Clive Cussler - Crescent Dawn

Judkins withheld responding, staring silently at Bannister while he waited for his blood pressure to decrease. When his face finally lost its red bluster, he spoke in a direct tone.

“While it certainly wouldn’t be my choice, the Archbishop has elected to retain your services to inform and advise him of historical discoveries, particularly in the Middle East, that may have a bearing on existing Church doctrine. This alleged Manifest, and its prior association with the Church, has been deemed extremely sensitive. We, I mean the Archbishop, needs to know why this Cambridge researcher is inquiring into the records of Archbishop Davidson and at what risk to the Church.”

Bannister smiled thinly at Judkins’s forced deference.

“Julie Goodyear is a historian from Cambridge who has written several highly regarded biographies on leading figures of the nineteenth century. She is currently writing a bio on Lord Kitchener. Miss Goodyear and the American woman, Summer Pitt, have apparently discovered that Kitchener’s ship, the Hampshire , was destroyed by an internal explosion. They seem to think there may be some remote connection to the late Archbishop Davidson.”

Judkins physically paled at the news.

“My dear Judkins, is there something wrong?”

“No,” the security chief replied with a violent shake of his head. “What about this Manifest?”

“The Archbishop knows that I made a diligent search for the document several years ago. At a considerable cost, I might add,” he said with a wink. “I am relatively certain that it vanished along with Kitchener on the Hampshire .”

“Yes, that is the Archbishop’s understanding. However, there may be some related historical events that could prove, shall we say, troublesome to the Church and embarrassing to the Archbishop. I want you on those two women now.”

“You want me?” Bannister replied, raising a brow.

“The Archbishop wants you,” Judkins replied angrily. “Track them closely and extinguish things if you have to before they become a problem.”

“I’m an archaeologist, not an assassin.”

“You know what to do. Just handle it. You’ve got my number.”

“Yes. And you’ve got my number?” Bannister asked, rising to his feet. “The number of my Bermuda bank account, that is?”

“Yes,” Judkins grumbled. “Now, get out.”

The security chief could only shake his head as Bannister bowed to him gracefully, then marched out of his office like he owned it.

The bright morning Mediterranean sun had already begun baking the Aegean Explorer ’s deck when Rudi Gunn stepped into the sunlight with the day’s first mug of coffee. He was startled to see an unfamiliar stretch of Turkish coastline just a mile or two off the ship’s side railing. He heard the whir of an outboard motor in the distance and squinted until he spotted the ship’s Zodiac bounding over the waves toward shore.

His groggy mind suddenly focused on the research project at hand, and he scurried to the stern of the ship. Making his way past a white submersible, he was disappointed to find the autonomous underwater vehicle lying securely in a padded rack. A large torpedo-shaped device, the robotic AUV contained a variety of sensors used to sample the water as it ran free of the ship. When he had staggered to bed six hours earlier, the Explorer was tracking the AUV as it surveyed a large grid ten miles from shore.

Gulping a large swallow of coffee, he turned and made his way forward, then climbed two flights of stairs to the bridge. There he found Pitt studying a coastal chart with the ship’s captain, Bruce Kenfield.

“Good morning, Rudi,” Pitt greeted. “You’re up early.”

“I could feel the engines throttle down from my bunk,” Gunn replied. “How come we pulled off-line?”

“Kemal received word that his wife was in a traffic accident. It’s apparently not serious, but we put him ashore so that he could go check on her.”

Kemal was a marine biologist with the Turkish Environment Ministry who had been assigned to the NUMA vessel to monitor and assist with the water-sampling project.

“That’s unfortunate,” Gunn said. “After the Zodiac returns, how long will it take us to return to the grid and resume operations?”

Pitt smiled and shook his head. “We technically can’t resume the survey until Kemal or a replacement is on board the ship. Our invite from the Turkish government specified that a representative from the Environment Ministry must be aboard at all times while we are conducting survey work in Turkish waters. At this point, it looks like we might be down for three or four days.”

“We are already behind schedule. First our sensor flooded and now this. We may have to extend the project in order to complete the areas we agreed to survey.”

“So be it.”

Gunn noticed that Pitt seemed to share none of the frustration that he was feeling. It was uncharacteristic for a man that he knew hated to leave things unfinished.

“Since you returned from Istanbul, we’ve only had two full days of surveying on the new grid,” Gunn said. “Now we go idle again, and you’re not even upset. What gives?”

“It’s simple, Rudi,” Pitt replied. “Halting work on the algae bloom project means resuming work on an Ottoman shipwreck excavation,” he said with a wink.

Less than four hours after the Zodiac was hoisted back aboard, the Aegean Queen reached Chios, dropping anchor a hundred yards from the site of the Ottoman shipwreck. Little time had been spent examining the site after Pitt and Giordino’s initial dive, barely allowing the ship’s underwater archaeologist, Rodney Zeibig, the chance to stake an aluminum grid over the exposed portions of the wreck.

Zeibig hastily trained a handful of scuba-qualified scientists in the art of underwater survey and documentation, then coordinated a careful examination of the wreck. Pitt, Giordino, and even Gunn took a hand in the dive rotation, photographing, measuring, and excavating test pits at various locations around the site. A small amount of artifacts, mostly ceramics and a few iron fittings, were retrieved as skeletal fragments of the wreck were exposed.

Pitt stood near the stern rail of the Aegean Explorer eyeing a growing pattern of whitecaps that dotted the sea under a stiffening westerly breeze. An empty Zodiac bounced wildly on the waves, moored to a nearby buoy that was fixed to the wreck site. A pair of divers suddenly poked to the surface, then bellied their way into the inflatable boat. One of the men released the mooring line while the other started the outboard engine, then they quickly raced to the side of the research ship. Pitt lowered a cable over the side and helped hoist the Zodiac onto the deck with the two men still seated in it.

Rudi Gunn and Rod Zeibig hopped out and began stripping off their wet suits.

“It’s turned a bit bouncy out there,” remarked Zeibig, a buoyant man with bright blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair.

“I’ve passed the word that we’re halting dive operations until the winds settle down,” Pitt said. “The weather forecast indicates that things should be calm by morning.”

“A good idea,” the archaeologist replied, “although I think Rudi will be on pins and needles until he gets back to the wreck.”

“Find something of interest?”

Gunn nodded with an excited look in his eyes. “I was digging in grid C-1 and touched a large carved stone. I only uncovered a small corner of it before our bottom time ran out. I think it may possibly be some sort of monolith or stele.”

“That could add a clue to the ship’s identity,” Pitt said.

“I just hope we don’t have to share in her discovery,” Zeibig said, nodding toward the starboard rail.