Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

“Twenty million, if it is still operational.”

Vasko smiled. “That should buy us a nice base in the Aegean.”

Mankedo took the remaining crew and boarded the workboat. They opened the barrier chain, motored into the Black Sea, and heading south toward the coast of Turkey.

Vasko ran the front-end loader down the entry road, obscuring any tracks while scraping up shell casings and wall debris. He guided the pile across the dock and shoved it all into the lagoon. Then he started the flatbed and exited the compound, locking the gates behind him.

A few miles down the road, he passed a string of police cars headed toward the salvage yard. None of them paid any attention to the well-worn truck. Vasko exited the coastal road at the first opportunity and drove inland at a moderate speed.

He drove for several hours, crossing the eastern plains of Bulgaria that were filled with checkerboard swaths of barley and wheat fields. Near Stara Zagora, a prosperous industrial center, he turned south toward the regional airport. A short time later, he parked the truck off a remote section of the runway and watched a sporadic mix of private planes and small commercial flights take off and land.

At half past nine, a huge cargo jet touched down and pulled to a stop well short of the terminal. With the runway lights, Vasko could see a small flag of Ukraine painted on the side. He started the truck and passed through an open security gate that stood unguarded.

He drove to the rear of the aircraft, which was lowering a drop-down landing ramp.

A man in a flight suit approached with a suspicious air. “Name?” he asked through the open side window.

“Vasko. I’m with Mankedo.”

The man nodded as he eyed the truck. “I’m the flight engineer. You’ll do as I say. We’re going to take the whole truck. Drive it up the ramp.”

Vasko drove into the cargo compartment of an Antonov An-124, one of the world’s largest commercial transports. The truck was carefully secured to the deck by the flight engineer, then Vasko was guided forward to a spartan row of bench seats just behind the cockpit. By the time he took a seat and buckled in, the plane was already moving. He could peer into the open cockpit and watch as the runway rolled beneath them and the big jet took to the sky.

Once the plane reached cruising altitude, the flight engineer reappeared with a cup of coffee, which he handed to Vasko.

“Thanks,” Vasko said. “How soon do we land?”

The flight engineer glanced at his watch. “About eleven hours.”

“Eleven hours!” Vasko nearly spilled his coffee. “Aren’t we just hopping over to Ukraine?”

The man shook his head. “Nowhere near, I’m afraid. We’re headed west, with orders to deliver your cargo to Mr. Hendriks’s private compound.”

“How far west?”

“Halfway across the Atlantic,” the man said, grinning. “To Bermuda.”

57

The cavern was cold, dark, and silent. As Pitt’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, a trim man in a dirty white uniform approached. It was Chavez, the Macedonia’s third officer.

“Welcome to our dark little corner of the world.” He reached out to untie Pitt’s hands.

“We’d feared the worst,” Pitt said. “Is the entire crew accounted for?”

“We’re all here, doing as well as can be expected. Except for Second Officer Briggs. He was killed in the assault. And the captain’s in a bad way.” He motioned toward the rock that supported the lantern.

A prone figure lay with a jacket draped over his torso. Even from a distance, Pitt could see the man’s labored breathing.

The rope fell free from Pitt’s hands and he rubbed his wrists, then turned to untie Ana’s bindings while Chavez went to work on Giordino’s. Mikel was next. The injured Bulgarian officer lay on the ground, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Tell us what happened,” Pitt said.

“It wasn’t long after the three of you left the ship in Burgas. That archeologist was ashore also. An armed assault team came out of nowhere and took over the ship before anyone knew what was happening. They killed Briggs and shot the captain in the arm.” His voice trailed off briefly. “They sailed the Macedonia out of Burgas straightaway. Brought us to this lovely pit. Nobody’s had anything to eat in several days, but they did leave us plenty of water.”

Pitt finished untying Ana’s hands. “I want to see the captain.”

Chavez guided them past the NUMA crew and scientists, who looked gaunt but were encouraged by Pitt’s presence. Captain Stenseth seemed to be sleeping, but when Pitt knelt beside him, his eyes popped open.