Celtic Empire (Dirk Pitt 25)

While Giordino made the call, Pitt gathered the four other NUMA divers and formulated a search plan. A few minutes later, he led the divers into the river.

Rainstorms to the north had added runoff to Lake St. Clair, casting the nighttime waters dim and murky. Pitt used the lighted scooter to speed across the Mayweather’s upper deck. He surveyed around the evacuation hose, then descended along the blunt face of the sheared vessel. He searched methodically along the serrated bulkheads, then turned to face a light in his eyes.

The petite form of a female diver approached. Audrey McKee gave him a blank look, pointed at the riverbed behind her, and shook her head. Pitt aimed his light down and found a black object that contrasted with the sandy bottom: a dive fin.

Pitt moved past Audrey and angled his scooter’s light into the next compartment. It was a ruptured storage tank that revealed a jagged open seam across its center. The still water in the interior was clear, and Pitt’s light fou

nd a body in a blue wetsuit wedged inside.

As Audrey joined him with her light, he squeezed into the tank and swam face to face with Cruz. The NUMA engineer’s unblinking eyes stared right through him. Cruz’s buoyancy compensator strap was caught on a mangled piece of steel, holding the dead man in place. His regulator hung limp across his chest. Pitt noted both it and the attached dive console appeared brand-new.

Pitt left the diver in place and searched the storage tank with the scooter light. Then he squeezed back out to where Audrey waited. A new pair of lights cut through the murk, and two of the NUMA search divers appeared. Pitt pointed to the storage tank, then indicated he was surfacing. Audrey followed as he ascended and crossed over to the barge.

Giordino stood on the dive platform, suiting up. He helped Audrey out of the water, then turned as Pitt climbed aboard. Giordino could tell the news was not good. “You found him?”

“One of the ruptured storage tanks. It appears he was investigating the interior, and his gear got caught up on some debris. Couldn’t free himself and ran out of air.”

Audrey shook her head. “How horrible.”

“How could it happen?” Giordino said. “Mike was highly experienced.”

Pitt nodded.

“It looked pretty confined in there,” Audrey said, “with plenty of jagged metal sticking out. He might have kicked up some sediment and lost his visibility. I’ve done some cave diving, and I know how easy it is to become disoriented.”

“He was exhausted, too,” Giordino said. “Like the rest of us.”

Pitt stared at the deck. Cruz was a good diver. Too good.

“We’ll suspend operations until we get him ashore and call in the authorities.” Pitt turned to Audrey. “Best make sure your divers don’t operate alone.”

“I’m very sorry.” She offered Pitt and Giordino a hug, then climbed into an inflatable and returned to her ship.

An hour later, members of the Wayne County Sheriff’s Marine Unit brought Cruz to the surface in a body bag and transported him to shore. After a half-day delay for a safety review, the newly arrived lift barge was positioned alongside the wreck, and the bow section of the Mayweather was raised. It followed the stern section on a flat barge to Cleveland, while the remaining vessels cleared the area. Audrey radioed Pitt that the BioRem freighter was departing to Ontario, and she wished him and Giordino well.

“A tug will be here in an hour to pull our barge to shore,” Giordino said. “Or we can jump ship in the tender right now. Rudi has us booked on an evening flight that departs in three hours.”

Pitt shook his head. The fatigue of the past few days showed on his face, but his eyes remained determined. There was no sense of accomplishment on the salvage operation, which had been completed faster than anyone anticipated. The only thought on Pitt’s mind was the loss of Cruz.

He retrieved his gear. “I’d like to take a last look at the site.” Pitt gazed at the river before stepping to the dive platform.

“I’ll see that the rest of the equipment is stowed,” Giordino said. He could tell his old friend wasn’t looking for company.

Pitt entered the water with the scooter, dropped to the bottom, and propelled himself upriver. He reached the flattened section of riverbed where the Mayweather’s stern had rested and began to cruise back and forth, letting the current push him downriver. The visibility was marginally better, allowing him to hover five feet off the bottom.

He passed over the area where the bow had rested, then continued downriver. His mind began to wander as he stared at the featureless bottom, drifting over discarded tires, beer cans, and other debris. After a few minutes, he turned upriver and accelerated the scooter against the current.

He was about to adjust his path toward the barge when he eased off the throttle. A bright-colored item caught his attention. It wasn’t just another piece of discarded junk. It was a familiar object that had been lost very recently. Pitt paused a moment, then plucked it from the sand and returned to the barge.

14

Senator Bradshaw gazed out the window at the Washington Monument, watching the red aviation warning lights atop its apex twinkle in the approaching dusk. He had to admit, the Thomas Jefferson Suite at the Willard InterContinental hotel offered an impressive view of the monuments along the National Mall and beyond. Taking a sip of iced bourbon, he turned from the suite’s picture window and faced his host.

Evanna McKee, seated on a red sofa, studied a bound report with an official seal on its cover. “This is the committee’s approved bill?”

“Yes, the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee. We’ll still have to confer with the House when they pass their version.”

“I’m counting on your influence there.”