Page 52 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier

“Keiko, I want you to determine which of those two satellites the phone in question utilized to make its call. Second, I want you to access that satellite and acquire the metadata from that call. Third, from that metadata I want you to determine the location of the receiver of that call. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly. Please give me one moment.”

The Vendor twitched with agitation. Something wasn’t adding up.

“The call was received,” Keiko said, “by a vessel currently located approximately seventeen point seven kilometers west of the center of the estimated parachute landing zone.”

“Pull up an AIS information screen for the Gulf of Oman. Overlay and center it onto the landing zone. Display every ship within one hundred kilometers of the landing zone.”

According to international maritime law, every passenger ship no matter its size and every cargo vessel displacing over three hundred tons was required to broadcast an automated identification system signal for maritime traffic control and safety. Almost as quickly as the Vendor had given his AI assistant the order, a cluttered array of over forty ship icons appeared on the screen. The icons were various shapes and colors corresponding to the types of vessels.

“Keiko, eliminate all of the ships except the one receiving the sat call.”

Instantly, all of the vessels disappeared save a yellow triangle.

Several more screens quickly followed. The surly weapons designer grunted with satisfaction. Keiko had anticipated his next commandand cycled through the data until a picture of the vessel, its dimensions, destination, and name all appeared.

“TheNorego…Iranian-flagged,” the Vendor read aloud.

“TheNoregois still located approximately seventeen point seven kilometers west of the center of the parachute landing zone. It appears to be holding its position.”

“That’s still too far for a swim,” the Vendor said aloud. And then it hit him. “Wait! You said the alarm sounded three hours ago. Go back to the AIS screen. Show me theNorego’s position three hours ago.”

The yellow triangle instantly appeared sixty kilometers southwest of its current position.

The Vendor frowned. “Play forward at five-times speed to the current time.”

“Playing forward.”

Keiko did precisely as instructed. The Vendor was surprised to see theNoregorace to the center of the parachute landing zone.

“Keiko, freeze the image.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” the Vendor said as he compared the elapsed time to the distance traveled. “Keiko, how fast was theNoregotraveling in that sixty-kilometer stretch?”

“Approximately 110.01 kilometers per hour.”

“A ship that size? Impossible!”

“Apparently ‘knots,’ ” Keiko said. She giggled at her own pun.

“Stop your nonsense,” the Vendor growled. “And disable your humor function.”

“Humor function disabled.”

The Vendor stared at the flashing yellow icon. That was no ordinary ship. It was a spy vessel of some sort with incredibly advanced engine technology.

And given the fact it had anchored at the parachute landing site, it no doubt had picked up the agent.What happened next?

“Play forward at two-times speed.”

TheNoregotracked west away from the parachute landing zoneuntil it came to a stop exactly where they had first identified it a few moments ago.

The Vendor checked the time on the monitor and confirmed it was the current hour and minute. Why was theNoregoanchoring there right now? Hadn’t it already picked up the agent?

“Keiko, on this same map, plot the probable debris field of Flight 252 under prevailing weather conditions at the time of the explosion.”

“This will take a moment.”