16
Pitt broke the surface as a light rain began to pelt the sea. A rising surge of bubbles announced the appearance of Giordino a few seconds later. Having followed their shot line to the surface, they found their inflatable boat tied off a few feet away.
Both men bellied into the boat and had begun removing their dive gear when they noticed a roar of approaching boats, followed by the popping sound of gunfire. Pitt turned to see a faded orange inflatable with three men chasing a smaller black Zodiac piloted by a lone woman with flowing black hair. He tensed, realizing it was Ana.
She was barely a hundred yards away, driving directly for them in a deflating boat that wallowed and was slapping the waves.
Again there came a muzzle flash from the orange inflatable, which was between them and the Macedonia.
“Al, cut the mooring line,” Pitt said.
As Giordino released the bow line, Pitt started the outboard and gunned the throttle. He turned the boat toward Ana, quickly closing with her. She and Pitt cut their motors as the boats pulled alongside, bow to stern, and Giordino secured them momentarily.
“Need a lift?” Pitt asked.
Ana kicked open the splintered wooden crate and yanked out a heavy metal cylinder, then staggered to the gunnel. Giordino extended his arms and hoisted it into his boat.
“It’s the HEU.” She jumped off her shattered inflatable and into the NUMA boat.
Pitt gunned the motor again, turning away from the pursuing boat.
“Get down!” Ana said. “They have guns.”
As if on cue, a burst of gunfire rippled the water alongside them.
“Is that the salvage ship?” Pitt motioned toward a distant vessel.
“Yes, the Besso. Petar and I found her in Burgas and boarded her this morning. Petar is dead.” Her eyes welled with tears. “They took me to sea with them, but I escaped. As we suspected, they had the HEU.”
“And I think they’d like to have it back,” Giordino said as another burst of fire slapped the waves.
Pitt eyed the Macedonia a half mile to the south. He turned toward the ship, but the orange inflatable did likewise. He held his course for a moment, gauging the other boat’s speed.
“I tried for the Macedonia, too,” Ana said, “but they drove me away.”
Pitt gave her a half smile. “They’re not going to let us go home, but I think we can stretch them to shore.”
Ana stared at Pitt. He was as calm as a man sipping a beer in a hammock.
He eased the bow to the west, casually watching the pursuing boat follow suit. The boats were now less than a hundred yards ap
art, but Pitt could see that they were equally matched. The pursuers ceased shooting, conserving their ammunition amid the difficulties of accurate marksmanship on a bouncing boat now pelted by a steady rain.
Aboard the NUMA Zodiac, Giordino began pitching their depleted air tanks over the side to lighten their load and perhaps create an obstacle for the chase boat. Next he uncoupled the lead weights from their dive belts and began flinging them toward the pursuers. The pilot of the chase boat ignored the barrage until one of the weights bounced off his inflatable’s bow and struck him on the shoulder. Temporarily losing his grip on the throttle, he swerved to avoid Giordino’s final artillery shells, adding a few precious seconds to the chase.
Pitt peered through the falling rain at the green coastline, spotting the amber-colored buildings of a town to the south. It was Balchik, a small tourist village he’d seen on the charts a few miles up the coast from Burgas. Pitt angled toward the town. Within a few minutes at full throttle, they approached the entrance to its harbor.
Giordino spotted renewed muzzle flashes from the pursuing boat. “Incoming.”
Pitt crouched low behind the motor, and Ana and Giordino sprawled on the floorboards.
“They don’t want us to reach port,” Ana said.
Several bullets found their mark. One ricocheted off the engine housing, while four more punctured the side inflatable compartments. Pitt ignored the gunfire and aimed for a freighter tied up at the lone commercial dock.
They raced into the harbor, the gunfire increasing as Pitt approached the freighter. He drove along its length, then cut sharply across its bow. He moved straight to the side of the dock, cutting the motor just before they collided with the wharf. Giordino sprang from the bow as they mashed into a support pole, clambered onto the elevated dock with a bow line in hand, and yanked the boat to a halt.
“Everybody off the bus,” he said. He reached down and grabbed Ana’s outstretched hand and pulled her brusquely onto the dock.