Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

“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.

Pitt and Giordino swam forward until they were even with the Bullet. They could see the armed gunman standing on the stern deck of the workboat and another man in its wheelhouse.

“I think our best bet is to keep the towline and pull her into the cove to submerge,” Pitt whispered. A sudden fray of shouting came from shore as the Janissaries began extending their search down the pier.

“You jump on the Bullet and prep her for diving,” Pitt said, not wishing to waste any more time. “I’ll see what I can do with the workboat.”

“You’ll need some help with that a

rmed guard,” Giordino said with concern.

“Blow him a kiss when I get aboard.”

Then Pitt took a deep breath and disappeared under the water.

39

THE GUARD COULDN’T QUITE MAKE OUT THE COMMOTION on shore, but he could see that some of his fellow Janissaries were headed down the pier. He had already tried radioing his discovery of the submersible to his commander, not knowing that the man was still lying unconscious in the stone building. He contemplated returning to the yacht but thought it better to safeguard the submersible from the stern of the workboat. He stood there, gazing toward shore, when he was startled by a voice calling from the water.

“Pardon me, boy, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?” wafted a gruff voice.