“I’m making sure our friends get the point,” Austin said with a wolfish grin.
He slid behind the wheel of the Renault, started the engine, and pulled out onto the road with spinning tires.
AUSTIN DROVE as if he were in the Grand Prix. With Carina map-navigating, they headed toward Fethiye, a coastal market and resort town. He drove directly to the harbor. They walked along the quay past the wide-beamed wooden boats that took tourists out on day trips for fishing and scuba diving.
He stopped at the tie-up for a wooden boat about forty-five feet long. A sign said that the Iztuzu, the Turkish name for Turtle, was for hire on an hourly or daily basis.
Austin crossed the short gangway and called out a hello. A man in his forties came out of the cabin. “I’m Captain Mustapha,” he said, with a friendly smile. “You want to rent the boat?”
The boat was not new, but it had been well maintained. Metal was free of rust, and the wood was highly polished. Lines were neatly coiled. Austin surmised that Mustapha was a competent mariner. The fact that he was still in port suggested that he might be hungry for business. Austin pulled out the map he had shown Salim and pointed to the coastline.
“Can you take us here, Captain? We might like to do some snorkeling.”
“Yes, of course. I know all the good places. When?”
“How about now?”
Austin agreed to the price Mustapha threw out and waved at Carina to come aboard. Mustapha cast off the dock lines and eased the boat out of its slip. He pointed the bow into the bay. The boat followed the irregular coastline. They passed resort complexes, a lighthouse, and luxurious villas perched in the hills. Eventually, all signs of human habitation disappeared.
Mustapha angled the boat in toward a half-moon cove and killed the engine. He dropped anchor and dug out a couple of beat-up snorkels and masks and fin sets.
“You want to go swimming?”
Austin had been squinting up at a section of cliff where the rock was exposed like an open wound. “Maybe later. I’d like to go ashore.”
Mustapha shrugged and put the snorkels away. He hung a ladder over the side and brought the dinghy around. Austin rowed the short distance to shore and pulled the dinghy up on the rocky beach. Within a dozen or so feet from the water’s edge, the terrain rose at a sharp angle. Using tree trunks and bushes as handholds, Austin climbed until he was about a hundred fifty feet above the lagoon.
He stood on a ledge that bulged out from the cliff like a Neanderthal’s brow. A swath of rock about a hundred feet wide had been sheared off as neatly as if by a giant chisel. Austin guessed that the cliff had been weakened by the tomb, in combination with natural faults, and the violent shaking of the earth had jiggled it loose. Huge boulders lay at the base of the cliff and in the water.
Austin wondered whether the statue could have survived the crushing fall. Then he waved at Carina, who had been watching his climb, and started down the hill. He was sweating from the heat and exertion, and his shorts and shirt were covered with dirt. He dove into the water fully clothed, giving his body and clothes a quick laundering. When it came to the behavior of foreign tourists, Mustapha was never surprised. He started the engine and headed back to port.
Austin cracked open a couple of bottles of Turkish beer from the cooler and handed one to Carina. “Well?” she said.
He took a deep gulp and let the cold liquid trickle down his throat. “We’ll assume that Salim is correct and the statue was still in the tomb at the time of the earthquake. There’s no certainty that it wasn’t buried between tons of rock. Even if we do find it, the Navigator may be too damaged to be of help.”
“Then this was all for nothing?”
“Not at all. I’d like to come back for a closer look.”
He told Mustapha he wanted to lease the boat for another day.
“Can we come back here tomorrow?” Austin said. “I’d like to do some diving.”
“Yes, of course. You’re scientists?” Mustapha said.
Austin showed him his NUMA ID. Mustapha had never heard of the agency, but the fact that Austin carried special identification impressed him. Mustapha was glad to get the charter. He had told the boat’s owners that if they didn’t get him a mate soon he would quit. Austin took a satellite phone from his backpack and punched in Zavala’s number. Zavala was at the port excavation, waiting for Hanley to give him the green light on the Subvette.
“You’ll have to tell Hanley that the sub’s services are needed elsewhere,” Austin said.
He gave Zavala his location and rattled off a shopping list. Zavala said if he could work out the logistics he would fly to Dalyran the next morning.
The boat pulled into its slip at dusk. Austin asked Mustapha to recommend a quiet hotel. The captain suggested a resort that was a twenty-minute drive at the end of a twisting road that wound through the wooded hills near Fethiye. The hotel clerk said reservations were usually necessary but that he had one room with a king-sized bed. Austin hadn’t given sleeping arrangements any thought. He asked Carina if she wanted to look for another hotel.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “Still suffering from jet lag. Tell him we’ll take it.”
They had a quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant at a corner table overlooking the sea. Shish kebab and rice. The lights of Fethiye shimmered in the distance like diamonds on a necklace.
“I hate to waste a romantic setting talking business,” Austin said. “But there are certain issues we should discuss. Most of all, how did those goons track us down to the abandoned village?”
She looked as if she had been struck by lightning. “Baltazar.”
Austin smiled faintly. “You told me your benefactor was off-limits to suspicious minds.”
“He’s got to be involved. He was the only one I told about the National Geographic photographer. He arranged for the statue to be moved. Saxon warned me about him.”
“We knew all that before now. What changed your mind?”
She fidgeted in her chair. “Before we left for Istanbul, I called Baltazar’s representative and told him where we were going and why. It was part of our original financing agreement, and I didn’t see anything wrong with it at the time. Baltazar was the one who financed the recovery of the Baghdad cache.” She realized the implication of her words. “Dear God. Baltazar has wanted the statue all along. But why?”
“Let’s back up a bit,” Austin said. “Assume he was behind the theft. Why would he try to prevent us from tracking down the statue’s twin?”
“He obviously doesn’t want anyone to see it, for whatever reason.”
“Maybe we’ll know why after tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “Sure you’re satisfied with the sleeping arrangements? We haven’t known each other very long.”
Carina reached out and touched his hand. “I feel as if I have known you several lifetimes, Mr. Austin. Shall we call it a night?”
They took the elevator up to their room, and Austin walked out on the balcony to give Carina time to change. He was gazing at the reflection of lights in the sea when Carina came up and slipped her arm around his waist. He felt the warmth of her body against his. He turned and was greeted by a silky kiss. She was wearing a long, white cotton nightgown, but the simple garment did little to disguise her supple figure.
“What about your jet lag?” Austin said.
Carina’s voice was low and cool as she wound her arms around his neck. “I just got over it.”
Chapter 28
AUSTIN AWOKE FROM A SOUND SLEEP and grabbed his warbling cell phone from the bedside table. He eased out of bed, wrapping the top sheet around his muscular body like a Roman senator. The sight of Carina’s sable hair spread out on her pillow brought an appreciative smile to his tanned face.