Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

“Perhaps.”

“Were you able to grab the gold bar you’d seen in the cabin?”

Dirk shrugged. “We had it for a moment. Wasn’t a big concern after everything went black.”

The two men made their way to the front of the submersible.

“I guess the trip paid for itself.” Dirk pointed to the cradled manipulator.

Visible within the clutch of its steel claws was the yellow sheen of the gold bar.

30

“Al, they’ve found the Macedonia.”

Dozing in a corner of the Burgas police station’s video conference room, Giordino woke with a start. He stood and moved swiftly to the conference table, where Pitt was back in touch with Gunn and Yaeger in Washington. The men showed a sudden sense of vigor that masked the fatigue of the last forty-eight hours.

Giordino took a seat at the table and joined the conversation. “Where is it?”

“North-central Black Sea,” Yaeger said, “about forty miles southeast of Sevastopol. We just identified her on a satellite image from the National Reconnaissance Office. It’s from one of their Air Force birds, taken about ninety minutes ago.”

Yaeger typed at his console and displayed on the screen a grainy photo. The digitally enhanced image showed a small ship trailed by a box-shaped vessel. Yaeger enlarged the photo until a few distinct features on the ship could be seen. “It wasn’t a direct satellite pass, and the weather adds degradation, but it appears to be the Macedonia. The dimensions match up, the topside structures are correct, and you can even make out a submersible on the aft deck.”

“That’s her,” Pitt said.

“Yep.” Giordino nodded. “That’s exactly where the submersible was positioned when we came into port.”

“Nice work, Hiram,” Pitt said. “You found the needle in a haystack.”

“Max did all the work,” Yaeger said. “I just input the vessel’s configuration and sent her to work scanning satellite images.”

“What’s with the vessel behind her?” Giordino asked. “Is she towing a barge?”

Yaeger readjusted the image and zoomed in on the second vessel. Under magnification, they could see, it was an open-hulled steel barge loaded with crates.

“It’s a towed barge, all right,” Pitt said. “You can make out the tow line on one of the forward bollards.”

“Why would someone hijack a research ship and use it to tow a barge?” Gunn asked.

“There must be a clue in the cargo,” Yaeger said.

“Most likely,” Pitt said. “Whatever they’re towing, it’s slowing them down. That will make them more vulnerable.”

“If she makes it to Sevastopol, things might get ugly trying to pry her back from the Russians,” Gunn said.

Pitt nodded. “Give us her coordinates. We’ll contact the Ukrainians and see if their Coast Guard can get to her first. They can at least radio Macedonia and see who answers. How about our own Navy?”

“We’ll have to check,” Gunn said. “The Montreux Convention allows us only a temporary naval presence in the Black Sea, but the Aegis-class destroyer Truxton is currently on deployment.”

“Get on it,” Pitt said. “I’ll also need a contact for the Bezmer Air Base commander.”

“You going to request a flyby?” Gunn asked.

Pitt gave Giordino a knowing look. “Something like that.” He signed off the video call and made arrangements with the Bulgarian police to contact the Ukrainian Sea Guard. In Washington, Gunn contacted a friend who was aide to the Chief of Naval Operations, while Yaeger continued trying to track the Macedonia and studying satellite images. Something in the barge photo caught his eye and he examined it under different levels of lighting and magnification. Finally, he saw it. On the top of one crate was a word in black paint. He adjusted the brightness, contrast, and magnification in multiple variations, but he couldn’t make out the lettering.

“Max,” he called out. “Are you there?”

A holographic image of a woman appeared beyond Yaeger’s computer console. She was young and attractive, modeled after his wife, and she looked at him attentively. “I’m here around the clock for you,” she said in a seductive voice. “You should know that by now.”