"I understand there was a guest scientist aboard the NR-1," Sandecker said, after a moment's thought.
"That's right. I have the whole roster."
"Go over their backgrounds with a fine-tooth comb, especially the scientist's. In the meantime, let's try to find the India-class submarine. The navy keeps track of all operational Russian submarines, but I don't want to alert anyone to the fact that NUMA is still in this."
"I'll see if Yaeger can tap into the navy computer system."
"Why, Rudi," Sandecker said, studying the glowing ash on his cigar, "what a surprising thing to hear from a navy man. First in his class at the academy, too."
Gunn tried without success to look angelic. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."
"I'm glad to hear you say that. Austin called me from Istanbul. He's assembling the Special Assignments Team to take another look at that abandoned submarine base."
"Does he think it has a connection with the NR-1?"
"He didn't know about the missing sub until I told him. No, apparently he's been in contact with someone, an old Russian friend, who indicated that the base may have something to do with a supposed threat against the U.S."
"Terrorist activity?"
"I asked Kurt the same question. He only knows what the Russian told him, that the U.S. is in danger. A mining magnate named Razov seems to be involved, and the old base may hold the key to what is going on. Kurt's instincts are usually sound. This threat of his is all the more reason for NUMA to get involved."
"We can take a look at the area by satellite."
"We still need eyes on the ground."
"What about your promise to the president?"
"I only promised not to look for the NR-1. I never said anything about a Soviet sub base. Besides," Sandecker said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Austin is probably out of reach by now."
"I've heard that sunspot activity has been interrupting communications."
"We'll keep trying to establish contact, of course. The president is going fly-fishing in Montana, but I expect he'll return in a hurry if the Russian government falls."
Gunn looked worried. "If there really is a threat, don't you think we should tell the president?"
Sandecker walked over to the window and looked out over the Potomac. Afer a moment, he turned and said, "Do you know how Sid Sparkman made his fortune?"
"Sure, he made millions in mining."
"Correct. As did Razov."
"Coincidence?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. There's often a worldwide good ol' boy network in certain areas of industry. It's not out of the question that they know each other. Unless we learn that the threat is imminent – I suggest we keep this conversation to ourselves for now."
"Are you suggesting that – "
"There's a connection? I'm not prepared to go that far. Yet."
Gunn pursed his lips, a grave look in his eyes. "I hope Kurt and his team aren't getting in over their heads."
Sandecker smiled grimly, his eyes as hard as topaz. "It wouldn't be the first time."
11
THE BLACK SEA
AUSTIN STROLLED ALONG the Bosporus past the ferry terminal and sleek tour vessels until the smell of decaying fish told his nostrils he was near the working waterfront. Raucous squadrons of gulls grew more numerous as he approached the ragtag fleet of fishing boats nuzzled up to the dock. With their paint-flaked woodwork and corroded metal, the sea-beaten rust buckets seemed to remain afloat by a miracle of levitation. Austin stopped at one exception, a solid-looking wooden boat that appeared to have under- gone heroic maintenance. The black hull and white wheelhouse gleamed with many coats of paint, and the brightwork was liberally soaked with oil.
Reaching into his pocket, Austin pulled out a folded piece of notepaper and matched the scrawled word Turgut with the name painted in white on the stem. He smiled approvingly. He liked Captain Kemal without having met him. Turgut was a renowned sixteenth-century admiral in the reign of Suleyman the Magnificent. Anyone who would name an ancient fishing vessel after such a towering naval figure displayed a sense story and humor.
The deck was deserted except for a man in a double-breasted black suit. He sat on a coil of thick rope mending a net spread across his knees.
Austin called out a greeting in Turkish. "Meraba. May I come aboard?"
The man looked up. "Meraba," he said, and beckoned Austin aboard.
Austin climbed a short gangway and stepped onto the deck. The boat was about fifty feet long, with a wide beam to provide stability as a fishing platform. His eyes swept the Turgut, taking in the extraordinary efforts that had been made to maintain a vessel that looked as if it went back to the Ottoman Empire itself. He went over to the seated man and said, "I'm looking for Captain Kemal."
"I'm Kemal," the man said. His fingers flew over the mesh without missing a loop.
The captain was a slightly built man in his fifties. His face was narrow, his olive skin burnished to a reddish glow by sun and wind. He wore a woven skullcap over dark brown hair going to gray, and he was clean-shaven except for a toothbrush mustache that seemed to be held in place by the curve of his prominent nose. The soft wail of Turkish music came from a portable radio at his feet.
"My name is Kurt Austin. I'm with the National Underwater and Marine Agency. I was on the NUMA ship Argo when we found your cousin Mehmet's body."
Kemal nodded solemnly and put the net aside. "Mehmet's funeral was this morning," he said in well-spoken English. He plucked at his sleeve to show that he was wearing his best and only suit.
"They told me on the Argo. I hope I'm not intruding by coming by so soon."
The captain shook his head and indicated a nearby waist-high stack of netting.
"Sit, please, Mr. Austin."
"You speak English very well."
"Thank you. When I was younger, I worked as a cook for the American air base near Ankara." He smiled, displaying a brilliant gold tooth. "The pay was good, I worked very hard and saved the money to buy this boat."
"I noticed you named it after a great admiral."
Kemal raised a bushy eyebrow, impressed. "Turgut was a big hero to my people."
"I know. I read a biography about him."
The captain studied Kurt with deep-set liquid brown eyes. "Thank your NUMA people for me. It would be very hard for Mehmet's family if they did not have his body to bury."
"I'll be sure to tell Captain Atwood and the Argo's crew of your appreciation. Miss Dorn mentioned your name."
The captain smiled. "The beautiful television woman came by last night. She said Mehmet's widow will be well provided for. It will not bring Mehmet back, but it is more than he could have earned in his whole life." He shook his head in wonder. "God is great."
"I called the hotel earlier, and they told me Miss Dorn had checked out."
"She has gone to Paris. She wants to hire my boat again, but must get permission from her bosses."
Austin received the news of Kaela's departure with mixed feelings. He regretted not having had the chance to get to know Kaela better, but the lovely TV reporter would have been a distraction.
"What else did Miss Dorn say?"
"She told me what happened to Mehmet. She said men on horses shot at the TV people and killed my cousin." He frowned. "They are very bad men. Mehmet never hurt anyone."
"Yes, they are. Very bad men."
"She told me how you shot at them with your little plane. How many did you kill?"
"I'm not sure. There was one body."
"Good. Do you know who these people are who killed him?"
"No, but I intend to find out."
Kemal raised his eyebrows. "You are going back to that place?”
"If I can find a boat to take me there."
"But you have the big NUMA ship."
"It wouldn't be a good idea to use a government vessel." Austin glanced around at the Turgut. "I need something that won't attract attention."
The light of understanding dawned in the dark eyes. "Something like a fishing boat maybe?"