Sea of Fire

Chapter Sixty

The helicopter was moving in a northeasterly direction when Herbert's phone beeped. All eyes save the pilot's turned to him. Herbert could not see the eyes clearly in the dark. But he knew what was in them.

Hope. They wanted information, a shred of intelligence, a place to look. Anything. Jelbart lowered the binoculars he had been using. He and Loh looked to Bob Herbert's expression for a quick indication of whether Op-Center had learned something.

Herbert listened for a moment, then shook his head once. Without comment, Loh and Jelbart went back to looking out the windows. Ahead of them was Osprey Reef, which lay 210 miles from Cairns. It was a popular shark-watching spot for tourists. Herbert wished that were an omen.

The pilot turned to his passengers. "We're nearly at the point of no return," he shouted back. "If we don't start back in the next fifteen minutes or so, we won't reach the refueling depot."

Herbert acknowledged with a nod. He looked past the reef. It was odd. He had never felt trapped in his wheelchair. But he felt trapped now in a fast-moving helicopter unhindered by roads and mountains. That was because he lacked information and the means to get it. Ignorance was not bliss. It was a prison.

Herbert blinked his tired eyes. He raised them to the horizon. It had a slightly ruddy hue. He looked at his watch. It was not quite three A.M. It was too early for dawn.

"People, have a look at the eastern horizon," Herbert said. "What do you make of that?"

"It can't be sunrise," Loh said.

Jelbart turned his binoculars in that direction. "No. There are individual lights out there." He tapped the pilot on the shoulder and pointed. "Let's have a look before we go back."

The pilot nodded and swung the Bell toward the faint glow. Jelbart continued to study the lights with his binoculars.

"You know, those lights are the color of distress flares," Jelbart said.

Herbert thought the same thing. White flares were for a person overboard. Yellow flares were for working a line-throwing apparatus. Orange meant the user was stranded but safe. The colors were different so that the flares could provide light without needlessly summoning surrounding vessels.

Jelbart lowered his binoculars and pressed the headphones to his ears. He and the pilot were obviously receiving a message.

"One of the planes saw the light, too," Jelbart said excitedly. "Definitely flares, looks like a ketch is going down."

"Any fires?" Herbert asked.

Jelbart shook his head.

"Lifeboats?" Loh asked.

"Not that they could see," Jelbart replied.

"A ketch," Herbert said thoughtfully. "A boat like that wouldn't seem out of place here, would it?"

"No," Jelbart replied. He pulled the chart book from the sleeve on the door. He flipped to the page with the coordinates the pilot had given him. "That area of the sea is two hundred feet deep, with no reefs. Nothing a ship would be likely to strike. Not with enough force to sink it."

"Why would the smugglers sink their own ship, then send out flares?" Loh wondered.

"Especially so many flares," Jelbart pointed out. "There had to be three or four to light the sky like that."

"They are not the kind of projectiles that would self-launch in heat or in a fire," Loh said. "They have to be triggered intentionally."

"Right," Jelbart said. "Though it appears some of these were ignited close to the water. Not in the air."

"Perhaps the boat shifted when they were firing," Loh suggested. "This may have been an act of desperation before it went down."

"You don't take a boat to deep water and sink it because you want to be found," Herbert said.

"Then why fire flares?" Jelbart asked.

"Maybe not everyone liked the idea of the boat being deep-sixed," Herbert speculated.

"A mutiny," Jelbart suggested.

"Dissent among smugglers," Herbert replied. "That's not a big leap of imagination."

"True. Well, we'll have our answers soon," Jelbart said. He turned to the pilot. "How much time until we get there?"

"About ten minutes," the pilot replied.

"If we don't go back for refueling, where's the nearest place on the mainland to set down?" Herbert asked.

Jelbart checked the map. "Moribura, which is about two hundred kilometers to the southwest."

"That would still only give us another ten minutes of hovering time," the pilot pointed out.

"My patrol boat is coming over at full speed," FNO Loh pointed out. "They should be on site in approximately one hour. They will maintain the integrity of the site."

"That may not be in time to help the people on board," Jelbart said.

"I can radio Darwin," the pilot said. "There's a Royal Volunteer Coastal Patrol base nearby. In Port Douglas, I think."

"Thanks, but that wouldn't help," Jelbart said. "The RVCP fields a Patrol 5 that does 18.5 knots, and they don't have air capability. Anyone in the water will be arm weary and damn near freezing before help arrives."

"I'm crying," Herbert said.

Jelbart ignored his remark. "Is there anything we can do before FNO Loh's patrol ship arrives?"

"Not really," the pilot said. "All I've got is an aluminum ladder and not a lot of flying time."

Herbert watched as the helicopter swept toward the boat. The light from the flares was all but gone now.

"It looks to me as if the prow is underwater," Jelbart said.

"Where were those flares burning?" Herbert asked.

"Off the stern," Jelbart told him.

"So that rules out one theory," Herbert said.

"Yes," Loh said. "The idea that someone fired across the water's surface because the vessel shifted. A forward dip would have thrown the projectiles skyward."

"Exactly," Herbert said. The intelligence officer was impressed. Monica Loh did not always seem to be listening. But she was. And she was thinking. Herbert had gotten accustomed to the way things were done in Washington. When people were silent, it was always for one of two reasons, both of them bad. Either they thought they had all the answers and were not interested in hearing any others, or they were afraid to speak because then they would have to take responsibility for suggestions that might become policy. Far too many federal employees put personal interest over national interest.

Herbert enjoyed being surprised by a person's quiet assets rather than by their hidden shortcomings. His wife Yvonne had been like that. When they started working together, the future Mrs. Herbert was always very quiet. Herbert instinctively, chauvinistically, wrongly thought of Yvonne in terms of her pay grade. She was a subordinate. She was backup. But the woman was anything but that. She was usually beside him or several steps ahead. It was odd. When the Beirut embassy was bombed, Yvonne had taken shards of wood and cinderblock in the back. Herbert had no proof of this, none at all. But he went down a moment before she did. He had always imagined that Yvonne became aware of the bomb going off an instant before he did, pushed him to the floor, and dropped on top of him. That was how the couple was found.

Whether or not they were approaching Darling's boat, Herbert no longer felt quite so trapped.

"It's too dark to see anything now," Jelbart said as he lowered his binoculars. "Wish I'd brought the bloody night-vision glasses."

"We'll be in range of the spotlights in two minutes or so," the pilot pointed out.

"We'll also be in range of any weapons they might have," Herbert said, leaning toward the pilot.

"I was just thinking that," Jelbart said.

"Sirs, we don't have any retaliatory capability," the pilot noted.

"I noticed that," Herbert said. "Mr. Jelbart, can you radio General Hopkins and ask to have the Mirages circle the area."

"Of course," Jelbart said. "Not that I think we need to worry. A sinking boat is not an ideal firing platform."

"I'll still feel better with a couple of fighters buzzing the boat, just to keep them honest," Herbert said.

"Sir, I'll try to position the under section of the hull between us and anyone who might still be on it," the pilot said. "That will make it difficult to target us."

"Sounds good," Herbert said.

"There are two things in our favor," FNO Loh observed. "All the scarring on the sampan was from small arms fire. Our adversaries may not be equipped with anything stronger. Even if they were, they are apparently out here trying to sink the evidence. That would include weapons."

Herbert nodded. That cinched it. He was in love with this woman.

The intelligence chief sat back and called Op-Center. He did not think Stephen Viens would be able to get useful satellite data in the next few minutes. However, he wanted Paul Hood to know what was going on. He also wanted to tell Hood exactly where they were.

Just in case they were wrong about the heavy artillery.