Austin received the news of Kaela's departure with mixed feelings. He regretted not having had the chance to get to know Kaela better, but the lovely TV reporter would have been a distraction.
'What else did Miss Dorn say?'
'She told me what happened to Mehmet. She said men on horses shot at the TV people and killed my cousin.' He frowned. 'They are very bad men. Mehmet never hurt anyone.'
'Yes, they are. Very bad men.'
'She told me how you shot at them with your little plane. How many did you kill?'
'I'm not sure. There was one body.'
'Good. Do you know who these people are who killed him?'
'No, but I intend to find out.'
Kemal raised his eyebrows. 'You are going back to that place?”
'If I can find a boat to take me there.'
'But you have the big NUMA ship.'
'It wouldn't be a good idea to use a government vessel.' Austin glanced around at the Turgut. 'I need something that won't attract attention.'
The light of understanding dawned in the dark eyes. 'Something like a fishing boat maybe?'
Austin smiled. 'Yes, something very much like a fishing boat.'
The captain studied Austin's face, then got up and went into the wheelhouse. He reappeared with a large bottle and two chipped coffee mugs. He uncorked the bottle, poured liberal quantities into the mugs and handed one to Austin.
'To Mehmet,' he said, raising his drink high in toast. They clinked the mugs and Kemal took a generous swallow, gulping the strong drink down as if it were water. Austin knew from the licorice smell that the mug held the potent Turkish firewater known as raki. Although he did not ordinarily drink alcohol before the sun appeared over the yardarm, he didn't want to be impolite. He took a tentative sip and let the fiery liquor trickle down his throat, thinking that this is what it must be like to swallow broken glass.
Kemal took another healthy swig, and to Austin's relief set his mug aside.
He affixed Austin with a leveled gaze. 'Why would you want to go back there? You could be shot, too.'
'That's a possibility, but it wouldn't have to happen. Last time we had no warning or weapons. This time we will.'
Kemal pondered the answer. Austin was glad to see that the captain was not someone who made rash decisions. His coolness could come in handy. The Turk stared into his cup. 'I feel responsible for Mehmet. I let him go with the TV people so he could make some extra money.'
'No one could have predicted he would be shot.'
'Of course, you are right. I fished there many times with no trouble.'
'Would you ever go back?'
'Not for pay, no.'
Austin was disappointed but not surprised. 'I understand, Captain. It could be very dangerous, no matter how well- prepared we are.'
'Fah!' Kemal spat off to his side. 'I am not afraid. I said I would not go there for pay. I owe you a favor for killing that pig.' He dismissed Austin's protest with a wave of his hand. 'The Turgut is at your disposal,' he said as grandly as if he were turning over the wheel of the QE2.
'You're not obligated to me in any way.' The captain thrust his chin forward. Speaking in measured tones to make sure there was no mistaking his intentions, he said, 'The men who killed my cousin are the ones who must be made to pay. I am not a stranger to these affairs. As a young man, I was a smuggler. I was never caught.' He thumped the deck with his heel and flashed his fourteen-karat grin. 'Twin diesels,' he said proudly. 'Thirty knots cruising speed. When do you wish to go?'
'I'm expecting three other people from the United States today. I have to round up some equipment as well. How about tomorrow morning?'
'The boat will be fueled up and ready at dawn.'
'What about crew?' Austin said. 'I don't want to place anyone in danger after what happened to Mehmet.'
'Thank you. I will keep two crewmen, my most trusted. I will warn them about the danger, so they can make a choice. I know what they will say. They are cousins to Mehmet, too.'
They shook hands on the deal. Austin said he would be there with the sun. He left before Kemal wanted to seal the agreement with another cup of raki. His head was spinning on the walk back to the Argo, though by the time he returned to the NUMA ship, the fresh air off the Bosporus had cleared away most of the alcoholic vapors. He went up to the bridge to see Captain Atwood, who was poring over some charts.
'How's the television star?' he asked.
'You've obviously heard about what a natural I am before the cameras,' Atwood replied. 'Okay, I admit it,' he said, with a sheepish grin. 'I had a good time filming with those crazy characters. My guess is that they'll edit out my pretty mug in favor of the lovely Miss Dorn.'
'Would you blame them?'
'Hell no! Not in a hundred years. I'm surprised you didn't make a move on the lady. Losing your touch?'
'My heart belongs only to NUMA,' Austin said, placing his hand on his chest. 'Which brings up why I'm here. I'm going to need some help, no questions asked.'
The captain cocked his head. He had known Austin a long time and never knew the man to leave business of any sort unfinished.
'We'll do what we can, as long as it doesn't involve putting the Argo or its crew in jeopardy.'
'It won't. All I need is the loan of some gear.' Austin summarized his wish list and asked that the equipment be delivered to the Turgut. None of it would be a problem, the captain said. While Atwood ordered up the requested gear, Austin went to his cabin and plugged in his laptop computer. He called up a commercial satellite-imaging company off the Internet and requested photos of a location on the Russian coast of the Black Sea. He examined the photos closely, but wasn't surprised when nothing unusual popped out at him. The Soviets would not be advertising their secret base.
He punched out a number on his Globalstar phone. It was still early back in the States, but he knew from his days of working with the CIA that Sam Leahy would be in his office.
'How's the weather at Langley?' Austin said, when Leahy's brass-lunged voice came on the phone.
There was a pause. 'You've got the wrong number, pal. If you're looking for a goddamn weather report, call the National Underwater and Marine Agency. Hell, I hear the smart alecks at NUMA know everything there is to know.'
'Almost everything, Sam. That's why I'm calling for your help.'
'I knew you'd come crawling back to the Company. Great hearing from you. How have you been, you old sea dog?'
'I'm fine. They still have you tied to a desk?'
'Not for long. Retirement is in six months. Then it's running fishing charters on the Chesapeake. I could use a first mate if you ever get tired of the Washington rat race.'
'Sounds tempting. Put me down for a charter at the very least. Right now I could use some information. What do you know about Soviet sub bases?'
'Broad subject. Anything in particular you'd like to know?'
'Yes. How were they physically constructed?'
'To begin with, they were big. They had to be large enough to accommodate the babies like the Typhoon, with a length of five hundred fifty-seven feet. The beam alone was seventy-five feet. Those monsters were armed with twenty nukes a piece. The Soviets wanted them protected from a nuclear attack, so they built the pens deep. They learned from the German U-boat pen construction that held up pretty well under Allied bombing. Basically, they'd blast a tunnel out of a hillside and line it with several yards of reinforced granite.'
'Do you have any data on the where and how of these bases?'
'I can get it.' Austin heard an unspoken conditional in the answer. 'It would really be a help if you could dig out what you can.'
'No problem. Lots of that stuff has been declassified anyhow. But I'll hold you to that promise to do a
