“Have you been able to trace it?” Tom asked.
“Not yet. The hours of darkness, of course, gave them ample time to carry out their escape with little chance of detection.”
By noon Ames and a CIA man had arrived from the Nice airport, and also an inspector of the French Surete from Paris, accompanied by a man from Interpol, the International Police Organization. A conference was held immediately.
“It’s obvious the helicopter was used to remove everyone from the yacht,”
Tom pointed out.
“You think they were landed somewhere ashore, monsieur?” put in the man from Interpol.
Tom shrugged. “Possibly, though in that case I should think the helicopter would have been
150 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
spotted by now. They may have transferred at sea to another ship and sunk the copter to keep us from ever finding it.”
“The important thing now is to try to guess Vaxilis’ next move,” Ames remarked. “He can certainly hire the best legal talent to defend him. Do you think he may come back and try to bluff his way out of this situation?”
“I can assure you he would be a fool to try it, monsieur,” said the chief of police in a steely voice. “Monaco does not tolerate such crimes. At the very least, with the testimony of his own butler and of Monsieur Swift, Vaxilis could certainly be convicted of kidnapping-which would mean life imprisonment.”
“And if Monsieur Swift’s friend has been killed in French territorial waters, Vaxilis would face the guillotine,” added the Surete inspector. “In any case, the Naiad itself is of British registry, and if I know Scotland Yard, he would certainly go to the gallows unless he could produce Monsieur Barclay safe and sound.”