TITLES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
DIRK PITT® ADVENTURES
Odessa Sea (with Dirk Cussler)
Havana Storm (with Dirk Cussler)
Poseidon’s Arrow (with Dirk Cussler)
Crescent Dawn (with Dirk Cussler)
Arctic Drift (with Dirk Cussler)
Treasure of Khan (with Dirk Cussler)
Black Wind (with Dirk Cussler)
Trojan Odyssey
Valhalla Rising
Atlantis Found
Flood Tide
Shock Wave
Inca Gold
Sahara
Dragon
Treasure
Cyclops
Deep Six
Pacific Vortex!
Night Probe!
Vixen 03
Raise the Titanic!
Iceberg
The Mediterranean Caper
SAM AND REMI FARGO ADVENTURES
Pirate (with Robin Burcell)
The Solomon Curse (with Russell Blake)
The Eye of Heaven (with Russell Blake)
The Mayan Secrets (with Thomas Perry)
The Tombs (with Thomas Perry)
The Kingdom (with Grant Blackwood)
Lost Empire (with Grant Blackwood)
Spartan Gold (with Grant Blackwood)
ISAAC BELL ADVENTURES
The Cutthroat (with Justin Scott)
The Gangster (with Justin Scott)
The Assassin (with Justin Scott)
The Bootlegger (with Justin Scott)
The Striker (with Justin Scott)
The Thief (with Justin Scott)
The Race (with Justin Scott)
The Spy (with Justin Scott)
The Wrecker (with Justin Scott)
The Chase
KURT AUSTIN ADVENTURES
NOVELS FROM THE NUMA® FILES
Nighthawk (with Graham Brown)
The Pharaoh’s Secret (with Graham Brown)
Ghost Ship (with Graham Brown)
Zero Hour (with Graham Brown)
The Storm (with Graham Brown)
Devil’s Gate (with Graham Brown)
Medusa (with Paul Kemprecos)
The Navigator (with Paul Kemprecos)
Polar Shift (with Paul Kemprecos)
Lost City (with Paul Kemprecos)
White Death (with Paul Kemprecos)
Fire Ice (with Paul Kemprecos)
Blue Gold (with Paul Kemprecos)
Serpent (with Paul Kemprecos)
OREGON® FILES
The Emperor’s Revenge (with Boyd Morrison)
Piranha (with Boyd Morrison)
Mirage (with Jack Du Brul)
The Jungle (with Jack Du Brul)
The Silent Sea (with Jack Du Brul)
Corsair (with Jack Du Brul)
Plague Ship (with Jack Du Brul)
Skeleton Coast (with Jack Du Brul)
Dark Watch (with Jack Du Brul)
Sacred Stone (with Craig Dirgo)
Golden Buddha (with Craig Dirgo)
NONFICTION
Built for Adventure: The Classic Automobiles of Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt
Built to Thrill: More Classic Automobiles from Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt
The Sea Hunters (with Craig Dirgo)
The Sea Hunters II (with Craig Dirgo)
Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed (with Craig Dirgo)
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
375 Hudson Street
New York, New York 10014
Copyright © 2017 by Sandecker, RLLLP
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cussler, Clive, author. | Brown, Graham, 1969– author.
Title: Nighthawk : a novel from the NUMA Files / Clive Cussler and Graham Brown.
Description: New York : G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 2017. | Series: The NUMA files ; 14
Identifiers: LCCN 2016043196 (print) | LCCN 2016051222 (ebook) | ISBN 9780399184017 (hardback) | ISBN 9780399184031 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Austin, Kurt (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Marine scientists—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Action & Adventure. | FICTION / Suspense. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Adventure fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3553.U75 N54 2017 (print) | LCC PS3553.U75 (ebook) | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016043196
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
CONTENTS
Titles by Clive Cussler
Title Page
Copyright
Cast of Characters
Prologue: The Burning Point
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
About the Authors
CAST OF CHARACTERS
SPANISH EXPEDITION OF 1525
Diego Alvarado Spanish sold
ier and leader of an expedition into South America circa 1525, contemporary and competitor of Francisco Pizarro.
Costa Spanish nobleman and financier, bankrolled Alvarado’s expedition.
NATIONAL UNDERWATER AND MARINE AGENCY
Rudi Gunn Assistant Director of NUMA.
