We're done here.'
Tess nodded slowly, heaving a dejected sigh. She was about to turn and leave the room when something at the edge of the screen caught her eye. She felt a sudden shiver of excitement and stared at it, wide-eyed, before jabbing a finger at the monitor's left side. 'What's this? Right here?
You see that?'
Rassoulis craned his neck in, staring intently at the screen while Attal maneuvered the robot toward the spot Tess had pointed out. Peering between the two men, Tess studied the screen intently. At the edge of the ROV's frail light, a protrusion was coming into view. It looked like a leaning tree stump, rising out of a small mound. As the robot edged nearer, she could see that the mound was composed of what appeared to be spars, some of them trailing strands of seaweed, but which her imagination hoped were actually remnants of rigging. Some of the pieces were curved, like the ribs of an ancient carcass. Centuries of marine growth covered the ghostly remains.
Her heart was racing. It had to be a ship. Another one, an older one, partially obscured by the more recent wreck lying on top of it.
The ROV moved in closer, gliding over the disintegrating, coral-encrusted wreckage, its lights bathing the protrusion in their whitish glow.
Tess suddenly felt the air being sucked out of the room around her.
There, basking in the otherworldly glare of the spotlight and jutting out of the ocean floor in fierce defiance, stood the falcon figurehead.
Chapter 75
In the heaving wheelhouse, Rassoulis, Vance, and Tess stared out with growing concern at the approaching storm fronts. The wind had climbed to thirty knots, and the swell around the Savarona- had grown into breaking waves, the churning water now matching the roiling black clouds in their threat.
Below the bridge, a small crane was settling the ROV down onto the main deck. Attal and two other crewmen stood there, braving the weather as they waited to fasten it down.
Tess pulled the windblown hair out of her face. 'Shouldn't we be heading back?' she asked Rassoulis.
Vance jumped in, unhesitant. 'Nonsense. It's not that bad. I'm sure we have time to send the ROV down for one more look,' he said, smiling assertively to Rassoulis. 'Don't you agree?'
Tess watched the captain as he studied the bruised, angry skies bearing down on them. To their south, lightning tore at the clouds, and, even from this distance, they could see that thick veils of rain were now sweeping across the sea. 'I don't like it. One front we can handle, but two . . . We can slip through them if we leave now.' He turned to Vance. 'Don't worry. Storms out here don't last too long, and our GPS locator's accurate to within a meter. We'll come back once it's passed, probably by morning.'
Vance scowled inwardly. 'I'd really rather not leave here without something,' he said calmly. 'The falcon figurehead, for instance. Surely, we have time to recover that before we have to get out of here, don't we?' From Rassoulis's concerned frown, it was clear he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea. 'I'm just worried that the storm will last longer than you expect,' Vance pressed on, 'and then, what with your other charter already booked, it could be months before we can get back and who knows what can happen in the meantime.'
Rassoulis scowled at the converging weather fronts, clearly evaluating whether or not the Savarona could afford to hang around the wreck site.
'I'll make it worth your while,' Vance persisted. 'Bring up the falcon and I'm done here. You can have anything else that's down there.'
Rassoulis cocked a curious eyebrow. 'That's all you want? The falcon?' He paused, scrutinizing Vance. Tess watched him and felt like she was intruding on a major poker game. 'Why?'
Vance shrugged, and his expression became distant. 'It's personal. Call it a matter of. . . closure.'
His eyes hardened, settling back on Rassoulis. 'We're wasting time. I'm sure we can do it if we move quickly. And after that, it's all yours.'
The captain seemed to consider his options for a few seconds, then nodded and stepped away, hollering orders at Attal and the other crewmen.
Vance turned to Tess, his face jittery with nervous energy. 'Almost there,' he murmured, his voice crackling. 'We're almost there.'
***.
'How much further?' De Angelis yelled to the captain.
Reilly could feel the bridge of the Karadeniz reverberating heavily, much more so than it had before. For over an hour, they'd been cutting diagonally through waves that were stampeding toward their starboard side and pummeling the patrol boat's hull with increasing ferocity. With the wind shrieking in and the engines straining against the swell, they were having to shout to make themselves heard.
'Just under twenty nautical miles,' Karakas replied.
'What about the chopper?'
The skipper consulted his radar operator, then shouted back, 'Contact estimated in just under five minutes.'
De Angelis breathed out heavily, stewing with impatience. 'Can't this damn thing go any faster?'
'Not in this sea,' Karakas answered tersely.
Reilly stepped closer to the skipper. 'How bad will it be by the time we reach them?'
Karakas shook his head, his expression grim. He didn't shout his answer, but Reilly heard it anyway.
'God knows.' He shrugged.
***
Tess watched through rapt eyes as Attal's fingers coaxed Don's manipulator arm to attach the last of the harnesses to the falcon figurehead. Despite the difficult conditions, the crew had worked fast and with military precision in equipping the ROV with the necessary recovery equipment before sending it back into the churning water. Attal had performed his magic at the joystick, guiding the ROV down and positioning the retrieval netting with disarming efficiency. All that remained was to pull it back, use the remote control to trigger the simultaneous inflation of die three lift bags, and watch as the figurehead floated gently up to the surface.
Attal nodded his readiness. 'We can bring it up, but . . .' He let out a Gallic shrug, his eyes glancing toward the windshield, which was buffeted by the howling wind.
Rassoulis frowned, staring out at the maelstrom raging around them. 'I know. Getting it on board once it surfaces won't be easy.' He turned to Vance, his expression dour. 'We can't put a Zodiac down in this sea, and I don't want to risk sending divers in either. It's going to be hard enough getting the ROV back, but at least it's tethered and mobile.' He paused, evaluating the rapidly deteriorating conditions, before seemingly making up his mind. 'We won't be able to bring it up today. We'll leave the floats down there and come back for it when the storm clears.'
Vance looked incredulous. 'We have to bring it up now,' he insisted. 'We might not get another chance.'
'What are you talking about?' Rassoulis shot back. 'No one's going to come out here and steal it 178
from under us in this weather. We'll come back for it as soon as the weather allows it.'
'No!' Vance burst out angrily. 'We have to do it now!'
Rassoulis cocked his head back, surprised by the tone of Vance's outburst. 'Look, I'm not risking anyone's life over this. We're heading back, and that's it.' His eyes bored sharply into Vance's for a second before he turned to Attal. 'Bring Dori up as quickly as you can,' he snapped. But before he could issue any more orders, something attracted his attention. It was the familiar, guttural thumping of helicopter blades. Tess heard it too, and, from Vance's scowl, it was obvious he had as well.
They grabbed some Windbreakers and stepped out onto the narrow deck outside the bridge. The wind had risen to a full gale, and sheets of rain were now sweeping in with it. Tess shielded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the turbulent sky, and she soon spotted it.
'There,' she yelled, pointing at it.
It was skimming the water, heading straight for them. Within seconds, it was on them, bathtub white and with a wide diagonal red stripe, thundering over their heads before arcing up and banking for another pass. It slowed as it neared the ship, then hovered in place alongside the Savarona's port side, fighting the wind, its rotor
