Текст книги "Crescent Dawn"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

Соавторы: Dirk Cussler,Clive Cussler
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Текущая страница: 30 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

91

“Shoving off already?” Summer asked.

She stood on the Aegean Explorer’s bridge, watching a pair of crewmen hoist in and stow the forward mooring line. It had been less than an hour since the ship had touched the dock at Limassol, and she and Dirk had climbed aboard.

Pitt stood near the helm, sipping a cup of coffee.

“We’ve got to get back around to the western side of the Akrotiri Peninsula in order to keep tabs on Rudi’s AUV,” he said.

“I thought you were surveying with the towed sonar fish?”

“We are. We actually completed our first grid off Pissouri and started a new survey grid to the west. But Rudi reconfigured the AUV for sidescan sonar duty, so we put her to work. She’s currently running a large grid to the east of Pissouri. We’ll keep pushing west with the Explorerand cover twice as much ground.”

“Makes sense,” she replied. “How much longer will the AUV stay under?”

“She’ll be down another eighteen hours before surfacing. That will allow us a good run of our own before having to pick her up.”

“Dad, I’m sorry we didn’t come up with more promising research to go on.”

“Your fresco seems to confirm the role of the Pissouri wreck as one of the pirate ships. If the galley exists, we’ve got a good chance of being in the ballpark.”

The Aegean Explorerproceeded to steam south around the stubby Akrotiri Peninsula, then turned northwest toward Pissouri some twenty miles away. The research ship’s sensors soon made contact with a pair of floating transducer buoys, which relayed data from the AUV as it glided over the seabed two hundred feet beneath the surface. While Gunn and Giordino reviewed the AUV’s results, Pitt launched the towed sonar fish off the stern of the Explorer, sharing monitoring duties with Dirk and Summer.

It was nine the next morning when Summer stepped onto the bridge with a cup of hot coffee, ready to relieve her father in front of the screen.

“Anything new at the picture show?” she asked.

“A repeat is playing, I’m afraid,” Pitt replied, standing and stretching. “The same rock and sand that’s been rolling by all night. Outside of a small sunken fishing boat that Dirk picked up, it’s been slim pickings.”

“I just checked with Al in the survey shack,” she said, slipping into Pitt’s seat. “He said they’ve got similar results with the AUV.”

“We’re nearly at the end of this grid,” Pitt said. “Shall we keep working west?”

Summer smiled at her father. “When it comes to finding a shipwreck, I know better than to question your instincts.”

“Then west it is,” he replied with a wink.

Captain Kenfield stepped over from the helm and spread out a local marine chart across the table.

“Where exactly would you like to configure the next grid?” he asked Pitt.

“We’ll just extend the current grid, running as close to shore as we can get. Let’s run another two miles west, to this point here,” he said, pointing to a small coastal promontory on the map.

“Fair enough,” Kenfield said. “I’ll run the coordinates to Petra tou Romiou, as it says on the chart, or the Rock of Aphrodite.”

Summer stiffened in her chair. “Did you say the Rock of Aphrodite?” she asked.

Kenfield nodded, then retrieved a dog-eared traveler’s guide to Cyprus shelved behind the chart table.

“I was just reading about it last night. Petra tou Romiou, or Rock of Romios, takes its name from a Byzantine folk hero who allegedly tossed huge boulders into the sea to ward off pirates. The large rock formations are still visible in the surf. However, the site is also known from ancient times as the place where Aphrodite, the patron goddess of Cyprus, emerged from the sea in a wave of foam.”

“Dad, that’s it,” Summer said, jumping from her seat. “The Aphrodite image was in the fresco. It didn’t represent the temple at Stavrovouni, where the monastery stands. It’s where the Roman galley was headed. Someone on shore, or perhaps the pirates themselves, saw the galley fleeing toward the rocks.”

“It’s roughly within sight of the Pissouri wreck site,” Kenfield noted.

“I’ll buy it,” Pitt said, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “The Rock of Aphrodite it is. Let’s go see if the goddess will show us some love.”

A short time later, they reached the end of the survey lane and pulled in the towfish. As the ship changed course to resume its search down the coast, a palpable optimism surged through the bridge. Caught up in the anticipation, no one noticed the small boat trailing a half mile behind, where Ridley Bannister followed the turquoise ship with a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes.

