“A Russian-flagged vessel might be best,” Hendriks said.
“We might be able to acquire something out of Sochi,” Mankedo said.
“That will take too long,” Hendriks said. “I wish to strike soon. What about Turkey? Or a foreign ship?”
“A foreign ship, you say?” Vasko gave Mankedo a hard, knowing look. “I think I know just the vessel.”
20
It was late the next day when Ana received the word from the Bulgarian authorities that she was waiting to hear. Climbing the steps to the Macedonia’s bridge, she found Pitt and Giordino and relayed the news. “Bulgarian Army scientists have confirmed that the canister contains twenty-two kilos of weapons-grade highly enriched uranium.”
“So it was the real deal,” Pitt said.
“Enough to construct a sophisticated nuclear weapon, I’m told. It matches the material stolen from the Sevastopol Institute of Nuclear Energy in 2014.”
“Congratulations on its recovery,” Giordino said. “Do you know where the stuff was headed?”
“We suspect it was originally bound for a weapons dealer in Syria. But we’re still behind the curve in identifying its more recent owners. It seems our bald friend managed to elude the police yesterday.”
“What about his two associates?” Pitt asked.
Ana shook her head. “Neither was carrying any identification. Forensics has come up empty in matching anything in the Bulgarian databases. One was carrying Ukrainian coins in his pocket, so we suspect they were foreign workers operating under the radar.”
“That still leaves the Besso,” Giordino said.
“A more hopeful source,” Ana said. “The ship is registered in Malta to a shell company, but the Burgas harbormaster reports she has been a familiar sight in these waters. With some canvassing of the nearby port towns, we should be able to track her down.”
Captain Stenseth stepped over and joined the conversation. “If you really want to find her, just stay aboard the Macedonia a few more days,” he said with a laugh. “We can’t seem to avoid her.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, but I’m happier with solid ground under my feet. Are you still intending to sail to Burgas?”
“Just as soon as we’re cleared to depart.”
“I’ll pay a visit to the Balchik police chief and make sure that takes place right away.”
The NUMA ship was on the move within the hour and reached the port of Burgas just after sundown. Giordino joined Pitt and Ana on the bridge as the Macedonia nudged into an open berth and cast its mooring lines.
Giordino frowned. “I’m told our submersible parts won’t be delivered until morning.”
“Guess that means we have the night off,” Pitt said.
“Why don’t you two come with me to visit Petar?” Ana said. “He’d be happy to see you.”
“He could probably use some cheering up,” Pitt said.
The three made their way down the gangway, where they encountered Dimitov exiting the ship.
“Where are you off to, Professor?” Pitt asked.
“I’m going to call on my associate and see what we can find about your mysterious aviator. The ship isn’t leaving soon, is it?”
“We’ll be here at least until midday tomorrow,” Pitt said. “We won’t leave without you.”
Pitt hailed a taxi to the MBAL Burgas Hospital a mile away, where Ralin had a private room on the third floor. Ana peeked into his room and found him fast asleep. Letting him rest, the trio hiked a short way to a café for dinner, where they dined on grilled Black Sea turbot.
When they returned to his room, Ralin was groggy but awake. At the sight of Ana, his face lit up.
“I heard about Lieutenant Dukova,” he said, “but they told me nothing about you.”