Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

“Yes, just enjoying a small light show,” Pitt replied, coughing because of the heavy smoke that lingered in the air. “Thanks for the timely entrance.”

Lazlo passed over the now-dented fire extinguisher, which he had held tucked under one arm.

“Here, thought you might like this back. I appreciate the earlier aerial support.”

“You just returned the favor,” Pitt said, then applied the extinguisher to a scattering of small fires that the flare had ignited.

“I didn’t notice this one slip aboard,” Lazlo said, ensuring that Farzad was indeed dead.

“He quickly jumped on behind the first two.”

“I imagine that they’ll try again.”

“Time’s running short,” Pitt replied. “But you might raise that ramp all the same.”

“Good idea. What about us?”

“We might be cutting it close. I trust you can swim?”

Lazlo rolled his eyes, then nodded. “See you below,” he said, then disappeared down the stairwell.

The smoke from the flare cleared quickly out of the shattered bridge windows as Pitt stepped to the helm and gauged their position. The Dayan was more than halfway through its wide U-turn, its bow inching slowly toward the southern span of the Galata Bridge. Pitt tweaked the rudder to guide the big tanker dangerously close to the shoreline as it completed its turn, then he nudged up the engine revolutions. The stuttering and hesitation from belowdecks was worse than before, and Pitt fought to squeeze as much speed out of the faltering engine as he could.

He quickly scanned the shoreline waters for signs of the Bullet, but it was nowhere in sight. After Pitt’s earlier radio call, Giordino had raced at top speed toward the dredge ship and had already passed under the Galata Bridge. As if he knew Pitt was searching for him, Giordino suddenly hailed the tanker on the marine radio.

“Bullet here. I’m past the bridge and just pulling alongside the green cutter dredge. What do you want me to do?”

Pitt told him his plan, which evoked a low whistle from Giordino.

“I hope you had your Wheaties today,” he added. “How much time do you have?”

Pitt glanced at his watch. “About six minutes. We should be along in about half that time.”

“Thanks for bringing the powder keg my way. Just don’t be late,” he added, then quickly signed off.

By now, the Dayan had completed its turn, and the south span of the Galata Bridge loomed ahead less than a quarter of a mile away. Pitt willed the ship to go faster, as he felt the seconds tick by, while the bridge seemed to hold its distance. The timing would be close, he knew, but there was little he could do about it now.

Then the unwanted sound of silence suddenly drifted from the tanker’s bowels. The rumbling and stumbling beneath his feet vanished as the console in front of him lit up like a Christmas tree. The Dayan’s fuel-starved engine had finally given up its last gasp.

76

TAILING THE DAYAN A FEW DOZEN YARDS OFF ITS STARboard flank, Maria gazed at it through a pair of binoculars. To her disappointment, the big tanker had continued to veer away from shore and was quickly approaching a return pass under the Galata Bridge. She realized why when she scanned the tanker’s wheelhouse and caught a brief glimpse of Pitt at the helm.

“They have failed,” she said, her voice nearly hoarse with anger. “Get my last men aboard quickly.”

The yacht’s captain looked at her nervously.

“Shouldn’t we be getting clear?” he urged.

Maria stepped close so that no one else on the bridge could hear.

“We can part once the men are aboard,” she whispered coldly.

Her last three Janissaries assembled on deck as the yacht raced over to the Dayan’s flank. As the yacht approached the tanker’s accommodation ladder to off-load the gunmen, the stairway suddenly rose off the water. At the top of the steps, Lazlo stood at the hydraulic controls hoisting the ramp up.

“Shoot him!” Maria yelled, spotting the commando.

The startled Janissaries quickly aimed their weapons at Lazlo and fired. The Israeli commando had been watching the men’s reaction and turned to step from the rail. But he lingered a moment longer at the controls, wishing to keep the ramp out of reach. The hesitation proved costly, as a burst from one of the guns caught him in the shoulder.