagher.”

“It's a fact,” said Yaeger, enjoying his triumph. “As we speak, I'm looking at a copy of his engineering papers, which he renewed with the Maritime Administration of the U.S. Department of Transportation shortly after he became a citizen. He then hired on for the next twenty-seven years as chief engineer with the Ingram Line out of New York. He married one Katrina Garin in nineteen forty-nine and raised five kids.”

“Is he still alive?” asked a dazed Perlmutter.

“According to the records, he draws his pension and Social Security checks.”

“Can it be he survived the sinking of the Princess?”

“Providing Gallagher was on it when she went down,” replied Yaeger. “Do you still want me to see if the Princess Dou Wan arrived in an eastern seaboard port during the dates you gave me?”

“By all means,” answered Perlmutter. “And scan the shipping-port arrival records for a ship called the Princess Yung Tai, also owned by the Canton Lines.”

“You got something going?”

“Crazy intuition,” replied Perlmutter. “Nothing more.”

The border of the puzzle is in place, thought Perlmutter. Now he had to fit the inside pieces. Exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he allowed himself the extravagance of a short two-hour sleep. He awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He allowed it to ring five times while his mind came back on track before answering.

“St. Julien, Juan Mercado from Panama.”

“Juan, thank you for calling. Did you turn up anything?”

“Nothing, I'm afraid, on the Princess Dou Wan.”

“I'm sorry to hear it. I'd hoped by chance she might have made passage through the canal.”

“I did, however, find an interesting coincidence.”

“Oh?”

“A Canton Lines ship, the Princess Yung Tai, passed through on December first, nineteen forty-eight.”

Perlmutter's fingers and hands tightened around the receiver. “What direction was her passage?”

“West to east,” answered Mercado. “From the Pacific into the Caribbean.”

Perlmutter said nothing, soaking up a wave of jubilation. Several pieces were still missing in the puzzle, but a visible pattern was slowly emerging. “I owe you a great debt, Juan. You've just made my day.”

“Happy to have been of service,” said Mercado. “But do me a favor next time, will you?”

“Anything.”

“Call me during daylight hours. Any time my wife thinks I'm awake after we've gone to bed, she gets amorous.”

WHEN PITT RETURNED TO HIS HANGAR IN WASHINGTON, HE was pleasantly surprised to find Julia waiting in his apartment above the car collection. After a hug and a kiss, she presented him with a margarita on the rocks made the right way—without the sweet mix and crushed ice popular in most restaurants.

“You are so nice to come home to,” he said happily.

“I couldn't think of a more comfortable and secure place to stay,” she said, smiling seductively. She was wearing a blue leather miniskirt with a tan nylon mesh one-shoulder top.

“I can see why. The grounds outside are crawling with security guards.”

“Courtesy of the INS.”

“I hope they're more alert than the last group,” he said, sipping the margarita and giving an approving nod.

“Did you fly in from Louisiana alone?”

Pitt nodded. “Al is in a local hospital having a cast put on his broken leg. Admiral Sandecker and Rudi Gunn came in earlier to make a report directly to the President.”

“Peter Harper filled me in about your heroics on the Mississippi. You prevented a national disaster and saved countless lives. The newspapers and TV news programs are filled with stories of terrorists blowing up the levee and the battle between the United States and the National Guard. The whole country was rocked by the event. Strangely, there was no mention of you or Al.”

“Just the way we like it.” He raised his head and sniffed the air. “What's that appetizing aroma I smell?”

“My Chinese dinner for the party tonight.”

“What's the occasion?”

“St. Julien Perlmutter called just before you returned and said he thinks he and Hiram Yaeger have the inside track on a solution to the disappearance of Qin Shang's treasure ship. He said he intensely dislikes meeting hi government buildings, so I invited him for dinner to hear his revelations. Peter Harper is coming, and I also sent invitations to Admiral Sandecker and Rudi Gunn. I hope they can find time to come.”

“They're fans of St. Julien,” said Pitt, smiling. “They'll be here.”

