He stopped and waited as Summer navigated her way across the slippery rocks, grabbing his hand before almost falling under.
“Might be easier to swim,” she gasped.
“I see a dry ledge just up ahead,” Pitt replied, playing the light around.
Hugging the side wall, they worked their way forward, finding that the submerged ledge gradually rose until they stepped completely out of the water. Above their heads, the ceiling grew to enormous heights as the tunnel expanded into a large cavern. The water flowed through a curved channel in the shape of a large “U,” indicating that it looped back toward the sea. Pitt could see that the water didn’t appear stagnant but flowed with a mild current.
They followed the ledge a few yards farther as it led toward a large sandy rise. Pitt was surprised to see a soft, faint light bathing the interior cavern. Looking up, he could see where a few slim rays of sunlight slipped through a fissure in the cliff face.
Suddenly, Pitt felt Summer’s hand clench his arm.
“Dad!” she cried.
He saw she was staring wide-eyed ahead. Turning to look, he expected to see a flying bat or perhaps a snake on the ground. Instead, he saw the hull of an aged ship.
The vessel sat upright on a sandy ledge, appearing little damaged under the dim light. Stepping closer, Pitt could see that it was built of an ancient design. An angled prow rose in a high arch that curled back over the open deck. Dozens of small round holes dotted the sides above the waterline, which Pitt recognized as perforations for oars. There were no actual oars in sight, only a number of broken stubs that dangled from a few of the openings.
Approaching the dust-covered ship, they saw that its single mast had been shattered near the base, the thick pole now lying across the aft deck. Playing the flashlight beam across the high stern, Pitt could see the skeletal remains of a man draped over the wooden tiller.
“It’s a galley,” Pitt said with a grin. “An old one, by the looks of it. She probably snapped off her mast when she sailed through the cave entrance.”
Summer remained in silent awe. Stepping to the bow, she finally found the words to call her father.
“Dad, look at this.”
The galley’s prow was a crumpled mass of timber at the waterline. Looking closer, they could see several bent copper spikes protruding in a horizontal band on either side.
“The only real damage to the hull,” Summer noted. “They must have driven into the cliff face a few times before slipping into this grotto.”
“It appears that she may have had a ram fitted here at one time,” Pitt mused.
Using the spikes as a stepladder, he climbed up the bow, then pulled himself over the side. The sight on board nearly took his breath away. The entire deck was littered with skeletal remains clad in faded tunics or robes, a few with swords still clutched in their bony hands. A number of battle shields and spears were also scattered about, painting a grim picture of a bloody fight to the death.
“Any sign that it is Roman?” Summer asked from below.
“Of course it is.”
Summer froze at the comment. It wasn’t the cold tone in which the words were said but rather that they didn’t come from Pitt.
She turned to see the figure of Ridley Bannister approach out of the darkness, his clothes wet from the chest down. In his hands, he carried a small video camera, which he turned on, bathing the cavern in a hazy blue light.
“Well, if it isn’t the esteemed archaeologist Ridley ‘Baker’ Bannister,” Summer sneered as he stepped closer. “Did you bring your gun this time?”
“Oh, no. That was Field Marshal Kitchener’s revolver, actually. Quite empty of bullets it was, I’m chagrined to say.” He held the video camera up for her to see. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Pitt. Now, if you’d be so kind as to step out of the way, I will proceed to document my discovery.”
“Your discovery?” she said, her blood beginning to boil. “Why, you lying pig, you didn’t find anything.”
“It’s as good as mine now. I suppose I should tell you that I’m on excellent terms with the Cyprus Director of Antiquities. I’ve already made arrangements for the exclusive film and book rights in the event of discovery, which you have kindly aided. I’ll be sure to make a note of your generous contributions.”
Bannister placed the camera to his eye and started filming the exterior of the galley.
“Is the Manifest cargo aboard, by the way?” he asked, scanning along the side of the vessel.
Focusing the camera lens on the damaged prow, he didn’t notice Summer rush at him until it was too late. Reaching out a long arm, Summer ripped the camera from his hands and tossed it into the rocks. A shattering sound ensued as the lens smashed, though the camera’s bluish external light remained glowing.
Bannister stared at the damaged camera, then slowly became enraged. Grabbing the taller woman by her shirt lapels, he began shaking her in anger. A student of judo, Summer prepared to counter his grab with a takedown when a loud staccato burst through the cave. The gunfire was still echoing when Summer felt Bannister’s fingertips slip free of her shirt. The archaeologist gave her a pained look, then slowly sagged to the ground. As he fell prone, Summer saw that his khaki pants had sprouted stains of blood in several spots.
Looking past him, Summer saw three men standing on the rise. Even in the low light, she could see that they appeared to be Arabs. The tallest of the three stood at the center, smoke rising from a compact Uzi machine pistol cradled in his arms. He slowly took a step forward, keeping the weapon aimed at Summer as his eyes scanned the galley.
“So,” Zakkar said in halting English. “You have found the treasure.”
94
Summer stood immobile as the three men moved closer. At her feet, Bannister clutched at his wounds, an uncomprehending look of shock etched in his face. Zakkar lowered his Uzi as he drew near, his attention focused on the galley.
“Gutzman will be pleased,” he said in Arabic to his nearest associate, the bearded gunman from the Dome of the Rock attack named Salaam.
“What of these two?” Salaam asked, aiming a small penlight at Summer and Bannister.
“Kill them and throw their bodies into the ocean,” Zakkar replied, rubbing a hand over the ancient ship’s hull.
Having understood the conversation, Bannister tried pulling himself across the ground, grunting in pain as he clawed his way behind Summer. Salaam ignored him as he stepped close to Summer, then raised a pistol at her head.
“Run!”
Pitt’s shout rang loudly from the deck of the galley, catching all of the Arabs by surprise. Summer watched the gunman in front of her glance toward the ship, his eyes instantly flaring in horror.
Whistling through the air at him was a pilum, the iron-tipped Roman javelin. Salaam had no chance to move before the razor-sharp spear struck him in the chest. The finely crafted weapon cut a path completely through the man’s torso, its tip exiting his back below the kidney. The stunned man spit out a mouthful of blood, then dropped to the ground stone dead.
In the moment that Salaam was struck, Summer was already calculating her options. She instantly decided she could either lunge for the gunman’s pistol, or run and dive into the water, or break for her father on the ship. The adrenaline was already surging through her veins, screaming for her brain to respond. But Summer let logic run its course before making a move. She quickly judged that the handgun would be no match for Zakkar’s Uzi. And though her heart told her to run to her father, reason dictated that the water was much closer.
Suppressing her emotional urges, she took a powerful step to her right and then leaped. The sound of gunfire was already ripping through the air when her outstretched hands broke the water’s surface and the rest of her body tumbled in after. The slope of the sandbar dropped away sharply, and she plunged into the depths without breaking her neck.