Kurt Austin Head of NUMA’s Special Projects division, world-class diver and salvage expert, once worked for the CIA.
Joe Zavala Kurt’s right-hand man, mechanical expert, also an accomplished helicopter pilot and amateur boxer.
Hiram Yaeger NUMA’s resident computer genius, owner of many patents relating to computer design.
Priya Kashmir Hiram Yaeger’s assistant, was supposed to join a NUMA field team, before a car accident left her unable to walk, instead joined the computer technologies department.
Paul Trout Tallest member of the Special Projects division, at six foot eight, married to Gamay. Has a Ph.D. in Ocean Sciences. Quiet and steady.
Gamay Trout Marine biologist, married to Paul, Gamay is a fitness aficionado, an accomplished diver and an excellent marksman.
Ed Callahan Captain of the NUMA vessel Catalina.
NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
Steve Gowdy Head of Ex-Atmospheric projects at the NSA, director of the Nighthawk program.
Emma Townsend Former NASA scientist, astrophysics expert, integral part of the Nighthawk program. Coworkers refer to her as Hurricane Emma.
Agent Hurns NSA field agent.
Agent Rodriguez NSA field agent.
UNITED STATES AIR FORCE
Colonel Frank Hansen Commander of the 9th Space Operations Squadron, based at Vandenberg Air Force Base, California.
RUSSIAN FEDERATION
Constantin Davidov Special executive at the FSB, successor to the KGB, in charge of technology retrieval for the Kremlin.
Rear Admiral Sergei Borozdin Old friend of Davidov’s, commander of the Russian 1st Salvage Fleet (Pacific).
Victor Tovarich Captain of the TK-17 Typhoon-class submarine.
Major Yuri Timonovski Commander and pilot of Blackjack 2.
PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA
General Zhang Highest-ranking officer at the Chinese Ministry of State Security.
Daiyu (Black Jade) Special operative for the Ministry, one of the “children that were never born.”
Jian Daiyu’s partner, also one of the “children that were never born.”
Li Ying Liaison officer, Beijing.
Lieutenant Wu Field officer for the Ministry of State Security.
Falconer Code name of an anonymous asset connected with the NSA’s Nighthawk program.
MS REUNION
Buck Kamphausen Captain of the MS Reunion.
PERU
Urco Archaeologist studying the origins and disappearance of the Chachapoya people.
Vargas One of Urco’s volunteers.
Reyes Another of the volunteers.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Collin Kane Bomb disposal expert.
PROLOGUE:
THE BURNING POINT
South America
January 1525
The spear hit Diego Alvarado in the chest. A jarring blow that knocked him to the ground but failed to puncture the strong Castilian armor he’d carried all the way from Spain.
He rolled, took a position on one knee and leveled his crossbow. Spotting movement in the trees, he let the bolt fly. It sliced into the foliage, drawing an anguished scream.
“In the trees to the right!” he yelled to his men.
A cloud of blue smoke exploded over the narrow trail as several large-bored muskets, known as harquebuses, fired simultaneously. The shots tore into the forest, severing small tree limbs and ripping through the lush green leaves.
A wave of arrows flew back at them in response. Two of Alvarado’s men went down and he felt a spike of pain in his calf as an obsidian-tipped dart punctured it.
“They have us surrounded,” one of the men shouted.
“Hold your line,” Alvarado ordered. He limped forward instead of back, ignoring the pain and reloading his weapon.
After a long hike into the foothills, they’d been ambushed, lured down a path and attacked from both sides. Another group of men might have broken ranks under the assault, but Alvarado’s men had once been soldiers. They stood like a wall and didn’t waste their precious ammunition. Several drew their swords while the others steadied their heavy firearms.
The natives were drawing themselves together to attack once again. With a shrill cry, they charged from the trees. They broke into the clearing only to be struck down by Spanish thunder as a second wave of black powder explosions shook the air.
Half their number fell, others turned and ran, only two continued the attack. They rushed toward Alvarado, charging through the smoke, their dark, reddish faces and blazing white eyes highlighted by streaks of war paint.
Alvarado took the first one with the crossbow, dropping the man in his tracks, but the second lunged with a spear. The tip of the crude weapon deflected off the angled chest plate of Alvarado’s silver armor. Impervious to such crude blades, Alvarado reached toward his assailant without fear. He grabbed the man, shifted his weight and flung him to the ground.
