Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

They moved forward a few steps and stopped in the shadow of a large generator. Ana jumped when the device suddenly churned to life with a puff of black smoke. Ahead of them, a circle of lights flashed on, illuminating a round moon pool in the center stern deck. Above the pool, the huge grappling claw dangled by a thick cable that wound through a crane. On the far deck, a bulky bald man sat in a glass-sided control booth that managed the crane and claw.

“Let’s hold up a minute and see what they’re up to,” Ralin whispered.

The three law officers clung to the shadows as an array of lights flickered on and the grapple mechanism was lowered into the moon pool.

“Is that the device that wrestled with you in the submersible?” Ralin asked.

Ana nodded as she watched it disappear into the water.

“Nasty-looking thing,” he said.

They waited as the bald man manipulated the claw’s controls with the aid of a bank of video monitors. Two crewmen in foul-weather jackets appeared and stood by the moon pool. After several minutes, the crane’s cable drum reversed direction and began reeling in the line. The claw appeared a short time later and rose out of the water. Clutched in its grip was a gray box the size of a small coffee table.

Ralin nudged Ana’s arm. “That has to be it,” he whispered.

Ana nodded as a cold chill surged through her. Her intuition was on the mark. Not only had the Besso taken the HEU, they had concealed it where a shipboard search wouldn’t find it. Now it was right in front of her. She watched as the grapple set the crate on the deck and the two crewmen approached it. “Let’s take it,” Ana said.

She stepped from the shadows with her gun drawn, Ralin marching alongside. Dukova followed a few steps behind, calling the harbor security office on a portable radio for backup.

The agents stepped to the near edge of the moon pool before they were spotted by a crewman on the far side.

Ana yelled out, “Politsiya!”

The crewman dove behind the crate, calling out a warning as he hit the deck. His partner spun around, producing a short-barreled Uzi from beneath his coat, and opened fire.

The law enforcement agents, not expecting the crewmen to be armed, were slow to react. Ralin squeezed off two snap shots, then dove at Ana. He flew into her side as she returned fire, jarring her aim as they both fell.

Dukova was left standing, fumbling with his radio, and paid the price for it. The shooter paused, adjusted his aim, and fired a second burst. The Bulgarian policeman caught the full spray to his torso. He staggered backward a few steps, then fell over dead.

Ana and Ralin were lying in the open on the deck as they returned fire, driving the crewman to lunge behind a stanchion. Ralin eyed a hefty tool bin yards to their right. He nudged Ana and pointed to it. “Go when I fire,” he yelled over the renewed whir of the grapple crane.

Ralin rose to a crouch and emptied his clip at the armed crewman, who danced behind the stanchion for cover and immediately fired back. Ralin’s aim was better, and he tagged the man in the neck with his last two rounds. Spurting blood from his throat, the dying crewman held his trigger depressed and sprayed the last of his clip toward Ralin as he collapsed. His aim was low, but a bullet ricocheted off a deck grating and struck Ralin in the leg.

Ana was halfway to the tool bin when she saw her partner rise and stagger. “Petar!” she screamed, paying no heed to a dark blur to her side.

Ralin threw up a hand to halt her as he buckled forward. “No!” His eyes screamed in protest. The cry wasn’t for his wounds but to stop Ana. He tried to wave her back, but his leg collapsed and he fell forward into the moon pool.

Ana lunged to try to grab him—as the object in her peripheral vision grew large. Too late, she glanced to her side and saw the grapple claw. Having been swung like a pendulum, the huge mechanism was speeding directly toward her.

She dove to the deck, but not in time. The exterior band of one of the grapple’s claws caught her across her head and shoulder. She flew across the ship, her world turning to black before she hit the deck.

10

Ana’s body pulsed with a

low vibration, which intensified the shooting pain in her head. She took a leisurely journey back to consciousness, eventually raising a hand to feel a throbbing knot on the back of her head. She had to use her left hand, as her entire right torso was numb. Slowly, she pried open one eyelid, then the other. Blurry vision gradually focused on the heels of a scuffed pair of boots rocking in front of her.

As her senses aligned, she realized it was her head rocking, not the person wearing the boots. A gentle sea swell was the cause, as she detected a mixed odor of saltwater and diesel exhaust. The vibration was from the engines of the Besso, rattling the cold deck plate beneath her. She leaned up on her good elbow, shaking away the dizziness, and looked around.

Multiple high windows and the glow of an overhead radarscope told her she was on the salvage ship’s bridge. The man in boots was talking in low tones with another man at the helm. Ana’s mind cleared and she thought of Ralin. Was he dead? Images of him falling into the moon pool made her shudder. She reached for her kidney holster.

Empty.

The sea breeze from an open side door ruffled her hair, and she saw it was just a short crawl away. Escape was her best option, her foggy mind told her. Murmuring voices from the helm signaled the crewmen were still busy. Pulling forward on her side, she made for the doorway, moving at a turtle’s pace to avoid detection. She nearly reached it. Her hand was crossing the threshold when a deep voice cut the air.

“Going somewhere?”

Ana looked up to see a hefty bald man, the same one who had operated the grappling claw, step toward her. She tried to flee, but he was already there, grabbing the back of her jacket and yanking her to her feet.