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Dominic paced in the pilothouse as Sam and Remi waited with crossed arms for a response from the Spanish Department of Antiquities on what course of action they intended to take in order to protect the shipwreck from looting. In frustration, Sam glanced at the Anonimo Professionale CNS dive watch Remi had given him for his birthday. They’d insisted on radioing in the threat when nobody had answered their phones—not completely unexpected on a Friday before a holiday weekend.

Dominic cut short his walk to nowhere and turned to face them. “My friends, we’ve done everything we can. I’ll notify you when I hear something.”

“Isn’t there anyone else we can get in touch with? The police? The Coast Guard?” Remi demanded.

“I’ll notify everyone and anyone, but there’s a limit to how many of these agencies will react. Remember that while this is extremely important to us, to the rest of the world it’s low on the priority list. Our best bet is to wait for someone from the university or the government to respond.”

“By which time, they could have made off with most, or all, of the relics,” Sam said.

Dominic shrugged. “I understand your frustration. I share it. Which is why I’ll wait to hear and keep calling whoever I can think of.”

Sam touched Remi’s arm and they exchanged a look. Sam nodded and let out a sigh. “I suppose we have to work within the system. If nobody cares to respond, we can’t make them. And we certainly can’t sink Benedict’s boat, much as I’d like to.”

Remi gave him a dark glare. “Sam . . .”

“I said I wouldn’t. Don’t worry.” Sam looked at Dominic. “You will come get us if there’s any word?”

“Of course. The moment I hear something.”

Sam led the way back on deck, where the crew’s barbeque celebration had gradually increased in volume as the day wore on. Raucous laughter greeted them, along with shouts of mock outrage as the never-ending card game continued. The surface of the water around the Bermudez rippled with golden flashes as the sun slid beneath the horizon. Twilight would soon overtake them, and both Sam and Remi knew that their chances of any action being taken by the authorities were receding with the sun’s waning glow.

Back in their stateroom, Remi sat down on the bed and eyed Sam, who had moved to the nearest porthole, from which he was watching Janus’s yacht.

“You know nobody’s going to respond until Monday at the earliest,” she said.

“That’s unfortunately true. Whether it’s because Benedict paid them off to be unavailable or because it’s Friday in Spain.” Sam paused. “I think I know how they’re going to make off with the statuary without risking being boarded and arrested, even though it’s a long shot. They’re not going to load anything on board.”

“Then how are they going to steal it?”

“Ah. With a little sleight of hand, and using Mother Nature to hide their tracks.”

“It’s a little late in the day for riddles, Sam.”

“If I were them, I’d wait until it got dark. How long do you think it would take to empty the hold?”

“Just to extract the statues, if you didn’t care about damaging the wreck? At least all day. But you might lose a few pieces,” Remi said.

“Right. Their biggest problem will be raising it all from the bottom. They can’t do that without being obvious. So my hunch is they’ll wait until dark and use the ship’s cranes.”

Remi frowned. “I thought you said they weren’t going to load it.”

“Not into the boat.”

She stared at him, puzzlement written across her face, and then smiled. “You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you?”

“If you want to catch a thief, you have to think like one,” Sam said. “They could be done in six to seven hours if they

move fast, which you have to believe they will. The work lights will more than compensate for the lack of daylight. I say they’ll pull an all-nighter and be ready to steam out of here at dawn, if not before. That’s my prediction.”

“But we’re going to throw a wrench in that,” Remi said.

“You bet. I specialize in wrench tossing. It was my minor in college.”

“I thought it was beer drinking.”

“You have to have priorities. And they aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“What time do you see the party beginning on our end?”


Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller