China Jewel (24 page)

“I know you’ll keep it to yourself. You always do. I thought you could get into the museum files on personal computer. Like, you have the code I’m sure.”

Then, after listening to her friend, she said, “Good. OK, I want you to run the name of a clipper brig named Eagle, in the year 1840 coming out of Canton, China, and headed to New York.”

“Yes, that’s right, owners and cargo if you got it. I’ll hang on.”

She smiled at Cutter as she held her cell against her ear. Her long hair kept shifting and she pushed it back impatiently. Then she sat forward with a grin. She touched Cutter’s hand.

“Wait, I’ll put you on speaker.”

A woman was speaking over the stuttering sound of a computer printer in the background. She said, “OK, Katy, I’ll read it to you. I thought that something might turn up in port records and I was right. A court in Buenos Aires had recorded testimony in 1840 from a brig Eagle which had been on its way to New York. None of the ship owners are identified. There is no record of the name of the witness making the testimony. It does identify him as a seaman from the Eagle describing a night attack on his ship.

August 15 1840

We had been anchored for several days near the channel off the city of Buenos Aires. Supplies for the last part of our voyage to New York were being taken aboard. It was a time when our mates kept us occupied with ship repair. I remember that we painted and applied tar from dawn to dusk. The mates were very concerned that the ship be ready to sail as fast as possible although I did not know why they were so concerned. Our cargo was not valuable tea. We actually had little of value and were looking for freight to carry north.

We had been told that we would be leaving in the morning with the tide. The winds seemed to be favorable to sail out the river and reach the ocean without any calms to delay our transit. The ship was quiet as midnight and there was no light, no starlight or moon, and the lights ashore were dim. I was on the watch and could see nothing amiss. In a while the next watch would come up to prepare for the departure at dawn.

The intruders came aboard without my seeing them and entered the captain’s cabin. When I heard noises below I want to investigate. I was unarmed and could do nothing. They knocked over the table and chairs of his living quarters. Our captain stood with his mates and tried to fight them off but all was stabbed over and over in the struggle. One man shouted, “Die for your sin.” The attackers carried large shining knives that glowed in the darkness, lit up with the small glimmers from deck lanterns outside the cabin.

Our captain’s clothing and effects were thrown about in disorder while the intruders drank his liquors. They located his cupboard and therein found a small chest belonging to the captain. One of the men showed this to a large sailor who appeared to be the leader. That man took the box and after opening it, nodded to the others and they left the room. I did not see them again.

The ship became quiet. We were bound hand and foot and we worked hard in the darkness to free each other. None of the intruders came into the hold so we assumed they had left. As we struggled, we smelled the smoke. We knew the ship was afire. The attackers had fired the ship to prevent us from following them. We assumed that we were to be left to burn to death.

Only by the goodness of the Lord were some of us able to escape the flames and get to the main deck. By then the whole ship was a mass of flame in the rigging. It was like a great torch with all the new tar we had put on the rigging adding to the fuel. My face felt so hot I ran to the side and jumped into the water even though it was a long swim to shore. Unfortunately I was the only survivor of the disaster.

Katy’s friend said, “That’s it.”

“Can we assume that Captain Tolchester caught up to these people and took back the jewels?” Cutter asked Katy.

“You tell me,” Katy said. She put her hands to her face like she was praying. “I just hope that we can discover remains of that wreck. I want facts that I can touch. Often the archeology of a site can explain these mysteries.”

Katy’s friend on the speaker phone said, “I found something else. Here’s a copy of an Argentine government dive to the Eagle wreck in 1980. The government was trying to expand the harbor and some wreckage was in the way. She quoted,

A ship named the Eagle was attacked and sunk about this time in the harbor near Buenos Aires. It was researched in 1980 as part of a harbor archeology program. Little remains of the hull. The old wood shows extensive fire damage..

