Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)

Kurt set the winch control to retract and the braided steel cable went taut. The strain of lifting the four-ton submersible was felt instantly and the helicopter dipped several feet before Joe countered the effect. As the roar of the engines grew, the Angler came free of the Pacific and was soon locked in place, snugly up against Merlin’s belly.

“Outstanding,” Emma announced. “Never let it be said that the men of NUMA fail to impress.”

“It’s what we do,” Joe replied, a false tone of bravado purposely evident in his voice.

Kurt made one last check of the winch controls and turned back toward the cockpit. “Onward.”

At Joe’s command, the Air-Crane began to move forward once more, picking up speed and altitude more slowly this time as it thundered across the sea toward their next destination.

“How far to the ship?” Joe asked.

Emma checked the handheld GPS unit she carried. “Ninety miles from here.”

“That gives us time to practice our sales pitch,” Kurt said.

“Have you decided what you want to tell them?”

“I was thinking I’d appeal to the most basic universal desire.”

“I don’t think love is going to help us here,” Joe said.

“The other universal desire,” Kurt said. “Money. Everyone wants to be rich.”

“But we have no money to give them,” Emma pointed out.

Kurt nodded. “Who says we have to use our own?”

Both Emma and Joe gave him a quizzical look, but Kurt said no more; he was still working out the details.

11

MS Reunion

Refrigerated cargo carrier

En route from Chile to San Diego

The MS Reunion was running with a full complement of lights as it steamed north at eleven knots. Lit up like this, the ship was visible from miles away, a white beacon alone on the dark mat of the sea.

After a brief conversation with the Reunion’s night watch, the Air-Crane was cleared to land. Joe maneuvered toward the elevated pad near the bow of the ship and planted the big helicopter in the exact center of its yellow circle.

One of

the ship’s officers watched the landing and couldn’t help but be impressed at the pilot’s skill, especially since there was no more than ten feet to spare on either side and only two feet of clearance between the helipad deck and the bottom of . . . whatever the big orange machine was carrying.

With Merlin tied down, the officer led the new arrivals toward the bridge, stealing several glances at the attractive woman with auburn hair. It wasn’t often they had female guests on board, and he couldn’t recall ever having one this striking here for a visit.

In the lighted confines of the bridge, introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. That the captain of the Reunion was an American played into their hands. That he’d been woken in the middle of the night weighed against them, but that couldn’t be helped.

Captain Buck Kamphausen arrived on the bridge dressed in his boxers and a T-shirt, with a jacket thrown over his shoulders. Six foot three, sporting a patchy brown beard with plenty of gray creeping in, he wore rectangular glasses, which he was constantly adjusting, often with a glance at Emma.

Kamphausen was an affable fellow; he knew of NUMA and considered himself a big fan. As they spoke, though, he looked like he might agree to anything as long as Emma promised to stay on board and dine with him.

“What we need,” Kurt summed up, “is to use your ship as a floating base for a few days.”

Kamphausen scratched his beard. “For what purpose?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Kurt said.