“I knew he was a tough cat,” Giordino said.
“He somehow survived his gunshot wound and was rescued in the harbor. He’s recovering at a hospital in Burgas.”
“That is indeed happy news.” Pitt stood and offered her a chair. “We’ll run down to Burgas and check on him once we’re cleared to leave port. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you are all right.”
Georgi Dimitov entered the room and approached the table. “There you two are. Safe from your adventure, I’m glad to see.”
As Dimitov took a seat at the table, Pitt introduced him to Ana.
“I’ve heard all kinds of rumors aboard ship about your chase today,” Dimitov said. “Pray tell, what was all the excitement about?”
“Ana got caught up with some smugglers that happened our way,” Pitt said. “We helped her to shore and waited for the authorities to arrive.”
“Saved my life, would be more accurate,” Ana said. “And the lives of many others.”
“We were all quite worried aboard ship, I can tell you that.”
Pitt and Giordino eyed each other, knowing the archeologist was bursting with curiosity about the shipwreck.
Dimitov broke quickly. “We were wondering, as well, what you discovered on your dive?”
“Hmm, do you recall, Al?”
“Let’s see,” Giordino said. “I saw a nice lobster, but he eluded me in the debris of that old shipwreck.”
“It’s an old wreck?” Dimitov asked, his voice rising.
“Yes, easily two hundred years old,” Pitt said. “A beautifully preserved three-masted warship of about forty meters. Appeared to have a Turkish inscription on the bell.”
“You found the ship’s bell!” Dimitov popped out of his seat.
“Al’s got video of the whole thing, if we can find his camera in the harbor. Congratulations, Doctor, you’ve got a nice shipwreck on your hands . . . that is in all probability the Fethiye.”
Dimitov hopped around the table and shook Pitt’s hand, nearly pulling his arm off. As he tried the same with Giordino, Al jokingly crushed his hand in return.
“This is news that was worth waiting for.” He couldn’t stop smiling. “I trust that you will be able to return to the wreck site for additional dives?”
“Certainly. We’re stuck in Balchik for the moment, and awaiting some parts for the submersible, but we should be able to return to the wreck site at full strength soon enough and perform a detailed investigation. Plus, there is a delicate matter associated with the wreck that we’ll need to address with the local authorities.”
“What’s that?”
“A mystery, of sorts.” Pitt reached into his pocket and handed Dimitov a set of dog tags he had carefully removed from the submerged airman’s body. “On the wreck, we discovered the body of a man in a military flight suit with a parachute. The anoxic waters at that depth have left him quite well preserved. Judging by the suit, I’d say he’s been there forty or fifty years.”
Dimitov’s joviality vanished as he grasped the tags.
Anna shook her head. “I thought you said the shipwreck dated from the eighteenth century.”
“It does. Sank in 1770, if we have the right wreck.”
“Our flyboy likely bailed out of an airplane and drowned,” Giordino said. “As he sank to the depths, he may have been pushed along by a deep current until his parachute snagged on the wreck.”
“It’s quite macabre,” Dimitov said as he carefully studied the metal identification tags. “He’s Russian, a sergeant by the name of Alexander Krayevski. His unit is listed as the Fifty-seventh Bomber Division. And his blood type is O positive.”
“That info should get him a formal burial,” Pitt said.
“I believe so. I know an amateur historian near Burgas who would be very interested in this discovery.”
“Perhaps he could tell us about what happened to his airplane,” Ana said, “and help make burial arrangements.”