Poseidon's Arrow (Dirk Pitt 22)

Dirk patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid it does, my friend.”

Dirk assisted Dahlgren in removing several heavy sets of battery packs that powered the submersible, swapping them with freshly charged replacements. While they worked on the aft deck, a large patrol boat appeared from shore. As the boat loosely circled the Alexandria, two casually dressed occupants on its open bridge studied the research ship with a look of displeasure. When the Alexandria moved off-site, the patrol boat ran back to shore.

“I wonder what those boys are up to,” Dahlgren said.

“They didn’t exactly look like government officials.” Dirk gazed toward the receding boat, and shoreline beyond. “I thought the coast around here was pretty well an empty desert.”

“A small freighter came cruising through while you were down. It appeared headed to shore, so there must be some sort of harbor nearby.”

They finished swapping batteries and completed an extensive predive safety check before tracking down Summer in one of the ship’s labs. She had assembled a crate of tiny battery-powered ground sensors that would track tremors and movements in the fault line. Each was contained in a stainless steel canister that sprouted a bright orange metal marker flag.

“We’ve surveyed in a perfect location,” Summer said. “What we want to do next is go back and bury ten sensors, five hundred meters apart, along the same track.” She looked to Dahlgren. “Can you drop us back at the same starting point?”

“Can a boll weevil find a Mississippi cotton field? You just go get yourself comfy in my submersible before I decide to put you over the side without it.” He stormed out of the lab, heading for the bridge to confer with the captain.

“What’s he so touchy about?” Summer asked.

“I made the mistake of telling him about the wreck we discovered,” Dirk said. “He’s mad that we found it in his submersible without him.”

She shook her head. “Boys and their toys.” Summer grabbed the sensors and carried them to a cage basket affixed to the front of the submersible. Once they were secured, she climbed inside and joined Dirk in reviewing the predive checklist.

Dahlgren appeared a few minutes later and ducked his head inside the hatch. “Good to go when y’all are.”

“We’re launch ready,” Dirk said. “Have a couple of cold ones waiting when we get back.”

“Sure, but they’re liable to be empty cold ones. Anything else?”

“Yes. See what the records show in the way of southern Madagascar shipwrecks in the past five years.”

“That I can do. Happy sowing.”

Dahlgren sealed the hatch and hoisted the submersible over the Alexandria’s stern. He waited until a radio call from the bridge confirmed they were at the designated drop spot, then lowered the sub. Once the grapple was freed, Dirk was given the okay to flood the ballast tanks, and the yellow submersible slipped under the waves.

The bottom appeared a few minutes later, and Dirk guided the submersible on its earlier northeast heading. This time they traveled less than fifty meters before crossing the familiar uplift.

“Kudos to Jack,” Summer said. “He played the currents almost perfectly.”

“Shall we drop the first sensor?” Dirk asked.

Summer checked their position, calculated from a dead reckoning program initiated at deployment. “Actually, we should move about thirty meters east to pick up our first track.”

Dirk made the adjustment. He eased the submersible to a flat section of seabed adjacent to the uplift and powered off the thrusters to settle the whirling clouds of sediment they had stirred up. Summer took over from there, activating a pair of articulated robotic arms. She clawed a vertical pit into the seafloor with one arm, then used the other to grasp a sensor from the basket. She wedged the sensor into the pit and covered up the main body of the sensor, leaving just the bright orange flag protruding from the seafloor.

“That went well,” Dirk said. He powered up the thrusters and shot down the rift at top speed.

“You in a hurry to get someplace?” Summer asked.

“I figured we might take another look at the wreck when we’re finished.”

Summer smiled. She’d had the same idea and made sure a backup video hard drive was aboard for them to film the wreck.

They proceeded along the fault, planting the remaining nine sensors along the seven-mile route. When the last sensor was secured, Dirk checked their position relative to the shipwreck. He maneuvered the submersible a short distance until the mass appeared before them. “Right where we left her.”

“I’ll get some video this time,” Summer said, activating the forward cameras.

Dirk ascended the submersible as they approached the hulk, heading immediately for the main deck. He crossed to the opposite rail, allowing Summer’s cameras to film the width of the ship’s beam and its open holds, which were missing their hatch covers. He was on a mission of identification, as he turned the submersible and its video cameras toward the high rear superstructure. Its design would offer another clue to the age of the ship and its builder.

Creeping up the front face of the superstructure, he zoomed over the bridge and hovered near the funnel, which protruded from the aft side. Commercial ships often carried the company colors or logo there, but this