Silent Thunder

NINETEEN

MIDIA, TURKEY

Where the hell was that statue? Eugenia wondered impatiently. It had to be here. She'd gotten vague directions from the head of the artist colony in Athens, but his information had been entered in their directory in 1937, and the statue could have crumbled into dust in that time. No, the torn and faded brochure she'd picked up on the porch of the tourist agency had listed it as the gem of their historical collection.

Some gem, she thought. This tiny park in the middle of town that was supposed to house the tribute to the Argonauts was deserted and overgrown. She doubted if anyone came here anymore, including passing tourists. One look at this tangle of brush, and they would pass on to greener pastures, or maybe that more welcoming coffeehouse down the street.

She shone the beam of her flashlight around the area in front of her. More overgrown brush and low-hanging branches. How could she find the damn-

There it was!

A glimpse of gray stone in the depths of green foliage in the path to the left.

She moved forward eagerly. No, not smart. She cautiously slowed her pace. This park might not be as deserted as it seemed. Danzyl might have made the connection too.

She played the beam around the surrounding area as she went toward the statue.

No sign of anyone.

No movement in the brush.

No sound…

Okay, but that didn't mean Danzyl might not be on her heels. Take the picture and get out.

She shined the flashlight on the statue. Jason with his arm raised in triumph, holding the Golden Fleece.

She took the picture and lowered the beam to the base. The same symbol that was on the other statue and another inscription. She took the picture of it and moved closer to get a better shot.

A rustle in the bushes to the left…

She dove forward and hit the ground rolling.

A bullet struck the ground next to her.

Jesus, she was a sitting duck.

She rolled behind the statue and got to her knees.

The stone splintered as a bullet struck the statue beside her head.

But she had a fix on where the bullet came from now.

Don't move, you son of bitch, she entreated silently. Just let me get one shot before you come in for the kill.

Another shot. From the same direction.

Yes!

She sprayed the area with a barrage of four bullets.

She waited.

No return fire.

Had she gotten him? Or was it a trick?

She waited.

Okay, go in and see for yourself.

She carefully moved to the other side of the statue and dove into the brush.

She lay there, breathing shallowly, listening.

Nothing.

She scouted around the underbrush toward the bush from where the gunfire had come.

Blood, dark and gleaming in the moonlight as it ran from behind the bush toward the path.

But blood didn't always mean dead.

But this time it did.

Danzyl was lying on his side with a bullet in his temple and another in his throat.

Lucky. Those had been lucky shots.

But how lucky had she been? Had Danzyl been here before she had arrived, or had he come right behind her? One way to tell.

She searched his pocket and pulled out his picture cell phone.

She searched his cell phone memory.

"Shit!"

Photo transmitted.

BOSTON

7:32 P.M.

According to the information Dananka was able to pull out of his computer, Miriam Frey was divorced, in her early forties, and lived alone with her son in a two-story house in a small subdivision twenty minutes from Cathy Bryson's home. Neither she nor her ex-husband had ever registered a firearm. Perfect.

He could already see how this would play out. The maternal instinct would destroy this woman. She would neglect her own safety for that of two children who weren't even hers. He'd seen it happen too many times. It would be a simple matter to dispatch her, scoop up the kids, and get the hell away. In and out in less than ten minutes.

He parked beside the detached garage and crept toward the back windows. A TV blared from the living room. He peered inside and saw a children's cartoon playing on the screen.

But no Miriam Frey, no kids.

He looked up at the second floor. Two lights upstairs-a bedroom and bath, he guessed. Bedtime for the kiddies?

He checked the back door. Locked, and he spotted a cheap alarm system wiring the door. It took him a few more minutes disabling it.

He was in the house.

He pulled out his automatic and moved quietly through the kitchen.

Thump.

Thump.

It came from upstairs. He cocked his head, listening.

Thump.

He smiled. I'm on my way, young ones…

He slowly climbed the stairs.

Thump.

Running water in the bathroom. Ah, of course. Bath time.

The thumping came from the same place.

He moved down the hallway to the open door of the bathroom.

The bathtub water was running, but the small room was empty. He stepped closer to the tub.

Thump. Thump.

He finally saw the noise's source. A battery operated floating duck, repeatedly ramming itself against the tub's inner wall.

No one here. They must all be in the bedroom.

He turned toward the doorway.

Thump. Thump.

Those two sounded… different.

