Pete was silent as the information was absorbed. He pursed his lips and examined the hologram, confused on one point--why would anyone destroy the vault to protect a hundred-and-fifty-year-old professor?

"Has this been verified by Europa?" Liz Patrick of the engineering department asked.

"Absolutely. I have already turned the results of my inquiry over to Dr. Robbins for further investigation."

"Anything else, Charlie?"

"One other thing. We did come across something in the files that became of interest only after we discovered the destination of these large orders. The barnacles recovered from the submarine's hull back in nineteen sixty-seven were a mixed breed of organisms. However, the bulk of these originated near the southern Mariana chain of islands, Guam in particular. Cirripedia acrothoracica, a new species of barnacle discovered only recently and indigenous to that area and those islands."

The audiovisual tech switched pictures after a nod from Ellenshaw. On the hologram, a map of the South Pacific appeared. Ellenshaw once more stepped up into the mist cloud. He pulled a laser marker from his coat pocket and placed it on Papua, New Guinea. "Now, I was given a report on the seaweed earlier, and if I was informed correctly, this seaweed used in the manufacture of our bad guys' clothing came from here, correct?"

Jack was looking at the map intently, knowing what Ellenshaw was trying to do. Pete Golding nodded his head at Charlie's question.

Ellenshaw then drew a laser line from New Guinea north toward Guam, then abruptly south to the southern chain of the same islands. The figure formed an elongated triangle. "I daresay it's a long shot, but that's what the crypto team is good at: placing silly bets on lost causes."

"Wait, what is the third marker for?" Pete asked.

Ellenshaw smiled. "The island at the southern tip of the Marianas was owned by a very wealthy family from Norway--the Heirthalls."

"You're saying that the people we are seeking--or at the very least, their ancestor--frequented this area?" Pete asked, taking off his glasses.

"No, what I'm saying is that this is more than likely their lair--or to be more precise, what used to be their lair. In addition, you may ask how could a vessel such as this ply the waters in the eighteen-sixties, and not be spied more frequently. It couldn't have," he answered for them, "at least not in the crowded oceans near industrialized nations. It would have to have been based in a region where there was virtually no water traffic, and what better place than the Marianas?"

"Doc, I think you may have something. It's gut instinct, but everything you've said makes sense ... in your always strange points of fact. The evidence, at least, says we may have a starting point."

Ellenshaw looked at Colonel Collins, and with his eyes and a dip of his chin thanked him for supporting his theory.

"Okay, good work, Charlie, we'll run with what you have. Now let's see what Batman and Robin can do with Europa and your new information."

As the department heads left, Collins stayed behind. He looked from Ellenshaw to the tired-looking Golding.

"Are you resting, Pete?" Jack asked, watching the man's eyes, which were a nice light blue when not covered by glasses.

"No ... but I will."

"You know who the saboteur is, don't you, Pete?" Jack asked. Ellenshaw stopped gathering his paperwork and watched the exchange. As he did he pulled a printout from his notes and waited.

Golding bit his lip, turned to look down at his own pile of notes and briefing materials, then slowly started to gather them up.

"Yes, I believe I do. I wanted more evidence, because what I have is circumstantial at best."

"Pete, all they had was circumstantial evidence on Ted Bundy, but they still knew who he was and what he did," Jack said. "Whoever it is cannot be free to roam the complex. That person is responsible for the death of our people, and the kidnapping of our friends."

Pete meekly tossed the papers back down onto the table and turned his back on Collins and Ellenshaw.

"Who, Doc?" Jack persisted, almost afraid to hear his answer.

"The complex at least, I believe, is safe for right now. The person I suspect is no longer here."

Collins closed his eyes, wanting not to see Pete's mouth move when he spoke the words.

"It was Virginia, damn her soul, Virginia Pollock, who sabotaged the vaults and tried to kill Europa when she let those animals into our home."

Collins was stunned. The air in the conference room almost became unbearable to breathe as each man took the information, allowing it to sink in and corrupt all good thoughts.

Jack's mind refused to bridge the name to the act of cold-blooded murder.

"During both failures of Europa, Virginia was the only person online. Professor Ellenshaw confirmed my suspicions when he mentioned the name Heirthall. At the same time Virginia sabotaged Europa, she was tasking the computer on several queries."

"I still don't believe it," Jack said as he looked at the computer login times.

"I was hesitant to bring this up, because in a court of law it would be thrown out as guilt by association," Ellenshaw said as he removed his own glasses and rubbed his eyes. "That and the fact I really like Dr. Pollock. She's a dear friend."

"Charlie, please," Pete said looking at the cryptozoologist.

"I ran the name through Europa's database, looking for any correlation between the name Heirthall and any person working within the complex, just to be thorough." He tossed a printout and Jack picked it up. "That is the list of the MIT graduating class of nineteen eighty-one."

Jack looked down the list and saw the names he was looking for--Alexandria Heirthall, and far below that, Virginia Pollock.

There was nothing left to say.

LEVIATHAN , 100 MILES OFF

THE COAST OF NEWFOUNDLAND

Niles, Sarah, Alice, Lee, Farbeaux, and Virginia were shown into the dining salon shortly after noon. They had taken an elevator and an escalator to get there, and still had not seen one quarter of the giant vessel.

As they stepped into the captain's dining salon, they were amazed at the artwork once again. There were originals from Picasso, Rembrandt, and even Remington was represented with an unknown original--not about the Old West, but of sailing men in the 1800s.

The long table was set with china that was embossed with the ship's logo, the now-familiar [?]L[?], and the silverware at each setting was sixteenth-century. It was Farbeaux who went directly to the heart of things. He picked up one of the four wine bottles sitting at the end of the table where he assumed the captain would normally sit, as this was the only high-backed chair at the white linen covered table. He examined the old and peeling white label on the bottle.

"Sauternes from Chateau d'Yquem, seventeen eighty-seven," he said, almost turning white. He placed the bottle down most gently.

"What is it, Colonel?" Sarah asked as she looked from Henri to the four bottles of wine.

"Sarah, my young dear, these bottles of wine, well ... to put it mildly, they should be in one of your Event vaults. Sauternes from Chateau d'Yquem seventeen eighty-seven--in two thousand six, a single bottle of this wine was auctioned for ninety-seven thousand of your American dollars. There was thought to be no more than two in existence, and here we are staring at four of them, to be a beverage served at lunch."