Falling on him, Alvarado finished the native with a dagger.
By the time he looked up, the rest of them had fled.
“Reload,” he shouted to the men. “They’ll be back soon.”
As the men began the laborious process of packing powder charges in their weapons, Alvarado tried to remove the native’s arrow from his calf. He dug at his own flesh with the tip of his dagger and then eased the arrow out. He looked at it and then tossed it aside. It was nothing new. He’d been told these “people of the clouds” were different than the Inca and the other tribes of the area. That they were brave in combat, there was no doubt, but they had no greater weapons than any of the other natives. They had nothing to their advantage but raw numbers.
Alvarado poured some wine from a small flask on the wound. It stung, but helped numb the pain—and, he hoped, clean out any poison. He then wrapped his calf in a cloth and watched as the blood soaked it, spreading from a central spot, until the entire cloth was stained crimson.
“We have to fall back,” he said, struggling to get up on his feet.
“How far?” one of his men shouted.
“All the way,” Alvarado said. “Back to the village.”
None of them argued. In fact, they looked relieved to hear the order.
They formed up and began to move. Alvarado managed to walk for the first mile, but the heavy armor and the pain in his leg soon became too much. One of his men came to help, supporting him and leading him to the sturdy packhorse they’d used to carry in supplies. The strap was loosened and the goods dumped on the ground. With a boost, Alvarado was lifted up onto the horse. He held on tightly, and the entire party continued quickly, heading downhill, back toward their camp.
After several hours Alvarado and his men reached the village they’d left early that morning. Night had fallen, but warm fires stoked by the soldiers he’d left behind welcomed them.
A nobleman named Costa helped Alvarado down from the horse. “What happened?” he asked, blanching at the wound.
Costa was an aristocrat of the middle tier. He’d agreed to fund the expedition in return for a third of all treasure recovered. Why he’d come along personally was anyone’s guess, perhaps for the adventure, or more likely to ensure he wasn’t cheated out of his profits. So far, he’d done little but complain.
“We’ve been tricked,” Alvarado said. “These people of the cloud are not amenable to our presence. They would rather kill us than join us even if it means they remain enslaved to other masters.”
“But what about Pizarro?” Costa asked. “These are his marks. He came this way. He said we would
find allies.”
Alvarado knew all about Pizarro’s marks. The would-be conquistador had carved inscriptions into some of the trees alongside the trail so that Alvarado and his reinforcements could catch up with Pizarro and his advanced guard.
He knew about Pizarro’s plans as well, to turn other natives against the ruling group. It had worked in other places, but not here.
“Something must have happened to him,” Alvarado said. “Either Francisco has been killed or . . .”
He didn’t have to finish. None of them really trusted Pizarro. He kept talking of gold, which no one had yet seen, kept promising wealth, which had yet to appear. He was a little man with big dreams. He’d been turned down by the Governor twice when requesting funds to assist his expeditions and in desperation had finally turned to Costa, and to his rival: Alvarado.
While Alvarado didn’t like or trust Pizarro, he did understand the man. Both of them were cut from the same cloth. They were men of inauspicious birth, both had come from Spain to make a name for themselves. But they’d been enemies only months before, and it was entirely possible that Pizarro had agreed to partner with them only to lead them to their doom.
“We must leave for the coast immediately,” Alvarado said.
Costa looked sick, at the thought.
“Something wrong with that order, my friend?”
“No,” Costa said. “It’s just that . . .”
“Spit it out.”
Costa hesitated. “Some of the men have fallen ill. Fever. It may be the pox.”
Alvarado could not imagine worse news. “Show me.”
Costa led him to the largest of the native huts, made of mud and grass, that might have been a communal gathering place. A fire in the center burned brightly, venting smoke through a hole in the roof. A group of Alvarado’s soldiers lay on the dirt floor around it, each of them in various states of distress.
“When did this begin?”
“Shortly after you left to find Pizarro.”
In the flickering light, Alvarado kneeled beside one of the men. The soldier was little more than a boy; he lay on his back with his eyes closed and his face toward the thatched ceiling above. His shirt was soaked with perspiration and small red sores had begun to appear on his neck, face and chest. His temperature was so high that kneeling over him felt like standing too close to an open flame.