Pain. He went cold and couldn't move. His breath left him. His gun slipped from his numb fingers.

What the hell?

He glanced down. Two red stains were spreading across his chest.

The door of the linen closet swung wide. A man stood there holding a smoking gun equipped with a silencer. Bradworth. It was Bradworth. He smiled. "One last wish for a happy afterlife?"

Dananka's last memory was the flash as he raised the muzzle and the dull sound that came with it.

Thump.

Good riddance.

Bradworth ran down the steps to the basement.

"It's all right, Preston," he said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Except for the cleanup. How are the kids?"

He nodded at the two children, who were huddled over a game table with Miriam Frey. "Playing checkers and complaining because there's no TV down here." He paused. "I'm sorry you had to be involved, Bradworth."

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Kirov. He made me a deal." He looked at the kids. "And for them. I've got a couple kids myself that I don't get to see near enough. The helpless have more rights than the rest of us. I have no problem killing filth who go after children." He turned to go back upstairs. "I'm calling a mop-up squad and telling them to get out here and get rid of that body. It's not something the kids should see."

"Could I help?" Preston asked. "It would be good to do something besides act as babysitter."

He gave him a cool glance. "I was wondering whether I should let you do that. But I wouldn't have found you here yourself mounting guard if you were a Judas. You'd have wanted clean hands."

"I didn't like the idea of sending away those guards."

"If he'd seen we had security, it would have tipped him, and he would have called Pavski. This way we had only one scumbag to eliminate. No problem."

His lips twisted as he looked down at his hands. "Clean hands. Instead, I let you get yours dirty."

"It doesn't matter. Vermin have to be smashed." He shrugged as he started up the stairs. "And this time I got to be Superman, saving the world. That's not half-bad."

Kirov's phone rang as they were getting in the rental car waiting at the small airport at Rock Bay Harbor.

He glanced at the ID. "Bradworth." He listened for a moment. "Thanks, Bradworth. No, I won't tell you what I'm doing. Yes, I know I owe you. I'm sure you're not going to let me forget it." He hung up and turned to Hannah. "Pavski sent one of his goons after the kids, but they're safe now. He said Preston turned out to be legitimate."

"Good." She added, "And if Pavski heard where the kids were being kept, then he must have bought the telephone call to Cathy. He knows where we're headed. He'll take the bait."

"I can hear him snapping now…" Kirov murmured as he started the car.

The phone rang again when he was only a block away from the airport. Eugenia. This time he put it on speaker.

"I've sent you a photo of the second statue," Eugenia said quickly. "It was a statue of Jason holding high the fleece. On the base it had the same symbol and the inscription read. Journey forth but always seek within to find the true treasure." She paused. "I'm sorry, but I didn't get Danzyl in time. He transmitted a photo of the statue to Pavski. He probably has it now. How bad could it be? That one line doesn't seem to mean much."

"I don't know. Don't worry. Get the hell out of there. You've done your job." He hung up the phone. "Let's just hope that picture doesn't trigger anything for Pavski. We don't want him distracted."

"I don't see how it could." She frowned. "Let's see. The line on the first statue was Look not for riches on the surface of life. On the second Journey forth, but always seek within to find the true treasure. Eugenia was right, it's not much to work with. I can't see how Heiser could think his father would…" She trailed off. "My God."

Kirov glanced sharply at her. "What?"

"Where are my charts I made of those plates?"

"In my duffel in the backseat. Why?"

She was on her knees and grabbing the duffel. "I need to look at them." She unzipped the duffel and rummaged until she found the tube of rolled-up stationery. "I think I may-" She broke off as she saw something in the bottom of the duffel. "Dynamite?"

He shrugged. "You can never tell when you might want to toss a few sticks at the undesirable elements we seem to be encountering."

"Where did you get it?" She answered her own question. "Niler's place. You certainly didn't limit yourself to what you needed in Florida. You must have snagged all he had."

"I figured he wouldn't need it. Though I had to use a private jet to avoid security." He changed the subject. "Why do you need the charts?"

"I need to check the third plate for the destination. Could it be close to Midia?"

"Yes. Somewhere near the Turkish-Bulgarian coast."

"That used to be Thrace, didn't it?"

He nodded.

"Then it could be…" Excitement was mounting, growing with every second. "Look, in the legend, the Argonauts had to travel to Thrace for Phineas to tell them how to get the treasure. On the back of those bulkhead plates, Heiser's coordinates lead to what used to be Thrace. What if that's where we need to go to get the location of this treasure, too? But in this case, it's the Silent Thunder that will tell us."

