Paul jotted down the travel time and place. As he hung up, Gamay came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her slim body, another turban-style on her head and a half-empty martini glass in her hand. The shower and drink had mellowed her mood. When he told her they would have to hit the road again, Gamay even greeted the news with a smile, saying that she missed Kurt and Joe.
Paul took his turn in the shower, and Gamay sent down to room service for lamb shish kebab and pilaf. The food arrived as they were starting on their second martini. After dinner, they changed their clothes, and with full stomachs, clean bodies and refreshed spirits, they took another cab to the airport. The cab driver had no kamikaze yearnings and except for the usual heavy traffic, the trip was uneventful.
As Austin instructed, they asked to be dropped off away from the main airport terminal at a section used by small private airlines. They made their way to a hangar whose floodlights gleamed off the turquoise paint of a midsized helicopter. The letters NUMA were painted in black on the side. The rotor turned slowly as the engines warmed up. The pilot stood on the tarmac talking to someone. Even though the man's back was turned, the Trouts immediately recognized the narrow shoulders and hips and thinning hair of NUMA's deputy director. Rudi Gunn turned, greeted them with a wide grin and jerked his thumb toward the open door of the aircraft.
"Need a lift?"
Gamay turned to Paul. "So this is the six-chinned senator with the major comb-over that you were telling me about?"
Trout did a classic double-take. "For God's sakes, Rudi, why didn't you tell us you were the bigwig VIP?"
"Didn't want to spoil your fun. Admiral Sandecker thought I should be in the neighborhood in case the situation got complicated. I've been in Athens representing NUMA at a conference on nautical archaeology. It was only a short hop here via executive jet. The helicopter flew in from a project in the eastern Aegean. Sandecker figured it was time for me to jump in with both feet after Kurt called him with news of the 'package' he had to deliver."
"Package?" Paul said.
"I'll tell you everything I know on the way. Shall we?"
They climbed into the chopper and took their seats in the spacious cabin. The engines revved up, and minutes later the Sikorsky S-76C lifted rapidly into the sky. The sprawling lights of Istanbul straddling the Bosporus on two continents spread below them like a sequined tapestry. Powered by its twin Arriel engines, the helicopter headed north at a cruising speed of one hundred seventy-five miles per hour.
The pilot's voice came over their earphones in a lazy, slightly western Chuck Yeager drawl.
"Hi, folks. My name is Mike. Make yourselves comfortable. Should be plenty of room to stretch. They designed this chopper for oil-rig support, so it's pretty much a flying bus. We can take twelve passengers. You're lucky to be going on this leg. We expect to be pretty crowded on the return trip. There's a thermos of hot coffee up near the bulkhead. Help yourselves. Please let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy the flight."
Gunn poured the coffee and passed the steaming cups around. "Good to see you both. Sorry your sabbaticals were cut short. Officially speaking, you're still on leave, I'm sitting in an auditorium at the Greek National Archaeological Museum, and this meeting is not taking place."
"What's been going on, Rudi?" Paul said. "We've only heard bits and pieces."
"I'm not sure what the total picture looks like, but here's what we do know. Several days ago, Admiral Sandecker was invited to a White House meeting with the president and his advisors. The White House was worried about the deteriorating political situation in Russia. Some of the president's men scolded Sandecker for allowing Kurt to violate Russian sovereign territory at the abandoned Soviet submarine base. They were worried that it would give Russian opposition forces ammunition to use against the government, which is already fighting for its life. The admiral apologized, said it was an accident and offered to talk directly to the Russians. His offer was rejected. Then he asked what the White House was doing about the NR-1. Strangely, the president and his people had forgotten to tell Sandecker the sub was missing."
Paul grinned and said, "Assuming the admiral wouldn't know was pretty dumb on their part."
Gamay shook her head. "It's unbelievable that the NR-1 could vanish with no trace, as if it had been swallowed by a sea monster."
"You're not far off the mark. The NR-1 was hijacked and transported on the deck of a submarine."
"That's more far-fetched than the sea monster theory," Gamay said.
"We were trying to figure things out, when Kurt called and said a source had told him that a mining tycoon named Mikhail Razov is behind the political unrest in Russia. According to the White House, there's a tie between the NR-1's disappearance and the mess in Moscow. In addition, Razov's company, Ataman Enterprises, has leased the sub base from the Russian government."
Gamay said, "That's why Kurt asked us to look into Razov's operation at Novorossiysk."
"You think the NR-J was taken to this old sub base?"
Paul said. "We thought that was a possibility. But we were more worried about something else Kurt's source said, that Razov was connected to a plot against the United States."
"What sort of plot?" Paul asked.
"We don't know. Sandecker considered the tip serious. When Kurt said he was assembling the Special Assignments Team and planned to go back to the base, the admiral gave his unofficial blessing. Kurt must have mentioned that his mission was, uh, unofficial."
"He put it quite colorfully," Gamay said, laughingly.
"I won't even ask," said Rudi, imagining Austin's report. "The White House specifically warned Admiral Sandecker to stay clear of the NR-1 investigation. I'm sure it won't surprise you to know he managed to get around that warning by a technicality. He agreed not to search for the sub, but said nothing about the sub base."
"I'm shocked, shocked," Gamay said with mock horror, echoing Casablanca.
"Me, too," said Paul. "Who would have thought such a thing?"
"Your sarcasm is dutifully noted and ignored. But you get the point. We had to keep t