Page 23 of Clive Cussler Desolation Code

“So it’s our fault,” Hiram replied.

“I would have thought that much was obvious,” Max said.

Kurt chuckled. So much for reining in Max’s ego.

“Pattern match detected,” Max said. “Correlation: one hundred percent. The alphanumeric string is associated directly with a NUMA-issued tracking beacon.”

Yaeger’s eyes grew wide.

On-screen, Kurt looked surprised as well. “Are you sure?”

“The first half of the letter string is an internal product numberconnected with our standard sixty-day sea-life tracking beacon,” Max said. “The very type you and Joe have been using during your shark study. The second set of letters denotes a specific beacon identifier, which allows you to differentiate which shark or aquatic animal is being tracked.”

“Where is this beacon right now?” Kurt asked.

“Sitting in a warehouse in Monroe Township, New Jersey.”

The air came out of the conversation. Hiram tried—and failed—to think of a way to pump it back in.

Kurt’s voice broke the silence, but he wasn’t talking to Max or Hiram. “Look it up anyway.”

“Why?”

“Whoever sent this message wanted me to find someone,” Kurt explained. “He or she gave us an authentic radio tag number to use for that purpose. Maybe that beacon is sitting in New Jersey, where it’s supposed to be, and maybe it isn’t. The only way to find out for sure is to check its reporting history. Look it up. Ping the beacon.”

Max did the work, linking into the satellite network and issuing a request for the beacon to respond and deliver all stored data. The initial report said the beacon was offline or hidden somewhere at the current moment, but a significant number of data points that had been reported over the last forty-eight hours appeared.

Yaeger stared. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Max brought up a map that displayed the Indian Ocean, including Reunion Island, Madagascar, and the coast of Africa. A thin blue line appeared in the middle of the map, about two hundred miles northeast of Reunion. It meandered slowly west and south for the better part of two days, then turned due north, picking up speed to fifteen knots and holding a true course until it stopped reporting several hours later.

“The initial path is odd and slow,” Yaeger said.

“Wind drift,” Kurt said. “With a slight boost from the current bending the course to the south. I’d guess the beacon was in the water, or it’s attached to a boat with no propulsion.”

Behind Kurt, Joe spoke up. “It hit the right area,” he said. “But it turned north, a few hours before the sharks started their stampede.”

“Maybe whatever spooked the sea life sent our beacon holder fleeing in the other direction,” Yaeger suggested.

Kurt shook his head. “The time doesn’t match up. And assuming whoever had this beacon was trying to reach us, why bother drifting on the wind for two days if you had a motor that could do fifteen knots?”

Joe chimed in again. “And why would you head north once you did get that engine going?”

“Max,” Kurt said. “Can you pull up a chart of the shipping lanes and overlay it on the map?”

“Of course I can,” Max replied. “Are you asking me to?”

“With sugar on top,” Kurt said.

“Sugar is a destructive carbohydrate,” Max said. “Unlike humans, I don’t require such fuel. But thanks for the offer.”

Max then brought up a new map, merging it with the tracking data. The main shipping lane up from South Africa crossed directly through the area in question.

Yaeger summed up what everyone now realized. “Whoever had this beacon didn’t suddenly turn their motor on. They got picked up by a passing ship. That’s why they suddenly changed course and speed.”

“Okay, but which one?” Joe asked out loud. “That’s a heavily traveled route.”

Max had already looked up the AIS data for ships transiting the area. “A tanker namedSoufrieremade a transit of those waters at precisely the same time as the change in the beacon’s course and velocity. It’s the only match.”

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