“That’s what the papyrus record indicated.”
Zeibig rifled through some papers, pulling out a page of research data.
“The Roman Senator inscribed on the gold crown, Artrius? Dr. Ruppé sent some historical research which indicated that he served as Governor of Cyprus for a short while.”
A thin smile crossed Pitt’s face. “Cyprus, that’s the clue we’ve been missing. If the Cypriot historical records are intact, I’ll bet you’ll find that Traianus, the name on the monolith, was also on Cyprus. Perhaps he even reported to Governor Artrius.”
“Sure,” Giordino agreed. “Traianus was probably ordered by the Governor to erect a memorial after the gold crown arrived in the mail.”
“But what was the Roman crown and marker doing on an Ottoman wreck?” Dirk asked.
“I think I have a theory about that,” Zeibig said. “As I recall, Cyprus historically remained under Venetian rule long after the fall of the Roman Empire. But the Ottomans came around and successfully invaded the island around 1570, which just happens to be the approximate date of our shipwreck. I’d speculate that the gold crown and stone tablet were simply antiquarian spoils of war that were being shipped back to the sitting Sultan in Constantinople.”
“We can assume from the Manifest that Plautius was assigned to transport the religious relics on behalf of Helena,” Gunn said. “The stele from the wreck, along with Dirk’s papyrus discovery, confirms that he lost his life fighting pirates off of Cyprus. Is it possible that the events all occurred on the same voyage?”
“I would wager that members of this Scholae Palatinae, like the Praetorian Guard, would not be far from the Emperor’s seat of power except in unusual circumstances,” Pitt said.
“Such as guarding his mother while she traveled to Jerusalem,” Summer said.
“Which would explain the gold crown,” Giordino said. “It may well have been awarded to Artrius while he was Governor of Cyprus, sent from Constantine in appreciation for capturing the pirates who killed Plautius.”
“The same pirates that stole the relics?” Gunn asked. “That’s the real question. Who ended up with the relics?”
“I performed a cursory historical search on the Manifest items,” Summer said. “While there are claimed fragments of the True Cross located in dozens of churches across Europe, I could find no substantive record of any of the items on the Manifest being exhibited today or in the past.”
“So they disappeared with Plautius,” Gunn said.
“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,” Gunn said.
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,” Gunn confirmed. “The Turks have kindly asked us to come back in a year and do some sample testing, but at this point we no longer need to extend any of our survey work.”
“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 Gunn a sideways glance.
“That reminds me,” Summer said. “I’ve got your spare parts.”
She tossed the two overnight packages to Gunn, who quickly tore the seal off the first one and looked inside.
“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 Explorergently 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 Explorerwas 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 Starand 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.”