“
OK, Katy, that’s all I see in the files. Hope it helps.” After Katy and the rest said their thanks, she said with a chuckle, “Just remember that I like to eat seafood at one of your Fells Point restaurants, the next time I am in Baltimore.” She rang off.

They were quiet, each thinking of what to do next with the new information. Then Sparkles called.

 “The Peregrine is off the screen again. Doc Jerry says it is strange that this happened. It may be electronics or she might have hit something and sunk very fast.”

She added with more concern than Cutter had ever heard from her, “The avatar of the America is still bright and nasty, coming in strong. Monroe called. You’re supposed to drive to headquarters in New York. They are calling a meeting.”

Cutter stood up and said to Katy, “I’ve got to go to New York. The Peregrine is in trouble again.” He repeated what Sparkles had said.

“I’ll stay here and work on the next dive,” said Katy.

“You sure?”

“Why not? I’m a better diver than you, anyway.” She stood and kissed him.

She said, “Go find the Peregrine. I’ll find the Osprey.”

He looked at her, was silent for a long moment, thoughts rushing through his mind. Then he said slowly, thinking of his son, “Darling, the Peregrine may not even exist anymore.”

Chapter 20

September 23 9 PM

New York                                                      

On the way into the city from Staten Island, Sparkles gave him more information, her voice breaking.

“We were checking on the tides near the islands ahead, the nearby weather, the winds. We observed America and Peregrine on the wall screen. The two brigs sailed maybe a hundred miles apart heading towards the Philippines. The wind blew behind and off their quarter so both were making good speed. Actually the Peregrine appeared to be ahead and sailing faster. Suddenly our boat disappeared. Gone, just like that. The America sailed on as if nothing had happened.”

“What about the transponder and locator electronics?” asked Cutter.

“There is nothing. Doc Jerry thinks it is defective equipment again. It’s like someone cut the wires. There’s no chatter or static as if it were something loose or vibrating. It just stopped. We checked with Navy and Coast Guard. They had the same experience.”

When Cutter entered the New York meeting room, his face red with anxiety, the others looked up. They sat around the same table that he visited many weeks ago. Bill was in the midst, papers and maps spread before him. Against the meeting room wall in several cardboard boxes were samples of the black tee shirts with the white Peregrine logo. Bill had been preparing a major publicity event in New York City. The huge computer console bleeped with weather information. Only one ship, Strand’s America, was noted underway on the screen.

Bill nodded to Cutter. Cutter noted how tired his boss looked. Bill’s discouragement about the loss of the ship was evident. Cutter knew well enough that his stress was not about the safety of the crew. Bill only loved the machine, the fabulous sailboat and its relationship to his family history. It was similar to his love for the old flying boat he had restored. Yet the concern for the humanity was missing.

The other owners and staff members had crowded around the table and along the walls. The British owner was subdued but was studying maps in front of him with his companions. His own boat was out of the race but he did seem concerned about the Peregrine. Cutter studied his face as the Liverpool billionaire read the latest reports coming in about Philippine weather. He had not seen the French owner since her brig was sunk with all hands lost. She was however present with her assistant. She was trading reports with her British counterpart. Strand was sitting at the end of the table and kept his eyes to the papers in front of him. Two Federal agents had joined the group from the New York Office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. As Bill introduced them, they indicated that more members of their team were on the way from Washington.

Monroe, Bill’s executive secretary, stood up and said, “We’ve established a grid to search. The Navy dispatched several ships and search planes to go over the area. To bring you up to date, our specialists are working with two assumptions. First there is the concept that the Peregrine sank and nothing can be done. Second, her equipment is faulty and the ship is undamaged. Based on the past malfunctions of the Chinese equipment, we think the second is the most likely scenario. In other words, when she is spotted or the radio equipment is fixed, the crisis will be over.”

She passed around an ocean chart. “You’ll note Bill marked the coordinates where we uncovered the wreck of the Clipper seaplane. That location is near the last known position of our ship. We have good charts of the deep bottom there if it is necessary.

