Ana stepped into the corridor, cleaned up the splinters, then refit the door. At a passing glance, it would look intact. She moved aft toward an open side hatch that drew a cool, outside breeze. She swayed with the rolling ship as she approached it and peered out.
Beneath a canopy of low clouds, an empty expanse of the Black Sea spread beyond the ship’s rail. A brown ripple of land on the horizon indicated they were either following the coastline or had just recently left Burgas.
She stuck her head through the hatch to survey the deck—and smacked into the chest of a passing crewman. The young deckhand wore the grease-stained coveralls of an engineer and toted a toolbox. He stared at Ana in surprise.
Keyed up for a confrontation, Ana grabbed him by the lapels and lunged to the side. Burdened by the heavy toolbox, the crewman tripped over Ana and fell awkwardly to the deck. Ana sprang up and kicked the man hard on the chin. Dazed, he was unable to defend himself from a flurry of additional kicks that finally laid him out.
Gasping for air, Ana spun around, expecting the short brawl had drawn attention. But the deck was empty. She grabbed the crewman by his feet, dragged him through the hatch, and left him in the corridor.
She knew her time was now even more limited. She rushed onto the deck, moving aft in search of a dinghy or shore boat. The moon pool sloshed to her right. Across it, an inflatable boat lay secured to the roof of an elevated stores bin. There was still no one around, so she sprinted around the moon pool. She made it halfway, then stopped in her tracks.
There it was.
She stared at the gray crate that had been pulled from the Crimean Star, presumably containing the HEU. The crew hadn’t bothered to move it after their hasty departure from Burgas—or had left it ready to be ditched underwater again if need be. Ana put a hand on the box and gave it a shove, feeling a heavy object inside.
Her heart began to race again. She stepped to the inflatable boat, untied its lashings, then pulled it flat to the deck. She checked the interior, found a full fuel tank, and connected its rubber line to the small outboard motor. Across the deck was a large cable winch, still attached to the crate. It was too con
spicuous to use. She found a small deck winch near the rail, likely for use with the boat. Her suspicions were confirmed when she found latches on the nearby rail that allowed a section to be lowered to the deck.
She quickly popped the latches, dropped the rail, and returned to the winch. Locating its power control, she activated the machine and fiddled with its control levers. She discovered the cable take-up and threw it into reverse. Then she stepped around the winch arm, grabbed the unwinding cable hook, and pulled it across the deck. Ana dragged it past the inflatable to the HEU crate, which still had a rope harnessed around it. She unhooked the main winch line, snapped on her own lift hook, and ran back to the controls. She reeled in the loose cable and watched as it dragged the crate across the deck. She pulled it close to the Zodiac, then halted the controls.
She muscled the crate into the inflatable and then reattached the line to a lift cable on the craft. She returned to the crane, hoisted the small boat off the deck, and swung the inflatable over the open rail until it dangled above the water. She was easing out the cable when a cry rang out behind her.
Hailing from across the deck, it was not a friendly call. The crewman who’d earlier wielded the Uzi was pointing at her and yelling. He wasn’t armed but gave her a menacing look and began running toward her. Ana pushed the cable release to high speed and stepped to the rail.
She didn’t stop to watch the inflatable drop to the sea nor did she hesitate at the rail. She had one chance only to escape and she didn’t falter. She stepped to the edge of the deck, grabbed the unspooling cable, and leaped over the side.
It was a fifteen-foot drop, and the inflatable reached the water first. Dropping hard, the Zodiac bounced violently, before jerking backward from the hull of the ship. Ana arrived a second later, catching the boat on the upswing as she struck an inflated side tube. Any later and she would have splashed into the water. Instead, she bounded up and into the bow, losing her grip on the cable as she crashed to the boat’s deck.
She tried to stand and re-grab the cable but was knocked to her knees when the inflatable careened against the ship’s hull. Despite the unreeling cable, the speed of the ship yanked the inflatable like a drunken water-skier. Ana rose to her knees, grabbed the cable hook, and pulled, but the tension was too tight. She looked up and saw that the crewman had reached the crane controls and reversed the line.
Ana remained patient as the boat was viciously tossed around. The savagery would be her savior. She clung to the hook, riding the bucking boat beneath her. She watched as the inflatable suddenly jerked forward, momentarily easing the cable’s tension. Instantly, she released the hook and heaved it skyward.
The inflatable fell back off the ship as the hook rattled against its sides. Ana moved to the stern and primed the outboard motor as she had seen her father do a thousand times, praying it would start. Luckily, with only two heaves on its pulley starter, the motor wheezed to life. She twisted the throttle grip to full and spun the boat toward shore.
She sped fifty meters before daring a glance over her shoulder, only to see the Besso gradually turn in her direction.
15
The dark smudge of land grew closer with agonizing slowness. A mile behind Ana, the gray silhouette of the Besso plowed after her, foam sputtering off the bow. With every passing second Ana was putting more distance between herself and the salvage ship. Of greater concern was a dark object off the ship’s bow that was quickly growing closer. She knew the Besso had more than one shore boat, and by the looks of it, the one chasing her was both bigger and faster.
Steering toward the closest apparent landfall, Ana spotted a ship slightly off her port bow. Over her shoulder, the pursuing boat had drawn closer. She could now identify it as a dirty orange Zodiac, appearing to be carrying three men.
The sight made her feel weak again and she momentarily lost her grip on the throttle. Twisting the rubber handle with an aching hand, she looked across the waves and saw a sudden cause for hope. The vessel ahead showed no wake. And then there was its color.
The ship was painted turquoise.
It was too good to be true. She recalled Pitt telling her the NUMA ship would be surveying near Burgas—and there it was.
Her joy was short-lived when the HEU crate in front of her began to disintegrate in a shower of splinters. Startled, then confused, she looked back and saw muzzle flashes from the pursuing Zodiac. The noise from her outboard was muffling the gunfire.
Ana ducked as low as she could, catching a sliver of wood in her cheek. But her attention was focused on a seam of holes appearing in one of the boat’s inflatable chambers.
As the deflating section sagged, she felt her speed drop. She was still yards ahead of the pursuing Zodiac, but the gunmen were no longer following directly behind. Instead, their boat was angling to her left. The orange inflatable would easily intercept her before she could reach the turquoise ship.
She looked at the approaching shoreline, but it also loomed out of reach. Then she noticed another boat, a small inflatable like hers, moored to a float. It was bobbing, empty, on the ocean, and had a large motor. If nothing else, at least it was fully inflated.
As another section of her own boat drooped from the gunfire, she nosed the bow toward the mystery boat and held her breath.