92

Six hours later, the goddess Aphrodite was showing the NUMA surveyors anything but love. The seabed around the Petra tou Romiou proved void of any man-made objects. Dirk had taken over the next survey shift, staring at an endless scroll of rocks and sand on the monitor, while Summer and Pitt loitered about, hoping for a strike. Giordino stepped onto the bridge, surprised to see that Summer’s enthusiasm had waned to frustration.

“The AUV’s due up in about forty-five minutes,” he said to Pitt.

“We’re only a few minutes away from finishing this lane,” Dirk noted.

“All right, break off when we cross the end point, then we’ll go pick up the big fish,” Pitt said.

“Anything at all?” Giordino asked.

“If you have a fetish for rock gardens, you’d enjoy the seafloor here,” Dirk said.

Giordino eased over to the helm and gazed out the forward window. Seeing they were near the shoreline, he picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned a pebble-strewn beach that ran west of the large rock formation.

“Any Greek goddesses lying about?” Summer asked with a hint of disdain.

“No, the gods have deserted the beach on this sunny afternoon. Even the shady sea caves are empty of spirits.”

Pitt approached him with an inquiring look on his face. “Mind if I take a peek?”

As Pitt scanned the shoreline, Dirk announced that they had reached the end of the survey lane.

“Al, can you help secure the towfish?” he asked, turning off the sonar system.

“At your service,” Giordino replied, and the two men headed for the stern.

Pitt kept his eyes glued to the shore, then turned to Kenfield.

“Captain, would you mind taking us in a little closer to shore, on a bearing of twenty degrees,” he said.

“What’s up, Dad?” Summer asked.

“Just exploring the possibility that King Al might have struck gold once more.”

As the Aegean Explorereased into shallow water, Pitt got a better look at the shoreline. From a low, pebbly beach around Petra tou Romiou, the terrain climbed dramatically to the east, rising in high chalky cliffs several hundred feet high. The Mediterranean’s steady waves rolled into the base of the cliffs with a rumble, splashing foam high against the rocks at water’s edge. Across the lower cliff face, scattered indentations were worn into the limestone where the sea had scoured away a hole, or sea cave, as Giordino had called them. It was the caves that had caught Pitt’s attention, and he studied each one carefully. He finally focused on one in particular, a small black opening low above the water with tumbled rocks around its perimeter.

“Towfish is aboard,” Dirk announced, stepping back onto the bridge with Giordino.

Pitt put down the binoculars. “Captain, what’s the tidal stage right now?” he asked.

“We’re just past high tide,” Kenfield replied. “Tidal range is fairly minimal here, a couple of feet or so.”

Pitt nodded with a slight smile, then turned to Gunn.

“Rudi, you’ve done some ocean modeling. How much of a change in sea level would you say the Mediterranean has witnessed in the last seventeen hundred years?”

Gunn scratched his head. “The sea level today is probably two to three meters higher than it was two thousand years ago. I can give you an accurate estimate if I check the NUMA database.”

“That’s not necessary,” Pitt replied. He gazed at the sea cave once more. “I think she’d just about fit,” he muttered.

“We really need to go retrieve the AUV now,” Gunn pleaded.

“Okay, but before you go, you’ll need to drop Summer and me in the Zodiac. Dirk, too, if you want to come.”

“No thanks, Dad,” Dirk replied. “I’ve had my share of goose chasing with Summer. I’ll help with the AUV.”

“But where are we going?” Summer asked.

“Why, to that cliff,” Pitt said, pointing to the shore with a smile. “Where else are we going to find ourselves a Roman galley?”

93

As the Aegean Explorerslipped eastward to chase down the AUV, Pitt gunned the outboard on the new Zodiac and raced toward the shoreline. Summer sat on the bow, her long red hair blowing in the wind and a hopeful expression on her face, as they approached the sea cave. The low opening at water’s edge reflected little light, telling Pitt that the cave did indeed penetrate well into the cliff.

Drawing near, Pitt could see that the entrance was wide enough for the Zodiac to slip through. Though the tide was now lower, the wave action made clearing the opening a treacherous proposition. Spotting an exposed grouping of flat rocks to the right, he nudged the Zodiac alongside and waited for a wave to carry it. Summer quickly jumped out and wrapped a line around a boulder to secure the craft.

