Clive Cussler - Lost Empire

Hawk Nose and his partner veered left and disappeared from view momentarily. Time to prepare for the mishap: Sam throttled down, veered left, and let the Zodiac ground itself on the sand. A quick glance around gave him what he needed: a dagger-shaped rock. He grabbed it, shoved the Zodiac back into the inlet, jumped aboard, and took off again.

So far Sam’s luck was holding. Aside from a few backward glances to make sure “Yaotl” was following, neither Hawk Nose nor his partner slowed to let him catch up. The remainder of the transit took ten minutes, and soon enough Sam could see the other two Zodiacs jostling as they moved into the shoals.“Come on, guys, show me where you’re going,” Sam muttered.

Now clear of the shoals, Hawk Nose and his partner veered left and headed toward the yacht. Two minutes later Sam was himself in the shoals, but he put on a few more degrees left rudder, steering the Zodiac nearly parallel to the bank in which they’d found the bell. Onshore, landmarks began looking familiar. He was within twenty yards of the precipice. It was time.

He grabbed the rock from between his feet, leaned over the side, stabbed the tip into the rubber sidewall, and heaved backward. He repeated the process twice more until he’d created a ragged eight-inch gash. He tossed the rock over the side and checked the progress of the other two Zodiacs: they were a few hundred yards out into the main channel and still heading for the yacht.

It took only twenty seconds for Sam’s sabotage to take effect. The Zodiac began slowing, shuddering and wallowing as water gushed into the sidewall. He gave the throttle one last twist, then let out what he hoped would sound like a panicked scream, then rolled over the side.

He ducked underwater, settled the mask over his face, blew it clear, then clamped the snorkel’s mouthpiece between his teeth. He went still now, floating with just his eyes and the tip of the snorkel above the surface.

His scream had done the trick. Hawk Nose and his partner had reversed course and were heading at top speed toward the rapidly deflating Zodiac, which was now drifting twenty yards to Sam’s left-and directly over the precipice. When the rescuers were fifty yards away, flashlights blinked on and began scanning the surface.“Yaotl!” Hawk Nose called. “Yaotl!” The other man joined in.

Sam had been hyperventilating his lungs for the past minute. Now he took one final deep breath, ducked beneath the surface, and finned toward the bank. He was there in ten kicks. He turned so Hawk Nose and the other were on his right, then begin finning north along the bank, occasionally glancing back to check the location of the flashlight beams. Both Zodiacs had converged on the remains of the third.“Yaotl!” Sam heard through the water. Then again, this time more strident: “Yaotl!”

Sam kept swimming. Behind him, the deflated raft was being dragged from the water and into one of the Zodiacs. Sam stopped, held still. He felt the ache of oxygen depletion in his lungs and a tingle of panic in his neck. He quashed it and remained still.After what seemed like minutes but was no more than thirty seconds, the Zodiacs revved up, came about, and headed back into the channel.

Sam finned for the surface.

ZANZIBAR

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER WHEN SAM CLIMBED BACK ABOARD the Andreyale, he found Remi sitting in a deck chair casually sipping a bottle of Kenyan Tusker beer. Their guest, Yaotl, lay like a defeated game fish on the deck, back bent, wrists bound to his feet, these in turn knotted to the nearest cleat. He was still unconscious.“Welcome back,” she said, handing him a beer. “How’d the mishap go?”

“They seemed to have bought it. How’s he?”

“Bad lump on the side of the head, but he’s breathing fine. Aside from an ugly headache that’ll last a day or two, he’ll survive. He was well armed. She nodded to two objects lying at her feet: one was the knife they knew about, the other a semiautomatic pistol. Sam hefted it.“Heckler and Koch P30. Nine millimeter, fifteen-round magazine.”

“How in the world do you know . . .”

Sam shrugged. “No idea. I store trivia. Can’t help it. Unless I’m mistaken, this isn’t a civilian gun. They’re only sold to law enforcement and military.”

“So our guest here is, or was, either a cop or a soldier?”

“Or someone with back-channel influence. Did you find anything else on him?”

“Not so much as pocket lint. No wallet, no identification. And his clothes and shoes are local. I checked the tags.”

“Professionals, then.”

“Seems so,” Remi said. “As for the cookies we left for Santa . . .”

“We saw what they thought of the Adelise coin. Tossed it away like a penny. But the ginned-up notepad was another story.”

Before setting the stage for their guests, Sam and Remi had decided there were five possibilities the mystery man, “Hawk Nose,” was interested in: one, the Adelise coin; two, the bell; three, the Fargos themselves; four, something he was worried they might find; or five, nothing-the molehill/mountain scenario.

Their ruse had ruled out numbers one and five and seemed to rule in numbers two, three, and four. Sam and Remi had filled the notepad mostly with nonsensical scribbles and numbers, save one area: a sideview diagram of a ship’s bell and below it a time (2:00 P.M.), a place (Chukwani Point Road), and a phone number provided by Selma that, when called, would be answered by Mnazi Freight amp; Haul. If Hawk Nose took this bait, they could be reasonably certain his interest lay with the bell.

This, of course, raised the questions of how Hawk Nose had learned about the bell. Sam and Remi had told no one except Selma. Since Hawk Nose hadn’t paid his visit before they’d raised the bell using Sam’s raft, could it be attributed to someone having spotted the bell as they moved it to the lagoon? But, then again, they’d seen no one in the area, either onshore or offshore.“It’ll be dawn soon,” Sam said. “Let’s gather our booty and find a place to lie low until we can find us some different accommodations.”

“And him?” Remi asked, nodding to Yaotl.

“We’d better move him inside. Don’t want him getting broken, do we?”

ONCE YAOTL WAS SECURE in the cabin, they raised anchor and crossed the lagoon to where they’d hidden the bell raft. After towing it closer to the beach, Sam jumped over the side and maneuvered it until the bell was floating a foot off the bottom.“Leverage . . .” Sam muttered to himself. “Remi, I need the hatchet from the toolbox.”

She collected it and handed it down. Sam then waded ashore and disappeared into the trees with a flashlight. Remi listened as he moved about in the darkness: twigs breaking, the thunk of wood striking wood, a few hushed curses, then a few minutes of chopping. Five minutes later he returned carrying a pair of palm saplings, each eight feet long and four inches across. Into each end he had chopped a notch. He handed the poles to Remi, then climbed aboard.“Care to share your plan?” she asked.

Sam gave her a wink. “Don’t want to spoil the fun. We’re going to need daylight, though.”

The wait was short. Ten minutes after they watched the first yellow-orange tinges of sunrise over to the east, they went into action. Sam untied the raft, jumped into the water, and rotated the raft so the side with the three protruding logs were facing the beach. He straddled the outer log, causing it to sink six inches, and called, “All back slow!”

“All back slow,” Remi replied.

The engines rumbled to life. The Andreyale backed up until the transom bumped into the raft. “Keep coming!” Sam called. Between his weight and the Andreyale’s horsepower, the protruding logs dipped beneath the surface and began burrowing into the sand. The water beneath the Andreyale’s stern turned to froth. When the logs were embedded a foot into the sand, Sam called, “All stop!”