Crescent Dawn

A few minutes later, Pitt was marched onto the bridge, a look of anger searing his drowsy eyes.

“Mr. Pitt? I am Lieutenant Lazlo, Israeli Navy Special Forces.”

“Excuse me if I don’t welcome you aboard, Lieutenant,” Pitt replied drily.

“My apologies for the intrusion, but we require your assistance on a sensitive mission. I have been assured that sources in your government at the highest level have approved your cooperation.”

“I see. If that is the case, then were the midnight theatrics really necessary?”

“We are operating in Turkish waters without authorization. It is essential that we maintain our secrecy.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, put down your guns and tell me what this is all about.”

The commando reluctantly lowered his weapon, indicating for his partner to follow suit.

“We have been ordered to effect the rescue of the crew of the Israeli tanker Dayan . It has been reported that you are familiar with the facility where the ship is being held.”

“Yes, the cove north of the Dardanelles. Is she still there?”

“Intelligence reports within the last ten hours confirm as much.”

“Why not use diplomatic cha

“Your government has provided information that there may be a co

Pitt nodded, understanding that pursuing Celik through official cha

“Very well, Lieutenant, I’ll be happy to help.” He turned and faced the second officer. “Rogers, please inform the captain that I’ve left the ship. By the way, Lieutenant, how did you get aboard?”

“We have a small inflatable tied up off the starboard flank. Our departure will be made easier if your vessel can temporarily slow.”

Rogers obliged the request, then stood on the bridge wing and watched Pitt and several shadows slip over the rail and quietly vanish into the night. A few minutes later, the helmsman called him over to the radar scope.

“She’s disappeared,” the man said, gazing at the screen.

Rogers looked at the empty blue radar screen and nodded. Somewhere on the open sea, Pitt had disappeared from the surface along with the mystery vessel. It was, he fervently hoped, only a temporary vanishing act.

59

The Tekumah wasted no time returning to the stealthy depths. A Dolphin class submarine built at the HDW shipyards in Kiel, Germany, she was one of only a handful of subs operated by the Israeli Navy. Diesel-powered and relatively small in size, she was nevertheless packed with a sophisticated array of electronics and weaponry that made her a formidable underwater foe.

The inflatable had barely touched the side of her hull when waiting crewmen hoisted Pitt and the commandos onto the deck and hustled them down a hatch while the inflatable was stowed in a watertight compartment. Pitt had just taken a seat in the sub’s cramped officers’ mess when the dive command reverberated through the vessel.

Lazlo secured his weapons, then brought a pair of coffees to the table and sat down opposite Pitt. Reaching into a nearby folder, he laid out a satellite photo of Celik’s shipping facility, similar to the one Pitt had received from Yaeger.

“We’re going in with two small teams,” the Israeli explained. “One will search the tanker and the other the shore facilities. Can you tell me about the buildings?”

“Provided I can go in with you,” Pitt replied.

“I don’t have authorization for that.”

“Look, Lieutenant,” Pitt said, staring coldly at the commando. “I didn’t come along with you just to take a joyride on a submarine. Celik’s men killed two of my scientists and kidnapped a third. His sister abducted my wife at gunpoint. And sitting inside his compound is enough high-grade explosives to start World War Three. I understand that you want the Dayan ’s crewmen back, but there’s potentially a lot more at stake here.”

Lazlo sat silent for a moment. Pitt was not the man he expected to find aboard the research vessel. Far from being some nebbish egghead scientist, Pitt was all substance.

“Very well,” the commando replied quietly.

Pitt took the photo and carefully explained the layout of the two warehouses and the stone administrative building.

“Can you tell me about any security elements?” Lazlo asked.

“It’s a functioning port facility first, but we encountered a number of armed perso

The commando smiled. “We are Shayetet 13. Demolitions are an important part of our training.”

Pitt had heard of the Israeli Special Forces unit, which was similar in function to the U.S. Navy SEALs. They were called the “Bat Men,” he recalled, on account of the batwing insignia they wore on their uniforms.

“Members of my government are very concerned about a container of HMX plastic explosives that we found sitting in this warehouse,” Pitt said, pointing to the photo.

Lazlo nodded. “Our mission orders are for rescue only, but the elimination of those explosives would be of mutual interest. If they are still there, we will take care of them,” he promised.

A short man in an officer’s uniform ducked into the mess and stared at the two men with a humorless face.

“Lazlo, we’ll be at the deployment zone in forty minutes.”

“Thank you, Captain. By the way, this is Dirk Pitt, from the American research vessel.”

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Pitt,” the captain replied without emotion. He quickly turned his attention back to Lazlo. “You’ll have approximately two hours of darkness to complete your mission. I’m warning you, I don’t want to be on the surface at daybreak.”

“Captain, I can make you a promise,” the commando replied with cool arrogance. “If we’re not back in ninety minutes, then you may sail without us.”

60

Lazlo would be wrong about the mission’s duration, but not in the ma

Surfacing two miles northwest of the cove, the Tekumah quickly off-loaded its commando team for the second time that night. Dressed in nondescript black fatigues, Pitt joined the eight-man rescue team that climbed into a pair of inflatable boats and raced away from the sub. Stopping outside the entrance to the cove, the pilot of each boat shut off its outboard engine and resumed propulsion with a silent, battery-powered electric motor.

Gliding into the cove, Pitt took a disappointed look toward the pier, then whispered to Lazlo.

“She’s gone.”

The Israeli commando silently cursed as he saw that Pitt was right. Not only was the tanker gone but the entire pier was empty. The buildings on shore appeared dark and uninhabited as well.

“Alpha Team, revise landing to joint shore recon,” he radioed to the other boat. “Assigned target is the east warehouse.”

There was still a chance that the tanker crew was held captive ashore, but he knew it was false optimism. The success of any covert operation, he knew from years of experience, was always the quality of the intelligence. And this time, the intelligence appeared to have failed.

The two boats ran ashore simultaneously a few yards from the pier, their occupants scrambling ashore like silent ghosts. Pitt followed Lazlo’s squad as they approached the stone building and then stormed in with a fury. Watching from the front courtyard, Pitt could tell by sound that the building was deserted, like the rest of the port facility. He made his way toward the west warehouse, hearing the light steps of Lazlo approach as he reached the door.