Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

“Nice of Rudi to help out,” Dirk said. “I assume a stop at the Royal Navy isn’t for Jack’s benefit?”

“That will be to return this.” Summer raised her purse and set it on the table with a clunk.

“Is that what I think it is?” Dahlgren asked.

“Hasn’t left her side,” Dirk said. “I think she sleeps with it under her pillow.”

“It’s not something I care to lose.” She unsnapped her purse and retrieved the gold bar from the Canterbury.

“May I?” Dahlgren reached out his hands.

Summer passed him the bar.

“Sweetness.” He balanced its weight, then held it up to the light.

Summer smiled. There was something intrinsically magical about the heavy yellow mineral that elicited a childlike amazement in everyone who touched it. No wonder there were so many treasure hunters scouring the globe for gold nuggets and coins.

Dahlgren rapped a knuckle against the top of the bar, which was engraved with various numbers and symbols. “Have you deciphered the hieroglyphics and the two-headed chicken?”

“That’s no chicken,” she said. “It’s actually an eagle, the coat of arms of the Romanov family. It ties with the accompanying Cyrillic lettering, which indicates some sort of tracking number and the smelting date, October 1914.”

“Romanov gold?” Dirk asked.

“I’m no expert, but from what I can determine, the markings indicate it came from the Imperial Russian Treasury.”

“That might explain the appearance of the Tavda.”

“The Russians must think there’s more gold aboard,” Dahlgren said.

“It’s possible,” Dirk said, “though there was no mention of gold shipments in the Canterbury’s history that I found.”

Dahlgren looked to Summer. “So you want to rat out the Russians in London?”

“The Canterbury is a British naval ship as well as a war grave. The Royal Navy should be notified that the Russians are claiming it as theirs and possibly blowing it apart in a search for gold.”

“Sounds like the right thing to do. But how about this?” Dahlgren held up the gold bar. “Going to keep it as a finder’s fee?”

“Of course not,” Summer grabbed the bar out of his hands and deposited it in her purse. “It will be given to the Royal Navy, along with the wreck’s coordinates.”

He shook his head. “Always the saint.”

“I think I can dispute that,” Dirk said.

Summer snorted. “Never you mind.”

“So I understand flying to London to fix Jack’s leg and to kiss the gold bar good-bye,” Dirk said. “But how does Cambridge play into the trip?”

“That’s something of a bonus. I tried calling St. Julien Perlmutter in Washington to enlist his help in researching the Canterbury. If anyone could find out if there’s gold aboard an old shipwreck, it would be Julien. By luck, he happens to be attending a nautical history symposium at Cambridge.”

“Summer,” Dahlgren said, “I never knew you were such a gold hound.”

“It’s not the gold itself. I just want to know why it was aboard. And why the Russians are claiming the ship.”

“The British Admiralty records might be helpful,” Dirk said.

“With Julien’s assistance, we’re sure to find something.”

“I just have one question for you, Summer.” Dahlgren eased his leg to the floor and sat upright. “How are you going to carry both me and that gold bar off the ship in Bergen?”