He took out of his pocket a thick velvet sleeve. From it he extracted a slim container and look at Paula. Opening the plastic container he took out a CD disc.
`Paula, that looks like a machine over there that takes CDs. It is? Good. We recorded Vane's edited statement on CD because it's so easy to conceal. Would you mind playing it? I said edited because I want you to hear the guts…'
Paula inserted the CD after switching on the machine. She pressed the 'play' button and sat down to listen. It was eerie to hear the soft-spoken voice of the dead Hilary Vane.
`I spent six years working with Boeing in Seattle on the Stealth project. Two of the most brilliant researchers in this field were Professors Bauer and Rockmann. Both were married and had children. Three years ago I was due to be transferred to Palmdale, California. Just before I left, Bauer and Rockmann were about to have their contracts renewed. Their specialty was aircraft – Stealth. A third equally brilliant researcher, Professor Crown, believed the technique could be adapted to ships and submarines. Crown had been working on his own for some time. Just before I left for Palmdale Bauer and Rockmann disappeared. They left notes behind at their homes in Seattle saying they were moving to another company. Agents from Washington couldn't find any trace of the two men – or their families. Professor Crown came with me to Palmdale. He was married but had no children. He also disappeared with his wife, leaving behind in his Seattle home a note saying the pressure was proving too much, that he'd taken a long holiday with his wife…'
There was a pause. Everyone waited expectantly and Dillon explained.
`Soon you'll hear me ask her a question. Not much more.'
He stopped speaking as the dead woman's voice continued. Paula thought she now detected a shakiness in her tone.
`Again the agents came from Washington and couldn't find any trace of them – Professor Crown and his wife. All three men with their loved ones had vanished into thin air. I found it most disconcerting, made it difficult to concentrate on my work…'
Another pause. Then Cord Dillon's voice asking the question.
`Ms Vane, about three years after Crown vanished, did you suddenly remember something you'd forgotten to mention in statements taken from you at the time?'
`Yes, Mr Dillon. I feel so stupid. It had completely slipped my mind. But Professor Crown went on what I thought was a holiday trip to Belgium before settling down at his new location in Palmdale. When he came back he told me over a drink late at night that he'd found confirmation of his marine Stealth theories from another source. He was very excited…'
Dillon stood up, strode briskly to the machine, switched it off. He removed the CD disc and replaced it in its velvet cover.
`That's it, Tweed. It was only one week ago Vane recalled that conversation with Crown over a late-night drink. Only a week ago that Belgium was mentioned. I come here direct from the President. His orders were that I contact you – he knows your track record.'
`And that's it?' Tweed asked.
`Not quite. We guessed no one would try to disappear from the States by plane. We knew the disappearance dates so we checked on shipping which left the ports of Seattle and San Francisco. When Bauer and Rockmann vanished we found a freighter – which has never returned – left San Francisco. Same with Crown. A freighter – which again never returned to the States – left Seattle just about the time he vanished with his wife.'
`You checked the registration of these two ships?' `Sure. Some obscure outfit we couldn't find anything on Moonglow Trading and Mercantile International.'
`And the destination of those freighters?' Tweed asked. `Hong Kong.'
15
It turned out that Cord Dillon was not only suffering from jet lag. He was also recovering from a bout of flu. He had been glad to leave Tweed's office for his room at the Inn on the Park. Shortly after his departure the phone rang. Monica picked it up, listened, put her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Tweed.
`A Commander Noble is waiting to see you downstairs.' `Wheel him up,' Tweed ordered.
Newman stood up. He was looking dishevelled and washed out.
`I think I'll get back to my flat and have a bath. That is, unless you think I ought to wait to hear what the Commander has to say?'
`I'd push off.' Tweed smiled. 'I rather think Commander Noble will want to speak to me alone. Naval Intelligence, as you know. I asked him to locate someone..
Newman opened the door as the visitor arrived at the top of the stairs. Nodding to him, Newman disappeared. Commander Noble stood six foot two, had a large frame, was in his late thirties, and had the ruddy complexion of a man who has spent time at sea. He wore a business suit.
Tweed stood up. He held out his hand in greeting.
`Good of you to come. Not something we could discuss on the phone, I gather?'
`Don't trust them. Not even scramblers. No thank you,' he responded when Monica offered him coffee. He looked at Paula and Monica before seating himself in the chair Tweed indicated.
`I don't wish to question the reliability of your staff. But this is a subject strictly between you and me.'
`I was just going to search for a file,' Paula said tactfully and left the room with Monica, who made a similar excuse. Noble sat upright in the armchair, grim-faced.
`Tweed, what's all this about ships vanishing without trace and for no apparent reason?'
`Five in the general area of the Solent this year.'
Tweed pointed to the wall where Monica, on his instruction, had attached three maps. One of the south coast centring on Lymington. Red-topped pins marked the general areas where Walford, Lymington's Acting. Harbour Master, had reported they had disappeared.
A second map, large scale, was of the whole of Europe. The third, taking up the most space, was a map of the entire world.
`Know about those,' Noble commented. 'There have been others.' He paused as though wondering how much to reveal. 'Hell, I know you. But this is top secret. I'm in touch with naval intelligence of other nations. Top secret,' he repeated. Another pause.
`Of course,' Tweed encouraged him.
`We've had similar reports of vessels disappearing for no reason off the coasts of Holland, Germany, and Denmark.' He stood up. 'Got more of those pins? Thanks,' he went on as Tweed handed him a glass ash-tray full of red-topped pins.
`How many ships were involved? What types? And what were weather conditions like?' Tweed fired off his questions.
`Two offshore from Holland.' Noble jabbed in pins. `Six off the German coast. Often near the Frisian Islands, curiously enough. Borkum, Norderney, and Sylt. There's a German naval base on the northern tip of Sylt…' He jabbed in more pins. 'And then eight off the western coast of Denmark – south of the port of Esbjerg.' Noble rammed in pin after pin, then turned to face Tweed, his hands on his hips.
`What types, you said. Yachts, coasters, fishing boats, and freighters. In every case no wreckage found. And no survivors. Except in one case. A trifle grisly.'
`Go on, I'm intrigued,' Tweed urged him.
`A German radar expert called Vogel took his small sloop out from Norderney in a dense sea mist. He was number six, had gone out to find out what had happened to a close friend. He never came back. A search the following day by a helicopter located a piece of floating wreckage. A chopper crewman descended with a cradle to bring up the relic. He retched up all his breakfast. Vogel's head was jammed in the remains of the bow. He had been decapitated. Head sliced off below the chin as neat as you like. Same with what was left of the sloop.'
`What did it?' Tweed probed. 'Surely a German pathologist…'
`Yes. A German pathologist checked the specimen. He'd no idea what had done it. Said the neck was severed so cleanly he'd have thought a surgeon with a huge knife had done the job. Fantastic idea. He didn't mean it – he was just demonstrating how bizarre it was.'