Crescent Dawn

“Where on earth did she come from?” he blurted. “Right twenty degrees rudder,” he quickly ordered, fearful that the unknown vessel was on a perpendicular heading.

As the helmsman turned the ship’s wheel over, the officer stepped to the port bridge window and peered outside. The moon and stars were concealed by low clouds, draping the sea in darkness. Expecting to clearly view the lights of the nearby vessel, the officer was surprised to see only black.

“The fool doesn’t have her running lights on,” he said, searching the sea unsuccessfully for a shadow. “I’ll try her on the radio.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” barked a crisp voice with the hint of a Hebrew accent.

The officer turned in shock to find two men dressed in dark camouflage entering the bridge from the starboard wing. The taller of the two men stepped forward, exposing a lean face blunted by a lantern jaw. The intruder stopped a few feet from the officer, leveling a light machine gun at his chest.

“Have your helmsman resume his course,” the commando said, a stern look from his dark eyes expressing his will. “There is no danger to your vessel.”

The officer reluctantly nodded to the helmsman. “Resume original heading,” he said. Turning to the commando, he stammered, “What are you doing on our ship?”

“I’m looking for a man named Pitt. Bring him to the bridge.”

“There is no one aboard by that name,” the officer lied.

The commando took a step closer.

“Then I will clear my men off and sink your vessel,” he threatened in a low voice.

The officer wondered if it was an idle threat. But a gaze into the battle-hardened eyes of the commando left no doubt that it was a possibility. Nodding sullenly, the officer relieved the helmsman at the wheel so he could retrieve Pitt. The second commando immediately fell in step behind the helmsman as he exited by a rear stairwell.

A few minutes later, Pitt was marched onto the bridge, a look of anger searing his drowsy eyes.

“Mr. Pitt? I am Lieutenant Lazlo, Israeli Navy Special Forces.”

“Excuse me if I don’t welcome you aboard, Lieutenant,” Pitt replied drily.

“My apologies for the intrusion, but we require your assistance on a sensitive mission. I have been assured that sources in your government at the highest level have approved your cooperation.”

“I see. If that is the case, then were the midnight theatrics really necessary?”

“We are operating in Turkish waters without authorization. It is essential that we maintain our secrecy.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, put down your guns and tell me what this is all about.”

The commando reluctantly lowered his weapon, indicating for his partner to follow suit.

“We have been ordered to effect the rescue of the crew of the Israeli tanker Dayan . It has been reported that you are familiar with the facility where the ship is being held.”

“Yes, the cove north of the Dardanelles. Is she still there?”

“Intelligence reports within the last ten hours confirm as much.”

“Why not use diplomatic channels to get their release?” Pitt asked, baiting the man.

“Your government has provided information that there may be a connection between the hijackers and the recent attack on the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. The report of an explosives stockpile at the facility has our intelligence specialists fearing another attack.”

Pitt nodded, understanding that pursuing Celik through official channels might entail a dangerous delay. The Turk was clearly up to no good, and Pitt would like nothing more than to put him out of business.

“Very well, Lieutenant, I’ll be happy to help.” He turned and faced the second officer. “Rogers, please inform the captain that I’ve left the ship. By the way, Lieutenant, how did you get aboard?”

“We have a small inflatable tied up off the starboard flank. Our departure will be made easier if your vessel can temporarily slow.”

Rogers obliged the request, then stood on the bridge wing and watched Pitt and several shadows slip over the rail and quietly vanish into the night. A few minutes later, the helmsman called him over to the radar scope.

“She’s disappeared,” the man said, gazing at the screen.

Rogers looked at the empty blue radar screen and nodded. Somewhere on the open sea, Pitt had disappeared from the surface along with the mystery vessel. It was, he fervently hoped, only a temporary vanishing act.

59

The Tekumah wasted no time returning to the stealthy depths. A Dolphin class submarine built at the HDW shipyards in Kiel, Germany, she was one of only a handful of subs operated by the Israeli Navy. Diesel-powered and relatively small in size, she was nevertheless packed with a sophisticated array of electronics and weaponry that made her a formidable underwater foe.

The inflatable had barely touched the side of her hull when waiting crewmen hoisted Pitt and the commandos onto the deck and hustled them down a hatch while the inflatable was stowed in a watertight compartment. Pitt had just taken a seat in the sub’s cramped officers’ mess when the dive command reverberated through the vessel.

Lazlo secured his weapons, then brought a pair of coffees to the table and sat down opposite Pitt. Reaching into a nearby folder, he laid out a satellite photo of Celik’s shipping facility, similar to the one Pitt had received from Yaeger.

“We’re going in with two small teams,” the Israeli explained. “One will search the tanker and the other the shore facilities. Can you tell me about the buildings?”

“Provided I can go in with you,” Pitt replied.

“I don’t have authorization for that.”

“Look, Lieutenant,” Pitt said, staring coldly at the commando. “I didn’t come along with you just to take a joyride on a submarine. Celik’s men killed two of my scientists and kidnapped a third. His sister abducted my wife at gunpoint. And sitting inside his compound is enough high-grade explosives to start World War Three. I understand that you want the Dayan ’s crewmen back, but there’s potentially a lot more at stake here.”

Lazlo sat silent for a moment. Pitt was not the man he expected to find aboard the research vessel. Far from being some nebbish egghead scientist, Pitt was all substance.

“Very well,” the commando replied quietly.

Pitt took the photo and carefully explained the layout of the two warehouses and the stone administrative building.

“Can you tell me about any security elements?” Lazlo asked.

“It’s a functioning port facility first, but we encountered a number of armed personnel. I suspect that they were mostly Celik’s personal security detail, but a number were probably assigned to the site. I would anticipate a small but heavily armed security presence. Lieutenant, are your men trained in demolitions?”

The commando smiled. “We are Shayetet 13. Demolitions are an important part of our training.”

Pitt had heard of the Israeli Special Forces unit, which was similar in function to the U.S. Navy SEALs. They were called the “Bat Men,” he recalled, on account of the batwing insignia they wore on their uniforms.

“Members of my government are very concerned about a container of HMX plastic explosives that we found sitting in this warehouse,” Pitt said, pointing to the photo.

Lazlo nodded. “Our mission orders are for rescue only, but the elimination of those explosives would be of mutual interest. If they are still there, we will take care of them,” he promised.

A short man in an officer’s uniform ducked into the mess and stared at the two men with a humorless face.

“Lazlo, we’ll be at the deployment zone in forty minutes.”

“Thank you, Captain. By the way, this is Dirk Pitt, from the American research vessel.”