Ghost Ship

TEN

Kurt Austin was busy packing. He filled a duffel bag with clothes and anything he thought might come in handy. A stack of cash and various credit cards were ready, along with his passport and other forms of ID.

He’d written two notes. One for Anna, which read as a combination apology and thank-you letter. The second was for Dirk Pitt. It contained his resignation from NUMA. He hadn’t expected to be handing it over in person.

“Would Loren like to come in?” Kurt asked as he met Pitt at the door.

“She’d rather we talk alone,” Pitt said. “Besides, she likes nothing better than to rearrange the presets on my car radio buttons. It’s one of her secret joys.”

Kurt nodded and led Dirk to his office.

“Going somewhere?”

Kurt didn’t try to hide it. “Iran.”

“Did they open a Club Med there I haven’t heard about?”

Kurt shook his head. “I have reason to believe Sienna’s alive and being held in Iran. I know someone in Turkey who can get me over the border. I’ll figure out the rest from there.”

Pitt held steady. “Even for you that has to sound like the longest of long shots.”

“It’s a start,” Kurt said. He opened a drawer. Inside lay his NUMA ID badge and key card. “I’m sorry about what happened today. I honestly didn’t mean to fly off the handle. But I’m not myself right now.”

Kurt hesitated for a second and then took the badge and card and slid them across the desk. “I know you stood up for me. It means a lot. I don’t want to let you down again or do anything else to put NUMA in a bad light, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

Pitt took the badge and studied it thoughtfully for a moment. “I didn’t come here to talk you out of it, actually.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Wondered if you were seeing pink elephants.”

Kurt felt pensive and full of self-doubt. He felt like a kid running away from home, leaving a family he’d been part of for ten years. Duty to NUMA had always come first, but that was half the reason he’d lost Sienna in the first place. If she was alive and trapped somewhere, he couldn’t put anything before that right now.

“So are you?” Pitt asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kurt said. “I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life. But I can’t wait around here hoping to get well. I have memories that make no sense. I have feelings that seem to be at odds with what I know to be facts. I have questions and I need to go find the answers. Until I do, I’m not going to be any good to anyone.”

“Have you considered diving the wreck?”

Kurt nodded. “First thought that came to mind, but the South African Coast Guard scanned it with sonar. The yacht broke up on the way to the bottom. She’s sitting in three, maybe four major pieces. Chances are anyone inside would have been swept free. So that wouldn’t help.”

Pitt nodded, giving Kurt the impression he knew this already. Kurt sensed Pitt studying him, evaluating. He’d had enough of that over the last three months. “You think I’m crazy?”

“I think that if someone is aware of the possibility he might be crazy,” Pitt began, “then chances are he’s not. And I have reason to believe there’s a possibility you might be onto something.”

Kurt didn’t move a muscle as Pitt relayed the information Sandecker had given him. He listened intently, hanging on every word. It didn’t prove Sienna was alive, or even make it sound likely, but if the CIA’s analysts thought the possibility existed, it made that part of Kurt’s quest seem more rational.

“Change your flight,” Pitt suggested. “Start in Dubai.”

“Why there?”

Pitt slid the photo out of his breast pocket and handed it and the memory stick to Kurt. “This photo was taken in Bandar Abbas, straight across the gulf from Dubai.”

Kurt studied the photo. The man looked like a thug, but the woman — was it Sienna? Even he couldn’t be sure. “I don’t have any contacts in Dubai.”

“I do,” Pitt replied. “Check into the Excelsior Hotel. A man named Mohammed El Din will find you. You can trust him.”

Kurt was momentarily speechless. He’d expected to be fired, or suspended, or raked over the coals. Instead, he’d found support. “Thank you” was all he could come up with.

“Since you’re playing spy,” Pitt added, “make sure you destroy the photo and the flash drive when you’re done studying them.”

Kurt nodded and then thought of one more thing. “Tell Joe not to follow me. I don’t want to drag him into this. I already got him arrested by the capitol police. They’ve even banned him from the Air and Space Museum. You know how much he loves that place.”

Pitt hesitated. “I’ll find something for him to do,” he said. “When do you think you’ll be back?”

It was a difficult question. Kurt could only answer it by turning it around. “If Loren were out there, or if you’d known Summer was alive all those years, how long would you have looked for them?”

“Until I found them,” Pitt said truthfully.

“That’s when I’ll be home.”

Pitt grinned and slid the ID badge back across the desk to Kurt. “Put it in a drawer,” he said. “No one quits on my watch.”

Kurt did as ordered, and the two friends shook hands, a rock-solid handshake between men cut from the same cloth.

Pitt turned to go but stopped in the doorway. “Be careful, Kurt. You know there is a chance you might not like what you find.”

With that, Pitt slipped through the door and disappeared. Five minutes later, Kurt was backing out of the driveway in his black Jeep and heading for the airport. Unknown to him, Dirk Pitt and Loren Smith were watching from their car a hundred yards up the road.

“So he’s going off half-cocked after all,” Loren noted.

“No,” Pitt said, “he’s fully loaded and gunning for bear.” He started the engine and put the car in gear. “But he’s not going alone. I’m going to round up Joe and the Trouts. At some point, Kurt is going to need some help. And, officially or not, we’re going to be there when he does.”