Crescent Dawn

“So they disappeared with Plautius,” Gu

“The record at Caesarea stated that the pirates were captured and brought to port on their own ship,” Dirk stated. “The vessel’s decks were bloodied, and a number of Roman weapons were found aboard. While they had apparently battled Plautius, it wasn’t clear what became of his ship. Or the relics, for that matter.”

“Which probably means that the Roman galley of Plautius was sunk,” Pitt said.

The others in the room noticeably perked up at the notion, knowing that if one man could find an important shipwreck, it was the lean fellow with the green eyes sitting in front of them.

“Dad, could we try to look for it after the completion of the Turkish project?” Summer asked.

“That may be sooner than you think,” Gu

Summer turned and gave him a puzzled look.

“The Turkish Environment Ministry informed us that they have discovered a significant amount of waste dumping by a large chemical plant in Çiftlik, a town near Chios,” Pitt explained. “Rudi looked at the currents, and there seems to be a strong correlation with the dead zone we were mapping in the vicinity of the Ottoman wreck.”

“Better than a ninety-five percent probability,” Gu

“Does that mean we go back to the Ottoman wreck?” Summer asked.

“Dr. Ruppé is organizing a formal excavation under the auspices of the Istanbul Archaeology Museum,” Pitt said. “Until he has the necessary approvals from the Cultural Ministry, he has suggested that we avoid any further work on the site.”

“So we can try for the Roman galley?” Summer asked excitedly.

“We’re on the hook for assessing a small region just south of here,” Pitt said. “We should be able to complete the work in two or three days. Providing, that is, that our AUV is operational,” he said, shooting Gu

“That reminds me,” Summer said. “I’ve got your spare parts.”

She tossed the two overnight packages to Gu

“Our replacement circuit board,” he replied happily. “That should get us back in the water.”

He looked at the other package, then slid it over to Pitt.

“This one’s addressed to you, boss.”

Pitt nodded, then looked around the table. “If we’ve got an operational AUV again, then let’s go finish up our Turkey survey project,” he said with a wry grin, “because it’s a long voyage to Cyprus.”

An hour later, the Aegean Explorer gently shoved off from the Çanakkale dock. Pitt and Giordino watched from the bridge as Captain Kenfield guided the vessel out the mouth of the Dardanelles, then south along the Turkish coastline. Once the Explorer was safely clear of the busy strait, Pitt sat down and opened the overnight package.

“Cookies from home?” Giordino asked, taking a seat across from Pitt.

“Not quite. I had Hiram do some digging on the Ottoman Star and the Sultana .”

“Hiram” referred to Hiram Yaeger, NUMA’s head of computer resources. From the NUMA headquarters building in Washington, Yaeger managed a sophisticated computer center that tracked detailed oceanographic and weather data around the globe. A skilled computer hacker, Yaeger had a nose for uncovering secrets, and didn’t mind utilizing both authorized and unauthorized data sources when the need arose.

“Two vessels that I’d like to find at the bottom of the sea,” Giordino said. “Was Yaeger able to find anything?”

“It appears so,” Pitt replied, perusing several pages of documents. “Both vessels are apparently registered in Liberia, under a shell company. Yaeger was able to trace ownership to a private Turkish entity called Anatolia Exports, the same outfit the police mentioned. The company has a lengthy history of shipping Turkish textiles and other goods to trading partners throughout the Mediterranean. It owns a warehouse and office building in Istanbul, as well as a shipping facility on the coast near the town of Kirte.”

“Ah yes, I know the latter quite well,” Giordino said with a smirk. “So who runs this outfit?”

“Ownership records cite a couple named Ozden Celik and Maria Celik.”

“Don’t tell me… They drive a Jaguar and like to run over people with boats.”

Pitt passed over a photo of Celik that Yaeger had gleaned from a Turkish trade association conference. Then he shared a number of satellite photos of the Celiks’ properties.

“That’s our boy,” Giordino said, examining the first photo. “What else do we know about him and his wife?”

“Maria is actually his sister. And data is somewhat scarce. Yaeger indicates that the Celiks are secretive types who keep a very low profile. He says he had to do some real digging to find any juice.”

“And did he?”

“Listen to this. A genealogical trace puts both Celiks as greatgrandchildren of Mehmed VI.”

Giordino shook his head. “Afraid I don’t know the name.”

“Mehmed VI was the last ruling Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. He and his clan were kicked off the throne and out of the country when Atatürk swept into power in 1923.”

“And now the poor boy has nothing to show for it but a mangy old freighter. No wonder he has a chip on his shoulder.”

“He apparently has a lot more than that,” Pitt said. “Yaeger believes the pair may be among the richest people in the country.”

“I guess some of that explains the fanaticism over the Ottoman shipwreck.”

“And the brashness of the Topkapi theft. Though there might have been another motivation.”

“Such as?”

“Yaeger found a possible financial link to an Istanbul marketing organization. The organization is helping promote the candidacy of Mufti Battal in the upcoming presidential election.”

Pitt set down the page he was reading. “Rey Ruppé in Istanbul told us about this Mufti. He has a large fundamentalist following and is viewed as a dangerous power in some circles.”

“Never hurts to have friends with deep pockets. I wonder what’s in it for Celik?”

“A question that might have an illuminating answer,” Pitt said.

He set down the last of the report and pondered the wealthy Turk and his savage sister while Giordino took a look at the satellite photos.

“I see the Ottoman Star has returned to home port,” Giordino said. “I wonder what a Greek tanker is doing alongside her.”

He slid the photo across the table for Pitt to examine. Pitt took a look at the high overhead shot of the now-familiar cove, spotting the freighter at the dock. On the opposite side of the dock was a small tanker ship, its blue-and-white flag barely visible atop its mast. The flag caught his eye, and Pitt studied it a moment before grabbing a magnifying glass from behind the chart table.

“That’s not a Greek flag,” he said. “The tanker is from Israel.”

“News to me that Israel has its own tanker fleet,” Giordino said.

“Did you say something about an Israeli tanker?” Captain Kenfield asked, overhearing the conversation from across the bridge.

“Al found one parked in the cove of our Turkish friends,” Pitt said.

Kenfield’s face turned pale. “While we were in port, there was an alert making the rounds about an Israeli tanker that went missing off the coast near Manavgat. It’s actually a water tanker.”

“I recall seeing one a few weeks back,” Pitt remarked. “What’s the size of the missing ship?”

“The ship was named the Dayan , I believe,” he said, stepping to a computer and performing a quick search. “She’s eight hundred gross tons and three hundred ten feet long.”

He turned the computer monitor toward Pitt and Giordino so that they could see a photograph of the ship. It was a dead match.