"Take a look at the waterline on that bucket."

Giordino studied the portside hull of the fishing boat, noting that it rode low in the water.

"Looks like she's sinking already," he said.

"She won't have much chance against a thirty-foot wave," Pitt remarked. "You're going to have to put me on the deck."

Giordino didn't bother questioning the wisdom of the request or protesting the danger to Pitt. He knew it would be a futile gesture. Pitt was like an overgrown Boy Scout who wouldn't take no for an answer when helping an old lady across the street. He would put his own safety last in order to help others, regardless of the risk. With a steady hand on the controls, Giordino inched the helicopter in a tight circle around the boat, searching for a spot he could touch down and offload Pitt. But the old vessel would not cooperate. A tall wooden mast ran up from the wheelhouse a dozen feet, shielding the boat like a lance.

With its forty-two-foot-diameter rotors, there wasn't a place on the boat the helicopter could hover without striking the mast.

"I can't get in tight enough with that mast. You'd have to swim it or risk a twenty-foot drop without breaking a leg," Giordino said.

Pitt surveyed the derelict black boat with its crowd of occupants who still stared up in confusion. "I'm not ready for a swim just yet," he said, contemplating the frigid lake water. "But if you can put me on that mast, I'll do my best fireman's imitation."

The thought seemed crazy, Giordino thought, but he was right. If he could maneuver the helicopter up tight to the mast from above, Pitt could grab hold and slide down to the deck. A tough enough maneuver over land, Giordino knew the attempt over a moving and rocking boat could knock the chopper out of the sky if he wasn't careful.

Pulling the Kamov up till its wheels hung ten feet above the mast, Giordino gently inched the helicopter forward until its passenger door was directly above the mast. Lightly stroking the throttle control, he adjusted the chopper's speed until it precisely matched that of the moving boat. Satisfied he was tracking together, he slowly lowered the helicopter until it hung just three feet above the mast.

"With the boat rocking, I'll have to take just a quick dip to get you down," Giordino said through the headset. "Sure you can climb back up, so I can pull you off?"

"I'm not planning on coming back," Pitt replied matter-of-factly. "Give me a second, and I'll guide you down."

Pitt took off his headset, then reached down and pulled out the red duffel bag at his feet. Opening the cockpit door to a rush of air from the rotors, he casually tossed the bag out, watching it land with a bounce on the wheelhouse roof. Pitt then dangled his feet out the door and motioned with one hand for Giordino to hold steady. The mast swung brusquely back and forth from the rocking motion of the boat, but Pitt quickly got a feel for the rhythm. When it slowed between swells, Pitt dropped his palm to Giordino. The pilot instantly dipped the helicopter three feet and, in a flash, Pitt was gone out the door.

Giordino didn't wait to see if Pitt had successfully connected with the mast but immediately lifted the helicopter up and away from the fishing boat. Gazing out the side window in relief, he saw Pitt with his arms grappled to the top of the mast, slowly sliding his way down.

" Vereshchagin to airborne unit, over," burst the voice of Rudi Gunn through Giordino's ears.

"What's up, Rudi?"

"Just wanted to give you a status on the wave. It's now traveling at one hundred thirty-five miles per hour, with a wave height cresting at thirty-four feet. It has passed the Selenga River delta, so we expect no further increases in velocity before it reaches the southern shoreline."

"I suppose you call that the good news. What's the current ETA?"

"For your approximate position, eighteen minutes. The Vereshchagin will turn to align itself to the wave in ten minutes. Suggest you stand by for emergency relief."

"Rudi, please confirm. Eighteen minutes to arrival?"

"Affirmative."

Eighteen minutes. It was nowhere near enough time for the dilapidated fishing boat to reach safe haven.

Staring at its black hull skimming low in the water, he knew that the old boat had no chance. With a gnawing sense of dread, Giordino realized he might have just given his old friend a death warrant by dropping him to her decks below.

***

Pitt clung to the mast cross-member momentarily, eyeing a pair of worn GPS and radio antennas sprouting just inches from his face. Once Giordino pulled the helicopter away and the air deluge from its rotors subsided, he casually slid down the mast, using his feet as brakes to slow his descent. Grabbing his duffel bag, he stepped across the wheelhouse roof and down a stepladder at its stern edge. Dropping to the deck, he turned and faced the group of shocked people staring at him with open mouths.

"Privet." He grinned disarmingly. "Anyone here speak English?"

"All of us but the captain," Theresa replied, surprised like the others that Pitt was not Russian.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Tatiana demanded tersely. Her dark eyes surveyed Pitt with a look of distrust. Behind her, the fishing boat's captain stood in the wheelhouse door and launched an equally contemptuous tirade in his native tongue.

"Comrade, tell your captain that if he ever wants to hoist another vodka, he had better get this tub turned toward Listvyanka at full speed and right now," Pitt replied in a commanding tone.

"What's the trouble?" Theresa asked, trying to thaw the tension.

"An underwater landslide has triggered a large freak wave near Olkhon Island. A thirty-foot wall of water is bearing down on us as we speak. Emergency radio broadcasts were issued across the lake, but your good captain was incapable of hearing the warning."

Tatiana had an ashen look on her face as she spoke rapidly to the captain in a hushed tone. The captain nodded without saying a word, then climbed into the wheelhouse. A second later, the boat's old motor whined in protest as the throttle was pushed to its stops and the bow eased around toward Listvyanka.

On the stern deck, Roy and Wofford were already yanking in their survey gear as the boat slowly accelerated.

Pitt looked up and was disturbed to find that Giordino had flown away from the fishing boat, the silver helicopter now skimming west rapidly toward the horizon. If the boat couldn't outrun the wave to safety, which was a certainty, then he wanted Giordino standing by above them. Silently, he cursed himself for not bringing a handheld radio with him.

"Thank you for flying out to warn us," Theresa said, approaching Pitt with a nervous smile and a handshake. "That was a dangerous way to come aboard." She had a warm honesty that reminded Pitt of his wife Loren and he decided that he liked the Dutch woman immediately.

"Yes, we are grateful for the alert," Tatiana said, apologizing for the earlier inquisition in a slightly warmer tone. Making quick introductions, she asked, "You are from the Limnological Institute research ship, no?"

"Yes. They're headed to Listvyanka, along with the other vessels at this end of the lake. Yours was the only one we couldn't alert by radio."

"I told you there was something wrong with this boat," Wofford whispered to Roy.

"Something wrong with the captain, too," Roy replied with a shake of the head.

"Mr. Pitt, it appears that we will be riding the wave out together. How much time do we have before it will reach us?" Tatiana asked.