Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

He climbed to the upper deck and melded through the passengers as he made his way to the stern. The pickup truck was just coming up the ramp as he peered over the side, spotting all three figures sitting inside the cab.

The pickup was the last vehicle to board, and the dock crew soon pulled away the car ramp while the ferry crew raised a collapsible gate across the stern. Pitt felt the engine rumble belowdecks, then three blasts of the horn announced the ferry’s imminent departure. Making his way to the stern rail, he waited for the ferry’s prop to engage, then glanced forward.

At the head of the center stairwell, he saw Sunglasses appear, searching the crowd in frantic haste. Pitt could only imagine the look in the gunmen’s faces when they had approached the Delahaye only to find a popcorn vendor sitting behind the wheel. He had little time to consider the amusement, though, as the deck suddenly swayed beneath his feet and a surge of boiling water arose off the ferry’s stern.

He quickly climbed over the rail, creating a minor stir among the surrounding passengers that immediately drew Sunglasses’ attention. The gunman started running across the deck, but Pitt disappeared from sight. He lowered himself from a rail stanchion until he hung by outstretched arms and then dropped himself to the lower deck. Landing in a tuck, he sprang to his feet and vaulted over the lower deck stern gate, then leaped from the transom in a furious lunge for the dock.

The ferry had pulled a few feet away when he jumped, and Pitt just managed to catch a foot on the edge of the auto ramp and roll forward. Tumbling down the ramp, he regained his balance and slowly stood up. The accelerating ferry was moving quickly into the channel, already putting nearly twenty feet between itself and the dock.

Pitt looked up to see Sunglasses rush to the ferry’s upper rail and stare dismally at the growing distance between ship and shore. The assailant turned his gaze to Pitt, instinctively reaching a hand toward the holster he wore beneath a light jacket before abandoning the notion.

Pitt studied the figure, then threw him a jovial wave as if he were an old friend. Sunglasses stood impervious, staring back at Pitt with a face of chilled granite, as the ferry slowly made its way down the strait.

13

THE SETTING SUN CAST A GOLDEN HUE ON THE MEDITERranean’s westerly breakers as they crashed against the Israeli shoreline. Sophie gazed at the blue horizon thankful that the heat of the day had finally passed, then turned and stepped into the artifact tent. Professor Haasis was hunched over a papyrus scroll, his face aglow as he attempted to decipher the ancient script. Sophie smiled to herself, thinking how he resembled a wide-eyed kid in a candy shop.

“Give your brain a rest, Professor,” she said. “They’ll still be here in the morning.”

Haasis looked up with a sheepish grin. On a long table before him were spread over a dozen of the ceramic boxes, each housing an assortment of the small papyrus scrolls. He reluctantly rolled up the scroll he was examining and placed it back in one of the boxes.

“Yes, I suppose I should take a break to eat,” he said. “I just can’t help myself. It is such an amazing wealth of data. This last scroll, for example,” he said, tapping the box for emphasis, “it describes how an Anatolian merchant ship loaded with grain from Egypt was forced to seek safe harbor here when its mast shattered. Little gems like that make my heart beat faster.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound on par with the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Sophie replied with a chuckle.

“Well, the average man on the street may not care about this,” he replied, “but for those who make history their life’s work, it’s like discovering a window to the past that used to be shuttered.”

Haasis pulled off a pair of white gloves. “I really need to get these transferred to the university lab for proper analysis and conservation, but I just can’t resist taking a first look.”

He had examined all but three of the boxes by the time he stood and stretched.

“What’s become of Dirk?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him since he delivered the final box.”

Sophie shrugged her shoulders, trying to appear indifferent. But the same question had been lingering in her head. Dirk’s earlier dinner invitation had given her a rush all afternoon. She even sneaked off to wash up and to brush her hair, angry for once in her life that she hadn’t carried any makeup with her. She felt her heart stop when a figure suddenly entered the tent behind them. Spinning around, she looked in disappointment to see that it was only Sam.

“You guys ready for dinner? The mess tent is featuring spaghetti and meatballs,” he announced. A smear of red sauce on his chin revealed that he had already made a first pass through the chow line.

“Sounds great,” Haasis replied. “Come along, Sophie, let’s eat.”

The antiquities agent moved slowly toward the exit, trying hard to hide her disa

ppointment.

“Sam,” she asked, “are we set up for tonight?”

Her assistant nodded. “Raban and Holder will be arriving within the hour. I told them we’d run surveillance till about midnight.”

“Professor Haasis has offered us a tent, so I think I will stay the night. You can hitch a ride home with the boys, if you’d rather.”

“I think I will. Sleeping on the ground isn’t as much fun as it was when I was thirteen,” Sam replied, rubbing his back.

They walked out of the tent to find Dirk standing outside with a beach towel draped over his arm like a waiter. He was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, and Sophie couldn’t help but think how nicely he had cleaned up. She fought hard to suppress a smile.

“I believe we had a dinner date,” he said to her with a slight bow.

“I almost forgot,” she lied.

He took her arm and escorted her behind Sam and Haasis as the group walked to the mess tent nearby. Sophie turned to follow the two men into the tent but felt Dirk suddenly tug her in the opposite direction.