Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

"Rudi, please confirm. Eighteen minutes to arrival?"

"Affirmative."

Eighteen minutes. It was nowhere near enough time for the dilapidated fishing boat to reach safe haven.

Staring at its black hull skimming low in the water, he knew that the old boat had no chance. With a gnawing sense of dread, Giordino realized he might have just given his old friend a death warrant by dropping him to her decks below.

***

Pitt clung to the mast cross-member momentarily, eyeing a pair of worn GPS and radio antennas sprouting just inches from his face. Once Giordino pulled the helicopter away and the air deluge from its rotors subsided, he casually slid down the mast, using his feet as brakes to slow his descent. Grabbing his duffel bag, he stepped across the wheelhouse roof and down a stepladder at its stern edge. Dropping to the deck, he turned and faced the group of shocked people staring at him with open mouths.

"Privet." He grinned disarmingly. "Anyone here speak English?"

"All of us but the captain," Theresa replied, surprised like the others that Pitt was not Russian.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Tatiana demanded tersely. Her dark eyes surveyed Pitt with a look of distrust. Behind her, the fishing boat's captain stood in the wheelhouse door and launched an equally contemptuous tirade in his native tongue.

"Comrade, tell your captain that if he ever wants to hoist another vodka, he had better get this tub turned toward Listvyanka at full speed and right now," Pitt replied in a commanding tone.

"What's the trouble?" Theresa asked, trying to thaw the tension.

"An underwater landslide has triggered a large freak wave near Olkhon Island. A thirty-foot wall of water is bearing down on us as we speak. Emergency radio broadcasts were issued across the lake, but your good captain was incapable of hearing the warning."

Tatiana had an ashen look on her face as she spoke rapidly to the captain in a hushed tone. The captain nodded without saying a word, then climbed into the wheelhouse. A second later, the boat's old motor whined in protest as the throttle was pushed to its stops and the bow eased around toward Listvyanka.

On the stern deck, Roy and Wofford were already yanking in their survey gear as the boat slowly accelerated.

Pitt looked up and was disturbed to find that Giordino had flown away from the fishing boat, the silver helicopter now skimming west rapidly toward the horizon. If the boat couldn't outrun the wave to safety, which was a certainty, then he wanted Giordino standing by above them. Silently, he cursed himself for not bringing a handheld radio with him.

"Thank you for flying out to warn us," Theresa said, approaching Pitt with a nervous smile and a handshake. "That was a dangerous way to come aboard." She had a warm honesty that reminded Pitt of his wife Loren and he decided that he liked the Dutch woman immediately.

"Yes, we are grateful for the alert," Tatiana said, apologizing for the earlier inquisition in a slightly warmer tone. Making quick introductions, she asked, "You are from the Limnological Institute research ship, no?"

"Yes. They're headed to Listvyanka, along with the other vessels at this end of the lake. Yours was the only one we couldn't alert by radio."

"I told you there was something wrong with this boat," Wofford whispered to Roy.

"Something wrong with the captain, too," Roy replied with a shake of the head.

"Mr. Pitt, it appears that we will be riding the wave out together. How much time do we have before it will reach us?" Tatiana asked.

Pitt glanced at his orange-faced Doxa dive watch. "Less than fifteen minutes, based on the rate it was traveling when I left the Vereshchagin."

"We'll never make it to Listvyanka," Tatiana quietly assessed.

"The lake broadens at the southern end, which will dissipate the wave toward the west. The closer we get to Listvyanka, the smaller the wave we'll have to navigate."

But standing on the deck of the leaky fishing boat, Pitt secretly had doubts whether they could navigate a puddle. The old boat seemed to ride lower in the water by the minute. Its engine sputtered and coughed as if it would die at any moment. Wood rot was evident everywhere, and that was just what was visible above decks. Pitt could only imagine the feeble state of the timbers hidden below.

"We better prepare for a wild ride. Life jackets on everyone. Anything you don't want lost over the side should be secured to the deck or gunwales."

Roy and Wofford quickly tied down their survey equipment with Theresa lending a hand. Tatiana rummaged around in the wheelhouse a few minutes, then returned on deck with an armful of aged life preservers.

"There are only four life jackets aboard," she announced. "The captain refuses to wear one, but we are still short a jacket," she said, eyeing Pitt as the odd man out.

"Not to worry, I brought my own," Pitt replied. While the survey team fastened their life jackets, Pitt kicked off his shoes and outer clothes and immodestly slid into a neoprene dry suit he pulled from his duffel bag.

"What's that noise?" Theresa asked.

Almost imperceptibly, a distant rumble echoed lightly across the lake. To Pitt, it sounded like a freight train rounding a faraway mountain curve. The rumble held constant, however, and grew ever so slightly louder.

Pitt knew without looking that their reprieve was over. The wave must have increased speed—and, with it, power—as it raced toward them, bearing down earlier than Rudi had estimated.

"There it is!" Roy yelled, pointing up the lake.

"It's huge," Theresa gasped, shocked at the sight.

The wave wasn't a cresting white-capped breaker of the kind that surfers relish but, rather, an oddly smooth cylinder of liquid that rolled from shore to shore like a giant rolling pin. Even from a distance of twenty miles, the men and women on the fishing boat could see that the wave was massive, standing nearly forty feet high. The surreal image of the moving wall of water accompanied by its odd rumble caused everyone to freeze and stare in awe. Everyone but Pitt.

"Tatiana, tell the captain to turn the bow into the wave," he ordered. The crusty captain, his eyes the size of a pair of hubcaps, quickly swung the wheel over. Pitt knew the odds were stacked against the aged and waterlogged vessel. But as long as there was hope, he was determined to try to keep everyone alive.

The first challenge was to keep everyone aboard. Scanning the deck, Pitt zeroed in on an old fishing net coiled against the starboard side gunwale.

"Jim, give me a hand with that net," he asked of Wofford.

Together, they dragged the coiled net across the deck and pushed it against the back bulkhead of the wheelhouse. As Wofford wrapped one end around the starboard railing, Pitt secured the opposite end to a port stanchion.

"What is that for?" Theresa asked.

"When the wave approaches, everyone lie down and grab a tight hold of the net. It will act as a cushion and hopefully keep everyone from taking an undesired swim in the lake."

As the captain nosed the bow toward the approaching wave, the three men and two women took up positions in front of the net. Roy sided up to Pitt and whispered out of earshot of the others.

"A game effort, Mr. Pitt, though we both know this old derelict isn't going to make it."

"Never say die," Pitt whispered back with an odd look of confidence.

The rumbling bellow from the moving water grew louder as the wave approached within five miles.

There were just minutes to go before it would strike the boat. The occupants all braced for the worst, some praying silently while others contemplated death with grim determination. Against the roar of the water, nobody detected the sound of the approaching helicopter. The Kamov was barely a hundred yards off the port flank when Wofford looked up and blurted, "What the heck?"