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Rassoulis frowned, staring out at the maelstrom raging around them. "I know. Getting it on board once it surfaces won't be easy." He turned to Vance, his expression dour. "We can't put a Zodiac down in this sea, and I don't want to risk sending divers in either. It's going to be hard enough getting the ROV back, but at least it's tethered and mobile." He paused, evaluating the rapidly deteriorating conditions, before seemingly making up his mind. "We won't be able to bring it up today. We'll leave the floats down there and come back for it when the storm clears."

Vance looked incredulous. "We have to bring it up now," he insisted. "We might not get another chance."

"What are you talking about?" Rassoulis shot back. "No one's going to come out here and steal it 178

from under us in this weather. We'll come back for it as soon as the weather allows it."

"No!" Vance burst out angrily. "We have to do it now!"

Rassoulis cocked his head back, surprised by the tone of Vance's outburst. "Look, I'm not risking anyone's life over this. We're heading back, and that's it." His eyes bored sharply into Vance's for a second before he turned to Attal. "Bring Dori up as quickly as you can," he snapped. But before he could issue any more orders, something attracted his attention. It was the familiar, guttural thumping of helicopter blades. Tess heard it too, and, from Vance's scowl, it was obvious he had as well.

They grabbed some Windbreakers and stepped out onto the narrow deck outside the bridge. The wind had risen to a full gale, and sheets of rain were now sweeping in with it. Tess shielded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the turbulent sky, and she soon spotted it.

"There," she yelled, pointing at it.

It was skimming the water, heading straight for them. Within seconds, it was on them, bathtub white and with a wide diagonal red stripe, thundering over their heads before arcing up and banking for another pass. It slowed as it neared the ship, then hovered in place alongside the Savarona's port side, fighting the wind, its rotor wash blasting the sea and kicking up a swirling plume of water off the crests of the foaming waves. Tess could clearly make out the Turkish Coast Guard markings on its fuselage and could see the pilot talking into his microphone as his eyes moved over the vessel.

He then pointed at his headset, gesturing vigorously for them to pick up their radio.

***

On the Karadeniz's bridge, Reilly saw De Angelis's face light up. The report from the helicopter confirmed the contact to be a diving ship. Despite the gravely worsening conditions, it was holding position. The pilot could see activity on the deck around the crane, indicating the imminent recovery of a submersible of some sort. He had also spotted the two target figures on its deck, and their descriptions clearly left no doubt in the monsignor's mind.

"I've asked him to establish radio contact with them," Karakas told De Angelis. "What do you want me to tell them?"

De Angelis didn't hesitate. "Tell them they're about to get hit by a storm of biblical proportions,"

he answered flatly. "Tell them they should get out of there if they want to live."

Reilly studied De Angelis's face, and it only confirmed the uncompromising threat he had read into the monsignor's reply. The man was determined not to let them escape with what they had come for, at any cost. He'd already shown his callous disregard for human life when it came to protecting the Church's big secret. Everyone's expendable, he had stated in no uncertain terms back in Turkey.

Reilly had to step in. "Our first priority should be their safety," he countered. "There's a whole diving crew out there."

"My point, exactly," De Angelis calmly replied.

"They don't have too many options," Karakas pointed out. He studied the radar screen, which showed the numerous blips clearing out of the area. "The storms have them boxed in from the north and the south. They can either head east, where we've got two patrol boats waiting to pick them up, or they can come west toward us. Either way, we've got them. I doubt they'd have much luck trying to outrun us in that." His smile wasn't particularly humorous. It occurred to Reilly that Karakas might actually relish a chase, which, combined with De Angelis's sanguine predisposition, didn't bode well.

He glanced toward the foredeck and the 23mm automatic cannon mounted there and felt a surge of unease. He had to alert Tess and those with her as to what they were up against.

"Let me talk to them," Reilly blurted out.

De Angelis glanced at him, nonplussed by his request.

"You wanted me to help," Reilly pressed on. "They don't know we're out here. They also might not be aware of the full scale of the storm that's about to hit them. Let me talk to them, convince them to follow us to shore."

Karakas didn't look like he cared, either way. He looked at De Angelis for guidance.

The monsignor held Reilly's gaze with cold, calculating eyes, then nodded his acquiescence. "Give him a mike," he ordered.

***

Tess's heart leaped into her throat when she heard Reilly's voice on the ship's radio. She grabbed the microphone from Rassoulis.

"Sean, it's Tess." She was breathless, her pulse pounding in her temples. "Where are you?"

The helicopter had long since peeled off and headed back, disappearing quickly into the dark, rain-swept sky.

"We're not far," Reilly's voice came crackling back. "I'm on a patrol boat, about fifteen nautical miles west of you. We have two other boats to your east. Listen to me, Tess. You need to drop whatever you're doing and get the hell out of there. The two storm fronts are about to collide right on top of you. You need to head west right now on a course of," he paused, seemingly waiting for the information before coming back with, "two seven zero. That's two, seven, zero. We'll meet you and escort you back to Marmaris."

Tess noticed Rassoulis looking uncertainly at Vance, who grew visibly riled. Before she could answer Reilly, the captain took the mike from her. "This is George Rassoulis, the captain of the Savarona. Who am I talking to?"

Some static followed, then Reilly's voice came back. "My name's Sean Reilly. I'm with the FBI."

Tess saw Rassoulis's expression darken as he shot a dubious look at the professor. Vance just stood there, immobile, before turning away and taking a few steps toward the back of the bridge.

Without taking his eyes off Vance, the captain asked, "What's the FBI doing warning a Greek diving ship about a storm in the middle of the Mediterranean?"

Vance answered for him, his back still turned. "They're here for me," he said with surprising indifference. When he turned, Tess saw that he was holding a handgun aimed at Rassoulis. "I think we've heard enough from our friends at the FBI." And with that, he fired two shots into the radio.

Tess screamed as sparks and debris came arcing out of it. The static coming from the speaker instantly died out.

"Now," he hissed, his eyes seething with barely contained rage, "can we all get back to the business at hand?"

Chapter 76

Tess's entire body went rigid. She felt as if her legs were nailed to the floor of the cockpit and could only stand quietly in her corner and watch as Vance took a few menacing steps toward Rassoulis and ordered him to initiate the recovery sequence for the figurehead.

"It's pointless," the captain argued. "I'm telling you we can't get it on board, not in these conditions."

"Hit the damn button," Vance insisted, "or I'll do it for you." He glowered at Attal, who was still sitting at the command console of the ROV, his fingers frozen against the joystick.

The engineer glanced at his captain, and Rassoulis relented, nodding slightly. Attal nudged the controls. On the monitor, the image from Doris camera grew smaller as the ROV receded, then, one after another, the orange lift bags started to inflate, blowing up to full girth within seconds. At first, the falcon didn't seem to move, stubbornly resisting the upward pull of the large floats. Then all of a sudden, in a burst of sand, it rose up like an uprooted tree trunk, trailing a swirling cloud of the sediment that had settled around it over the centuries. Attal guided the ROV up in a parallel climb, keeping the hazy, otherworldly image of the rising figurehead on-screen.