The Einstein Papers

CHAPTER 18

Less than thirty minutes later, in his office at the NIA, Martinez again looked at the name Windforce, which he had written on a pad of paper. He widened his eyes in amazement as he read the ownership records off the computer twice more. Straightening himself in his chair, he rubbed his reddened eyes and reached for the phone. On a treelined street in Alexandria, Virginia, a lone dog barked as a paperboy pedaled his way along the sidewalk, slinging papers from a bag hanging from his handlebars. Most of the houses on the block had at least their porch light on, and the paperboy used the lights as a target.

General Earl Benson had awakened at 5:00 A.M., as was his custom. Sitting in the nook of his kitchen, he had eaten a breakfast of buttered grits. His first wife had passed away just over a year before and Benson still felt strange when he rose from bed and glanced down at his newlywed second wife. His first wife had never risen before 7:00

A.M. She had always awakened with just enough time to pad downstairs in her slippers and kiss him goodbye before he left for work. His second wife followed suit. After finishing breakfast and placing the dishes in the dishwasher, Benson walked to his wood-lined study and began reading the intelligence reports the night shift had posted on his computer. He had finished reading the reports and writing his comments and now sat lingering over his fourth cup of coffee. He scratched the head of Margaret, his aged cocker spaniel, and was staring into her cataract-clouded eyes when the phone rang.

"General Benson," he answered.

"This is Larry Martinez. Sorry to wake you but it's important," Martinez explained.

"I was awake but it still better be important," Benson boomed.

"Taft just came from the site where the Deep Search was anchored yesterday afternoon. The ship's gone. There was diving gear on board his boat and Taft dove the area where the ship had been anchored. In a search of the bottom he found the stern section of a sailboat. He feels that most of the rest of what was a sailboat was salvaged."

"You called me at home to tell me that?" Benson asked.

"It's a little more involved than that, sir," Martinez said. "Taft gave me the name off the stern and I checked the past owners' registry on the Coast Guard computer."

"Spit it out. What's the name and who owned it?"

"The name of the vessel was Windforce. The original owner was Albert Einstein. The boat was resold then reportedly lost ten years after Einstein died."

"How did it sink?"

"The record notes it was believed lost in a storm."

"That's worth calling me at home," Benson noted. "What do you make of all this?" Martinez paused before answering. "This is all speculation, General, but I think the Chinese found out Einstein left something of value on board his sailboat. Now they are trying to recover it. They hired the Axial Group to help locate the area where it sank and paid the company from North Carolina to actually find and salvage the vessel."

"I tend to agree with your theory, as far-fetched as it sounds," Benson said. "If you're right, we need to find the Deep Search. I want to assign you and Taft to see if you can find where the salvagers are now. Keep me up to date on your efforts. I'll be in the office within the hour. If that was Einstein's sailboat, whatever the Deep Search recovered could prove to be quite interesting."

"Very good, sir. I'll keep you informed as to our progress," Martinez replied and hung up the phone.

Benson immediately phoned his assistant. "Get me the latest file on the Axial Group and try to establish contact with our insider."

"Should I set up a meeting with the insider?"

"If possible, yes," Benson said. "I'll be in the office in less than an hour."

"I'll get on it right away," the assistant said.

Taft was in his motel room on Long Island washing the salt water off his body in a steamy shower when the phone rang. He shut off the water and walked from the bathroom. "Make it quick, I'm dripping wet. What did you find out?" he said to Martinez as he tightened a towel around his waist.

"That boat has quite a history."

"The research ship or the wreck?"

"The wreck," Martinez said. "I'm still working on the history of the Deep Search."

"Hit me," Taft said.

"It was formerly owned by Albert Einstein," Martinez answered flatly.

"Wild," Taft said, whistling. "Have you got any idea why someone is after his sailboat?"

Martinez paused. "Not yet, but I'm still looking into it, you can be sure. I've got a call into the satellite guys at NSA asking them to trace the overnight course of the Deep Search. Benson wants us to locate that ship posthaste."

"Let me finish my shower and get dressed and I'll be ready. If I go for breakfast I'll keep the secure phone with me. Call me on that."

"Count on it," Martinez said.

"Einstein," Taft said to himself as he walked back into the bathroom. "What does Einstein's sailboat have aboard that anyone could possibly want?" Martinez was thinking the same question as his computer signaled he had an E-mail. The message answered the question about ownership of Deep Search. Owned by a leasing company based in Wilmington, North Carolina, the vessel was currently being rented to the marine salvage firm of SeaSearch.

Later that same day General Benson sat on a park bench in Lafayette Square. Several pigeons pecked at the popcorn he tossed on the ground from a paper bag. Benson looked like an aging retiree out for a breath of fresh air. He was dressed in a pair of loose-fitting khaki slacks and a flannel shirt. Although it was warm outside he wore a light jacket. His feet were clad in cheap tennis shoes and his head was covered with a ball cap emblazoned with the letters AARP. His face was disguised with a false white beard and when walking to the bench he had dragged one leg as though old age had given him a limp.

Less than ten minutes after Benson sat on the bench a man approached from the south and slid onto the end of the bench. Removing a sandwich from a brown paper sack, he began to chew.

"I don't know much," the man said between bites.

"Tell me what you do know," Benson said as he tossed another handful of popcorn onto the ground.

"They send one of the agents, a man named Klamn, to look into the disappearance of Einstein's sailboat."

"And?" Benson said.

"Apparently he located a life ring on Block Island and that information was used to set up a search for the vessel."

"Is it the Chinese that hired your firm?" Benson asked.

"You wouldn't be asking me that," the man said as he rose from the bench and tossed the lunch sack into a trash barrel, "if you didn't already know." Benson waited ten minutes after the man had walked away before he rose from the bench and made his way across the park to his car.

Pieces of the puzzle were beginning to link up.