"In an ordinary case, you're quite correct." Zac's face turned grim and his voice hard. "But von Till is not an ordinary case. When we get him behind bars and put an end to his filthy smuggling operation we will automatically cut international crime by twenty percent. And that, I assure you, is no small margin." An inner anger had taken control of Zac and he stopped for a moment, taking several deep breaths until it subsided. "In the past, each country worked separately, using INTERPOL channels to relay vital information across national borders. For instance, if I learned through the Narcotics Bureau's undercover sources that an illegal shipment of drugs was bound for England, I would simply send my information to INTERPOL London, who in turn would alert Scotland Yard. Time willing, they'd set a trap and apprehend the smugglers."

"Sounds like a neat and workable arrangement."

"Unfortunately it has yet to work with von Till," Zac said quietly. "No matter how many warnings, how many traps, he always manages to evade the nets and come up like the proverbial sweet-smelling rose, fresh out of the excretion barrel. But this time it's going to be different." He pounded the desk for effect. "Our governments have allowed us to form an international investigation team that can cross any border, use any police facilities, and have at their command men and equipment of the military." Zac sighed heavily, then went on apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Pitt, I didn't mean to be long-winded. But I hope I've answered your question as to why I'm on Thasos."

Pitt studied Zac carefully. The inspector looked like a man who was not used to failure. Every movement, every gesture was thoughtfully planned in advance; even his words carried an air of confident forethought. Yet, Pitt could not help detecting a glimmer of fear behind Zac's eyes; a fear of losing the game to von Till. Pitt began to wish more than ever for a drink.

"Where are the other members of your team?" Pitt asked. "So far I've only seen three of you."

"At this moment a British Inspector is on board a Royal Navy destroyer, trailing Queen Artemisia, while a representative from the Turkish Police Bureau is observing her from the air in an antiquated, unmarked DC-3." Zac spoke woodenly, as if quoting from a legal document. "Two detectives of the French Sureté Nationale are also on hand, posing as Marseille dockworkers, awaiting the Queen's arrival for refueling."

A feeling of detached unreality began to creep up on Pitt. Zac's words were becoming dull and unmeaning. Indifferently, almost, with a kind of hazy academic interest, he wondered how much longer he could stay awake. He had had only a few hours' sleep in the last two days and it was catching up. Pitt rubbed his eyes and shook his head vigorously, then forced his mind back to alertness.