Nighthawk

11

The MS Reunion was running with a full complement of lights as it steamed north at eleven knots. Lit up like this, the ship was visible from miles away, a white beacon alone on the dark mat of the sea.

After a brief conversation with the Reunion’s night watch, the Air-Crane was cleared to land. Joe maneuvered toward the elevated pad near the bow of the ship and planted the big helicopter in the exact center of its yellow circle.

One of the ship’s officers watched the landing and couldn’t help but be impressed at the pilot’s skill, especially since there was no more than ten feet to spare on either side and only two feet of clearance between the helipad deck and the bottom of… whatever the big orange machine was carrying.

With Merlin tied down, the officer led the new arrivals toward the bridge, stealing several glances at the attractive woman with auburn hair. It wasn’t often they had female guests on board, and he couldn’t recall ever having one this striking here for a visit.

In the lighted confines of the bridge, introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged. That the captain of the Reunion was an American played into their hands. That he’d been woken in the middle of the night weighed against them, but that couldn’t be helped.

Captain Buck Kamphausen arrived on the bridge dressed in his boxers and a T-shirt, with a jacket thrown over his shoulders. Six foot three, sporting a patchy brown beard with plenty of gray creeping in, he wore rectangular glasses, which he was constantly adjusting, often with a glance at Emma.

Kamphausen was an affable fellow; he knew of NUMA and considered himself a big fan. As they spoke, though, he looked like he might agree to anything as long as Emma promised to stay on board and dine with him.

“What we need,” Kurt summed up, “is to use your ship as a floating base for a few days.”

Kamphausen scratched his beard. “For what purpose?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Kurt said.

Kamphausen’s demeanor changed instantly. “Let me get this straight,” he said gruffly. “You land on my ship in the middle of the night, bringing god-knows-what on board; you ask me to change course, fake a mechanical problem and possibly miss my delivery schedule — but you won’t tell me what you’re attempting to do or explain what I’m getting involved in?”

“I know it sounds odd,” Kurt began.

“More like, downright lunacy.”

“The thing is,” Kurt said, trying to keep the meeting on track, “we — and by we, I mean the United States government — can make it worth your while.”

“Not worth my while to get fired or busted down to seaman first class,” the captain said.

“I don’t know about that,” Kurt said. “Depends on how much we recover.”

Interest sparked up in the captain’s eyes. “Recover?”

Kurt nodded.

Kamphausen’s gaze narrowed. He adjusted his glasses once more and focused on Kurt. “Go on.”

“You’re familiar with NUMA,” Kurt said. “You know what we do. We find things on the bottom of the ocean. At the risk of saying too much, that contraption we’ve got tucked up under our helicopter is a specially designed submersible, built to search for something that is extremely valuable.”

He was stretching it a bit here, but he needed to sound confident.

“Something the United States government wants to find very badly,” Emma added.

Kurt cleared his throat to get the captain’s mind and eyes focused back in his direction. “It’s been my experience that the monetary rewards of helping the government can be quite substantial—”

“If I recall correctly,” Joe busted in, “everyone who helped us find that lost U-boat received a percentage of the diamonds we recovered or the equivalent value in cash, if they preferred.”

“Diamonds?” Kamphausen said.

“On that mission,” Kurt cautioned.

“Percentage?” the First Officer asked eagerly. “What kind of percentage?”

“Like in the old pirate days,” Joe said. “One share for each crewman, two shares for the NCOs, three shares for commissioned officers and four for the captain.”

Kurt nodded in support of Joe’s ad-lib as if it were standard practice. Captain Kamphausen and the First Officer exchanged a knowing look.

Emma chimed in to help the process. “As the saying in government goes, a billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you’re talking real money. You don’t need a large cut of that to buy a summer home in Tahiti.”

“But you can’t tell us what you’re looking for,” the captain repeated.

Kurt shook his head. “I can’t. But think about this: Would we be here, in the dark of night, asking for your help, if it wasn’t something extremely important?”

Knowing the plan would work best if the crew convinced themselves, Kurt let them run with their fantasy, until a voice of reason interrupted.

“Hold on a second,” a new arrival said. “I’m supercargo on this run. I’m responsible for the entire shipment. We’re carrying fresh fruit. Limes, apples, oranges and kiwis. If we’re more than four days late, the shipment will be rejected. My company will be out several million dollars and I’ll be out of a job.”

Kurt looked at Joe. “What do you think?”

“I believe we can swing it,” Joe said.

Kurt nodded. “We only need a couple of days,” he said, turning to the fruit company’s rep. “But if we are delayed more than forty-eight hours, the United States government will buy the cargo. Lock, stock and barrel.”

“Or in this case, limes, apples and oranges,” Joe added.

“Don’t forget the kiwis,” the representative said.

“How could I?”

The captain stroked his beard. “Diamonds?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kurt reminded everyone.

“Barrels full of ’em,” the First Officer said. “I saw it on TV.”

“We’ll need to have papers drawn up,” the captain added.

Kurt glanced at Emma as if she were in charge of such things.

“Of course,” she said. “There will also be confidentiality agreements and required radio and electronic silence until we release the ship back into your custody. Any violation of which will terminate the profit-sharing agreement and result in criminal charges.”

The winds of Hurricane Emma had suddenly blown cold. But it did nothing to dampen the mood.

“We can keep quiet for a couple of days,” the First Officer said convincingly.

The fruit company rep looked suspicious. “I want papers ASAP.”

“I’ll contact Washington and have the papers drawn up first thing in the morning,” Kurt insisted.

Kamphausen grinned and offered Kurt a hand. “I’ve always wanted to get in on an adventure like this one.”

“If history’s any guide, you’ll get more than you bargained for,” Kurt said. “In the meantime, we should all get to work. We need to change headings.”

The captain took one last look as if wondering whether he might be losing his mind. He glanced out the window to the orange helicopter sitting on his deck and the high-tech submarine nestled beneath it and reminded himself of everything he knew about NUMA. “Helmsman,” he called. “Lay in a new course.”

“What heading?”

He turned to Kurt. “Whatever direction our new partners want us to go.”