Giordino eased the chopper down until they were hovering just above it. The lid of one crate had been worked loose by the jostling seas, allowing a partial glimpse inside. Both men could make out a row of brass cylindrical objects.
“Yaeger was right,” Pitt said. “She is indeed loaded with munitions.”
“Why would someone steal an oceanographic research ship and use it to haul a barge full of artillery shells to Sevastopol?” Giordino asked.
Pitt shook his head. “For no good reason I can think of.”
Giordino pushed the helicopter’s cyclic control forward, propelling them past the barge and over the water. He followed the tow line to the Macedonia, where he made a wide loop around the ship. No one appeared on deck to watch the thumping chopper skim overhead.
“Must be a skeleton crew,” Giordino said.
“Let’s see who’s on the bridge.”
Giordino eased close alongside the port bridge wing, where they had a clear view inside. The entire bridge was empty.
“No wonder she’s defying the Russians,” Pitt said. “No one’s home. She must be on autopilot.”
“If the crew’s locked belowdecks, that might not be good.”
“Get me aboard,” Pitt said.
Giordino elevated the Bell to better scan the moving ship beneath him. The topsides were an unfriendly maze of cranes, antennas, and radar masts. Moving aft, he pointed to the Macedonia’s submersible, which had been left dangling from a lift crane while under repair. “Not optimal, but if I can get a clear drop over the submersible, you can use it as a ladder.”
“Do it,” Pitt said.
Giordino brought the chopper around the stern and over the submersible, expertly matching speed with the ship.
As he eased the helicopter lower, Pitt rapped him on the arm. “See you in Varna. First beer’s on me.” Pitt tore off his radio headset, opened the side door, and stepped down onto the landing skid.
Despite the rotor wash buffeting off the deck, Giordino held the helicopter rock steady.
Pitt took a short l
eap from the skid, landing atop the submersible while grabbing a lift cable for support.
The helicopter instantly pulled up and away from the ship as Pitt slid down the exterior of the submersible, landing on his feet. He raced forward across the deck and ducked into a covered passageway.
As Giordino watched him disappear, the helicopter radio erupted with a deep voice speaking in heavily accented English. “American vessel Macedonia, this is the warship Ladny. You are instructed to halt for inspection or turn away and exit the restricted zone at once. This is your final warning. Please respond or be fired upon.”
Only silence came from the ship.
34
Popov looked from the large display to a nearby computer monitor, which displayed the distant image of the Macedonia through a long-range video camera. The turquoise ship was plodding through the waves as a green helicopter hovered close behind.
“Sir, the American helicopter has repeated its request not to fire.” The communications officer had translated Giordino’s radio transmission, which was broadcast through the combat information center.
Popov gazed from the camera view to the large screen. “I detect no change in speed or course. Radio the vessel one last time. Tell them to respond at once or be fired upon.”
As the message was relayed to the NUMA ship, the Ladny’s executive officer rushed up to Popov with a slip of paper. “Fleet Headquarters has approved our defense of territorial waters. We may strike at the vessel with discretion.”
Popov read the order, folded the paper, and slipped it into his pocket.
“Status, surface weapons?” he said in a commanding voice.
A weapons officer at a nearby console spoke in a similar tone, as the rest of the combat information center fell quiet. “Sir, forward batteries loaded and armed. Target coordinates have been input to port battery. Torpedoes set to surface running.”
Popov nodded. “Ready, port missile one?”