Crescent Dawn

25

The bright morning Mediterranean sun had already begun baking the Aegean Explorer ’s deck when Rudi Gu

His groggy mind suddenly focused on the research project at hand, and he scurried to the stern of the ship. Making his way past a white submersible, he was disappointed to find the autonomous underwater vehicle lying securely in a padded rack. A large torpedo-shaped device, the robotic AUV contained a variety of sensors used to sample the water as it ran free of the ship. When he had staggered to bed six hours earlier, the Explorer was tracking the AUV as it surveyed a large grid ten miles from shore.

Gulping a large swallow of coffee, he turned and made his way forward, then climbed two flights of stairs to the bridge. There he found Pitt studying a coastal chart with the ship’s captain, Bruce Kenfield.

“Good morning, Rudi,” Pitt greeted. “You’re up early.”

“I could feel the engines throttle down from my bunk,” Gu

“Kemal received word that his wife was in a traffic accident. It’s apparently not serious, but we put him ashore so that he could go check on her.”

Kemal was a marine biologist with the Turkish Environment Ministry who had been assigned to the NUMA vessel to monitor and assist with the water-sampling project.

“That’s unfortunate,” Gu

Pitt smiled and shook his head. “We technically can’t resume the survey until Kemal or a replacement is on board the ship. Our invite from the Turkish government specified that a representative from the Environment Ministry must be aboard at all times while we are conducting survey work in Turkish waters. At this point, it looks like we might be down for three or four days.”

“We are already behind schedule. First our sensor flooded and now this. We may have to extend the project in order to complete the areas we agreed to survey.”

“So be it.”

Gu

“Since you returned from Istanbul, we’ve only had two full days of surveying on the new grid,” Gu

“It’s simple, Rudi,” Pitt replied. “Halting work on the algae bloom project means resuming work on an Ottoman shipwreck excavation,” he said with a wink.

Less than four hours after the Zodiac was hoisted back aboard, the Aegean Queen reached Chios, dropping anchor a hundred yards from the site of the Ottoman shipwreck. Little time had been spent examining the site after Pitt and Giordino’s initial dive, barely allowing the ship’s underwater archaeologist, Rodney Zeibig, the chance to stake an aluminum grid over the exposed portions of the wreck.

Zeibig hastily trained a handful of scuba-qualified scientists in the art of underwater survey and documentation, then coordinated a careful examination of the wreck. Pitt, Giordino, and even Gu

Pitt stood near the stern rail of the Aegean Explorer eyeing a growing pattern of whitecaps that dotted the sea under a stiffening westerly breeze. An empty Zodiac bounced wildly on the waves, moored to a nearby buoy that was fixed to the wreck site. A pair of divers suddenly poked to the surface, then bellied their way into the inflatable boat. One of the men released the mooring line while the other started the outboard engine, then they quickly raced to the side of the research ship. Pitt lowered a cable over the side and helped hoist the Zodiac onto the deck with the two men still seated in it.

Rudi Gu

“It’s turned a bit bouncy out there,” remarked Zeibig, a buoyant man with bright blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair.

“I’ve passed the word that we’re halting dive operations until the winds settle down,” Pitt said. “The weather forecast indicates that things should be calm by morning.”

“A good idea,” the archaeologist replied, “although I think Rudi will be on pins and needles until he gets back to the wreck.”

“Find something of interest?”

Gu

“That could add a clue to the ship’s identity,” Pitt said.

“I just hope we don’t have to share in her discovery,” Zeibig said, nodding toward the starboard rail.

Pounding over the waves just over two miles away was a high-performance motor yacht headed directly for the Aegean Explorer . It was Italian built, with wraparound smoked-glass windows and a large open stern deck. A red Turkish flag with white crescent and star flew from a mast, along with a smaller red flag that featured a single gold crescent. Though it was far smaller than a Monte Carlo show yacht, Pitt still could see that it was an expensive luxury boat. The three men watched as the yacht closed to within a half mile before slowing to a halt, where it bobbed on the unsettled waters.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about your wreck, Rod,” Gu

“Probably somebody just nosing about to see what a research ship is doing parked out here,” Pitt said.

“Or perhaps we’re blocking the view of someone’s villa on shore,” Gu

Pitt assumed that no one besides Ruppé knew of the location of the wreck site. Perhaps he had already notified the Turkish Ministry of Culture, he considered. But then he remembered that Ruppé’s office had been burglarized and his chart to the site stolen with the artifacts. His concern was diverted when he heard his name shouted from the forward part of the ship. He turned to see Giordino hanging his torso out of a work bay door beneath the bridge.

“Some info from Istanbul just came in for you over the wire,” Giordino shouted.

“Speak of the devil,” Pitt muttered. “Be right there,” he yelled back, then turned to the other two men.

“I bet that is Dr. Ruppé’s analysis of our earlier artifacts from the wreck.”

“I’d like to see his results,” Zeibig said.

The two divers quickly changed clothes, then met up with Pitt and Giordino in the small bay, which housed several computers linked to a satellite communications system. Giordino handed Pitt a multipage printout, then sat down at one of the computers.

“Dr. Ruppé also e-mailed a couple of photographs with the report,” he said, tapping at a keyboard to open an electronic file. A close-up image of a gold coin filled the computer screen.

Pitt quickly sca

“Are we still looking at an Ottoman wreck?” Gu

“Almost certainly,” Pitt replied. “Dr. Ruppé found a representative coin from a mint in Syria that he believes is identical to one of the coins in Al’s lockbox. It dates to around 1570. Unfortunately, Ruppé says he had to base the comparison on memory, since the coins were stolen from his office.”