Free Vixen 03 by Clive Cussler

thumb. A nice touch, don’t you think? Very neat and precise. I must keep it in mind the next time I want to do somebody in. Set off a blast, then as soon as the dust settles throw a recognizable piece of footwear and a slice of the victim’s most identifiable anatomy at the edge of the smoking crater. Friends later identify the boot and the sheriff’s department can’t miss with a positive ID once they pull a print from the thumb. In the meantime I’ve buried the rest of the body where hopefully it will never be found-My victim’s death goes down as an accident and I go merrily on my way.”
    “You’re telling me the skeleton in the aircraft was missing a boot and a thumb?”
    Vixen 03 I 49
    Pitt merely nodded an affirmative.
    At half past nine Giordino was ready. He started by lecturing Pitt and Steiger as he would a class of high-school chemistry students. “As you can see, after more than three decades of submersion, the vinyl cover, because it’s organic, is virtually as good as new, but the paper inside has nearly returned to pulp. Originally the contents were mimeographed-a common process prior to the miracle of Xerox. The ink, I’m sorry to say, has all but disappeared, and no laboratory on earth can bring it back, even under supermagnification. Three of the sheets are hopeless cases. Nothing vaguely legible remains. The fourth looks like it might have contained weather information. A few words here and there refer to winds, altitudes, and atmospheric temperatures. The only sentence I can partially decipher says ‘Skies clearing beyond Western slopes.’ “
    ” ‘Western slopes’ indicating the Colorado Rockies,” said Pitt.
    Steiger’s hands gripped the edge of the table. “Christ, do you have any idea what that means?”
    “It means O3’s flight didn’t originate from California, as stated in the report,” said Pitt. “Her departure point must have been east of here if the crew was concerned about weather conditions over the Continental Divide.”
    “So much for data sheet number four,” said Giordino. “Now then, compared to the rest, sheet five is a veritable treasure trove of information. Here we can faintly make out several word combinations, including the names of two crew members. Many of the letters are missing, but with a bit of elementary deduction we can figure the meanings. Look here, for instance.”
    Giordino pointed to the sheet of paper, and the other two leaned in closer.
    A re ft omm nd r: Ma ay on VI nde
    “Now, we fill in the blanks,” Giordino continued, “and we come up with ‘Aircraft commander: Major Raymond Vylander.’ “
    “And here’s the combination,” said Pitt, pointing. “This spells out the name and rank of the flight engineer.”
    “Joseph Burns,” Giordino acknowledged. “In the lines that follow, the missing characters are too numerous to guess their intent. Then, this.” Giordino pointed farther down on the paper.
    ode n me: ix n 03
    50 VIXEN 03p>
    “Classified call sign,” injected Pitt. “Every aircraft on a security flight is given one. Usually a noun followed by the last two digits of the aircraft’s number.”
    Steiger fixed Pitt with a look of genuine respect. “How would you know that?”
    “Picked it up somewhere,” Pitt said, shrugging it off.
    Giordino traced over the blank areas. “So now we have ‘Code name: something 03.’ “
    “What nouns have ‘ix’ in the middle of them?” Steiger mused.
    “Chances are, the missing letter after* is e or o.”
    “How about ‘Nixon’?” Giordino suggested.
    “I seriously doubt that a mere transport plane would be named after a vice-president,” Pitt said. ” ‘Vixen 03’ seems closer to the mark.”
    “Vixen 03,” Steiger repeated softly. “That’s as good a shot as any.”
    “Moving right along,” said Giordino. “Our final decipherable scrap on the fifth sheet is ‘E-blank-A, Rongelo 060 blank.’ “
    ” ‘Estimated time of arrival, six in the morning at