“They'd better, or you'll be eating leftovers for two weeks.”

“I couldn't have had a nicer homecoming,” said Pitt, embracing Julia and squeezing the breath out of her.

“Phew!” she said, wrinkling her nose. “When was the last time you bathed?”

“It's been a few days. Except for diving in swamp water I haven't had the opportunity to jump in a shower since I last saw you on the Weehawken.”

Julia rubbed the reddish blush on one of her cheeks. “Your beard is like sandpaper. Hurry and pretty up. Everyone will be showing up in another hour.”

“Your presentation is magnificent,” said Perlmutter, eyeing the array of delectable dishes Julia had prepared buffet-style and set out on an antique credenza in Pitt's dining room.

“It looks absolutely scrumptious,” said Sandecker.

“I couldn't have described it better,” added Gunn.

“My mother took special pains to teach me to cook, and my father was a lover of fine Chinese food prepared with a French influence,” said Julia, basking in the flattery. She had changed into a red Lycra jersey tube dress and looked stunning amid the room full of five men.

“I hope you don't leave INS to open a restaurant,” joked Harper.

“Not much chance of that. I have a sister who owns a restaurant in San Francisco, and it's a hard job with long hours in a small, hot kitchen. I'd rather have freedom of movement.” Helping themselves and gathering around a table built from a cabin roof off a nineteenth-century sailing ship, they dug into Julia's feast with great anticipation. She didn't disappoint them. The compliments flowed and bubbled like fine champagne.

During dinner, the talk purposely skirted Perlmutter's findings and centered instead around the events on the Mystic Canal levee and the Army Corps efforts to repair the damage, All hated the idea of the United States being scrapped as she lay, and expressed the hope that necessary funding would be found to save and refit her, if not for voyaging then as a floating hotel and casino, as originally proposed. Harper filled them in on the indictments being handed down against Qin Shang. Despite his influence and the reluctance of the President and some congressmen, the charges of criminal conduct rolled over any opposition.

For dessert, Julia served fried apples with syrup. After dinner was finished and Pitt had helped Julia clear the dishes and load them in the dishwasher, everyone settled in his living room filled with nautical antiques, maritime paintings and ship models. Sandecker lit up one of his big cigars without asking permission while Pitt poured them all a glass of forty-year-old port.

“Well, St. Julien,” said Sandecker, “what is this great discovery Pitt tells me you made?”

“I'm also interested in hearing how you think it concerns the INS,” Harper said to Pitt.

Pitt held up his port and stared at the dark liquid as if it was a crystal ball. “If St. Julien puts us on the wreck of a ship called the Princess Dou Wan, it will alter the relationship between the U.S. and China for decades to come.”

“Forgive me if I say that sounds wildly improbable,” said Harper.

Pitt grinned. “Wait, and you shall see.” Perlmutter eased his bulk into a big chair and opened his briefcase, retrieving several files. “First, a little history to enlighten those of you who don't yet know exactly what it is we're talking about.” He paused to open the first file and pull out several papers. "Let me begin by saying that rumors concerning the passenger ship Princess Dou Wan as leaving

Shanghai with a vast cargo of historical Chinese art treasures in November of nineteen-forty-eight are true."

“What was your source?” asked Sandecker.

"Name is Hui Wiay, a former Nationalist Army colonel who served under Chiang Kai-shek. Wiay now lives in Taipei. He fought the Communists until forced to flee to Taiwan when it was called Formosa. He's ninety-two years old but with a memory sharp as a razor. He vividly recalled following orders by Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek to empty the museums and palaces of every art treasure they could lay their hands on. Private collections belonging to the rich were also seized, along with any and all wealth found in bank vaults. All of it was packed in wooden crates and trucked to the Shanghai docks. There it was loaded on board an old passenger liner that was commandeered by one of Chiang Kai-shek's generals, whose name was Kung Hui. He seems to have dropped off the face of the earth the same time as the Princess Dou Wan, so there is every reason to believe he was on her.