His eyes were narrowed on her face. "Go on."

"Think about it. Heiser was a computer genius, and you said he was a master of that navigation system. It's not too far-fetched to think that he may have buried some lines of code in there to display a message that reveals itself only when triggered by a specific event."

Kirov nodded slowly. "An event like the sub's compass registering the set of coordinates noted on the bulkhead plates?"

She nodded. "The Argo had to go to Midia to find the Golden Fleece. Heiser leaves a map next to Silent Thunder's navigational computer that leads to the exact same place." She drew a deep breath. "But he wasn't sure his father would get it. His father wasn't a sailor, he was a professor of literature. He didn't think the same way. So he dredged up those memories from his childhood to let him know that those plates weren't the answer. He was to journey forth, but he had to look within for the answer."

"Within the navigation computer."

"I think I'm right, Kirov," she said eagerly. "I think I can find it."

"If we have time." He grimaced. "I could have wished we'd figured this out before we deliberately set Pavski to follow us to the sub."

"Just get me there. I'll pull out the information, and we can make sure Pavski can't get into the computer. We can't take a chance on that happening. What if there's a screwup? What if he somehow manages to get away? You said he'd done it before." Her hands clenched. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Maybe he won't figure it out."

"You did. All you needed was that final clue to nudge you. Pavski's very smart. He has the plates. He has the inscription Danzyl sent. He's been thinking of nothing but a way to get that cradle all his life. We'd have to be damn lucky."

"I won't let him get his hands on it, Kirov," she said fiercely. "Not for a second. He killed my brother to get it. He's not going to have it."

"We've set it up so that he thinks he has a good reason to go after us now. If he knows the final answer is definitely in that computer, nothing will stop him."

"Then that's even better. Get me there, let me take it out of the computer. Just give me a little time."

Kirov stepped on the accelerator. "I'll give you what time I can. After that we do what we planned. We go after Pavski."

The navigation computer.

Pavski inhaled sharply as he continued to gaze down at the photo of the statue he'd received on the helicopter ten minutes ago.

It could be what the quote meant.

It was what the quote meant. He felt it in his bones.

And if there was no fourth plate, then Kirov was luring him to the sub as a trap.

It didn't matter.

The Silent Thunder was now exactly where Pavski wanted to be. Nothing on earth or hell would keep him off that sub. He'd been planning on a certain amount of caution in his approach. No longer. He'd blast anyone who tried to stop him to hell.

The cradle was there, waiting for him.

No sign of Pavski." Hannah looked up and down the pier as she jumped out of the car. "I was afraid he might beat us here."

"He can't be far behind." Kirov was beside her by the time they reached the blue iron gate that now cordoned off the submarine exhibit's loading ramp.

A ruddy-faced guard held up his hands. "Whoa there. Let's stop and-"

"I'm Hannah Bryson." She shoved her ID badge toward him. "Has anyone else been here yet today?"

"Uh, no." He frowned. "Ms. Bryson, I didn't know you were scheduled to-"

"Change of plans. Are you the only guard on duty?"

"No. James is taking a walk-around in the museum."

"Give me the key to the gate leading to the gangplank." Kirov took two walkie-talkies from the security station next to him and tossed one to Hannah. "Hurry."

The guard handed the key to him. "I could unlock it for-"

"No, I'm keeping the key." Kirov unlocked the gate, pushed Hannah through, and locked it behind them. "Get that other guard over here. The two of you take cover and radio us if anyone else comes and tries to board the sub."

"Take cover? Sir, we're armed. No one is getting on the sub who we don't want to get on."

"There may be a lot of firepower coming this way," Hannah said. "Get help and take cover, dammit. Don't make yourself an easy target."

The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie. "James, I need you at the Silent Thunder loading ramp ASAP."

"Copy that. I'm on my way."

"The aft hatch, Hannah," Kirov said curtly as he ran toward the sub. A moment later they were moving through the narrow C-Deck corridor, past the galley, and finally to the control room.

Kirov stared at the dark instrument plates. "There's no power." He glanced around. "But the lights are on."

Hannah nodded. "We tapped an AC landline to power the illumination and ventilation systems, and we dropped a few outlets so we could use our tools." She switched on a small color monitor that relayed a security-camera image from the conning tower. "I was hoping that they'd managed to power the other systems by now."