Cutter saw Bill wince. It was as if his boss was thinking that the same mysterious force that had downed the old seaplane so many years ago had struck again and sunk the beautiful Peregrine with all hands.

Monroe went on, even though she was aware of the discomfort of her boss. “The coordinates of the Peregrine’s last known location are closer to the jungle islands in the north of the Philippines than they are to that place where the seaplane was found.”

Cutter said to the conference, “What about searching those islands just ahead of the coordinates of her last known position. Could she be aground?”

Bill said, “We’re on top of that. Planes have been in there but they found nothing so far.”

Monroe added, “There’s also the question of why the communication did not work. We think that if the electronics were functioning, Captain Hall would have reported trouble. Professor Tung instructed the Chinese manufacturer of those electronics to immediately work overtime to find answers.”

Professor Tung, present with one of her company officials, said, “Until now, I was not made aware of any difficulty with the electronic devices. Have you been reporting these problems for a long time?”

Cutter said, “We have reported these electronic problems to Dela.”

She said, “Mister Dela must explain this to our race authority.”

“Where is Dela?” asked Cutter.

Tung replied, “In China preparing the finish of the race festivities.”

Cutter added, “Maybe there is more to this, some kind of criminal activity.” He was reminded of the unexplained death of his workman in River Sunday, and the broken mast on the Peregrine.

Bill said, “I can tell you that our friend Dela is finding himself in hot water over there. He is being interrogated by their best people.”

A lawyer, his head covered with healthy long white hair, working for the English owner, said, “We think Dela could have been doing a lot more to make this race safe. This should never have happened if he had been more alert.”

“You’ll have a hard time proving anything like that,” said Strand’s lawyer, the middle-aged woman from New York. Large rings on her fingers tapped the table and Cutter remembered her defiance when he visited Slidell.

Cutter asked, his voice hard, “Why are you defending him?”

She started to reply, her mouth twisted in anger, but she halted when the door opened suddenly.

A Chinese man rushed into the conference room. He apologized to the lawyer for interrupting her and turned to Bill. He said, “We have a video about the Peregrine coming in on the regular television.” Bill signaled to Monroe and she raced from the room.

A television screen moved out from the wall and tilted toward the table. The picture cleared and a worried network announcer spoke. “This video was just received by our sources in the Philippines for publication on our network. We present it complete and untouched.”

The film began. The video was taken in a room with concrete walls. Two figures faced each other in front of a brightly colored Philippine flag.

They were dressed in draped white cloth with slits for eyes and in their hands were large automatic pistols. In front of the flag, suspended from ropes attached to their bound ankles were side by side a young man and woman, naked, their hands bound behind their backs. The gunman on the right pushed one body with his pistol and forced both bodies to swing to the right and back again. Neither captive spoke although from the constant tremors of their bodies they were obviously in pain.

Cutter stood up shouting, “Jamie and Madeline.”

A guttural voice spoke in a strange language. Finally the video ended.

A few minutes passed while the group looked at each other with no words spoken. Then Monroe came back and passed some notes to Bill. He read them and said to the others, “The language is the local Philippine dialect. These guys call themselves the Islamic Philippine Martyrs. They say the brig is captured and the crew is held on board. If any attempt is made to rescue them, the ship will be blown up with them inside. They want us to send them one million dollars for each of the crew members. The money is to be deposited in a certain bank account. After the money is delivered all except these two hostages will be freed immediately. After a reasonable time if no harm comes to the Martyrs, these remaining two will be released.”

“I’m going out there,” said Cutter, still standing, his eyes wild.

Monroe added, “They also gave the number of the bank account and an email address for our answer.”

“Now we know what happened. We can begin,” said the FBI special agent in charge. The New York Office had taken control of the case after Bill had asked for help. This agent had the grey hair of a man who had spent many years in police work. Another agent had come into the room, a black woman dressed well in a black pantsuit, her service weapon in a shoulder holster. She was introduced as the office expert in terrorism.