The radio sounded again. “Pablo, the submersible has surfaced.”

The man in black cursed as he looked over the side, seeing the crown of the submersible. Pocketing the radio, he grabbed Gunn by the collar and marched him to the lift crane. “Raise your friends out of the water, but don’t bring them aboard the ship.” He stepped back, keeping his weapon drawn.

As Gunn reached for the controls, he searched for a way to warn Pitt. The idea was abandoned when he felt the Glock pressed against his spine. Gunn attached the recovery clamp, raised the submersible, and stood by helplessly as he left it suspended in the air.

A few seconds later, the old barge bumped against the Drake’s stern. A fourth gunman, also wearing dark clothes and carrying a pistol, raced across the deck and jumped onto the Drake. He stepped over to Pablo, breathing heavily. His shirt was ripped, and a trace of blood trickled from his lower lip.

“What happened to you?” Pablo asked.

“The captain gave me some trouble, at first.”

Pablo shook his head and frowned. “Get the crate aboard. Now!”

The new gunman meekly joined the other two in hoisting the box recovered from the Cuttlefish and placing it on their boat. Gunn suddenly thought of Ann and realized she wasn’t on deck.

The leader of the assault team turned to Gunn, waving his Glock. “Do not follow us or call for help or we shall return and kill you all.” Pablo smiled at Gunn, his dark eyes glistening. “Thank you for your assistance.” He stepped to the rail without looking back and climbed onto his boat.

Pitt and Giordino were forced to watch the drama from the confines of the submersible. Though they could have exited the sub’s hatch, they would have had a precarious leap to get aboard the Drake. Before they could act, it was all over.

Watching Pablo step over the rail, Pitt detected a movement at the forward part of the ship. He turned to Al. “Did you see something go off the side, near the bridge?”

“No,” Giordino said. “I was keeping tabs on the guy who pulled the gun on Rudi.”

They watched as Pablo boarded the powerboat and it pulled away from the Drake. But as it turned and sped toward shore, they caught a glimpse of its opposite deck in the fading light.

Giordino poked a finger at the view port. “Is that what I think it is?”

Pitt had seen it too and he nodded.

It was the outstretched figure of a drenched blond woman, hiding on the narrow side deck of the boat as it thundered toward Mexico.

14

GUNN WASTED NO IN TIME HOISTING THE SUBMERSIBLE aboard as Pitt and Giordino waited at the open hatch.

“Is everyone all right?” Pitt asked.

“No one was hurt,” Gunn replied. “They threatened to kill us if we call for help or pursue them.”

“Who were they?” Giordino asked.

Gunn shook his head. “I have no clue. The leader was called Pablo. They came for that box you guys lifted from the Cuttlefish. Any idea what was in it?”

“No,” Pitt said, “but I think Ann does. How did she get aboard their boat?”

“Ann? I thought she was in her cabin.”

“We saw her hiding beside the wheelhouse of their boat as it stormed away,” Giordino said.

Gunn turned pale. “They may kill her if they catch her.”

“Call the Coast Guard,” Pitt said. “Maybe they have a drug interdiction patrol boat nearby. But don’t say anything about Ann, in case they’re listening in. Al and I will try and track them in the inflatable.”

“Not going to happen,” Gunn said. “They shot up the bridge radio and the inflatable. We’ve got some handheld radios I can make the call with, but you’re out of luck with the RIB.”

“What about the barge?” Giordino said.

“First we better check out the pilot. I think they may have roughed him up.”

“Rudi, you go make the call,” Pitt said. “Al and I will check the barge.”

Pitt and Giordino ran to the stern rail. The bow of the barge was pressing alongside just below the deck, the older vessel pushing the research ship at a turtle’s pace. They jumped aboard and sprinted the length of its oily deck to the small wheelhouse at the stern. They heard a dog growl as they approached and stepped inside.

A gray-haired man knelt by the helm, holding his palm against a bloody gash along his hairline. A black-and-tan dachshund stood guard in front of him and barked at the intruders.

“Hush, Mauser,” the man said.

“Are you all right, old-timer?” Pitt helped the man to his feet after easing past the dachshund. He nearly matched Pitt’s six-foot-three height, but carried a few more pounds.

“That son of a gun walked in out of nowhere and started smashing my radio.” As the old man spoke, clarity returned to his blue eyes. “I gave him a good lick, but he got me with the butt of his pistol.”

Giordino found a first-aid kit and applied a bandage to the man’s wound.

“Thanks, son. Who were those guys, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Pitt said, “but one of our people is aboard their boat. Do you have a launch we can borrow?”

“There’s a small Zodiac out back. Not much for an engine, but help yourself.”

The captain gazed out the windshield—and realized the barge was pushing the Drake. “Deuces! Let me back off your vessel before you boys cut loose.”

He briefly jammed the throttle in reverse, then shifted to neutral. Turning to Pitt, he raised his brows with worry. “You watch yourself with them.”

“Will do.”

Pitt nodded at the man, then turned to follow Giordino out the door. As he exited the wheelhouse, he noticed the old man’s commercial master’s license hanging on the bulkhead. Seeing the name Clive Cussler printed on the document, Pitt wrinkled his brow, then hurried onto the deck.

Giordino had already unlashed the small inflatable from the wheelhouse. Rather than take the time to lower it over the side with a winch, the two men manhandled it over the rail, then climbed aboard. Pitt primed the outboard motor, then gave a few tugs on the starter pulley, bringing the engine to life. Easing the throttle to full, he turned away from the barge and headed toward shore.

The Mexican powerboat was still visible in the growing darkness, and Pitt set an angle of pursuit along its path. But they were in a losing race, as the cabin cruiser beat the waves a good ten knots faster than the little Zodiac. All Pitt could do was try to keep them in sight long enough to determine where they would put ashore.

“I hope you remembered to bring our passports,” Giordino shouted. Their southeasterly tack had them on a clear course for the Mexican mainland.

“I wish I had remembered to bring an RPG instead.”

Giordino had already searched the Zodiac; their only potential weapon was a small anchor. But Pitt had no intention of going head-to-head with the armed thieves. His only concern was for Ann’s safety.

As the faint shape of the powerboat faded in the distance, he thought about the plucky NCIS agent and wondered what on earth she actually planned to do.

15

LYING SOAKED AS SHE CLUTCHED THE RAIL OF THE cabin cruiser, Ann was asking herself the same question. She wanted to commandeer the boat and sail it to San Diego, but that was a tall order against four armed men. She felt along her back at the waist, making sure the holster containing a SIG Sauer P239 had survived the plunge into the ocean.

Her decision to sneak aboard the Mexican boat had been driven more by adrenaline than strategy. She was exiting one of the ship’s labs while searching for a secure place to store Heiland’s crate when she saw Pablo on deck, pulling a pistol on Gunn. She ducked into a companionway, slipped down to her cabin, and retrieved her own weapon. When one of the gunmen drew everyone’s attention by blasting the Drake’s inflatable, she crept up to the bridge—only to find the ship’s radio destroyed. While the crew had been startled by the attack, she knew why the gunmen had appeared. They were after the crate. It, not Eberson’s body, was the real reason Ann was aboard.