Clive Cussler by Deep Six

Author:Deep Six
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Clive - Prose & Criticism, Action & Adventure, Cussler, Fiction - Espionage, Dirk (Fictitious character), Pitt, Fiction, Suspense, Espionage, Thrillers, General, Intrigue, Thriller, Adventure fiction
ISBN: 9781416516859
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2005-12-27T07:03:44+00:00

Dirk Pitt 7 - Deep Six

August 7, 1989

Dirk Pitt 7 - Deep Six

Miami, Florida

LOREN WAS GREETED by Captain Yakov Pokofsky when she boarded the Leonin Andreyev. Pokofsky was a charming man with thick silver hair and eyes as round and black as caviar. Though he acted polite and diplomatic, Loren sensed he wasn't actually thrilled at having an American politician snooping about his ship, asking questions about its management. After the usual niceties, the first officer led her to a celebrity suite filled with enough flowers for a state funeral. The Russians, she mused, knew how to accommodate a visiting VIP.

In the evening, when the last of the passengers had boarded and settled down in their staterooms, the crew cast off the mooring lines and the cruise ship steamed out of Biscayne Bay throuah the channel into the Atlantic. The lights of the hotels on Miami Beach glittered under a tropical breeze and slowly closed together in a thin glowing line as the Leonin Andreyev's twin screws thrust her further from shore.

Loren stripped off her clothes and took a shower. When she stepped out and toweled, she struck an exaggerated model's pose in front of a full-length mirror. The body was holding up quite well, considering thirty-seven years of use. jogging and ballet classes four hours a week kept the centrifugal forces at bay. She pinched her tummy and sadly noted that slightly more than an inch of flesh protruded between her thumb and forefinger. The lavish food on the cruise ship wasn't going to do her weight any good. She steeled her mind to lay off the alcohol and desserts.

She slipped on a mauve silk damask jacket over a black lace and taffeta skirt. Loosening the businesslike knot at the top of her head, she let her hair down so that it spilled over her shoulders. Satisfied with the effect, she felt in the mood for a stroll around the deck before dinner at the captain's table.

The air was so warm she dispensed with a sweater. On the aft end of the sun deck she found a vacant deck chair and relaxed, raising her knees and clasping her hands around her calves. For the next half-hour she let her mind wander as she watched the half-moon's reflection dash across the dark swells. Then the exterior deck lights abruptly went out from bow to stern.

Loren didn't notice the helicopter until it was almost over the fantail of the ship. It had arrived at wavetop level, flying without navigation lights. Several crew members appeared from the shadows and quickly lain a roof over the boat-deck swimming pool.

Then a ship's officer signaled with a flashlight and the helicopter descended lightly onto the improvised landing pad.

Loren rose to her feet and stared over the railing. Her vantage point was one deck above and forty feet distant from the closedover swimming pool. The area was dimly lit by the partial moon, enabling her to observe most of the action. She glanced around, looking for other passengers, but saw only five or six who were standing.

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