“More treasure was seized than the ship could ordinarily hold. But since the Princess Dou Wan had been stripped of her furnishings and fixtures in preparation for her final voyage to the scrappers in Singapore, Kung Hui managed to cram over a thousand crates into the cargo holds and empty passenger staterooms. Most of the crates with large sculptures were tied down on the open decks. Then on November second, nineteen forty-eight, the Princess Dou Wan sailed from Shanghai into oblivion.”

“Vanished?” said Gunn.

“Like a midnight ghost.”

“When you say historical art treasures,” said Rudi Gunn, “is it known exactly what pieces were seized?”

“The ship's manifest, if there was one,” answered Perlmutter, “would make every curator in every museum of the world mad with envy and desire. A brief catalog would include the monumental designs of Shang-dynasty bronze weapons and vases. From sixteen hundred until eleven hundred B.C., Shang artists were advanced in the carving of stone, jade, marble, bone and ivory. There were the writings of Confucius inscribed in wood in his own hand from the Chou dynasty that reigned from eleven hundred to two hundred B.C.; magnificent bronze sculptures, incense burners inlaid with rubies, sapphires and gold, life-size chariots with drivers and six horses and beautifully lacquered dishes from the Han dynasty, two-oh-six B.C. to two twenty A.D.; exotic ceramics, books from China's classical poets and paintings by their masters living in the T'ang dynasty, six eighteen to nine-oh-seven A.D.; beautifully created artifacts from the Sung, Yuan, and the famous Ming dynasty, whose artisans were masters at sculptures and carvings. Their workmanship is widely known for the decorative arts, including cloisonne, furniture and pottery, and of course, we're all familiar with their famous blue– and white-porcelain.”

Sandecker studied the smoke that curled from his cigar. “You make it sound more valuable than the Inca treasure Dirk found in the Sonoran Desert.”

“Like comparing a cup of rubies to a carload of emeralds,” Perlmutter said, sipping his port. “Impossible to set a value on such a grand hoard. Moneywise, you're talking billions of dollars, but as historical treasure, the word priceless becomes inadequate.”

“I can't imagine riches of such magnitude,” said Julia wonderingly.

“There's more,” Perlmutter said quietly, adding to the spell. “The icing on the cake. What the Chinese would consider as their crown jewels.”

“More precious than rubies and sapphires,” said Julia, “or diamonds and pearls?”

“Something far more rare than mere baubles,” Perlmutter said softly. “The bones of Peking man.”

“Good lord!” Sandecker expelled a breath. “You're not suggesting that the Peking man was on the Princess Dou Wan.”

“I am,” Perlmutter nodded. “Colonel Hui Wiay swore that an iron box containing the long-lost remains were placed on board the Princess Dou Wan in the captain's cabin minutes before the ship sailed.”

“My father often spoke of the missing bones,” said Julia. “Chinese adoration of our ancestors made them more meaningful than tombs still containing early emperors.”

Sandecker sat up and gazed at Perlmutter. “The saga behind the loss of the Peking man's fossilized bones remains one of the great unexplained enigmas of the twentieth century.”

“You're familiar with the story, Admiral?” asked Gunn.

“I once wrote a paper on the missing bones of Peking man at the Naval Academy. I thought they vanished in nineteen forty-one and were never found. But St. Julien is now saying they were seen seven years later on the Princess Dou Wan before she set sail.”

“Where did they come from?” asked Harper.

Perlmutter nodded at Sandecker and deferred. “You wrote the paper, Admiral.”

“Sinanthropus pekinensis,” Sandecker spoke the words almost reverently. “Chinese man of Peking, a very ancient and primitive human who walked upright on two feet. In nineteen twenty-nine the discovery of his skull was announced by a Canadian anatomist, Dr. Davidson Black, who directed the excavation and was funded by the Rockefeller Foundation. Over the next several years, digging in a quarry that had once been a hill with limestone caves near the village of Choukou-tien, Black found thousands of chipped-stone tools and evidence of hearths, which indicated Peking man had mastered fire. Excavations carried out over the next ten years found the partial remains of another forty individuals, both juveniles and adults, and what has been acknowledged as the largest hominid fossil collection ever assembled.”

