Dirk thought a moment. “Yes, I think so. On his right ring finger. I noticed it when we shook hands. It was solid gold with a funny design, like something out of the Middle Ages.”
Summer’s face turned flush with anger. “That’s the guy who stole the Manifest from Julie and me at gunpoint. He said his name was Baker.”
“He’s a well-known and respected archaeologist,” Dirk said.
“Respected?” Summer hissed. “I bet he’s here searching for the galley, too.”
“One of the monks did mention he was working on a book about Helena.”
Summer was fuming by the time they reached the car. The image of Bannister taking the Manifest in the basement of Kitchener’s manor saturated her mind. She drove aggressively down the winding monastery road, her anger reflected in her driving. Entering the main highway, she never considered that the source of her wrath was in a car now following close behind.
Her temper waned as they reached the outskirts of Limassol. By the time they found the city’s commercial docks, she actually felt encouraged.
“If Bannister is here, then the galley must exist,” she said to Dirk.
“He certainly hasn’t found it yet,” he replied.
Summer nodded with satisfaction. Who knows, she thought, perhaps we’re closer than we think.
91
SHOVING OFF ALREADY?” SUMMER ASKED.
She stood on the Aegean Explorer’s bridge, watching a pair of crewmen hoist in and stow the forward mooring line. It had been less than an hour since the ship had touched the dock at Limassol, and she and Dirk had climbed aboard.
Pitt stood near the helm, sipping a cup of coffee.
“We’ve got to get back around to the western side of the Akrotiri Peninsula in order to keep tabs on Rudi’s AUV,” he said.
“I thought you were surveying with the towed sonar fish?”
“We are. We actually completed our first grid off Pissouri and started a new survey grid to the west. But Rudi reconfigured the AUV for sidescan sonar duty, so we put her to work. She’s currently running a large grid to the east of Pissouri. We’ll keep pushing west with the Explorer and cover twice as much ground.”
“Makes sense,” she replied. “How much longer will the AUV stay under?”
“She’ll be down another eighteen hours before surfacing. That will allow us a good run of our own before having to pick her up.”
“Dad, I’m sorry we didn’t come up with more promising research to go on.”
“Your fresco seems to confirm the role of the Pissouri wreck as one of the pirate ships. If the galley exists, we’ve got a good chance of being in the ballpark.”
The Aegean Explorer proceeded to steam south around the stubby Akrotiri Peninsula, then turned northwest toward Pissouri some twenty miles away. The research ship’s sensors soon made contact with a pair of floating transducer buoys, which relayed data from the AUV as it glided over the seabed two hundred feet beneath the surface. While Gunn and Giordino reviewed the AUV’s results, Pitt launched the towed sonar fish off the stern of the Explorer, sharing monitoring duties with Dirk and Summer.
It was nine the next morning when Summer stepped onto the bridge with a cup of hot coffee, ready to relieve her father in front of the screen.
“Anything new at the picture show?” she asked.
“A repeat is playing, I’m afraid,” Pitt replied, standing and stretching. “The same rock and sand that’s been rolling by all night. Outside of a small sunken fishing boat that Dirk picked up, it’s been slim pickings.”
“I just checked with Al in the survey shack,” she said, slipping into Pitt’s seat. “He said they’ve got similar results with the AUV.”
“We’re nearly at the end of this grid,” Pitt said. “Shall we keep working west?”
Summer smiled at her father. “When it comes to finding a shipwreck, I know better than to question your instincts.”
“Then west it is,” he replied with a wink.
Captain Kenfield stepped over from the helm and spread out a local marine chart across the table.
“Where exactly would you like to configure the next grid?” he asked Pitt.
“We’ll just extend the current grid, running as close to shore as we can get. Let’s run another two miles west, to this point here,” he said, pointing to a small coastal promontory on the map.
“Fair enough,” Kenfield said. “I’ll run the coordinates to Petra tou Romiou, as it says on the chart, or the Rock of Aphrodite.”
Summer stiffened in her chair. “Did you say the Rock of Aphrodite?” she asked.
Kenfield nodded, then retrieved a dog-eared traveler’s guide to Cyprus shelved behind the chart table.
“I was just reading about it last night. Petra tou Romiou, or Rock of Romios, takes its name from a Byzantine folk hero who allegedly tossed huge boulders into the sea to ward off pirates. The large rock formations are still visible in the surf. However, the site is also known from ancient times as the place where Aphrodite, the patron goddess of Cyprus, emerged from the sea in a wave of foam.”
“Dad, that’s it,” Summer said, jumping from her seat. “The Aphrodite image was in the fresco. It didn’t represent the temple at Stavrovouni, where the monastery stands. It’s where the Roman galley was headed. Someone on shore, or perhaps the pirates themselves, saw the galley fleeing toward the rocks.”
“It’s roughly within sight of the Pissouri wreck site,” Kenfield noted.
“I’ll buy it,” Pitt said, smiling at his daughter’s enthusiasm. “The Rock of Aphrodite it is. Let’s go see if the goddess will show us some love.”
A short time later, they reached the end of the survey lane and pulled in the towfish. As the ship changed course to resume its search down the coast, a palpable optimism surged through the bridge. Caught up in the anticipation, no one noticed the small boat trailing a half mile behind, where Ridley Bannister followed the turquoise ship with a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes.
92
SIX HOURS LATER, THE GODDESS APHRODITE WAS SHOWING the NUMA surveyors anything but love. The seabed around the Petra tou Romiou proved void of any man-made objects. Dirk had taken over the next survey shift, staring at an endless scroll of rocks and sand on the monitor, while Summer and Pitt loitered about, hoping for a strike. Giordino stepped onto the bridge, surprised to see that Summer’s enthusiasm had waned to frustration.
“The AUV’s due up in about forty-five minutes,” he said to Pitt.
“We’re only a few minutes away from finishing this lane,” Dirk noted.
“All right, break off when we cross the end point, then we’ll go pick up the big fish,” Pitt said.
“Anything at all?” Giordino asked.
“If you have a fetish for rock gardens, you’d enjoy the seafloor here,” Dirk said.
Giordino eased over to the helm and gazed out the forward window. Seeing they were near the shoreline, he picked up a pair of binoculars and scanned a pebble-strewn beach that ran west of the large rock formation.
“Any Greek goddesses lying about?” Summer asked with a hint of disdain.
“No, the gods have deserted the beach on this sunny afternoon. Even the shady sea caves are empty of spirits.”
Pitt approached him with an inquiring look on his face. “Mind if I take a peek?”
As Pitt scanned the shoreline, Dirk announced that they had reached the end of the survey lane.
“Al, can you help secure the towfish?” he asked, turning off the sonar system.
“At your service,” Giordino replied, and the two men headed for the stern.
Pitt kept his eyes glued to the shore, then turned to Kenfield.
“Captain, would you mind taking us in a little closer to shore, on a bearing of twenty degrees,” he said.
“What’s up, Dad?” Summer asked.
“Just exploring the possibility that King Al might have struck gold once more.”
As the Aegean Explorer eased into shallow w
ater, Pitt got a better look at the shoreline. From a low, pebbly beach around Petra tou Romiou, the terrain climbed dramatically to the east, rising in high chalky cliffs several hundred feet high. The Mediterranean’s steady waves rolled into the base of the cliffs with a rumble, splashing foam high against the rocks at water’s edge. Across the lower cliff face, scattered indentations were worn into the limestone where the sea had scoured away a hole, or sea cave, as Giordino had called them. It was the caves that had caught Pitt’s attention, and he studied each one carefully. He finally focused on one in particular, a small black opening low above the water with tumbled rocks around its perimeter.
“Towfish is aboard,” Dirk announced, stepping back onto the bridge with Giordino.
Pitt put down the binoculars. “Captain, what’s the tidal stage right now?” he asked.
“We’re just past high tide,” Kenfield replied. “Tidal range is fairly minimal here, a couple of feet or so.”
Pitt nodded with a slight smile, then turned to Gunn.
“Rudi, you’ve done some ocean modeling. How much of a change in sea level would you say the Mediterranean has witnessed in the last seventeen hundred years?”
Gunn scratched his head. “The sea level today is probably two to three meters higher than it was two thousand years ago. I can give you an accurate estimate if I check the NUMA database.”
“That’s not necessary,” Pitt replied. He gazed at the sea cave once more. “I think she’d just about fit,” he muttered.
“We really need to go retrieve the AUV now,” Gunn pleaded.
“Okay, but before you go, you’ll need to drop Summer and me in the Zodiac. Dirk, too, if you want to come.”
“No thanks, Dad,” Dirk replied. “I’ve had my share of goose chasing with Summer. I’ll help with the AUV.”
“But where are we going?” Summer asked.
“Why, to that cliff,” Pitt said, pointing to the shore with a smile. “Where else are we going to find ourselves a Roman galley?”
93
AS THE AEGE AN EXPLORER SLIPPED EASTWARD TO CHASE down the AUV, Pitt gunned the outboard on the new Zodiac and raced toward the shoreline. Summer sat on the bow, her long red hair blowing in the wind and a hopeful expression on her face, as they approached the sea cave. The low opening at water’s edge reflected little light, telling Pitt that the cave did indeed penetrate well into the cliff.
Drawing near, Pitt could see that the entrance was wide enough for the Zodiac to slip through. Though the tide was now lower, the wave action made clearing the opening a treacherous proposition. Spotting an exposed grouping of flat rocks to the right, he nudged the Zodiac alongside and waited for a wave to carry it. Summer quickly jumped out and wrapped a line around a boulder to secure the craft.
“Looks like we’re going to have to get wet,” Pitt said, grabbing a flashlight and hopping out of the Zodiac.
Summer followed him as he crept along the rocks until being forced to wade into the water near the cave’s entrance. A submerged layer of stones formed a crude ledge, which Pitt followed into the opening as a small wave rolled up to his neck. Flicking on the flashlight he held over his head, he could see the cave ran like a tunnel for at least twenty feet before expanding into the gloom beyond.
He stopped and waited as Summer navigated her way across the slippery rocks, grabbing his hand before almost falling under.
“Might be easier to swim,” she gasped.
“I see a dry ledge just up ahead,” Pitt replied, playing the light around.
Hugging the side wall, they worked their way forward, finding that the submerged ledge gradually rose until they stepped completely out of the water. Above their heads, the ceiling grew to enormous heights as the tunnel expanded into a large cavern. The water flowed through a curved channel in the shape of a large “U,” indicating that it looped back toward the sea. Pitt could see that the water didn’t appear stagnant but flowed with a mild current.
They followed the ledge a few yards farther as it led toward a large sandy rise. Pitt was surprised to see a soft, faint light bathing the interior cavern. Looking up, he could see where a few slim rays of sunlight slipped through a fissure in the cliff face.
Suddenly, Pitt felt Summer’s hand clench his arm.
“Dad!” she cried.
He saw she was staring wide-eyed ahead. Turning to look, he expected to see a flying bat or perhaps a snake on the ground. Instead, he saw the hull of an aged ship.
The vessel sat upright on a sandy ledge, appearing little damaged under the dim light. Stepping closer, Pitt could see that it was built of an ancient design. An angled prow rose in a high arch that curled back over the open deck. Dozens of small round holes dotted the sides above the waterline, which Pitt recognized as perforations for oars. There were no actual oars in sight, only a number of broken stubs that dangled from a few of the openings.
Approaching the dust-covered ship, they saw that its single mast had been shattered near the base, the thick pole now lying across the aft deck. Playing the flashlight beam across the high stern, Pitt could see the skeletal remains of a man draped over the wooden tiller.
“It’s a galley,” Pitt said with a grin. “An old one, by the looks of it. She probably snapped off her mast when she sailed through the cave entrance.”
Summer remained in silent awe. Stepping to the bow, she finally found the words to call her father.
“Dad, look at this.”
The galley’s prow was a crumpled mass of timber at the waterline. Looking closer, they could see several bent copper spikes protruding in a horizontal band on either side.
“The only real damage to the hull,” Summer noted. “They must have driven into the cliff face a few times before slipping into this grotto.”
