Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

Gunn nodded and pulled a photo from an attaché case. “Satellite imagery from six hours ago indicates she’s still afloat.”

Sandecker looked at the dark image, which revealed two light smudges near its center. “Can’t tell much at night,” he remarked.

Gunn pulled out a color infrared image, which showed two oval bands of red in a sea of blue. “We’re confident that is the Sargasso Sea, alo

ngside a ship we believe is called the Sea Raker. We backtracked through satellite images from the prior week, which confirmed the Sargasso Sea’s movements.”

“So who owns this Sea Raker?”

“A Canadian company called Bruin Mining and Exploration,” Gunn said. “The ship is operating under lease to a Panamanian-registered entity with no real history. A rep from Bruin said he thought the ship was involved in a mining project off the west coast of Nicaragua but couldn’t confirm where the ship was currently located.”

“Has anybody tried contacting this Sea Raker?”

Gunn nodded. “Yes. The Coast Guard cutter Knight Island out of Key West was dispatched to the area. They radioed the Sea Raker but received no response.”

“So you think this Sea Raker may have boarded the Sargasso Sea?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Why didn’t the Coast Guard sail up alongside and see for themselves?”

“At last check, both vessels are sitting five miles inside Cuba’s territorial waters. The Knight Island pushed the envelope and crossed the line to within sight of both vessels but then was challenged by a Cuban Navy corvette.”

Sandecker blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling. “So we need to put the hammer down on the Cuban government.”

“It’s a presumed act of piracy.”

“If you assume the Sea Raker is in fact controlled by the Cubans. And if you assume that Pitt wasn’t dallying in their territorial waters to begin with.” They both knew Pitt’s tendency to bend the rules if a situation called for it.

“The tracking data suggests they were operating outside the territorial limit when contact was lost. At this point, it doesn’t matter. We need to go get them.”

Sandecker rolled the cigar between his fingers, then placed it in an ashtray. He looked at Gunn with troubled eyes. “I’m sorry, Rudi, but there’s nothing we can do.”

Gunn recoiled from his chair. He knew Sandecker regarded Pitt like a son. “What do you mean, there’s nothing we can do?”

Sandecker shook his head. “There are other events in play that involve the President. At the moment, we can’t afford to stir the pot with the Cubans. That means no Navy, no Coast Guard, and no State Department. And no cowboy rescue attempts from NUMA. Check with me in another forty-eight hours and I’ll see what I can do.”

“They might not have forty-eight hours.”

“My hands are tied.” Sandecker rose from his desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to shower and dress for a cabinet meeting in forty minutes.”

Gunn could only nod. He shuffled from the office with an angry despair. By the time he exited onto the street, his despair had turned to resolve. He dialed a number and waited until a gruff voice answered.

“Jack, this is Rudi. How soon can you meet me in Miami?”

53

The warmth of the morning sun only added to Maguire’s fatigue. The mercenary pulled his hat down low over his eyes and let his mind wander. After an all-night reconnaissance of the white yacht, he and Gomez were bleary-eyed. They’d earn their paychecks shortly, he thought, envisioning the celebratory plate of crawfish étouffée he would enjoy upon returning to his home in Baton Rouge.

“I have a small boat heading toward the target.”

Maguire cocked open a tired eye. Gomez was hunkered down below the gunwale at the other end of the skiff, looking through a pair of binoculars.

“How many aboard?” Maguire asked.

“Three, plus the pilot. One looks like our man.”

Maguire looked toward the shoreline. The skiff was positioned two hundred yards offshore of the white yacht as they engaged in more pretend fishing. The former sniper wielded his own binoculars and zeroed in on an aqua speedboat racing from shore. One of the yacht’s security patrol boats peeled off on an intercept course. But rather than challenge the speedboat, it looped alongside and escorted it to the yacht.