Sea of Fire by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin Page A

school. He himself had taught her Japanese.
    “Arms can subdue, but often at great cost,” her father had once told her. “But languages can infiltrate and control. If used correctly, they give you power over groups and individuals.”
    Her father had been proof of that. He had survived forty-five years with the CID before retiring.
    The Singaporeans and their escorts entered the spacious elevator and rode down three floors. The doors opened on a metal desk with a security guard seated behind it. A senior member of the Darwin Police Force was standing beside him. The officer tipped his hat to Loh as she walked past. If she were out of uniform, she would have found that sweet. In uniform, it made her uncomfortable. She would have preferred a salute. They walked a few steps to the morgue. The hospital guard buzzed them in. The two leading seamen did not enter.
    The morgue was about twenty by twenty feet. There were refrigerated cabinets with stainless steel doors on the left-hand side. On the right side were shelves with chemicals, tools, and electronic equipment. There were two doors in the rear. In the center of the room was a row of gurneys. Dark aprons covered several of them. Loh assumed that these were lead-lined and that the remains of the boat were beneath them.
    There were four other people in the brightly lit room. One of them walked over briskly and introduced himself. He was Brian Ellsworth, a short, rotund, balding man. Dressed in a black three-piece suit, the pale official looked as though he were dressed for his own funeral. Ellsworth introduced Warrant Officer George Jelbart, attorney Lowell Coffey III of the National Crisis Management Center in Washington, D.C., and Dr. Maud Forvey, a physicist at the Northern Territory University.
    Loh introduced herself and her two aides.
    “I want to thank you all for coming,” Ellsworth said. “Frankly, we aren’t sure precisely what we’ve stumbled upon. We hope you can help.”
    “You received the data from the Police Coast Guard,” Loh said.
    “Yes. We did, just now, thank you,” Ellsworth said. “We have people checking to see if there is additional information about Mr. Tong.”
    “I would like to visit him,” Loh said.
    “We’ll take you to his room in a minute,” Ellsworth said. “First, if you don’t mind, we’d like to know if there is anything you can tell us about the wreckage. We understand you’ve been at sea for ten years.”
    “That’s right,” she said.
    “Mr. Jelbart believes it’s from a sampan, but we aren’t certain,” Ellsworth said. “By the way, Dr. Forvey has checked the flotsam for radioactivity. It is extremely low level, perfectly safe for a brief exposure. Just don’t handle any of the pieces without the proper attire.”
    Loh walked over to the gurneys. Dr. Forvey put on thick yellow gloves. She raised the end of one of the lead covers. The Singaporean officer looked at the charred pieces of planking.
    “That’s Foochow pine,” she said.
    “Are you certain?” Ellsworth asked.
    “Absolutely. The Chinese use it to make mu-chi sampans.”
    “Do you ever see these in Singapore?” Warrant Officer Jelbart asked.
    “Occasionally,” Loh said. “They’re mostly used for river travel.”
    “Why is that?” Ellsworth asked.
    “The mu-chi sampans have a very low profile and can pass easily under most bridges,” Loh informed him.
    “Are they motorized?” Jelbart asked.
    “They can be,” she replied.
    “Obviously this one was,” Ellsworth said. “The question is, why take one of them to the middle of the Celebes Sea at night?”
    “Piracy,” Loh replied. “That’s what sampans are used for in the South China Sea.”
    “That would make sense,” Jelbart said. “The low profile would make it extremely difficult to spot on the horizon and difficult to pick up on radar. If they waited for night-fall, they could quietly oar their way to a ship.”
    “That’s exactly what they do,” Loh told him.
    “What