"That is the odd part. This has not their stamp on it. I would have expected an execution or assassination, not abduction. Ah. "
Smith leaned forward, seeing the SEARCH ENDED message.
The subsequent bubble search assigned a number-one priority to an obituary for a Chinese restaurant owner.
"Dead end," Remo grunted.
"No, we have another avenue. The owner of the New Rochelle house. But that will have to wait until tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?"
"Because the registrar of deeds for Westchester County is not open on Sunday," Smith said crisply.
"You don't have that stuff in your computer?" Remo asked in surprise.
"The Folcroft data banks are massive, but they do not contain data not accessible through computer hookups," Smith said with more than a trace of regret.
"This doesn't make sense," Remo said. "How did those guys know Zingzong was stashed in my house?"
"No doubt the same sources that betrayed the three previous safe houses. You have to understand, Remo, that the Chinese have the largest espionage apparatus in the world. Their eyes are everywhere. The FBI has been unable to trace their leak."
"You're giving up too soon."
"The key search is running. Something will turn up."
"Chiun can't cross the street without attracting attention."
Smith frowned. "I agree, but . . ."
"What is it?" Remo asked.
"That boat of his," Smith asked. "Where is it moored?"
"The junk?" Remo said. "I asked him about it once, and he said he'd gotten rid of it."
Smith's face fell. "Too bad."
"I didn't believe him, though."
Smith reached for a blue telephone.
"What are you doing?" Remo demanded.
"I am about to call every marina on the eastern seaboard, until I locate that junk. What is its name?"
"Jonah Ark. That was the name when we got it. Someone told Chiun it was bad luck to change a boat's name, so he kept it."
It took four calls until Smith found a lead.
"The Jonah Ark?" the Port Chester harbormaster asked him. "Yeah, sure. She set out this morning."
"Did the captain say where he was going?"
"No. But they couldn't go far. Had only a crew of two. One an old fella. Asian. That ship needs a six-man crew, minimum."
"Thank you," Smith said, hanging up. He returned to his computers, saying, "The ship left this morning. I'm ordering a satellite search." "Through this cloud cover?" Remo said, nodding to the picture window behind Smith. The clouds were like a lead blanket hanging in the sky.
"No choice."
It took an hour for the transmission from the orbiting KH-11 recon satellites to travel from space to a relay point on the continental US and, by a circuitous route, to Harold Smith's computer screen. The results were not encouraging.
"Nice overhead shot of these clouds," Remo said bitterly. "Oh, look! There's a break. Is that Cuba?"
Smith said nothing. His lemony face was dour and disappointed.
Remo started to pace the floor, his face worried.
After a moment, keys began clicking. Remo came back to the desk. Smith sensed his unspoken question and answered it.
"I am alerting the Coast Guard, Air Force, and all law-enforcement agencies to watch for any sign of our quarry."
"How do you do that without it pointing back to you?"
"Through surrogates," Smith said simply, as if Remo had asked how Smith balanced his checkbook instead of for an explanation of how one man, unknown and possessing nothing more than a sophisticated computer system, could simultaneously set in motion the vast security resources of the United States simply by inputting clicking computer commands. When Smith was through, he leaned back again.
Chapter 11
The junk Jonah Ark was discovered becalmed off Key West three days later.
Word was flashed to Harold W. Smith at Folcroft Sanitarium that a Coast Guard vessel had located and boarded the junk, finding her deserted.
Dr. Smith reached for the telephone to inform Remo Williams. It was another in a long series of dead ends. The house in New Rochelle had been a rental. The owner, located in Denver, had explained he had rented it through an agent. The agent's address proved to be a mail drop.
More puzzling had been the owner's response to Smith's query about the strange garage with the revolving floor.
"What garage?" the owner had said.
Smith discovered a variance for the garage. The builder-Blue Bee Construction of Hong Kong-proved to be a blind.
As Smith waited for Remo to answer his phone, he reflected that a massive effort had been undertaken to trap Zhang Zingzong. It involved vast resources and support personnel. According to the FBI, known Chinese security operatives were not especially active. But who else could have managed all this?
Remo's voice came on the line. "Yeah?" He sounded tired.
"The Coast Guard found the junk," Smith reported.
Remo's voice brightened. "Great."