“One moment.”
A voice came over the line that Giordino immediately recognized as Donald Kern’s. “Despite the fact you’ve stepped out of your territory, I’m always in the market to save money. Tell me where I can see your special discounts.”
“You have to get that information out of the Murmoto distributorship in Alexandria. Their computer records show six cars that came into the country but didn’t leave the factory. I suggest you hurry before word gets out and someone else beats you to them. Half the cars were off-loaded at the customs dock in Baltimore on August fourth. The other three came in on September tenth.”
Kern quickly translated Giordino’s meaning. “Hold on,” he ordered. He turned to his deputy, who was listening on the speaker. “Get on it. Gain access to Murmoto’s computer system and dig out their shipping records for the whereabouts of those six cars before they get wise and erase the data.” He returned to Giordino. “Nice work. All is forgiven. By the way, how did you happen to stumble onto the bargains?”
“The idea came from Stutz. Have you heard from him?”
“Yes, he called half an hour ago,” replied Kern. “He discovered the source of the problem.”
“I sort of thought if anyone could troubleshoot a riddle, he could,” said Giordino, referring to Pitt’s canny talent for discovering an unknown. “It takes a devious mind to know one.
26
IT WAS DARK when Yaeger dropped Pitt off at the old hangar on the far corner of Washington’s International Airport. The structure was built in 1936 and once covered the planes of an old air carrier long since purchased by American Airlines. Except for the headlights of Yaeger’s Taurus, the only other illumination came from the glow of the city across the Potomac River and a solitary road lamp fifty meters to the north.
“For someone who hasn’t been home for four months, you sure travel light.” Yaeger laughed.
“My luggage lies with the fishes,” Pitt mumbled through halfclosed eyes.
“I’d love to see your car collection again, but I have to get home.”
“It’s bed for me. Thanks for the lift. And thank you for this afternoon. A fine job as always.”
“Love doing it. Finding the key to your brain twisters beats solving the mysteries of the universe any day.” Yaeger waved, rolled up his window against the cold night air, and drove off into the darkness.
Pitt took a spare transmitter from his pants pocket that he kept in his NUMA office and punched in a series of codes that shut down the hangar’s security system and turned on the interior lights.
He unlocked the old, badly weathered side door and entered. The polished concrete floor of the hangar looked like a transportation museum. An old Ford trimotor airplane was parked in one corner next to a turn-of-the-century railroad Pullman car. Over fifty automobiles covered the remaining 10,000 square meters. European exotica such as a Hispano-Suiza, a Mercedes-Benz 540K, and a beautiful blue Talbot-Lago were sitting across from magnificent American classics like a Cord L-29, a Pierce-Arrow, and a stunning turquoise-green Stutz town car. The only piece that seemed oddly out of place was an old cast-iron bathtub with an outboard motor attached to the backrest.
He tiredly walked up a circular iron stairway to his apartment overlooking the collection. What had once been an office, he had redecorated into a comfortable one-bedroom apartment with a large combination living room-study whose shelves were filled with books and glass-encased models of ships Pitt had discovered and surveyed.
An appetizing aroma drifted from the kitchen. He found a note hanging on a bird of paradise rising from a vase on the dining table. A smile crossed his face as he read it.
Heard you had sneaked back into town. Cleaned out the alien slime that invaded your refrigerator a month after you were gone. Thought you might be hungry. A salad is on ice and the bouillabaisse is warming in a pot on the stove. Sorry I couldn’t be there to greet you, but must attend a dinner at the White House.
Love.
L
He stood for a moment trying to urge his sleep-fogged mind to’ come to a decision. Should he eat and then take a shower? Or jump in the shower first? He decided a hot shower would knock him out and he’d never make it back to the table. He undressed and slipped on a short robe. He ate the salad, a Waldorf, and almost the entire pot of bouillabaisse along with two glasses of Smothers Brothers 1983 Cabernet Sauvignon from a bottle that came from a closet wine rack.
He finished and was rinsing the dishes in the sink when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Pitt?”
“Yes, Mr. Jordan,” Pitt answered, recognizing the voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt your sleep.”
“My head is still ten minutes away from the pillow.”
“I wanted to call and learn if you heard from AI.”
“Yes, he called right after he talked to you.”
“Despite your unauthorized project, the information was quite useful.”
“I know I shouldn’t have stepped out of bounds, but I wanted to play out a hunch.”
“You’re not much of a team player, are you, Dirk?” said Jordan, using Pitt’s given name for the first time. “You’d rather play your own game.
” ‘Wisdom denotes the pursuing of the best ends by the best means.’ “
“Your words?”
“No, they belong to Francis Hutcheson, a Scot philosopher.”
“I give you credit for quoting in the exact form,” said Jordan. “Most of official Washington would have plagiarized the original and quoted ‘The ends justifies the means.’ “
“What do you want?” asked Pitt, desperately eyeing his bed.
“I thought you’d also like to know that we found the bomb carriers.”
“All six cars?” Pitt asked, astonished.
“Yes, they’re hidden in a Japanese bank building in downtown Washington. Sealed in an underground basement until the day they’re dusted off and driven to their scheduled targets and detonated.”
“That was fast work.”
“You have your methods, we have ours.”
“Have you placed them under surveillance?”
“Yes, but we have to tread softly. We don’t dare tip our hand yet, not before we terminate those responsible for this horror and destroy their command center,” said Jordan. “As it was, Giordino came within a hair of blowing the operation this afternoon. Somebody at Murmoto Distributors was scared. We got in and out of their accounting system only minutes before they erased their imported shipping data.”
“The data led you to the cars?”
“We were able to track and penetrate a known Japanese owned freight company whose trucks picked them up. They programmed no mention of destination in their records, of course, but we did manage to ‘borrow’ a copy of the driver’s delivery log. It revealed the number of kilometers the truck traveled after leaving the dockyard. The rest involved solid investigation and fancy footwork.”
“Like breaking and entering.”
“We never break when we enter,” said Jordan.
“Should it leak out that our good citizens are sitting on nuclear bombs belonging to a foreign power, the country will be torn apart by panic.”
“Not a healthy situation, I agree. The public uproar and the demand for revenge might scare the Japs into moving the cars to strategic positions and pressing the ‘fire’ button before we can find and neutralize them.”
“An across-the-board search could take twenty years to find them all.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jordan calmly. “We know how they do it, and thanks to you and Giordino, we know what to look for. The Japanese are not half the pros we are in the intelligence business. I’ll bet we’ll find every Murmoto and its bomb within thirty days.”
“I applaud optimism,” said Pitt. “But what about our allies and the Russians? The Japanese may have hidden bombs under them too. Is the President going to warn their leaders of the possibility?”