Poseidon's Arrow

14

GUNN WASTED NO IN TIME HOISTING THE SUBMERSIBLE aboard as Pitt and Giordino waited at the open hatch.

“Is everyone all right?” Pitt asked.

“No one was hurt,” Gunn replied. “They threatened to kill us if we call for help or pursue them.”

“Who were they?” Giordino asked.

Gunn shook his head. “I have no clue. The leader was called Pablo. They came for that box you guys lifted from the Cuttlefish. Any idea what was in it?”

“No,” Pitt said, “but I think Ann does. How did she get aboard their boat?”

“Ann? I thought she was in her cabin.”

“We saw her hiding beside the wheelhouse of their boat as it stormed away,” Giordino said.

Gunn turned pale. “They may kill her if they catch her.”

“Call the Coast Guard,” Pitt said. “Maybe they have a drug interdiction patrol boat nearby. But don’t say anything about Ann, in case they’re listening in. Al and I will try and track them in the inflatable.”

“Not going to happen,” Gunn said. “They shot up the bridge radio and the inflatable. We’ve got some handheld radios I can make the call with, but you’re out of luck with the RIB.”

“What about the barge?” Giordino said.

“First we better check out the pilot. I think they may have roughed him up.”

“Rudi, you go make the call,” Pitt said. “Al and I will check the barge.”

Pitt and Giordino ran to the stern rail. The bow of the barge was pressing alongside just below the deck, the older vessel pushing the research ship at a turtle’s pace. They jumped aboard and sprinted the length of its oily deck to the small wheelhouse at the stern. They heard a dog growl as they approached and stepped inside.

A gray-haired man knelt by the helm, holding his palm against a bloody gash along his hairline. A black-and-tan dachshund stood guard in front of him and barked at the intruders.

“Hush, Mauser,” the man said.

“Are you all right, old-timer?” Pitt helped the man to his feet after easing past the dachshund. He nearly matched Pitt’s six-foot-three height, but carried a few more pounds.

“That son of a gun walked in out of nowhere and started smashing my radio.” As the old man spoke, clarity returned to his blue eyes. “I gave him a good lick, but he got me with the butt of his pistol.”

Giordino found a first-aid kit and applied a bandage to the man’s wound.

“Thanks, son. Who were those guys, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Pitt said, “but one of our people is aboard their boat. Do you have a launch we can borrow?”

“There’s a small Zodiac out back. Not much for an engine, but help yourself.”

The captain gazed out the windshield—and realized the barge was pushing the Drake. “Deuces! Let me back off your vessel before you boys cut loose.”

He briefly jammed the throttle in reverse, then shifted to neutral. Turning to Pitt, he raised his brows with worry. “You watch yourself with them.”

“Will do.”

Pitt nodded at the man, then turned to follow Giordino out the door. As he exited the wheelhouse, he noticed the old man’s commercial master’s license hanging on the bulkhead. Seeing the name Clive Cussler printed on the document, Pitt wrinkled his brow, then hurried onto the deck.

Giordino had already unlashed the small inflatable from the wheelhouse. Rather than take the time to lower it over the side with a winch, the two men manhandled it over the rail, then climbed aboard. Pitt primed the outboard motor, then gave a few tugs on the starter pulley, bringing the engine to life. Easing the throttle to full, he turned away from the barge and headed toward shore.

The Mexican powerboat was still visible in the growing darkness, and Pitt set an angle of pursuit along its path. But they were in a losing race, as the cabin cruiser beat the waves a good ten knots faster than the little Zodiac. All Pitt could do was try to keep them in sight long enough to determine where they would put ashore.

“I hope you remembered to bring our passports,” Giordino shouted. Their southeasterly tack had them on a clear course for the Mexican mainland.

“I wish I had remembered to bring an RPG instead.”

Giordino had already searched the Zodiac; their only potential weapon was a small anchor. But Pitt had no intention of going head-to-head with the armed thieves. His only concern was for Ann’s safety.

As the faint shape of the powerboat faded in the distance, he thought about the plucky NCIS agent and wondered what on earth she actually planned to do.