"Captain Flores in Naval Affairs asked if you could meet him downstairs."

"Did he say why?"

"Only that it was urgent."

Rojas didn't want to spill his coffee, so he took the elevator instead of the stairs. Flores, impeccable in a white navy dress uniform, greeted him on the first floor but offered no explanations as he escorted Rojas across the street to a large shed that housed the coastal rescue boats. Inside, a group of men were examining several mangled fragments that looked to the Colonel as if they came from a boat.

Captain Flores introduced him to Chavez and his son. "These fishermen have just brought in this wreckage, which they discovered in the channel," he explained. "They say it looked to them like a yacht had been crushed in a collision with a large ship."

"Why should a yachting accident concern special security?"

asked Rojas.

The Harbor Master, a man with cropped hair and a bristling mustache, spoke up. "It may well be a disaster that could cast a cloud on the economic summit." He paused and added, Rescue craft are on the scene now. So far no survivors have been found."

"Have you identified the yacht?"

"One of the scraps Mr. Chavez and his crew fished out of the water bears a nameplate. The craft was called the Lola."

Rojas shook his head. "I'm a soldier. Pleasure boats are not familiar.

Is the name supposed to mean something to me?"

"The yacht was named for the wife of Victor Rivera," answered Flores.

"You know him?"

Rojas stiffened. "I am acquainted with the Speaker of our Chamber of Deputies. The yacht was his?"

Registered in his name," Flores nodded. 'We've already contacted his secretary at her home. Gave her no information of course. Merely inquired as to Mr. Rivera's whereabouts' She said he was on board his yacht hosting a party for Argentinean and Brazilian diplomats."

"How many?" Rojas inquired, a fear growing within him.

"Rivera and his wife, twenty-three guests and five crew members. Thirty in all."

"Names?"

"The secretary did not have the guest list in front of her. I've taken the liberty of sending my aide to Rivera's headquarters for a copy."

"I think it best if I take command of the investigation from this point," stated Rojas officially.

"The Navy stands ready to offer every assistance," said Flores, happy to wash his hands of any authority.

Rojas turned to the Harbor Master. "What ship was involved with the collision?"

"A mystery. No ship has arrived or departed the harbor in the last ten hours."

"Is it possible for a ship to enter port without you knowing?"

"A captain would be stupid to try it without calling for a pilot. "

"Is it possible?" Rojas persisted.

"No," stated the Harbor Master firmly. "No oceangoing ship could dock or moor in the harbor without my being aware of it."

Rojas accepted that. "Suppose one sailed out?"

The Harbor Master considered the question for a few moments. Then he gave a slight nod. "One could not cast off from a dock without my knowledge. But if the vessel was anchored offshore, if her skipper or his officers knew the channel, and if she ran without lights, she might make it out to sea unnoticed. But I must say it would be close to a miracle."

"Can you furnish Captain Flores with a list of moored ships?"

"I'll have a copy in his hands within ten minutes."

"Captain Hores?"

"Colonel?"

"Since a missing ship is a naval operation, I'd like you to take command of the search."

"Gladly, Colonel. I'll begin immediately."

Rojas stared thoughtfully at the wreckage littering the concrete floor.

"There'll be hell to pay before this night is through," he muttered.

Shortly before midnight, after Captain Flores had conducted a thorough search of the harbor and the waters outside the channel, he notified Rojas that the only ship he could not account for was the Lady Flamborough.

Colonel Rojas was stunned when he examined the cruise liner's VIP

passenger list. He demanded a follow-up investigation in the false hope that the Egyptian and Mexican Presidents had disembarked for quarters on shore. Not until it was confirmed that they were missing along with the ship did the horrible specter of a terrorist hijacking become evident.

An extensive air search was launched at dawn. Every aircraft the combined air forces of Uruguay, Argentina and Brazil could put in the air scoured over 400,000 square kilometers of the South Atlantic.

No sign of the Lady Flamborough was found.

It was as though she had been swallowed by the sea.

Two hands were running under his shirt and up his back. He struggled to wake from a sound sleep, dreaming he was deep in the water swimming upward toward the shimmering surface, but never able to reach it. He rubbed his eyes, saw he was still on the couch in his office, and rolled over, his gaze blocked by a pair of shapely legs.

Pitt moved to a sitting position and stared into Lily's beguiling eyes.

He held up his wrist, but he had taken his watch off and placed it on the desk with his keys, change and wallet.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Five-thirty," she replied sweetly, moving her hands across his shoulders and massaging his neck.

"Night or day?"

"Late afternoon. You only dozed off for three hours."

"Don't you ever drop off.?"

"I can get by with only four hours' sleep out of every twenty-four."

He yawned. "Your next husband has my deepest sympathy."

"Here's some coffee." She set a cup on an end table near his head.

Pitt slipped on his shoes and tucked in his shirttails. Yaeger found anything?"

'Yes .

"The river?"

"No, not yet. Hiram is very mysterious about it, but he claims you were right. Venator sailed across the Atlantic before either the Vikings or Columbus."

He took a sip of the coffee and made a face. "This is almost solid sugar."

Lily looked surprised. "Al said you always take four spoon fuls."

"Al lied. I prefer it pure black with grounds on the bottom of the cup."

"I'm sorry," she said with an unremorseful smile. "I guess I was taken in by a practical joker."

"You're not the first," he said, staring out the door of his office.

Giordino was seated with his feet on Yaeger's desk, devouring the last slice of a pizza while he studied a detailed topographic map of a shoreline.

Yaeger sat with bloodshot eyes aimed at a computer monitor while jotting notes on a pad. He did not have to Turn as Pitt and Lily entered the room. He could see their reflections in the screen.

"We've made a breakthrough," he said with some satisfaction.

Pitt asked, "What have you got?"

"Instead of concentrating on every nook and cranny south from the Serapis's grave in Greenland, I leapfrogged down to Maine and began looking for a match-up of his landing description."

"And it paid off," Pitt said in anticipation.

"Yes. If you'recall, Rufinus wrote that after they deserted Venator, they were battered by storms from the south for thirty-one days before finding a safe bay where they could make repairs to the ship. On the next leg of the voyage more storms blew away the sails and tore off the steering oars. Then the ship drifted for an unspecified number of days before ending up in the Greenland fjord."