Page 75 of The Cobra

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“Angelo!”

He had to shout over the noise of the flames. One of the Marines turned and trotted over.

“What was the name of the tramp steamer that brought the bales here?”

“Sea Spirit, sir. Saw it on her stern. New white paint.”

“And under her name?”

“Under it, sir?”

“The port of registration is usually under the name at the stern.”

“Oh, yes. Poo-something.”

“Pusan?”

“That was it, yes, sir. Pusan. That all, sir?”

Dexter nodded. Marine Angelo trotted off. Dexter rose and went down to the end of the jetty where he could be alone and maybe pick up reception on his cell phone. He was glad it had been on charge all night. To his gratitude and relief, the ever-faithful Jeremy Bishop was at his bank of computers, almost the last facility Project Cobra had left.

“Can that motorized sardine can of yours translate into Korean?” asked Dexter. The reply was a clear as a bell.

“Any language in the world, if I put in the right program. Where are you?”

“Never mind. The only communication I have is this cell. What is the Korean for Sea Spirit or Spirit of the Sea? And don’t waste my battery.”

“I’ll call you back.”

It was two minutes later that the phone rang.

“Got a pen and paper?”

“Never mind. Just say it.”

“Okay. The words are Hae Shin. That’s aitch-aay . . .”

“I know how it is spelled. Can you look up a tramp steamer? Small. Named either Hae Shin or Sea Spirit. South Korean, registered Port of Pusan.”

“Back in two minutes.” The phone went dead. He was as good as his word. Two minutes later, Bishop was back.

“Got her. Five thousand tons, general-cargo freighter. Name: Sea Spirit. Name registered this year. What about her?”

“Where is she right now?”

“Hold on.”

High over Anacostia district, Jeremy Bishop tapped furiously. Then he spoke.

“She does not seem to have a managing agent and she does not file. Anything. She could be anywhere. Hold on. The captain has an e-mail listing.”

“Raise him and ask him where he is. Map reference. Course and speed.”

More delays. The cell was running down.

“I raised him by e-mail. Put the questions. He declines to say. Asks who you are.”

“Say, this is the Cobra.”


Tags: Frederick Forsyth Thriller