The Emperor's Revenge

TWENTY-EIGHT

In the waiting area outside the harbormaster’s office, Linda Ross watched the bustling activity of cranes off-loading containers from three giant ships. Even at six in the morning, Manwel Alessi made her and Eric Stone cool their heels while he took care of port matters.

Under the guise of the fake IDs they’d used in Monaco, she had explained that they were insurance investigators looking into the theft at the museum warehouse. Alessi had readily agreed to meet with them, as curious about the normally tranquil island’s unusual events as he was eager to assist the investigation.

He swung the door open and waved them inside. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He was a trim man in his fifties, wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

“Not at all,” Linda said. “Thank you for meeting with us. We know how busy you must be.”

“Sit, please. Of course, when I heard that you needed information, I was happy to help. The museum director and I are old friends.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know he’s made a full recovery,” Eric said.

“That’s good to hear. Strange what happened. Did they catch anyone?”

Linda shook her head. “No suspects as yet. And some items were stolen, which is why we’re here.”

“Yes, I heard about it. Such a tragedy. Have you tracked any of the pieces down?”

“That’s what we’re trying to do. One of the items was something called the Jaffa Column. It’s a stone obelisk from Syria taken by Napoleon during his Egyptian campaign.”

Alessi leaned back as soon as he understood the implication. “You think someone’s trying to smuggle it out of the Freeport.”

“That’s a possibility,” Eric said. “The Maltese police are following leads on the island in case it’s being stored somewhere here. Smuggling is the other option.”

“The problem is its size,” Linda said. “The column weighs thirty tons. It’s unlikely they would have attempted to fly it off the island. Besides, we checked into that prospect and no cargo planes large enough to carry it have taken off in the last three days, which is the last time anyone saw it.”

“Well, I’m afraid it may be long gone by now,” Alessi said. “We’ve had eight ships leave in that time. Almost all of them were as big as those.” He pointed at the gigantic ships framed in the window overlooking the harbor. Each of them was large enough to carry more than five thousand containers.

“I know that we’re sailing into the wind here, Mr. Alessi,” Linda said. “But we need to follow any possible leads. The museum is desperate to recover what could be a cornerstone of their collection.”

“I’m happy to give you a list of the ships that have already sailed and the ones that are scheduled to leave in the next two weeks, but you’ll have to contact each of the lines yourselves to request an inspection of their cargo. Of course, any containers that originated in Malta we will check before they leave.”

He printed out the list and handed it to Linda. The ships were listed, along with the name of their operators, the number of containers off-loaded and loaded at the port, and the arrival and departure dates. Before Linda had a chance to scan the complete tally, Eric pointed at one odd item.

“The Narwhal loaded only one container?” he asked Alessi.

“Oh, yes. That was a strange one. We don’t often get small feeder vessels. As I said, the giant containerships are what normally dock here, and they’re getting bigger by the day. This one off-loaded thirty-five containers and loaded a single one for the trip out.”

“Did the container originate here?”

Alessi checked his computer. “As a matter of fact, it did. According to my records, it was carrying machine parts.”

“Was it inspected?”

“Yes. Two days ago.”

Linda didn’t put much stock in that. Dockworkers could always be bribed for the right price.

The printout said the Narwhal sailed last night. No destination was listed.

“Do you know where the Narwhal was headed?” Eric asked, reading Linda’s mind.

Alessi shrugged as he looked at his screen. “They claimed they were bound for Marseilles, but that could easily be changed en route, which they likely would do if you think they came for stolen cargo. They could even off-load it to another ship at sea. We would have no way to know.”

Suddenly, a strange look crossed his face.

“What is it?” Linda said.

“Well, you said you were looking into anything odd, and I did hear something strange recently.”

“About the Narwhal?”

“Yes. Two days ago, a couple of men were plucked from the sea by a fishing trawler in the middle of a storm east of Spain. One of the men has recovered enough to talk about what happened to him, but he was thought to be crazed by the ordeal.”

Eric leaned forward. “What did he say?”

“He said that he was a sailor on the Narwhal and that it blew up and sank. He and his friend jumped overboard and were lucky to find a floating container to climb aboard until they were rescued.”

“But you said the Narwhal was here. It left last night.”

“That’s exactly why they thought this man was raving mad. He told this fantastical story that the ship had been replaced with a replica that sailed right by him. Does that make any sense to you?”

Linda stood abruptly and Eric followed suit. “We’ll look into all the possibilities, of course, Mr. Alessi,” she said. “We thank you for your time.”

When they were out of earshot, Eric said, “You think that’s the one?”

“I wouldn’t bet against it. Whoever stole the column wouldn’t want to take the chance that it would get lost among a thousand other containers. They’d want to know exactly where it was.”

“Or they’d even want to control the ship itself. If the Narwhal is the one with the column on board, they already have an eight-hour head start. They could be more than a hundred miles away from Malta by now.”

“Then we better get back to the Oregon and begin our search. We’ll just have to hope they haven’t already dumped it overboard.”

The only problem was where to start looking.