Crescent Dawn

deluge of muffled voices and angry kicks immediately ensued from within.

“That one’s a devil,” Giordino remarked.

“More than you know,” Pitt replied. “Let’s not give her a second chance at us.”

The three men scurried out of the building and onto the darkened waterfront. The burning truck still had everyone’s attention, though a few dockworkers returned to loading the freighter. The armed guards were nervously securing the area around the blast as the trio quickly made their way onto the pier. Pitt found a discarded gunnysack and draped it over Zeibig’s hands to disguise the fact that he was still wearing handcuffs.

They moved by the extended crane, stepping as quickly as they dared without drawing attention. Keeping close to the freighter, they turned a shoulder toward the yacht and the idling workboat as they moved past, Pitt and Giordino shielding Zeibig as best they could. They relaxed slightly as they distanced themselves from the brightly illuminated section of the pier and saw no workers ahead of them. The shoreline remained quiet, and Pitt figured they were home free as they approached the stern of the freighter.

“Next stop, the Aegean Explorer ,” Giordino muttered quietly.

But the hopeful feelings vanished as they reached the end of the pier. Stepping to the edge, Pitt and Giordino looked down at the water, then scanned the area around them in disbelief.

The Bullet was nowhere to be seen.

37

Celik came to slowly, with a pounding ache in his head and a loud thumping in his ears. Rising unsteadily first to his knees and then to his feet, he shook off the fog and realized the thumping originated well beyond his ear canal. Detecting his sister’s muffled voice, he stepped to the closet and kicked away the chair. Maria practically flew out, her face glowing red with anger.

Taking one look at the dazed appearance of her brother, she quickly calmed down.

“Ozden, are you all right?”

He rubbed the bump on his head with a slight wince.

“Yes,” he replied coarsely. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was that American from the research vessel again. He and another man set off an explosion in one of the trucks, then came in here and freed the archaeologist. They must have followed the yacht here.”

“Where are my Janissaries?” he asked, weaving slightly back and forth.

Maria pointed to the prone guard lying beneath the conference table.

“He must have been attacked with you. The others are investigating the explosion.”

She took Celik’s arm and led him to a leather chair, then poured him a glass of water.

“You had better rest. I will alert the others. They cannot have gotten far.”

“Bring me their heads,” he spat with effort, then leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

Maria stepped onto the porch as two of the guards approached.

“The fire has been extinguished,” reported one of the men.

“Intruders have attacked us and taken the captive. Search the dock and waterfront immediately,” she ordered, “then launch the yacht and scour the cove. They must have a boat with them.”

As the men ran off, Maria stared into the blackened cove, sensing that the intruders were still close at hand. A thin smile crossed her lips, her anger dissipating as she contemplated her revenge.

38

At that particular moment, the men from NUMA had neither boat nor submersible.

Giordino peered into the water, trying to determine if the Bullet had sunk at her mooring. Then he stepped over to examine a black iron bollard he had used to tie the craft up. There was no sign of the mooring line.

“I’m sure I tied her securely,” he said.

“Then someone sank her or moved her,” Pitt replied. He peered down the dock a moment in quiet thought.

“That small workboat. Wasn’t she ahead of the yacht when we went ashore?”

“Yes, you’re right. She’s idling in back of the yacht now. We couldn’t see much of her on the way back because of the generator. Perhaps she towed the Bullet somewhere.”

A female voice was suddenly detected yelling loudly on the shore, followed by the shouts of several men. Pitt peeked around the stern of the freighter and saw several gunmen running toward the pier.

“Looks like the party is over,” he said, glancing toward the water. “I think it’s time we think about getting wet.”

Zeibig held up his cuffed wrists.

“It’s not that I’m afraid of the water, mind you,” he said with a crooked grin. “But I don’t particularly relish the idea of drowning per se .”

Giordino put a hand on his shoulder.

“Right this way, my friend, for some dry patio seating.”

Giordino led Zeibig to the wall of empty fuel drums stacked along the edge of the pier. He quickly rolled several drums aside, hoisting them like beer cans, until creating a small recessed space.

“Pier-side seating for one,” he said, waving a hand toward it.

Zeibig took a seat on the pier, scrunching his legs together.

“Can I order a Manhattan while I’m waiting?” he asked.

“Just as soon as the entertainment ends,” Giordino replied, wedging a drum against the archaeologist. “Don’t you go anywhere until we get back,” he added, then stacked several more drums around Zeibig until he was fully concealed.

“Not to worry,” Zeibig’s muffled voice echoed in reply.

Giordino quickly rearranged a few more drums, then turned to Pitt, who was gazing down the pier. At the far end, a pair of guards could be seen heading across the waterfront toward the pier.

“I think we better evaporate now,” Pitt said, stepping to the end of the pier, where a welded-steel ladder trailed down into the water.

“Right behind you,” Giordino whispered, and together the two men scrambled down the ladder, sliding quietly into the dark water.

They wasted no time working their way back toward shore, swimming between the pier’s support pilings while safely out of view from above. Pitt was already formulating an escape plan but faced a dilemma. Stealing a boat seemed their best hope, and they had a choice between the workboat and the yacht. The workboat would be easier to commandeer, but the faster yacht could easily run them down. He braced himself for the daunting task of capturing the yacht without weapons when Giordino tapped him on the shoulder. He stopped and turned to find his partner treading water alongside.

“The Bullet ,” Giordino whispered. Even in the darkness, Pitt could see the white teeth from his partner’s broad smile.

Gazing ahead through the pilings, Pitt looked at the workboat and the yacht just beyond. But sitting low in the water behind the workboat, he now noticed the crest of the submersible. They had walked right by it when they crossed the pier. Obscured by the generator, it had gone unseen when the men were trying to conceal Zeibig from any probing eyes aboard the yacht.

The two men quietly worked their way closer, observing that the submersible’s mooring line was attached to the stern of the workboat. It had indeed been the suspicious guard on the back of the yacht who had strolled down the pier after Pitt and Giordino walked by and discovered the strange vessel astern of the freighter. Enlisting the aid of the workboat’s captain, they had towed it alongside the yacht in order to get a better look at it under the bright dock lights.