Dirk Pitt [05] Vixen 03 by Clive Cussler

Author:Clive Cussler [Cussler, Clive]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Espionage, Fiction, Political, Thrillers, Fiction - Espionage, Terrorism, Action & Adventure, Adventure Stories, Intrigue, United States, Technological, Pitt; Dirk (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780553273908
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2011-07-01T00:20:39+00:00

"Scrapped, or sold for scrap?" said Pitt. "There is a big difference." A series of worry lines grew on Jarvis's forehead.

Pitt looked at Jarvis and let the worry lengthen. "If I were you, I'd run a check on all shipyards located on the western Chesapeake shoreline of Maryland."

"Your phone." It was more a command than a request.

Pitt silently pointed to one on an end table.

Jarvis dialed a number. Then, as he waited for an answer, he looked at Pitt. "Do you have a car that isn't an antique?"

"I have a NUMA car parked outside."

"I came in a taxi," said Jarvis. "Will you do the honors?"

"Give me a minute to clean up," Pitt replied.

When Pitt emerged from the bathroom, Jarvis was waiting at the door. "You were right," he said evenly. "As of yesterday, the battleship Iowa was docked at the Forbes Marine Scrap and Salvage 104

Yard, in Maryland."

"I know the facility," said Pitt. "It's a few miles below the bay entrance to the Patuxent River." 51

As Pitt drove through the rain, Jarvis seemed mesmerized by the flailing windshield wipers. Finally his eyes focused and he made a casual gesture at the road ahead. "I make the next town to be Lexington Park."

"Another four miles," Pitt said without turning.

"There is an all-night gas station on the outskirts," Jarvis continued. "Pull up at the pay phone." Minutes later the headlights picked out the Lexington Park city-limits sign. In less than a mile, around a sweeping curve, a brightly lit service station beckoned through the soggy night. Pitt turned in the driveway and parked beside an outside phone booth.

The station attendant sat warm and dry inside the office, his feet propped up on an old oil-burning stove. He put down his magazine and for two or three minutes watched Pitt and Jarvis suspiciously through water-streaked windows. Then, satisfied they weren't acting like holdup men, he returned to his reading. The pay phone's light blinked out and Jarvis hurriedly ducked back into the passenger seat.

"Any late word?" Pitt asked.

Jarvis nodded. "My staff has uncovered a piece of discouraging in-formation."

"Bad news and dismal weather go hand in hand," Pitt said.

"The Iowa was stricken from Navy rolls and auctioned as surplus. The winning bidder was an outfit called the Walvis Bay Investment Corpora-tion."

"I've never heard of it."

"The corporation is a financial front for the African Army of Revolu-tion." Pitt gave a slight twist of the wheel to avoid a deep puddle in the road. "Is it possible Lusana pulled the rug from under the South African Defence Ministry's pipe dreams by outbidding them for the ship?"

"I doubt it." Jarvis shivered from the damp cold and held his hands over the dashboard's defroster vents. "I'm convinced the South African Defence Ministry bought the Iowa, handling the transaction under the guise of Walvis Bay Investment."

"You don't think Lusana is wise?"

"He has no way of knowing," said Jarvis. "It's common policy to keep the bidders' names confidential upon request."

"Christ," Pitt muttered, "the sale of the warheads by Phalanx Arms to the AAR .

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