"You visualize all this from a couple of rough drawings?" Giordino asked in awe.
"Hold on and you'll see," said Wilbanks. He ran the sketches through an electronic scanner that transferred the images to his computer monitor. Then he overlaid the images with his own plans and compared them. Except for minor differences in design and dimensions, they were a very close match.
"All in the eyes of the beholder," Giordino murmured.
"I'm insanely envious that one of my peers got there first," Wilbanks said. "I'd have sold my kids for a contract to do this baby."
"Can you give me an idea as to the size and power source?"
"Of mine or yours?"
"The boat in the sketches," replied Giordino.
"I should say the overall length is somewhere around thirty meters. The beam, just under ten meters.
As to power plants, if it were me I would have specified a pair of Blitzen Seastorm turbodiesels. Most likely BAD 98s, which combined could produce more than twenty-five hundred horsepower. Estimated cruising speed with these engines could easily push a boat this size through calm seas at seventy knots or more, much more depending upon the efficiency of the twin hulls."
"Who has the facilities to build such a boat?"
Wilbanks leaned back and thought a moment. "A boat of this size and configuration calls for pretty radical fiberglass forming. Glastec Boats in San Diego could do the job, as could Heinklemann Specialty Boat Builders in Kiel, Germany."
"What about the Japanese?"
"They're not players in the yacht industry. Hong Kong has a number of small boatyards, but they primarily build in wood. Most fiberglass-boat builders stick to tried and proven concepts."
"Then in your judgment it's either Glastec or Heinklemann," said Giordino.
"Those are the two I'd call in to bid on my design," Wilbanks assured him.
"What about the architect?"
"I can think of at least twenty off the top of my head who specialize in radical design."
Giordino smiled. "I was lucky in stumbling onto number twenty-one."
"Where are you staying?"
"The Seaside Motel."
'NUMA doesn't exactly splurge with their expense accounts, do they?"
"You should meet my boss, Admiral James Sandecker. He and Shylock were bosom buddies."
Wilbanks laughed. "Tell you what, drop back by my office about ten in the morning. I should have something for you."
"I'm grateful for your help."
Giordino shook Wilbanks' hand, then took a long walk along the waterfront before returning to his motel room, where he read a mystery novel before finally falling asleep.
At ten o'clock on the nose, Giordino entered Wilbanks' studio. The boat architect was studying a set of plans. He held them up and grinned
"After you left last night," he said, "I refined the sketches you gave me and ran off scaled plans. Then I reduced the size and faxed them to San Diego and Germany. Because of the difference in time, Heinklemann had responded before I came in this morning. Glastec replied to my inquiry only twenty minutes before you walked in."
"Were they familiar with the boat in question?" asked Giordino impatiently.
"Bad news on that end, I'm afraid," Wilbanks said deadpan. "Neither designed or built your boat."
"Then it's back to square one."
"Not really. The good news is that one of Heinklemann's engineers saw and studied your boat when it was moored in Monaco about nine months ago. He reports the manufacturer was a French firm, a new one in the industry I wasn't aware of. Jusserand Marine out of Cherbourg."
"Then we can fax them a set of your plans," said Giordino, his hopes on the rise again.
"No need." Wilbanks waved him off "Though the subject never came up, I assumed your real reason for tracing the boat manufacturer was to learn the identity of the owner."
"I have no reason to deny it."
"The Heinklemann engineer who spotted the boat in Monaco was also kind enough to include the owner's name in the fax. He mentioned that he inquired only after he noticed that the crew looked more like a band of Mafia toughs than polished seamen maintaining and sailing a luxury yacht."
"Mafia toughs`."
"He claimed they all packed guns."
"The name of the owner?"
"A woman, a wealthy Australian. Her family made ii fortune in diamond mining. Her name is Boudicca Dorsett."
While Pitt was on a flight to Ottawa, Canada, Giordino called his plane and briefed him on the mystery yacht.
"There is no doubt?" asked Pitt.
"Not in my book," replied Giordino. "It's almost a dead certainty the boat that fled the death scene belongs to the Dorsett family."