The Emperor's Revenge

FORTY-TWO

With the Achilles on a course away from the mainland of Spain toward the island of Ibiza, Golov went in search of Ivana, since she wasn’t answering his texts and she wasn’t in her cabin. He was proud of her work ethic, but her immersion in her coding was infuriating when it led to her ignoring him.

He finally found her sitting on a sofa in the luxurious main drawing room where he’d first met with Henri Munier. A half-eaten plate of pita and assorted dips had been pushed out of the way of the twin laptops that were arranged on the table in front of her.

He was about to say her name when he realized that she wouldn’t be able to hear him. She wore a pair of virtual reality goggles and headphones that covered her ears. She made minute movements with the mouse as her lips silently formed the words to some song that Golov couldn’t hear.

He walked over and sat heavily on the sofa next to her.

She tugged the goggles off in a surprised motion, ready to swear at the idiot who had interrupted her. When she saw it was her father, her expression changed to one of exasperation.

“I hate it when you do that,” she said, pulling the headphones down around her neck. Before she hit the MUTE button, Golov heard the thumping beat of electronic dance music popular in Europe.

“If you answered my texts, I wouldn’t have to.”

“I was working on that research you wanted me to do. I think I’ve found a spot.”

She handed him the goggles. Golov wasn’t a fan of these 3-D gadgets, so when he looked at it in distaste, she said, “Go on. It won’t kill you.”

He put them on, and instead of nighttime, it was suddenly a sunny daytime on the French Riviera. The pebbled beach stretched for miles ahead of him along a road lined with hotels, apartments, and restaurants.

“Go ahead and turn around,” Ivana said.

Golov did, and the scenery rotated with the motion of his head. He could see in every direction as if he were standing on the shore.

“Do you see that gray and white building?”

He swiveled his head until he saw the structure she was talking about. It was an eight-story building with balconies.

“I see it,” he said.

“That’s the Radisson Blu Hotel.”

“Why do you think this is the perfect location?”

“I haven’t shown you the rooftop deck yet,” she said with obvious delight.

Golov experienced a moment of disorientation as the view instantly switched. He was now standing atop the hotel. On one side was a restaurant with tables shaded by umbrellas. In the other direction was a pool surrounded on all sides by deck chairs.

He then focused on the surrounding buildings and saw why Ivana had chosen this location. A tall apartment building to the northeast was framed by the distant mountains.

“You’re right,” he said, taking off the goggles. “It’s perfect.”

“Did you find out the information you were looking for from Zakharin?” she asked as she nibbled on a triangle of pita.

“Yes. I got it all on a voice recording before the admiral tragically came to his end. The ship is called the Oregon.”

“Then he did modify another ship with weapons like ours.”

“Several others, but only the Oregon comes close to our capabilities. His predecessor did the work, but he knew enough of the specifications to be useful.”

He played the recording for her. Zakharin went into excruciating detail about the Oregon’s armaments, defensive capabilities, and special features, such as the moon pool from which she could launch submarines.

When the recording ended, Ivana said, “They’ve certainly disabled their own disarming code by now, if they hadn’t already.”

“If their captain is as good as Zakharin implied, he probably removed it years ago.” The image of his counterpart from the museum party in Malta came to mind. Golov had described him to Zakharin, who confirmed that he was the commander of the Oregon.

“Do you think they could raise the column from where the Narwhal sank?”

“Clever girl,” Golov replied. “That was my first thought as well. I’d say it’s easily within the realm of possibility, which means they could be there right now.”

“If they find the column, they could decipher the clues Napoleon left and find the treasure before we’re able to complete Dynamo, putting the whole operation in jeopardy.”

“Which is why we need to make sure they don’t find it before we can get to it.”

“Do you really think it’s still there? The treasure?”

“It has to be. We know Napoleon didn’t lead his abductors to it.”

“Then we should go back to the shipwreck and intercept—”

Golov shook his head. “They could be gone by the time we arrive. Or we might wait there for days before they return, and we don’t have time for that in our schedule. No, the best plan is to make them come to us.”

Antonovich’s private jet would meet them in Ibiza. The Achilles would only be in port long enough for the transfer to the plane.

“What lure do we have?” Ivana asked.

“Money. They showed up in Monaco claiming to be insurance investigators. That means they care about what happened to the deposits, and I don’t think it was because they were hired to look into the heist. Assuming they operate as mercenaries, like the admiral thinks they do, then I’d say we made a big hit on their finances.”

Ivana nodded. “Then they’ll want it back.”

“I know I would. This is yet another occasion when having someone on the Monaco police force has been useful.”

“What are you thinking?”

After Golov was done outlining the plan for her, he said, “We need to get a message to the captain of the Oregon. One that he can’t ignore.”

Ivana smiled. “I think I can take care of that.”

“Send him a pleasant invitation.”

“Do you think he’ll come?” she asked as her fingers danced across the keyboard. “He’ll suspect it’s a trap.”

Golov kissed his daughter on the forehead and stood to go back to his cabin and get a good night’s sleep. “That, my dear, is exactly what I’m hoping.”