Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

“This is your last chance. Leave the area at once or we open fire.”

Pitt could see Molina step out of the bridge. A thumping noise sounded as the Cuban leader yelled to his men. The soldiers froze as the ocean in front of them rippled in a fountain of spray. An instant later, a military helicopter burst by, skimming low over the water just feet from the survey ship. The sky darkened briefly as three more helos arrived and circled the ship, firing into the water along her flanks.

They were a squadron of Cuban Mil Mi-24 attack helicopters from a nearby base. Pitt could hear the lead pilot radioing the survey ship and threatening instant destruction if they didn’t move.

Molina reluctantly obeyed, getting the ship under way and heading to port with an unwanted airborne escort.

Under Giordino’s direction, a side-scan sonar fish was lowered off the stern and the NUMA crew began surveying the seafloor. Within an hour, a small shipwreck appeared on the monitor, not far from the survey ship’s stationary position. Molina had indeed been guarding the nest.

/> The sonar fish was retrieved while the Starfish, repaired and refreshed, was prepared for launch. Pitt had his two children meet him at the submersible. “This is your hunt,” he told them. “You go down and find it.”

“You don’t have to ask twice.” Dirk quickly climbed into the craft. Summer gave her father a quick hug. “Thanks for indulging us.”

“Just remember to come back up on your own this time.”

A short time later, the submersible reached the seabed at a depth of five hundred feet. Gunn had parked the Sargasso Sea right on target. The shipwreck was instantly visible. Dirk guided the submersible over the wreck and inspected its remains.

Perlmutter’s research described the San Antonio as a steam packet built in Belfast in 1887. The years submerged since her sinking had not been kind. The ship’s wood hull and decks had mostly disappeared, leaving little more than a stout keel rising from the sand.

Dirk hovered the Starfish over the wreck’s midpoint, where the San Antonio’s boiler stood upright like a lone sentry in a garden of disintegrating machinery. Off the stern, a bronze propeller glinted under the submersible’s floodlights, the only object appearing to have survived the ravages of time unscathed.

“The marine organisms must have left town on a full stomach,” Summer said. “There’s hardly any wood left.”

“Good thing they don’t like to eat stone. It might actually help in exposing more of the wreck site.”

Starting at the bow, they began a thorough inspection, poking and prodding the Starfish’s manipulator through the scattered debris. Reaching the boiler again, Summer waved her finger ahead. “There it is, leaning against the side of the boiler!”

Dirk eased the Starfish in for a closer look. A large semicircular stone with a carved surface sat upright among the debris, propped against the side of the boiler. It was identical in size to the stone they’d found at Zimapán.

“It must have been on the main deck and slipped down when the ship disintegrated.” Dirk high-fived his sister. “Good going, girl.”

Summer gave him a tired grin. “For all the trouble we’ve endured in finding it, I sure hope it has something to tell us.”

82

It took several hours before Summer got her answer. The process of securing a sling around the stone and attaching several lift bags required two trips to the surface and considerable finessing with the Starfish’s manipulator arm. Assisting the lift bags with a tug on the lines, the submersible helped pull the stone off the bottom and tracked its ascent to the surface.

A crane on the Sargasso Sea gently hoisted the stone aboard, then retrieved the submersible. The ship’s crew and scientists were crowded around the artifact by the time Dirk and Summer made their way over for a look.

“Looks like a perfect match to the stone in Díaz’s office,” Pitt said.

The carvings were less crisp, due to their immersion, but Summer saw much the same patterns and glyphs found on the earlier stone. There was even the completed carving of the bird, which she could see was a heron.

Perhaps more important was the diagram carved at the bottom. It appeared to be a geographic representation of a bay or harbor, with a handful of islands sprinkled about the top. She rubbed her fingertips across the surface, wondering what secret it would reveal.

“Summer, can you kindly stand to the side for a second?” Jack Dahlgren said. “You’re blocking the camera.”

She turned to see Dahlgren standing behind a tripod with a video camera. “Do you have a satellite link with Dr. Madero?”

“He’s standing by on the laptop next to the cylinder rack.”

Summer and Dirk stepped to the computer, which showed a live image of Dr. Madero in his office in Mexico. His head was bandaged, but he smiled broadly.

“Dirk, Summer, I am just seeing the images. They are wonderful!”

“A long time in coming,” Summer said. “How are you feeling, Professor?”

“Fine, just fine. I’m still having occasional headaches, but the doctors say those will go away. It’s a funny thing, waking up in the hospital after being unconscious for three days. My memory had vacated me, but gradually things have come back.”