“Looks like we’re going to have to get wet,” Pitt said, grabbing a flashlight and hopping out of the Zodiac.

Summer followed him as he crept along the rocks until being forced to wade into the water near the cave’s entrance. A submerged layer of stones formed a crude ledge, which Pitt followed into the opening as a small wave rolled up to his neck. Flicking on the flashlight he held over his head, he could see the cave ran like a tunnel for at least twenty feet before expanding into the gloom beyond.

He stopped and waited as Summer navigated her way across the slippery rocks, grabbing his hand before almost falling under.

“Might be easier to swim,” she gasped.

“I see a dry ledge just up ahead,” Pitt replied, playing the light around.

Hugging the side wall, they worked their way forward, finding that the submerged ledge gradually rose until they stepped completely out of the water. Above their heads, the ceiling grew to enormous heights as the tunnel expanded into a large cavern. The water flowed through a curved channel in the shape of a large “U,” indicating that it looped back toward the sea. Pitt could see that the water didn’t appear stagnant but flowed with a mild current.

They followed the ledge a few yards farther as it led toward a large sandy rise. Pitt was surprised to see a soft, faint light bathing the interior cavern. Looking up, he could see where a few slim rays of sunlight slipped through a fissure in the cliff face.

Suddenly, Pitt felt Summer’s hand clench his arm.

“Dad!” she cried.

He saw she was staring wide-eyed ahead. Turning to look, he expected to see a flying bat or perhaps a snake on the ground. Instead, he saw the hull of an aged ship.

The vessel sat upright on a sandy ledge, appearing little damaged under the dim light. Stepping closer, Pitt could see that it was built of an ancient design. An angled prow rose in a high arch that curled back over the open deck. Dozens of small round holes dotted the sides above the waterline, which Pitt recognized as perforations for oars. There were no actual oars in sight, only a number of broken stubs that dangled from a few of the openings.

Approaching the dust-covered ship, they saw that its single mast had been shattered near the base, the thick pole now lying across the aft deck. Playing the flashlight beam across the high stern, Pitt could see the skeletal remains of a man draped over the wooden tiller.

“It’s a galley,” Pitt said with a grin. “An old one, by the looks of it. She probably snapped off her mast when she sailed through the cave entrance.”

Summer remained in silent awe. Stepping to the bow, she finally found the words to call her father.

“Dad, look at this.”

The galley’s prow was a crumpled mass of timber at the waterline. Looking closer, they could see several bent copper spikes protruding in a horizontal band on either side.

“The only real damage to the hull,” Summer noted. “They must have driven into the cliff face a few times before slipping into this grotto.”

“It appears that she may have had a ram fitted here at one time,” Pitt mused.

Using the spikes as a stepladder, he climbed up the bow, then pulled himself over the side. The sight on board nearly took his breath away. The entire deck was littered with skeletal remains clad in faded tunics or robes, a few with swords still clutched in their bony hands. A number of battle shields and spears were also scattered about, painting a grim picture of a bloody fight to the death.

“Any sign that it is Roman?” Summer asked from below.

“Of course it is.”

Summer froze at the comment. It wasn’t the cold tone in which the words were said but rather that they didn’t come from Pitt.

She turned to see the figure of Ridley Bannister approach out of the darkness, his clothes wet from the chest down. In his hands, he carried a small video camera, which he turned on, bathing the cavern in a hazy blue light.

“Well, if it isn’t the esteemed archaeologist Ridley ‘Baker’ Bannister,” Summer sneered as he stepped closer. “Did you bring your gun this time?”

“Oh, no. That was Field Marshal Kitchener’s revolver, actually. Quite empty of bullets it was, I’m chagrined to say.” He held the video camera up for her to see. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Pitt. Now, if you’d be so kind as to step out of the way, I will proceed to document my discovery.”

“Your discovery?” she said, her blood beginning to boil. “Why, you lying pig, you didn’t find anything.”

“It’s as good as mine now. I suppose I should tell you that I’m on excellent terms with the Cyprus Director of Antiquities. I’ve already made arrangements for the exclusive film and book rights in the event of discovery, which you have kindly aided. I’ll be sure to make a note of your generous contributions.”

Bannister placed the camera to his eye and started filming the exterior of the galley.

