“Because the Diplomatic Surveillance Group is up Petrov’s ass 24/7, and we would have seen him boarding, and even if he gave us the slip he’d still have to go through security at the pier. And obviously he wants no connection between him and The Hana.”

“Right.”

“What else have you done for me tonight?”

“Well, now that we have the name of the ship, we were able to tune in to The Hana’s AIS transmitter to find its location.”

“But it wasn’t transmitting or you’d be aboard by now.”

“Correct.” He also told me, “It’s illegal to shut off the transmitter.”

“The transmitter could be out of service.”

“It could be, but then The Hana would have radioed this fact to the Coast Guard, but they haven’t. Also, the Coast Guard has decided not to call The Hana on the hail and distress channel, so as not to tip them off.”

“Right.”

“And finally we have no signal from The Hana’s GPS.”

“Well, that just about nails it, Scott. No GPS signal and no transmitter signal. The Hana is hiding.”

“It would appear so.” He added, “We’ve seen this M.O. with drug smugglers.”

“Right.” And for all I knew, The Hana had rendezvoused with a South American ship and taken a ton of Colombian marching powder aboard, and this had nothing to do with Russians or nukes. This wouldn’t be the first time I was investigating one crime and discovered another. In fact, there was really nothing to conclusively link Petrov and his pals to The Hana, or to a nuke. Except that Tamorov introduced Petrov to the prince, and if everything looks like a coincidence, it isn’t.

Kalish informed us, “This fog is not helping, but we’re using infrared imaging now that we have an idea what this ship looks like. And we also know we’re not looking for an amphibious craft on its deck.” He also let us know, “By now the search area is thousands of square miles, and quite frankly even with every available craft from every agency out there, it’s not easy looking for an electronically silent speck in a fog-shrouded ocean at night. And if The Hana is hiding it probably has all its lights off.” He added, “But if you’re right about the nuke, we do have the radiation emission going for us.”

Unless Petrov had a way to shield his nuke. I said, “I think we’ll have more luck as the shipping lanes narrow and funnel into New York Harbor.”

“Right. But you don’t want that ship getting that close.”

“Correct.” That’s a goal-line defense, and it wouldn’t take much to get The Hana into the end zone. Or it was already there.

Kalish speculated, “By now they could know we’re looking for them, and their first clue would be if they noticed helicopters flying search patterns overhead, or saw high-speed craft on their radar, or saw we were using the Midnight Sun. And a bigger clue would be if The Hana was monitoring police search and rescue frequencies.” He added, “But of course no one is using the name Hana on the air, so Petrov and his pals could think they were seeing and hearing a search and rescue. Or a drug interdiction.”

“Hope so.” But Vasily Petrov, a.k.a. Vaseline, might have guessed we were looking for him. A sane man would have dumped the nuke overboard and aborted the mission. But no one who intends to murder a million innocent people is sane.

Kalish asked me, “You think this Saudi prince is in cahoots with Petrov?”

“I don’t know. Could be that Petrov hijacked the ship. Or conned the prince. Or the prince is complicit. I don’t know.”

“Okay… so we don’t know how many hostiles are onboard.”

“Correct.”

Tess asked Kalish, “How many crew would it take to run a ship of that size?”

“Three for a long cruise. But for a short run, like to New York Harbor, one person could do it if he knew how to steer, navigate without GPS, and set the engine speeds.”

Tess said, “So this captain, Jack Wells, or one of his officers, could sail The Hana by themselves?”

“Theoretically,” Kalish replied, “but why would they? Unless they were in cahoots.”

I didn’t think any of The Hana’s crew was in cahoots. But you never know what money can buy. Or how much cooperation you could get from a man with a gun to his head. It was also possible that the officers and crew were clueless about what was going on. The last possibility was that Captain Wells and his officers were no longer in charge of the ship, and Petrov picked up a Russian sea captain and crew along with the nuke.

There were a lot of unknowns here, and as someone once said, you need to know how many unknowns there are that you don’t know about. On the other hand, you can get lost in weeds if you go down that path. To simplify this, all we needed to know and to believe was that a yacht named The Hana was headed to Manhattan with a suitcase nuke onboard. It was amazing, I thought, how something so small could alter the course of history.

Vasily Petrov, however, must understand by now that his mission was compromised. But maybe he saw it as a challenge. Or maybe he was so crazy that he couldn’t understand that all the odds were against him. Or were they?

Tess said to Kalish, “I assume the Coast Guard and all Federal authorities are up to speed on this.”

“I have shared all this information.”

“And what did they suggest?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He let us know, “We have a good relationship with the Coast Guard, but sometimes with the Feds they suck in information like a black hole and nothing comes back.”

I advised him, “Don’t take it personally.”

“Right. They can’t help themselves. And they’re not helping me much.”

“But they want you to help them.”

“They appreciate my assistance.”

“That’s all you need to know, Scott. And I mean, that’s all you need to know.”

“Right.” He also let us know, “The thinking is that this ship—The Hana—is no longer in my area of operation. It could be much farther west by now, close to New York Harbor. But the Coast Guard has asked the Suffolk County Marine Bureau to continue the search in our area in case The Hana is lurking around in the fog, waiting to make its run.”

“Good thinking. And I hope that’s the case.”

Scott Kalish and I both knew through long experience with the Feds that they needed you when they needed you. And the minute they didn’t need local law enforcement, you were dropped like a cheap date, and you never heard another word about the case until you read about it in the papers. Well, two can play that game.

He asked me, “Where are you?”

“About ten minutes from the Coast Guard Station.”

There was a silence, then Kalish said, “I was told that the Diplomatic Surveillance Group is no longer part of this operation.” He concluded, correctly, “I think that means you.”

“Probably. But Ms. Faraday has deputized me to join her on the SAFE boat.”

“Can I have that in writing?”

“No.”

“Well…”

“Who’s in charge here, Scott? You or the Feds?”

“This is a joint operation.”

“If the worst happens with this joint operation, which joint gets blamed?”

He didn’t reply, so I added, “And if this has a happy ending, you’ll be lucky if you get a one-line mention in a press release or two words at a press conference.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He let me know, “I don’t think you can get aboard my SAFE boat, John.”

Time to call in my I.O.U. “Did you phone your daughter?”

“I didn’t tell her why she needed to come home tonight.”

“But I assume she’s on her way.”

“Right…”

I changed the subject and asked him, “Does that website have a photo of The Hana?”

“Yeah. Plus plans of its five decks.”

“Did you send that out to all the units?”

“Everyone.”

“Good. Please make sure there are printouts of this info at the Coast Guard Station.”

“All right.” He let me know, “You did a good job. But if I were you, I’d let it go.”