Clive Cussler - Crescent Dawn

“That sure looks like the same boat,” he said reluctantly. He could only nod when Pitt showed him the photo of a life ring that clearly showed the yacht’s name. Pitt simply nodded, finding no evidence that the photos had been doctored.

“It doesn’t belie the fact that one of our scientists was also kidnapped and taken to the yacht’s facility up the coast,” Pitt said.

“Yes, our department contacted the local police chief at Kirte, who sent a man to investigate the dock facility you described.” He turned and nodded to his assistant, who retrieved a thick packet from his case and handed it to his supervisor.

“You may have a copy of the report that was filed in Kirte. I’ve taken the liberty of having it translated into English for you,” the officer said, handing it to Pitt while giving him an apologetic look. “The investigator reported that not only were the ships you described absent from the harbor, there were in fact no vessels at all at the facility.”

“They certainly covered their tracks quickly,” Gunn remarked.

“The facility records indicate a large freighter similar to the one you described was at the dock earlier in the day, taking on a shipment of textiles. However, the records indicate that the vessel left harbor at least eight hours before your alleged arrival at the facility.”

The officer looked at Pitt with a sympathetic gaze.

“I’m sorry there is little else we can do at the moment, pending additional evidence,” he added.

“I realize this has turned into a rather confusing incident,” Pitt said, suppressing his frustration. “I wonder, though, if you can tell me who owns the shipping facility near Kirte?”

“It is a privately held company called Anatolia Exports. Their contact information is in the report.” He looked at Pitt with a pensive gaze. “If there is any additional service I can provide, please let me know.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Pitt replied tersely.

As the police officers left the boat, Gunn shook his head.

“Unbelievable. Two murders and a kidnapping, and nobody is at fault but us.”

“It’s a raw deal, all right,” Captain Kenfield said.

“Only because we’re playing against a stacked deck,” Pitt said. “Anatolia Exports apparently bought off the Kirte police. I think our resident constable recognized that.”

“I suppose the whole situation was a bit embarrassing for them, so perhaps they are just trying to save face,” Kenfield said.

“They should be more concerned with doing their job,” Gunn swore.

“I would have thought they’d be jumping through hoops after you told them that you spotted the woman from the Topkapi theft,” Kenfield said to Pitt.

Pitt shook his head. “I didn’t tell them anything about her.”

“Why not?” Gunn asked incredulously.

“I didn’t want to endanger the ship anymore while we’re in Turkish waters. We’ve seen firsthand what they’re capable of doing, whoever ‘they’ are. Plus, I had a sneaking suspicion it would go nowhere with the local police.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Kenfield said.

“But we just can’t let them walk away,” Gunn protested.

“No,” Pitt agreed with a determined shake of the head. “And we won’t.”

The lines had been cast and the Aegean Explorer was inching away from the dock when a dilapidated yellow taxi came roaring into view. The rusty vehicle skidded to a stop at the water’s edge, the rear door flew open, and a tall, slender woman jumped out.

Pitt was standing on the bridge when he spotted his daughter running along the dock.

“It’s Summer,” he shouted to the captain. “Hold the boat.”

Pitt ran down to the main deck, ducking when a large duffel bag came flying through the air and landed at his feet. A second later, a thin pair of hands appeared on the side rail, followed by a bushel of red hair. Summer then swung her body over the side, landing on her feet on the forward deck. Pitt approached, holding her bag, and gave her a clenching hug.

“You know we were coming back to get you,” he said with a laugh.

Realizing that the ship had reversed power and was returning to the dock, Summer gave her father a sheepish look.

“Sorry,” she said, still catching her breath. “When I phoned the ship from London, Rudi told me you’d probably be here for another day or two. But when the taxi neared the dock, I saw you pulling away and panicked. I really didn’t want to miss the boat.”

Pitt turned and waved up to the bridge, indicating it was safe to depart. Then he casually escorted Summer to her cabin.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you for another few days,” he said.

“I took an earlier flight from London and figured it would be easier to catch you here in Çanakkale coming from Istanbul.” Her face turned somber as she said, “I heard about your shipwreck… and what happened to Tang and Iverson.”

“We’ve had our share of trouble and excitement,” he replied as they entered her cabin and he placed her bag on the bunk. “Why don’t we go grab a coffee in the wardroom, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I’d like that, Dad. Then I can tell you all about what I’ve been up to in England.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a mystery of your own?” he asked, smiling.

Summer gave her father an earnest gaze, then replied, “One bigger than you could ever imagine.”

“Sophie, I think I may have a hot one for you.”

Sam Levine nearly tripped as he burst into the Director of Antiquities’ office. The cuts and bruises on his face from the incident at Caesarea had mostly healed, but he still carried a large scar on his cheek from the encounter with the Arab thieves. Sophie was seated at her desk, studying a Tel Aviv police report on a grave looting, but looked up with interest.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“One of our network informants, an Arab boy named Tyron, reports a possible dig tonight in the Muslim cemetery at Kidron.”

“Kidron? That’s just over the wall from the Old City. Somebody’s getting rather brazen.”

“If it is even true. Tyron has had a spotty track record when it comes to tips.”

“Who is supposedly turning the shovels?”

“I only got one name out of him, a petty thief named Hassan Akais,” Sam replied, sliding into a chair opposite Sophie’s desk.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sophie replied after contemplating the name. “Should I know him?”

“We picked him up a few years ago on a raid at Jaffa. We didn’t have enough on him to press charges, so he was let go. Seems to have kept his hands clean since then. He’s been paying our informant to tend some sheep, and apparently the boy overheard talk of an operation tonight.”

“It sounds like small fish to me.”

“I thought so, too. But then there’s this,” Sam said, handing Sophie a computer printout. “I ran his name through the system and, lo and behold, the Mossad suspects him of having possible links to the Mules.”

Sophie leaned forward and studied the paper with heightened interest.

“His links appear a bit tenuous, at best,” Sam added, “but I thought you would want to know.”

Sophie nodded as she finished reading the report but neglected to pass it back to Sam.

“I would like to talk to this Hassan,” she finally replied in a measured tone.

“We’re a bit thin for an operation tonight. Lou and the gang are in Haifa until tomorrow, and Robert is home sick with the flu.”