“This last fresco,” Summer asked, “is it an image of Helena?”
“Yes,” the monk confirmed. “She’s arrived by sea and envisions the church here on Stavrovouni.”
“Do you know what this figure is?” she asked, pointing to the nude woman.
“That would be Aphrodite. You see, the monastery here was built on the ruins of a temple to Aphrodite. The artist must have been paying homage to the site before Helena commissioned the church to be built here.”
She thanked the monk, then watched him shuffle back to the monastery door.
“Well, we were close,” she said. “Now we know there were two pirate ships, anyway.”
“The image makes it appear that the Roman vessel was still afloat after battling the pirates. It was heading somewhere,” Dirk muttered, staring at the image until his eyes turned blurry. He finally stepped away from the panel and joined Summer in heading toward the exit.
“I guess we got all we can from here,” he said. “By the way, did you talk to Ridley Bannister?”
“Ridley who?” she asked as they descended the stairway to the parking lot.
“Ridley Bannister, the British archaeologist. He said he knew you.”
Receiving a blank look, Dirk proceeded to describe his encounter in the monastery.
“I never saw him,” she said. Then the wheels of suspicion began to turn in her head. “What does he look like?”
“Thin, medium build, sandy hair. I suppose women might find him handsome.”
Summer suddenly froze on the steps. “Did you notice if he was wearing a ring?”
Dirk thought a moment. “Yes, I think so. On his right ring finger. I noticed it when we shook hands. It was solid gold with a funny design, like something out of the Middle Ages.”
Summer’s face turned flush with anger. “That’s the guy who stole the Manifest from Julie and me at gunpoint. He said his name was Baker.”
“He’s a well-known and respected archaeologist,” Dirk said.
“Respected?” Summer hissed. “I bet he’s here searching for the galley, too.”
“One of the monks did mention he was working on a book about Helena.”
Summer was fuming by the time they reached the car. The image of Bannister taking the Manifest in the basement of Kitchener’s manor saturated her mind. She drove aggressively down the winding monastery road, her anger reflected in her driving. Entering the main highway, she never considered that the source of her wrath was in a car now following close behind.
Her temper waned as they reached the outskirts of Limassol. By the time they found the city’s commercial docks, she actually felt encouraged.
“If Bannister is here, then the galley must exist,” she said to Dirk.
“He certainly hasn’t found it yet,” he replied.
Summer nodded with satisfaction. Who knows, she thought, perhaps we’re closer than we think.
91
“Shoving off already?” Summer asked.
She stood on the Aegean Explorer ’s bridge, watching a pair of crewmen hoist in and stow the forward mooring line. It had been less than an hour since the ship had touched the dock at Limassol, and she and Dirk had climbed aboard.
Pitt stood near the helm, sipping a cup of coffee.
“We’ve got to get back around to the western side of the Akrotiri Peninsula in order to keep tabs on Rudi’s AUV,” he said.
“I thought you were surveying with the towed sonar fish?”
“We are. We actually completed our first grid off Pissouri and started a new survey grid to the west. But Rudi reconfigured the AUV for sidescan sonar duty, so we put her to work. She’s currently running a large grid to the east of Pissouri. We’ll keep pushing west with the Explorer and cover twice as much ground.”
“Makes sense,” she replied. “How much longer will the AUV stay under?”
“She’ll be down another eighteen hours before surfacing. That will allow us a good run of our own before having to pick her up.”
“Dad, I’m sorry we didn’t come up with more promising research to go on.”
“Your fresco seems to confirm the role of the Pissouri wreck as one of the pirate ships. If the galley exists, we’ve got a good chance of being in the ballpark.”
The Aegean Explorer proceeded to steam south around the stubby Akrotiri Peninsula, then turned northwest toward Pissouri some twenty miles away. The research ship’s sensors soon made contact with a pair of floating transducer buoys, which relayed data from the AUV as it glided over the seabed two hundred feet beneath the surface. While Gunn and Giordino reviewed the AUV’s results, Pitt launched the towed sonar fish off the stern of the Explorer , sharing monitoring duties with Dirk and Summer.
It was nine the next morning when Summer stepped onto the bridge with a cup of hot coffee, ready to relieve her father in front of the screen.
“Anything new at the picture show?” she asked.
“A repeat is playing, I’m afraid,” Pitt replied, standing and stretching. “The same rock and sand that’s been rolling by all night. Outside of a small sunken fishing boat that Dirk picked up, it’s been slim pickings.”
“I just checked with Al in the survey shack,” she said, slipping into Pitt’s seat. “He said they’ve got similar results with the AUV.”
“We’re nearly at the end of this grid,” Pitt said. “Shall we keep working west?”
Summer smiled at her father. “When it comes to finding a shipwreck, I know better than to question your instincts.”
“Then west it is,” he replied with a wink.
Captain Kenfield stepped over from the helm and spread out a local marine chart across the table.
“Where exactly would you like to configure the next grid?” he asked Pitt.
“We’ll just extend the current grid, running as close to shore as we can get. Let’s run another two miles west, to this point here,” he said, pointing to a small coastal promontory on the map.
“Fair enough,” Kenfield said. “I’ll run the coordinates to Petra tou Romiou, as it says on the chart, or the Rock of Aphrodite.”
Summer stiffened in her chair. “Did you say the Rock of Aphrodite?” she asked.
Kenfield nodded, then retrieved a dog-eared traveler’s guide to Cyprus shelved behind the chart table.
“I was just reading about it last night. Petra tou Romiou, or Rock of Romios, takes its name from a Byzantine folk hero who allegedly tossed huge boulders into the sea to ward off pirates. The large rock formations are still visible in the surf. However, the site is also known from ancient times as the place where Aphrodite, the patron goddess of Cyprus, emerged from the sea in a wave of foam.”
“Dad, that’s it,” Summer said, jumping from her seat. “The Aphrodite image was in the fresco. It didn’t represent the temple at Stavrovouni, where the monastery stands. It’s where the Roman galley was headed. Someone on shore, or perhaps the pirates themselves, saw the galley fleeing toward the rocks.”
“It’s roughly within sight of the Pissouri wreck site,” Kenfield noted.
“I’ll buy it,” Pitt said, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “The Rock of Aphrodite it is. Let’s go see if the goddess will show us some love.”
A short time later, they reached the end of the survey lane and pulled in the towfish. As the ship changed course to resume its search down the coast, a palpable optimism surged through the bridge. Caught up in the anticipation, no one noticed the small boat trailing a half mile behind, where Ridley Bannister followed the turquoise ship with a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes.