The Skorpion Directive Part 28

Dalton shifted his eyes, took in the young Italian woman now rushing toward him across the tarmac, her hair flying, holding up a hand, calling to him . . . It was was Nikki Turrin. Nikki Turrin.

He looked back at Joko Levon over a range of fifty yards.

Joko looked back at him, dropping his arms to his sides, shaking his ma.s.sive head. The young man standing beside him, holding his pistol up and aiming it at Dalton, slowly, reluctantly, let it fall away.

"Jesus Christ," said Joko, shouting to make his voice heard over the wind, outrage in every aspect. "Jesus H. Christ, Micah. It's me. Joko."

Dalton, the wind rippling his suit jacket, his long blond hair flying out, walked slowly across the airstrip, stopping a few feet away. Joko stepped forward, held out his hand.

"Micah. All is forgive. You shake?"

Dalton looked at his hand and then up at Joko's face.

"What happened to you?" he asked, shaking Joko's hand.

Joko's smile opened up in his bearded face, creasing his eyes.

"Ray Fyke. He broke a champagne bottle on my skull."

"Did he?" said Dalton, grinning back. "Well, you're big enough. Maybe he thought you were a ship."

"I am Daniel Roth," said the smaller man at Joko's side. He had an intense, hawkish face, sharp brown eyes, weathered skin, some gray in his blue-black hair. Dalton saw that he had a tooth missing right in the front: "Ray do that too?"

"Yes," said Roth. "He owes me a tooth."

Nikki Turrin stepped in, windblown, nervous, memorable.

"I'm Nikki Turrin, Mr. Dalton," she said, offering her hand and a charming smile. "We've never met. But I know you you very well." very well."

"Made a study study, have you, dear?" said Mandy as she walked up, Levka trailing with the bags. "Come to any conclusions?"

Something pa.s.sed between Nikki and Mandy that might have been the kissing hiss of steel on steel. All the men missed it completely. Nikki was thinking of a way to reply without giving too much ground when her cell phone rang, Happy to have a deflection, she picked it up.

"Ray?"

"Yeah. You get Joko?"

"I did. And I got Micah Dalton."

"Mikey's there? Perfect! Can I talk to him?"

Nikki handed her phone over Dalton.

"Ray?"

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It's the crocodile. Mikey, your timing could not be better. Nikki tell you what we've been doing? We've been d.o.g.g.i.ng Piotr Kirikoff-"

"So have I-"

"We've been doing a better job. He's here, in Athens. He's gone to ground in Piraeus. He and a guy named Milan Babic-"

"Ratko Mladic's guy. Christ. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Point is, Nikki and I, we got them both in a warehouse here. Been on them since around noon. Kirikoff 's car is parked right out front. Next to a big tanker. But then I get that . . . sick . . . feeling. So I decide, go inside the building, check it out-"

"Let me guess. The place is empty. Just a front."

"Worse. There was a camera inside the door. I walked right into it, looked up. Flash! I'm burned. Probably Nikki's burned. Maybe we're all all burned. Kirikoff waltzed us in and waltzed us back out. Warehouse is all shut down. And Piotr Kirikoff is in the wind." burned. Kirikoff waltzed us in and waltzed us back out. Warehouse is all shut down. And Piotr Kirikoff is in the wind."

Gibraltar GIBRALTAR PORT AUTHORITY, WATERGATE HOUSE, WINSTON CHURCHILL AVENUE, TEN P.M. LOCAL TIME.

The Rock loomed high above them in the warm Mediterranean night, an overwhelming presence, invisible in the velvet darkness, its shark-finned bulk defined only by the blinking strobes of the radar masts and communications towers that rode along its razorlike, ridged-back spine. Through the windows of the port captain's office, Dalton and Mandy Pownall could see the harbor and the marinas laid out in front of them, the quays and docks crowded with ships, floodlit and full of activity, even at this late hour. In the marina, the flying bridges of private yachts and the masts of barques and schooners dipped and rocked, beads of lights strung along their rigging. Beyond the harbor lights, the Atlantic Ocean was a negation, a blank nothingness, out of which came a long, withdrawing roar as the tide ebbed away. Twilight was gone, but there were no stars. Gibraltar stood at the brink of a limitless void, a single point of light, of human presence, here at the outermost edge of the Old World.

The man running the GPA, the Gibraltar Port Authority, was a leathery, windburned middle-aged man named Dugald Woodside. Clearly a sailor, he had a full head of snow-white hair, cut a little long, a trim regimental mustache, and careful blue eyes with deep creases around them. He was wearing the uniform of a Royal Navy captain, the tunic neatly hung on a wooden hanger at the side of his office.

He was smoking a pipe, a Peterson Bent, its bowl full of rich Virginia Flake. He had asked permission before lighting up and seemed delighted that both Mandy Pownall and the tall, rather grim-looking American took the opportunity to light up their Balkan Sobranies. The Brotherhood of the Habit established itself at once. Soon his wood-paneled office was hazy with smoke, which drifted through the glow of his green-shaded desk lamp. They all contemplated the clouds with obvious satisfaction until Woodside, recalling himself to the matter in front of them, tapped the printout on his desk.

"This is the Gibraltar Movement Summary for the last week. We track every commercial and private vessel that comes in and out of the GPA zone. By 'we,' I mean the Royal Navy, although we work in close a.s.sociation with the civilian authorities."

Here, he ran a tobacco-stained fingertip down the page, stopping halfway.

"Yes. The Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean. A yacht transporter. Length: one-sixty meters. Beam: thirty-one meters. Tonnage: nineteen thousand. Captain: Nick Maloutsis. Crew of eight, mainly Serbs and Croats . . . We get a lot of these in Gib flagged Panama. Don't like those Panamanian registries, Miss Pownall. But we've seen this ship and this crew before, she's a regular. Arrived from Athens with papers for Gibraltar, here to pick up some of our local yachts and ferry them back to the Aegean and the Adriatic for the summer season. Fifteen hundred nautical miles is a long run for these private owners. She came in empty. She's still moored at the quayside. She's been taking on yachts, and weighs tomorrow."

Mandy, British gentry, with her entries in Debrett's and Burke's Peerage, was the natural choice to lead this inquiry, which for Dalton might not have gotten much past the commissionaire commissionaire's desk in the central hall. She leaned forward to look at the sheet.

"She came in empty, Captain Woodside? I suppose there can be no mistake?"

He shook his large head, his expression regretful.

"None at all, Miss Pownall. Ships are tracked by radar in the approaches, and we have Royal Navy ships out in Gibraltar roads all the time. She radioed in from a hundred miles out and was logged into the arrivals process right away. She declared herself empty and was confirmed to be when she came under the Rock. This boat she was carrying . . . ?"

"The Blue Nile Blue Nile. A Riva. White-over-blue. Sixty feet."

"The Blue Nile Blue Nile. Absent any bills of lading, it's quite possible that the Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean put in at some other port. Anywhere along the Med, possibly quite legitimately, possibly not. But with a submersible hull, they could have heaved to practically anywhere in the western Med, even out in open water. Filled the tanks, lowered the deck underwater. As soon as your boat floated off the supports, she'd back out of the gate, and, from there, merrily off into the deep blue Mediterranean." put in at some other port. Anywhere along the Med, possibly quite legitimately, possibly not. But with a submersible hull, they could have heaved to practically anywhere in the western Med, even out in open water. Filled the tanks, lowered the deck underwater. As soon as your boat floated off the supports, she'd back out of the gate, and, from there, merrily off into the deep blue Mediterranean."

"How many private craft of that size would clear Gib on the average day?"

Woodside leaned back with a creak in his leather chair, tapped his bowl on its arm, looking into the middle distance while he worked out his estimate.

"Now, in the beginning of the cruising season . . . I imagine you'd see upward of a hundred a day . . . potting back and forth between the Pillars. This is very popular cruising ground . . . ports like Cadiz, the Algarve, Tangier-"

"No way to track them, sir?" put in Dalton, who here was simply Dylan Castle, Mandy Pownall's American friend. No mention had been made of Nikki Turrin, Ray Fyke, Dobri Levka, and the two Mossad agents, all of whom were currently dining at a seaside cafe that Dalton could see from the captain's office window.

Woodside, idly wondering where this interesting young American had acquired what looked very much like a bullet wound on his cheekbone, sucked on his pipe and shook his head once more. "There are some some ways. Is the matter so urgent?" ways. Is the matter so urgent?"

"Not urgent," said Mandy with an engaging smile. "Just a minor mystery. The boat was stolen by some port rowdies in Yalta. My father, who has mining interests in the area, was asked to help in the search. Since I was at liberty, he asked me to see if it had turned up in Gib."

"There was some reason to believe it was on the Novotny Ocean, Novotny Ocean, then?" then?"

"Nothing solid. Poppy looked into the shipping records, and there was some indication that the Novotny Ocean Novotny Ocean had been in the vicinity of Yalta around the time the yacht was stolen. It's just as likely-even more so-that the boat was sailed over to the Russian side and sold on the black market. That happens all the time." had been in the vicinity of Yalta around the time the yacht was stolen. It's just as likely-even more so-that the boat was sailed over to the Russian side and sold on the black market. That happens all the time."

"Do you suspect Captain Maloutsis of complicity in this?"

"Not at all. We're told that any boat taken aboard a transport has only to show her ownership and insurance papers. Since these papers were on the boat when it was stolen, there's no reason for Captain-Maloutsis?-to be under any suspicion."

Mandy leaned back, conveying careless resignation.

"No, Captain, it was just a whim. Dylan and I were in Athens. The Novotny Novotny had docked there a few days before, then departed for Gib. Poppy loaned us the Lear, and we flew out here. More of a lark, really. A touch of intrigue in our dull lives." had docked there a few days before, then departed for Gib. Poppy loaned us the Lear, and we flew out here. More of a lark, really. A touch of intrigue in our dull lives."

Captain Woodside thought but did not say that there was a lot more to all of this than this lovely woman was suggesting, but Alistair Pownall, Mandy's poppy, a man of some influence at the Admiralty, was not unknown to him.

He decided to push things just a touch more.

"Miss Pownall, you and Mr. Castle asked about means of tracing private hulls. Most motor cruisers of the size you describe would have been equipped with an embedded GPS identifier. By that, I don't mean simply the EPIRB beacon, which activates only when it comes in contact with water. The maker you cite, Riva, does this sort of thing as a matter of course. The GPS beacon is buried deep in the hull, runs on a long-life battery that has to be changed only every couple of years. These beacons are usually put in locations known to the ship's owner alone. I take it the Blue Nile Blue Nile was not fitted with such a device? Or was it deactivated? And if it was deactivated, its silence should have been a warning signal to Captain Maloutsis, since the entire idea of such a device is to prevent the very kind of theft you describe. Does your father have information that such a device was not present?" was not fitted with such a device? Or was it deactivated? And if it was deactivated, its silence should have been a warning signal to Captain Maloutsis, since the entire idea of such a device is to prevent the very kind of theft you describe. Does your father have information that such a device was not present?"

Mandy was not rattled.

"Our understanding is that the embedded GPS was somehow switched off. Would Captain Maloutsis have realized this?"

"Certainly. I imagine he would scan every yacht he takes on, if only for his insurance people, to make sure it carried a working GPS identifier. If he actually did bring this boat, the Blue Nile Blue Nile, into the western Med under the circ.u.mstances you have proposed, then as a matter of course and in line with my duties as port captain of Gibraltar I could discuss the matter with him. In fact, I think I should should. Would you like me to?"

AN hour later, at the table in the seaside cafe, Fyke, Nikki Turrin, and the others listened to the story, the two Mossad members with growing concern. Joko Levon let Dalton finish and then laid his heavy hands on the table in front of him. hour later, at the table in the seaside cafe, Fyke, Nikki Turrin, and the others listened to the story, the two Mossad members with growing concern. Joko Levon let Dalton finish and then laid his heavy hands on the table in front of him.

"We're not declared declared, Dalton. If this Navy guy wants to call for the Lear manifest, he'll see that we came in with you. He'll want to know who we are. And what if he digs into you? Will the Castle cover stand up?"

"To a cursory search, yes. And if you're you're not declared, you have plausible ID." not declared, you have plausible ID."

"Yes. Of course. That's not the point. If it comes to it, Tel Aviv will let us declare, but then we'll have to share this whole d.a.m.ned thing with the Royal Navy. The last thing I want is Kirikoff and Milan Babic, let alone this Vukov guy if he's still alive, sitting in a brig in Gibraltar while we try to get Her Majesty to let us extradite them."

"The idea," said Roth, calmer but no less intense, "is to either take them back to Tel Aviv or leave them all dead. We don't do due process in Tel Aviv. The other risk here is that Woodside will turn up something about the Blue Nile Blue Nile that we weren't counting on. Or something about either of you two." that we weren't counting on. Or something about either of you two."

Nikki shook her head.

"I think they did the right thing, Mr. Roth," she said, holding her own pretty well in this sort of company. "The idea is to find the Blue Nile Blue Nile. That's the only thing we have that connects to Kirikoff. If the seven of us spent the rest of the summer combing every port in the western Med-"

"Or up and down the African coast," said Mandy.

"Or the Atlantic," Nikki said with a grateful glance at Mandy. "We'd never find that boat. But the Royal Navy, if they they get interested, has access to the satellite, ships in every port, literally thousands of contacts-" get interested, has access to the satellite, ships in every port, literally thousands of contacts-"

"What good will that do us if the guys we want end up in somebody else's jail?" asked Joko, scowling into his beer.

"A British jail," said Fyke with some heat, "is a good jail. Where would you rather have them?"

"Look, Ray-" Joko began, but Dalton cut in.

"We're committed now, Joko. No point arguing about it after the fact. Woodside will grill Maloutsis in the morning. Maybe he'll get something out of him. Personally, I doubt it. All Maloutsis has to do is play dumb."

"So what's the upside?" asked Roth, cooler but still unhappy.

"The upside is, Maloutsis-who is in this up to his shorts, by the way, along with his entire crew of Serbs and Croats-gets his cage rattled hard enough to make him call for instructions. Who's he going to call?"

"Kirikoff," said Roth. "Or Babic."

"Yes," said Dalton, nailing it down. "Or Vukov, if he's still in the mix. If we get all of Maloutsis's communications lines monitored, maybe we can get a line on Kirikoff."

"Nice trick," said Roth. He looked at Nikki, who, as they all knew by now, had a line directly to Deacon Cather. "Will your guy do that? Can he get the NSA to do that?"

Nikki shook her head.

"I don't think so. They've got him pretty isolated. Micah tried to get some help from . . . What was her name, Micah?"

"Sally Fordyce."

"Sally Fordyce. She was senior aide at Langley. She disappeared right after Micah called her-"

"And n.o.body has heard from her since," said Dalton. "We can't ask Cather for anything. He's done what he could, with Nikki and Ray. Mandy's not in the game anymore, not officially. That leaves you two."

Joko and Roth exchanged looks.

"We're not up to that. It would take . . ."

Fyke was getting a little red around the edges.

"You wanted wanted in, Joko. Now that you're here, so far you're just cargo. You said Dagan would give you some help. n.o.body taps a line better than the Mossad. You could get that done in an hour." in, Joko. Now that you're here, so far you're just cargo. You said Dagan would give you some help. n.o.body taps a line better than the Mossad. You could get that done in an hour."

Joko leaned back, leaving it up to Roth, who was still on active duty. Roth fingered his swollen upper lip absently while staring at Fyke not at all lovingly.

"Okay," he said, getting up. "I'll see about it. What's the guy's full name?"

"Nickolu Maloutsis," said Mandy, who had gotten the data from Captain Woodside. She pulled a sheet of paper out of her case, handed it to Roth. "It's all there. Ship registry, her call sign, even Maloutsis's cell-phone number. Woodside said he'd contact Maloutsis as soon as the GPA office opened in the morning. That gives you-what?-six hours to get his electronics into the system. Do you need a warrant?"

Roth showed his teeth, a b.l.o.o.d.y gap right in the upper front.

"No. We leave that c.r.a.p to you Americans. You guys would have to wake up Carl Levin, see if he was okay with it. Wait here. I'll be back."

Roth turned away, striding across the half-empty dining room, pushing his way out the gla.s.s doors and into the night. After he was gone, a silence fell over the table, mostly fatigue, frustration. Some free-floating blame looking for a place to land.

Dobri Levka, so far silent, leaned into the circle of light.

"Excuse, but there was also other other way to find boat. No?" way to find boat. No?"

"The cell phone?" asked Dalton.