"Well, they haven't. We're literally dead in the water."

"Not for long." Hannah moved quickly toward the corridor. "I'll start the diesel engine. That will generate the power we need."

"Is there fuel?"

"The tanks were almost full when it arrived."

"Hurry." His gaze lifted to the video monitor focusing on the pier. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

Hannah ran the length of the sub until she reached an iron ladder that took her two floors below to the engineering room. She passed the empty compartments that once housed the twin nuclear reactors, then finally stepped in front of the auxiliary power panel.

She flipped the conductor and ignition switches. A low rumbling shook the sub. After another moment, sharp diesel fumes wafted up to her.

She grabbed the red boot handle and pushed it upward, activating the main power generator.

The engineering plates lit up!

"All systems go, Hannah," Kirov called. "The navigational computer is booting up."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I'm on my way back."

Hannah ran into the control room. "Is the navigational computer online yet?"

"It's still booting up. Remember, this system probably has only a tenth of the power as a child's modern PlayStation console." Kirov stiffened as he glanced at the security monitor. "He's here."

"What?"

"Pavski."

Hannah looked up to see a van roaring through the museum parking lot. The guard stood at his post, but his gun was drawn and at his side.

"That fool," Kirov muttered. "I told him-" He spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Take cover, dammit."

No answer from the guard.

The van bore down on the guard, showing no sign of slowing down.

"It's too late," Kirov said.

They watched, speechless, as the guard raised his gun. Before he could fire a single shot, the van struck him. His lifeless body crumpled against the fence.

Hannah looked away. Christ almighty.

"Are all hatches secured?" Kirov asked.

"My God…"

"I need you here, Hannah. Are the hatches secured?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Kirov turned back to the monitor. Four men jumped from the van and rushed toward the iron gate that led to the sub's gangplank. "Pavski and three others." He asked curtly, "Do you really think you can trick this computer into believing the Silent Thunder has traveled to the coordinates on those plates?"

Hannah turned to the navigation panel. "Yes, but it's going to take time."

"We don't have time."

Hannah glanced at the monitor. One of Pavski's men had fired up a blowtorch and was using it on the gate.

Kirov pulled out his automatic and checked the magazine. "He'll be through that gate in two minutes and through the hatch five minutes after that."

"There's got to be a way that-" Hannah glanced desperately around the control panel. "Maybe we can-" Her mind was racing. She stiffened as a thought came to her. Crazy.

Not so crazy. But, Jesus, could it work?

Kirov's gaze was narrowed on her face. "What?"

"Let's take her out."

Kirov went still. "By out, you mean…"

"Out. Out to sea. It'll buy me the time I need with the computer."

"This is a fifteen-thousand-ton attack submarine. You think that just the two of us can-"

"Yes!" She punched the security-camera switch, which offered a view of the bow, the exterior fence, at the harbor beyond. "You take the conn, and I'll man the engine room. We'll head straight out with as much power as we can. No turns, no dives, nothing fancy. Then we'll work on the navigational computer."

"You know Pavski will come after us."

"I'm counting on it." She smiled into his eyes. "Aren't you?"

He nodded slowly. "One last mission…"

"We can do it."

"Once more into the breach, old girl?" Kirov said softly as he glanced around the command room.

The commander was back, Hannah thought. She could almost feel the authority, the dynamic force, the love for the sub that had driven him all those years ago. She cleared her throat. "When you say 'old girl,' you'd better be talking to the sub."

He didn't answer.

"She deserves one last voyage. Doesn't she, Captain?"

Kirov nodded. "Aye. She deserves it."

Watch out!"

Pavski pulled Koppel down as the second guard's bullets pinged against the iron gate. Pavski whirled around with his AK-47, but one of his other men blew the guard away before he could even line up his shot.

Koppel shrugged off Pavski's hands and swung the blowtorch away from his midsection. "Be careful, dammit. You almost roasted my nuts off." He adjusted his goggles and continued cutting through the gate.

The Silent Thunder's diesel engines rumbled louder. The water off its stern churned and foamed.

Koppel froze and looked up. "What the hell's happening?"

Pavski began to curse in disbelief.

The steel cables snapped, whipping ferociously around Pavski and the men on the pier.

The iron mooring posts exploded from the concrete.

Then, as if awakening from a long slumber, the Silent Thunder groaned and slowly moved toward the fence separating it from the harbor.