“Is the Manifest cargo aboard, by the way?” he asked, scanning along the side of the vessel.

Focusing the camera lens on the damaged prow, he didn’t notice Summer rush at him until it was too late. Reaching out a long arm, Summer ripped the camera from his hands and tossed it into the rocks. A shattering sound ensued as the lens smashed, though the camera’s bluish external light remained glowing.

Bannister stared at the damaged camera, then slowly became enraged. Grabbing the taller woman by her shirt lapels, he began shaking her in anger. A student of judo, Summer prepared to counter his grab with a takedown when a loud staccato burst through the cave. The gunfire was still echoing when Summer felt Bannister’s fingertips slip free of her shirt. The archaeologist gave her a pained look, then slowly sagged to the ground. As he fell prone, Summer saw that his khaki pants had sprouted stains of blood in several spots.

Looking past him, Summer saw three men standing on the rise. Even in the low light, she could see that they appeared to be Arabs. The tallest of the three stood at the center, smoke rising from a compact Uzi machine pistol cradled in his arms. He slowly took a step forward, keeping the weapon aimed at Summer as his eyes scanned the galley.

“So,” Zakkar said in halting English. “You have found the treasure.”

94

Summer stood immobile as the three men moved closer. At her feet, Bannister clutched at his wounds, an uncomprehending look of shock etched in his face. Zakkar lowered his Uzi as he drew near, his attention focused on the galley.

“Gutzman will be pleased,” he said in Arabic to his nearest associate, the bearded gunman from the Dome of the Rock attack named Salaam.

“What of these two?” Salaam asked, aiming a small penlight at Summer and Bannister.

“Kill them and throw their bodies into the ocean,” Zakkar replied, rubbing a hand over the ancient ship’s hull.

Having understood the conversation, Bannister tried pulling himself across the ground, grunting in pain as he clawed his way behind Summer. Salaam ignored him as he stepped close to Summer, then raised a pistol at her head.

“Run!”

Pitt’s shout rang loudly from the deck of the galley, catching all of the Arabs by surprise. Summer watched the gunman in front of her glance toward the ship, his eyes instantly flaring in horror.

Whistling through the air at him was a pilum, the iron-tipped Roman javelin. Salaam had no chance to move before the razor-sharp spear struck him in the chest. The finely crafted weapon cut a path completely through the man’s torso, its tip exiting his back below the kidney. The stunned man spit out a mouthful of blood, then dropped to the ground stone dead.

In the moment that Salaam was struck, Summer was already calculating her options. She instantly decided she could either lunge for the gunman’s pistol, or run and dive into the water, or break for her father on the ship. The adrenaline was already surging through her veins, screaming for her brain to respond. But Summer let logic run its course before making a move. She quickly judged that the handgun would be no match for Zakkar’s Uzi. And though her heart told her to run to her father, reason dictated that the water was much closer.

Suppressing her emotional urges, she took a powerful step to her right and then leaped. The sound of gunfire was already ripping through the air when her outstretched hands broke the water’s surface and the rest of her body tumbled in after. The slope of the sandbar dropped away sharply, and she plunged into the depths without breaking her neck.

She instinctively swam down, following the slight current, which carried her away from the cave’s entrance. She was a strong swimmer to begin with, and her pumping adrenaline drove her deeper, until her hand brushed the channel floor at a depth of fifteen feet. The water was pitch-black, so she tried to use the current to guide her forward, occasionally grazing against the walls of rock.

She swam hard for a dozen strokes, driving smoothly through the water. When her air began to expire, she eased toward the surface, confident that she had put sufficient distance between herself and the gunmen to catch a quick breath. With her lungs beginning to ache, she raised a fist over her head in the scuba diver’s safe ascent pose and kicked toward the surface. She rose a dozen feet, and her upraised hand suddenly brushed against rock. An uneasy feeling crept over her as she groped along the hard surface. Slowly, she nosed her face up alongside her hand until her cheek was flush against the overhead rock, the water’s current rippling against her face.

Her pounding heart skipped a beat as she realized the water channel had turned into a submerged tunnel, and there was no air to be had.

