Sea of Greed

“We’ve been using long-exposure satellite images in hopes of catching a blur that could be Tessa’s plane,” Hiram said. “We’ve spotted one that doesn’t correspond with any listed airline or military flight plan. It puts her a hundred miles east of your position and closing fast. It would probably be wise for you vacate the area until we can provide defensive units and reestablish control.”

Kurt glanced at Rudi. “We just cut that sub open,” he said. “The entire vessel is sitting down there in one piece, completely intact, ready to be searched. If we leave now, they’ll land the Monarch, dive on the wreck and be gone with the countermeasure before anyone can even put up a speed trap.”

Hiram interjected, “But if you remain where you are, you’ll be destroyed and she’ll still get what she’s after.”

Rudi looked Kurt’s way. “I came here to help,” he said. “But if we can’t run and we can’t fight, then what are we going to do?”

An icy calm settled on Kurt. “We get the countermeasure out of that submarine and away from here, then leave her to pick over the bones.”

64

THIRTY MILES EAST of the Gryphon, a brightly painted fishing boat rolled on the gentle swells as the crewmen hauled in the nets they’d cast during the night.

It was hard labor and these men had come out much farther than their fellow fishermen to do it, but it was worth the effort because the catch was larger.

With the lead lines pulled in and attached, the captain threw the switch on an old winch, allowing it to do the rest of the job. It clanked to life, drawing the net upward. As it reached the surface, his men spoke excitedly in Arabic, marveling at the number of fish they’d caught.

The captain grinned, shut the winch off and stepped forward. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a strange whistling sound. It grew louder and closer on the far side of the boat, building to a crescendo and then crashing down on him as a huge winged shape thundered overhead.

It passed no more than a hundred feet above them, crossing the fishing boat from one side to the other. A maelstrom of wind followed it, tilting the boat, whipping the captain’s hat into the air and tossing one of the men into the sea.

• • •

FROM THE COCKPIT of the Monarch

, Tessa watched the small boat pass beneath them. She grinned at the thought of little men in the boat nearly being capsized by her passing.

“Austin won’t be so easy to impress,” Volke warned.

“He won’t have time to be impressed,” she said. “In fact, he’ll never know what hit him. Do we have satellite confirmation?”

“Patching it through now.”

A screen to her left flickered to life, revealing a detailed image from a commercial satellite service. The shot wasn’t quite military grade in terms of clarity, but it was close enough. It revealed the lethal little vessel NUMA called the Gryphon, sitting off the Libyan coast.

“They’re directly above a wreck,” Volke said.

“Can we zoom in?”

“Stand by.”

Volke tapped a few keys and the image pixelated and then refocused, much closer this time. A crane at the rear of the boat had been swung out over the transom, an arrowhead-shaped vehicle dangled beneath it.

“They’re deploying a submersible or ROV,” Tessa said. “It must be the Minerve.”

“They’re just getting started,” Volke replied. “We’ve caught them at the perfect time. They’re preoccupied and there isn’t another ship within thirty miles.”

Tessa turned to the pilot. “How soon can we get a missile lock?”

“We need them on radar,” the pilot said. “From this distance, we would have to climb to five thousand feet.”

“Any risks in doing that?”

“No,” the pilot said. “We’re invisible at this point.”

“Climb to five thousand feet, lock onto that boat and launch three missiles with staggered timing.”

“One missile will do the job,” Volke said. “Using three is—”

“Overkill,” Tessa said. “Which is exactly what I intend.”

65

NUMA VESSEL GRYPHON

KURT’S EYES were glued to a monitor every bit as intently as Tessa’s had been. One part of the screen showed the camera view around the Gryphon, another section showed the status of the boat itself, engines idling, foils waiting to be deployed. “Anything on radar?”

Sitting beside Kurt, Rudi was studying another screen. This one displayed a circular red image with a sweeping white line that moved around it in a clockwise direction.

“Nothing,” Rudi said. “But, then, that’s why she paid extra for a stealth aircraft.”