The Navigator - Cussler Clive - Страница 26

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“They could have simply stolen the statue and run for it,” Zavala said. “Why destroy the ship and the oil rig?”

“By getting rid of the ship, they eliminate evidence and witnesses. The oil rig was simply a means to an end. It has a certain clinical neatness about it. The sea claims all.”

Zavala slowly shook his head. “What kind of a mind would think up a bloodthirsty scheme like that?”

“A very cold and calculating one,” Austin said. “The choppers must have come from an ocean launchpad. We’re within helicopter range of land, but the coast is pretty rugged. I can’t see them flying any great distance with a heavy weight hanging at the end of a rope.”

“A water-launched attack on a moving target makes the most sense,” Zavala agreed.

“Which means we may be wasting time,” Austin said. “They could still be in the area.”

“Unfortunately, there’s no air support on this ship,” Zavala said.

Austin cocked his head in thought. “I remember Captain Dawe saying that a helicopter was due back on the rig. Let’s go see if it’s arrived.”

He chugged down a painkiller with a final swallow of coffee and led the way out of the mess hall. Captain Lange welcomed them on the bridge. Austin borrowed a pair of binoculars and pointed them at the oil rig. He could see a helicopter on the oil platform.

“This is quite a vantage point, “Austin said. “Did you see what direction the hijackers flew in from?”

“Unfortunately, no. It happened very fast.” Lange’s face flushed with anger at the recollection.

“What do you know about the two Filipino crewmen who were working with the hijackers?” Austin said.

“They were vetted through the usual hiring practices,” Lange said. “There was nothing in their records to indicate that they were pirates.”

“It’s possible that the men who shipped on board weren’t the real owners of the papers,” Zavala said.

“What do you mean?”

“They either stole the papers from the real crewmen or killed to get them,” Zavala said.

“In which case, we can add two more murders to this gang’s list of crimes.” Austin said.

The captain swore softly in German. “You know, sometimes when you’re up here, guiding this big ship across the ocean, you feel like King Neptune.” He shook his jowls. “Then something like this happens and you see how impotent you really are. I would much rather deal with the sea than with monsters of my own species.”

Austin knew from experience exactly what the captain was talking about, but they would have to postpone their philosophical discussion to another time. “I wondered if you would mind getting in touch with the oil platform operators,” he said. He told the captain what he and Zavala had in mind.

Lange got on the radio immediately. The rig operators were hesitant to send the helicopter over at first but changed their mind when Lange said the request was coming from the man who had saved the platform and its crew from destruction.

Twenty minutes later, the helicopter lifted off from the rig and flew the short distance to the containership. The chopper touched down on the wide foredeck. Austin and Zavala ran under the still-spinning rotors. The aircraft was airborne a moment later. They had barely adjusted their intercoms when the pilot said, “Where to, gents?”

The hijackers had a big head start, which meant that it was unlikely they would be anywhere near the ship. Austin asked the pilot, whose name was Riley, to head in any direction for five miles, then go into a low-altitude expanding spiral with the ship at its center.

Riley gave him a thumbs-up and flew the helicopter due west at about a hundred miles an hour.

“What are we looking for?” Riley said.

“Anything big enough to hold two choppers,” Austin replied.

Riley gave another thumbs-up. “I got ya.”

Several minutes later he put the helicopter into a banking turn and made the first circle. The fog had cleared and visibility was two to three miles. They saw a handful of fishing boats and big chunks of ice, including one which might have been Moby-Berg. The only large ship was a freighter. Its deck was too small to hold two copters and was obstructed by cranes that would have made takeoff and landing impossible.

Austin asked the pilot to make two more circles. On the second circuit, they saw a big vessel silhouetted against the ocean sheen.

“Ore carrier,” said Zavala from the backseat.

The helicopter dropped to an altitude of a few hundred feet and paced the black-hulled ship. Rectangular hatch covers that covered ore-storage holds were evenly spaced on the long deck between the tall crew house at one end and the high, raised bow at the other.

“What do you think?” Austin asked the pilot.

“Hell. It’d be easy to land a chopper on that deck,” Riley said. “It’s like an aircraft carrier.”

Zavala agreed. “If you wanted to hide something, there’d be plenty of room in those cargo holds.”

“Hafta modify a few things,” Riley said. “No big deal.”

Austin asked the pilot to check out the ship’s name.

The helicopter flew over the ship’s wake, offering a clear view of the big white letters on the transom: SEA KING

The ship was registered in Nicosia, Cyprus. There was a logo of what looked like a bull’s head next to the name.

Austin had seen enough. “Let’s head home.”

The chopper wheeled around and the vessel faded into the haze.

As the whup-whup of the rotors faded, a pair of pale round eyes watched from the bridge until the helicopter shrunk to the size of a mosquito. Adriano lowered the binoculars, a tight smile on his lips. The helicopter had come close enough to give him a clear view of the face in the cockpit window.

The hunter had become the hunted.

AS THE OIL PLATFORM helicopter approached the containership, a Coast Guard cutter could be seen anchored a short distance away. The pilot put the helicopter down on the deck of the containership. When Austin and Zavala stepped out of the aircraft, Captain Lange was waiting for them. He said the Coast Guard had sent over an investigatory team to start interviewing witnesses.

Austin was going on sheer nerve power. His brain was fried. His rib cage throbbed. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a tedious interrogation. A good night’s sleep would be preferable. He knew that the Coast Guard would bring a fresh perspective to the crazy events of the day, but he was just plain weary.

The Coast Guard lieutenant who conducted the investigation in the recreation room was businesslike and efficient. He drew statements from Austin and the others, and said he would work his way through the rest of the crew. Austin must have winced with pain more than once, because the lieutenant suggested that he should have his wound properly tended to in a hospital. The captain said the oil rig helicopter could run him back to the mainland in the morning.

Carina asked if she could go with him. She said she wanted to attend a reception in Washington the next evening and wouldn’t worry about her cargo with the Coast Guard cutter escorting the ship. Zavala wanted to get back to prepare for his trip to Istanbul. Austin called Captain Dawe and said they would have to take a rain check on the hunt for Moby-Berg.

“I’m disappointed,” Dawe said. “I’ll have some new jokes when you come back.”

“I can’t wait.” Austin said.

Chapter 15

VIKTOR BALTAZAR HAD LISTENED in silence as Adriano told him about the foiled hijacking plot. The bile had risen higher in his throat with each detail of the failed attempt to steal the Phoenician statue. Although he displayed no outward manifestation of his anger except for a vein pulsating in his forehead, Baltazar’s fury was like the molten innards of a nascent volcano. When Adriano described how the mineral ship had been shadowed in a helicopter by the same pale-haired man who had prevented the theft of the statue, Baltazar could stand it no more.

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