Clive Cussler - Poseidon's Arrow

Willpower or not, there would be no outrunning the pursuit dogs, they were simply too fast. Their incessant barking grew louder, reminding Pitt of a locomotive approaching a train station. He stopped and picked up a pointed stick, then headed to an open bluff to his left where he would make his stand. He barely had time to turn when two large Dobermans, running head to tail, emerged from the brush and leaped at him.

Pitt was too late in wielding his stick to spear the first dog. Instead, he had to use it defensively, ramming it across the dog’s throat as its jaws tried to snap off one of his ears. He tossed the animal aside, only to have the second dog leap onto his turned shoulder from behind. Pitt ducked his head as a cascade of sharp teeth lunged for his neck.

Pitt waited for his flesh to be shredded, but felt only a weak bite against the top of his shoulder—and then the dog fell limp. Flinging it off his shoulder, he saw a lifeless look in its eye as it fell motionless. But the first dog quickly regained its footing and sprang again for Pitt’s jugular. As it leaped, Pitt heard two soft thumps and saw a pair of red dots appear on the dog’s chest. The beast’s open jaws went slack as Pitt fended it aside with his stick, and the dog joined its partner dead on the ground.

Pitt knew the act was no divine intervention and he spun around to determine its source. Just over the rise, he saw some movement in the grass and stepped closer to investigate. A short, thin man stood up from the brush and moved to meet him.

Zhou Xing was wearing jungle fatigues and combat boots, with a bush hat pulled low over his face. He carried an AK-47, a wisp of smoke still curling from its silencer. He gazed at Pitt with a stony expression, then stepped past him to one of the dogs. “Quickly, to the ravine,” he said in imperfect English.

He grabbed the Doberman by its collar and dragged it over the rise. On the other side, the hill descended sharply, falling into a narrow ravine. A small creek trickled through the floor of the ravine, surrounded by dense ferns. Zhou dragged the dog to the edge of the precipice and flung it over. The carcass tumbled to the bottom, where it was quickly swallowed up by the ferns.

After catching his breath, Pitt arrived with the second Doberman and duplicated Zhou’s disappearing act. He then followed the Chinese agent to a makeshift camp hidden in the side of the hill.

“What are you doing here?” Pitt asked, still listening for the barks of the remaining dogs.

“Call it business,” Zhou replied, picking a laptop computer off a stump, closing its screen, and shoving it into a backpack. But before the screen went dark, Pitt noticed the images displayed: a checkerboard of video feeds showing sections of Bolcke’s compound. The agent had planted tiny wireless surveillance cameras around the facility to track activity and guard movements.

“You must keep running,” Zhou said. He scrambled to clean up his makeshift camp, rolling up his bed and stuffing its mosquito netting into his pack.

A second large backpack, its flap open, sat near Pitt’s feet. Inside he could see several packets of electronic detonator caps next to clear-wrapped packages of reddish clay-like material. Pitt had been involved with enough underwater demolition projects to recognize it as a cache of Semtex plastic explosives.

Zhou tossed Pitt a protein bar and a canteen from his pack before slipping it on. He then scattered leaves around the compressed grass where he had slept the night before. Finally, he hoisted the second pack, looking warily at Pitt when he noticed the flap was open.

“Go,” he said to Pitt. “They are less than ten minutes behind.”

“When are you going to blow up the compound?” Pitt asked.

Zhou stared at Pitt, his face an empty slate. The Americans had always been considered an unspoken enemy. But he found admiration for this man, having observed the better part of his escape on his hidden video cameras. Though he had seen labor camps in China, he was repulsed by Bolcke’s hidden slave operation.

“Twenty-two hours from now,” he said.

“And the captives?”

Zhou shrugged, then casually aimed his assault rifle at Pitt.

“It is time to go. You travel west, as I am going east.” He pointed into the jungle. “Do not follow me.”

Pitt looked past the expressionless face into Zhou’s black eyes, where a hidden intelligence and compassion were barely revealed.

“Thank you,” Pitt said.

Zhou nodded and turned, disappearing into the bush.

60

YAEGER WAS STILL PARKED IN FRONT OF HIS mammoth video display when Gunn popped by for an update. In contrast to Yaeger’s casual attire, the NUMA Deputy Director was wearing a sport coat and tie.

“What’s up with the fine threads?” Yaeger asked.

“I got called over to a meeting with the Vice President. He’ll want to know the latest on the search for Pitt and Giordino.”

Yaeger shook his head. “Search-and-rescue ops continue to come up empty. The Navy has in fact informed us they will be calling off their search efforts at the end of the day.”

“Anything more on the Adelaide ?”

“Nothing concrete. Our formal requests to INTERPOL and every Coast Guard organization between Alaska and Chile have produced nothing.”

“If she’s afloat, someone has to have seen her,” Gunn said. “Have Dirk and Summer arrived in Panama?”

“They were rushing to catch a red-eye to Panama City.” He glanced at the video board, whose numerous displays included a digital clock in the lower corner. “Presuming they made their flight, they should be landing about now.”

Gunn had followed Yaeger’s gaze to the screen and noticed an e-mail notice with Pitt’s name on it. “Mind if I ask what that is?”

“Not at all. In fact, I was just going to ask if it made any sense to you. It’s an e-mail that was sent to the NUMA website a few days ago. One of the girls in public relations forwarded it to me when she didn’t know how to respond. Probably somebody’s four-year-old playing on a keyboard.”

He enlarged the e-mail until its brief message was clearly displayed:

To Pitt. Abduc wsearr haytk lexkyann

“Looks like gibberish,” Gunn said, “except for the last word. Must have been penned by someone named Ann from Lexington, Kentucky.”

“That’s all I made out of it.”

“I’d stick to your four-year-old theory.” He patted Yaeger on the shoulder. “Give me a shout if anything new on the ship comes in.”

“Will do. Give my regards to the admiral.”

Gunn took the Metro to downtown Washington, exiting at the Farragut West Station and walking the three blocks to Sandecker’s office in the Eisenhower Building. The Vice President welcomed him to a meeting table built from old ship timbers, where he introduced him to the DARPA security director, Dan Fowler, and a female FBI division director named Elizabeth Meyers.

Sandecker could see by Gunn’s weary face that Pitt’s disappearance weighed heavily on him. “What’s the latest on Pitt and Giordino?”

“Search-and-rescue teams still haven’t found a thing. The Navy’s calling off their efforts today.” He looked at Sandecker and waited for him to react.

He wasn’t disappointed. The Vice President’s face turned red, and he marched to his desk and buzzed his secretary. “Martha. Get me the Chief of Naval Operations on the line.”

A few seconds later, he was chewing out an admiral who had previously outranked him. He slammed down the receiver and returned to the table. “The Navy’s search has been extended three more days.”