“Any relation to Java man, who was found thirty years sooner?” asked Gunn.

“When the Java and Peking skulls were compared in nineteen thirty-nine, they were seen to be very similar, with Java man arriving on the scene a shade earlier and not as sophisticated in toolmaking as Peking man.”

“Since scientific dating techniques didn't come into play until much later,” said Harper, “is there any idea as to how old Peking man is?”

“Because he cannot be scientifically dated until he's re-found, the best guess to his age is between seven hundred thousand and one million years. New discoveries in China, however, indicate that Homo erectus, an early species of human, is now thought to have migrated out of Africa to Asia two million years ago. Naturally, Chinese paleoanthropologists hope to prove that early man evolved in Asia and migrated to Africa instead of the accepted other way around.”

“How did the remains of Peking man disappear?” Julia asked Sandecker.

“In December of nineteen forty-one, invading Japanese troops were closing in on Peking,” narrated Sandecker. "Officials at the Peking Union Medical College, where the irreplaceable bones of Peking man were stored and studied, decided they should be removed to a place of safety. It was also evident, more so in China than in the West, that war between Japan and the United States was imminent. American and Chinese scientists agreed that the fossils should be sent to the United States for safekeeping until after the war. After months of negotiation, the American ambassador in Peking finally arranged shipment by a detachment of U.S. marines that was under orders to sail for the Philippines.

“The ancient bones were carefully packed in two Marine Corps footlockers and, along with the marines, were put aboard a train bound for the port city of Tientsin, where both living and dead were to board the S.S. President Harrison, a passenger ship belonging to the American President Lines. The train never arrived hi Tientsin. It was halted by Japanese troops who ransacked it. By now it was December the eighth, nineteen forty-one, and the marines, who had thought themselves neutrals, were then sent to Japanese prison camps to sit out the war. It can only be assumed that after lying underground for a million years, the remains of Peking man were scattered around the rice paddies beside the railroad track.”

“That was the last word on their fate?” Harper inquired.

Sandecker shook his head and smiled. “Myths thrived after the war. One had the fossils secretly hidden in a vault under the Museum of Natural History in Washington. The marines who guarded the shipment and survived the war came up with at least ten different stories of their own. The footlockers went down on a Japanese hospital ship that in reality was loaded with weapons and troops. The marines buried the footlockers near an American consulate. They were hidden in a prisoner-of-war camp and then lost at the end of the war. They were stored in a Swiss warehouse, in a vault on Taiwan, in the closet of a marine who smuggled them home. Whatever the true story, Peking man is still lost in a fog of controversy. And how they somehow found their way into Chiang Kai-shek's hands and onto the Princess Dou Wan is anybody's guess.”

“All very tantalizing,” said Julia, setting a pot of tea and cups on the center table for anyone who wanted some. “But what good is all this if the Princess can't be found?”

Pitt smiled. “Leave it to a woman to cut to the heart of the matter.”

“Any details surrounding her loss?” asked Sandecker.

“On November twenty-eighth, she sent out a Mayday signal that was picked up in Valparaiso, Chile, giving her position as two hundred miles west of the South American coast in the Pacific. Her radio operator claimed a fire was raging in her engine room and she was rapidly taking on water. Ships in the general area were diverted to the location given, but the only trace that was ever found were several empty life jackets. Repeated signals from Valparaiso brought no response, and no extensive search was undertaken.”

Gunn shook his head thoughtfully. “You could look for years with the Navy's latest deep-sea-penetrating technology and not find anything. A vague position like that means a search grid of at least two thousand square miles.”

Pitt poured himself a cup of tea. “Was her destination known?”

Perlmutter shrugged. “None was ever given nor determined.” He opened another file and passed around several photos of the Princess Dou Wan.

“For her time, she was a pretty ship,” observed Sandecker, admiring her lines.

Pitt's eyebrows raised in speculation. He rose from his chair, walked to a desk and picked up a magnifying glass. Then he studied two of the photos closely before looking up. “These two photos,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” Perlmutter murmured expectantly.