“It appears that she may have had a ram fitted here at one time,” Pitt mused.
Using the spikes as a stepladder, he climbed up the bow, then pulled himself over the side. The sight on board nearly took his breath away. The entire deck was littered with skeletal remains clad in faded tunics or robes, a few with swords still clutched in their bony hands. A number of battle shields and spears were also scattered about, painting a grim picture of a bloody fight to the death.
“Any sign that it is Roman?” Summer asked from below.
“Of course it is.”
Summer froze at the comment. It wasn’t the cold tone in which the words were said but rather that they didn’t come from Pitt.
She turned to see the figure of Ridley Bannister approach out of the darkness, his clothes wet from the chest down. In his hands, he carried a small video camera, which he turned on, bathing the cavern in a hazy blue light.
“Well, if it isn’t the esteemed archaeologist Ridley ‘Baker’ Bannister,” Summer sneered as he stepped closer. “Did you bring your gun this time?”
“Oh, no. That was Field Marshal Kitchener’s revolver, actually. Quite empty of bullets it was, I’m chagrined to say.” He held the video camera up for her to see. “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Pitt. Now, if you’d be so kind as to step out of the way, I will proceed to document my discovery.”
“Your discovery?” she said, her blood beginning to boil. “Why, you lying pig, you didn’t find anything.”
“It’s as good as mine now. I suppose I should tell you that I’m on excellent terms with the Cyprus Director of Antiquities. I’ve already made arrangements for the exclusive film and book rights in the event of discovery, which you have kindly aided. I’ll be sure to make a note of your generous contributions.”
Bannister placed the camera to his eye and started filming the exterior of the galley.
“Is the Manifest cargo aboard, by the way?” he asked, scanning along the side of the vessel.
Focusing the camera lens on the damaged prow, he didn’t notice Summer rush at him until it was too late. Reaching out a long arm, Summer ripped the camera from his hands and tossed it into the rocks. A shattering sound ensued as the lens smashed, though t
he camera’s bluish external light remained glowing.
Bannister stared at the damaged camera, then slowly became enraged. Grabbing the taller woman by her shirt lapels, he began shaking her in anger. A student of judo, Summer prepared to counter his grab with a takedown when a loud staccato burst through the cave. The gunfire was still echoing when Summer felt Bannister’s fingertips slip free of her shirt. The archaeologist gave her a pained look, then slowly sagged to the ground. As he fell prone, Summer saw that his khaki pants had sprouted stains of blood in several spots.
Looking past him, Summer saw three men standing on the rise. Even in the low light, she could see that they appeared to be Arabs. The tallest of the three stood at the center, smoke rising from a compact Uzi machine pistol cradled in his arms. He slowly took a step forward, keeping the weapon aimed at Summer as his eyes scanned the galley.
“So,” Zakkar said in halting English. “You have found the treasure.”
94
SUMMER STOOD IMMOBILE AS THE THREE MEN MOVED CLOSER. At her feet, Bannister clutched at his wounds, an uncomprehending look of shock etched in his face. Zakkar lowered his Uzi as he drew near, his attention focused on the galley.
“Gutzman will be pleased,” he said in Arabic to his nearest associate, the bearded gunman from the Dome of the Rock attack named Salaam.
“What of these two?” Salaam asked, aiming a small penlight at Summer and Bannister.
“Kill them and throw their bodies into the ocean,” Zakkar replied, rubbing a hand over the ancient ship’s hull.
Having understood the conversation, Bannister tried pulling himself across the ground, grunting in pain as he clawed his way behind Summer. Salaam ignored him as he stepped close to Summer, then raised a pistol at her head.
“Run!”
Pitt’s shout rang loudly from the deck of the galley, catching all of the Arabs by surprise. Summer watched the gunman in front of her glance toward the ship, his eyes instantly flaring in horror.
Whistling through the air at him was a pilum, the iron-tipped Roman javelin. Salaam had no chance to move before the razor-sharp spear struck him in the chest. The finely crafted weapon cut a path completely through the man’s torso, its tip exiting his back below the kidney. The stunned man spit out a mouthful of blood, then dropped to the ground stone dead.