95

Zakkar’s Uzi had opened fire the instant Summer dove into the grotto pool. His aim had been toward the galley, however, as he stitched a lead seam along the side rail a second after Pitt had ducked beneath it. Pitt quickly raced a few feet down the deck, scooping up a round wooden shield lying near his feet. Popping it up briefly, he flung the shield at Zakkar like a Frisbee, hoping to keep his attention away from Summer. Sidestepping the disk, Zakkar opened fire again, nearly catching Pitt at the rail with a short burst.

In his quick glance over the rail, Pitt had seen Summer dive for the channel and heard her splash in. The water remained quiet, and the gunmen weren’t wasting shots into the channel, giving him confidence that his daughter had swum out of harm’s way.

Bannister was proving equally adept at dodging bullets. In the confusion caused by Pitt’s spear attack, he had dragged himself behind some low rocks, concealing himself, as he drifted in and out of consciousness from his wounds. The Arabs paid him little heed anyway. They were more concerned with avenging the death of their partner.

“Get aboard by the stern,” Zakkar shouted at his accomplice, after checking on the impaled gunman. “I shall pursue from the front.”

The Arab retrieved the dead man’s penlight, then made his way to the galley’s bow, keeping a cautious eye out for Pitt on the deck above.

Pitt had seen only the three armed men enter the cavern together and hoped there were no others. He had no idea who they were, but their readiness to kill was more than apparent. He knew it meant he would have to beat them to the punch.

Under the dim light, he surveyed the galley’s main deck, spotting companionways at either end that descended to the rowing deck. Making his way to the aft companionway, he picked up a sword and another shield from the battle remnants lying about the deck. The shield felt unusually heavy, and he flipped it over to find three stubby arrows fastened to the back. They were throwing arrows, issued to Roman soldiers late in the empire. Each arrow was about a foot in length, with a heavy lead weight at its center and a bronze barbed tip at the end. Pitt tucked the shield under his arm, then climbed over the fallen mast that crossed the rear deck.

He could hear the sound of the two gunmen trying to board the ends of the ship as he moved aft toward the raised stern section. Stepping toward the centerline, he tripped over the skeletal remains of a Roman legionary and nearly fell through the open companionway to the lower deck. He cursed himself at the racket he made, but the accident gave him an idea.

Taking the sword, he jammed the tip into the deck plank so that it stood upright. He then hoisted the torso of the skeleton and wedged it atop the sword’s hilt. He quickly wrapped it in a crumbling cloak that was lying beneath the bones, then spotted a broken lance nearby. He eased the spear through the skeleton’s ribs, then concealed its base in the cloak while its business end protruded in a menacing manner. In the low light, the ancient warrior appeared almost alive.

Above him, Pitt heard a thud as the gunman climbing up the transom jumped onto the raised steering deck. Pitt quietly retreated to the fallen mast, climbing over the thick spar and hiding in its shadows. He silently unfastened the three throwing arrows from the shield, then fished through his pocket for a coin. Retrieving a quarter, he clenched it in his hand and waited.

The gunman moved cautiously, patiently scanning the main deck for movement before climbing down from the steering deck. He descended one of two ladders that were mounted on either side of the rowing-deck companionway. To Pitt’s good fortune, the gunman climbed down the ladder closest to him.

Pitt held to the shadows until he heard the man’s shoes hit the main deck. He then raised his hand and flicked his wrist, tossing the quarter high into the air. The coin landed right where Pitt aimed, near the base of the skeleton, tinkling loudly across the silent deck.

The startled gunman instantly turned toward the noise, spotting the cloaked figure holding a spear. He immediately pumped two shots from his automatic pistol into the skeleton, watching in amazement as it disintegrated into a small heap. His surprise was short-lived, for Pitt was already on his feet, flinging the first arrow from twenty feet away.

Finding the ancient weapon surprisingly well balanced, Pitt was dead-on with his first throw, striking the man near the hip. The gunman grunted in pain from the penetration of the sharp projectile, wheeling around as the second arrow whizzed past his chest. Fumbling to remove the first arrow, he looked toward Pitt, only to see a third arrow flying in his direction. Too overwhelmed to shoot, he instinctively stepped to the side to avoid the incoming barb. Only there was no deck beneath his feet.

Falling where Pitt hadn’t, he plunged down the open companionway with a gasp. The sickening crack of breaking bones echoed from the rowing deck a second later, followed by a morbid silence.

“Ali?” cried Zakkar from the bow.

But there would be no answer to his query.