“They are not of the same ship.”

“You're absolutely right. One photo shows the Princess Dou Wan's sister ship, the Princess Yung Tai.”

Pitt stared into Perlmutter's eyes. “You're hiding something from us, you old fox.”

“I have no rock-hard proof,” said the big history expert, “but I do have a theory.”

“We'd all like to hear it,” said Sandecker.

Out came another file from the briefcase. “I strongly suspect the distress signal received in Valparaiso was a fabrication that was probably sent by Chiang Kai-shek's agents either on land or from a fishing boat somewhere offshore. The Princess Dou Wan, while en route across the Pacific, was given a few minor modifications by her crew, including a name change. She became the Princess Yung Tai, which had been broken up at the scrappers a short time before. Under her new disguise, she then continued toward her ultimate destination.”

“Very canny of you to fathom the substitution,” said San-decker.

“Not at all,” Perlmutter replied modestly. “A fellow researcher in Panama discovered that the Princess Yung Tbi passed through the Canal only three days after the Princess Dou Wan sent her Mayday signal.”

“Were you able to trace her course from Panama?” asked Pitt.

Perlmutter nodded. “Thanks to Hiram Yaeger, who used his vast computer complex to trace ship arrivals at ports up and down the eastern seaboard during the first and second week of December, nineteen forty-eight. Bless his little heart, he struck gold. The records show a vessel passing through the Welland Canal listed as the Princess Yung Tbi on December the seventh.”

Sandecker's face lit up. “The Welland Canal separates Lake Erie from Lake Ontario.”

“It does indeed,” agreed Perlmutter.

“My God,” Gunn muttered. “That means the Princess Dou Wan didn't disappear in the ocean but sank in one of the Great Lakes.”

“Who would have thought it?” Sandecker said more to himself than the others.

“Quite a feat of seamanship to navigate a ship her size down the St. Lawrence River before the seaway was built,” said Pitt.

“The Great Lakes,” Gunn echoed the words slowly. “Why would Chiang Kai-shek order a ship filled with priceless art treasures to go thousands of miles out of the way? If he wanted to hide the cargo in the United States, why not San Francisco or Los Angeles as a destination?”

“Colonel Hui Wiay claimed he was not told the ship's final destination. But he did know that Chiang Kai-shek flew agents into the U.S. to arrange for the cargo to be unloaded and stored with the utmost secrecy. According to him, it was at the direction of officials at the State Department in Washington, who set up the operation.”

“Not a bad plan,” said Pitt. “The main port terminals along the East and West coasts were too open. The dockworkers would have known what they were unloading in a second. Word would have spread like wildfire. The Communist leaders back in China would never have suspected their national treasures were to be smuggled into America's heartland and hidden.”

“Seems to me a naval base would have been the obvious choice if they wanted secrecy,” suggested Harper.

“That would have taken a direct order from the White House,” said Sandecker. “They were already catching flak from Communist Romania and Hungary for keeping their royal jewels in a Washington vault after the American Army found them hidden in a salt mine in Austria immediately after the war.”

Pitt said, “Not a bad plan when you think about it. Communist Chinese intelligence agents would have put their money on San Francisco. They probably had agents crawling over the dock terminals around the bay, waiting for the Princess Dou Wan to steam under the Golden Gate Bridge, never dreaming the ship was actually headed for a port in the Great Lakes.”

“Yes, but what port?” said Gunn. “And on which lake?”

They all turned to Perlmutter. “I can't give you an exact location,” he said candidly, “but I do have a lead who might direct us to a ballpark location containing the wreck.”

“This person has information you don't?” asked Pitt unbelievingly.

“He does.”

Sandecker looked steadily at Perlmutter. “You've questioned him?”

“Not yet. I thought I'd leave that up to you.”

“How can you be sure he's reliable?” asked Julia.

“Because he was an eyewitness.”

Everyone stared openly at Perlmutter. Finally, Pitt asked the obvious question in their minds. “He saw the Princess Dou Wan go down?”