“We need to know more about this Hendriks and if he has any facilities near Lisbon,” Ana said. “I’ll call the Europol office there and have them check the airport as well.”
“A good idea,” Ralin said, “but I don’t suspect anything will pan out there.”
“Why’s that?”
“The Antonov transport was on the ground in Lisbon for less than an hour. They could have offloaded the weapon, but most likely stopped to refuel before heading across the Atlantic. At the end of the day, Bermuda’s where you really want to be.”
“But what’s in Bermuda?”
Ralin smiled. “For starters, a multimillion-dollar oceanfront mansion owned by one Martin Hendriks.”
69
The NUMA research ship Iberia wallowed in ten-foot seas as it battled a slow-moving summer storm that crept across the Mediterranean. Since leaving Sardinia, the ship had sailed into the teeth of it, sending her crew searching for their seasick pills.
Seated at the back of the bridge, Summer clutched a cup of coffee to keep it from sliding across the computer table. Dirk sat beside her, studying a blurry sonar image on a workstation monitor.
“It’s a shipwreck, all right.” He tapped a dark oblong object on the screen. “Whether it’s our shipwreck, is difficult to say.”
“The wave action is just too severe on the towfish,” Summer said. “It’s bouncing around like a rubber ball and scrambling the sonar images.”
“The dimensions, fuzzy as they appear, look pretty close to the Sentinel.”
“Should we check it out or keep surveying?”
Dirk turned to Myers, who stood near the helm. “Captain, how’s the weather forecast looking?”
“The worst of the storm has passed. The seas should ease a bit over the next six hours and lie down within twenty-four. The extended forecast shows clear.”
Dirk turned to his sister. “Sonar records will still be sloppy for a while. It’s the best target we’ve had in three days of surveying. I say we prep for a dive and try to catch a soft spot in the surf to deploy.”
Summer grabbed at her coffee cup, which was sliding across the table again. “It’ll be calmer underwater. Let’s do it.”
An hour later, a yellow and turquoise submersible dangled over the stern, pitching with the movement of the ship. The seas had moderated slightly but were still risky for deployment. Dirk and Summer waited inside the vessel, eyeing the surrounding seas. After a sequence of heavy swells, the waves took a brief respite.
“Launch, launch, launch,” Dirk radioed.
The submersible was lowered and quickly set free. Dirk flooded the ballast tanks and the submersible dropped beneath the turbulent surface. Twelve hundred feet later, a rocky gray seafloor loomed up through the viewport. Dirk engaged the thrusters and they propelled across the featureless landscape.
They found the wreck a few minutes later, a dark ship listing heavily on the seabed. As they approached from the stern, Dirk tapped his sister on the arm and pointed out the viewport. “I see a pair of guns above the stern deck.”
The evidence greatly narrowed their prospects from the hundreds of merchant ships that littered the bottom of the Mediterranean.
Summer consulted a record of the ship in her lap. “The Sentinel carried nine four-inch guns: three forward, two aft, and two on each beam. Let’s see what’s forward.”
Dirk elevated the submersible above the wreck and hovered ove
r the aft guns before making his way forward. The corroded topside structure matched the layout in Summer’s photo. Cruising past the wheelhouse, the submersible hovered over a trio of guns on the forward deck.
“There’s your three forward guns,” Dirk said. “I’d say we have a match.”
Summer nodded. “It must be the Sentinel. The trick will be to investigate her interior at this depth. Dr. Trehorne sent plans for a similar ship of the class. He felt there were three likely places where a cargo of gold might be stored.”
She pulled out the profile diagram of a British scout cruiser. “There’s a forward hold just ahead of the guns, and two additional holds beneath the stern deck.”
Dirk studied the diagram. “Access points will be the issue. Let’s see what we can find forward.”
He guided the submersible toward the bow, passing over the deck and a forward hatch cover that appeared corroded in place. He proceeded beyond the prow, swung around, and returned at deck level.