The Ionian Paradigm

by Daniel Leston

  “Won’t be too difficult to find. The thing is bloody enormous. In the meantime, we’re going to grab some dinner and take another stab at repairing the control cable.”

  “Fair enough,” replied Ted. “Let’s see what I can accomplish at my end. Hopefully it won’t be too long. I’ll call back when my people have compiled more information. Keep your cells close, okay?”

  “Thanks, Ted. Will do. And good luck.”

  “To all of us, my friend.”

  * * * *

  Ted’s return call reached Elizabeth’s cell at 10:15 the following morning as they prepared to give the re-worked cable a full test run. Indications said it was again functioning properly—yet they’d been disappointed too many times to feel overly positive. David noted her concerned expression as she clicked it off.

  “Ted wants us to go back to our suite and phone him as soon as possible. He has a lot of new information he wants to transmit through your laptop.”

  “Our test won’t take more than an hour, hon. Think we could—”

  “He says it’s urgent.”

  * * * *

  Ted picked up on the first ring, which impressed David considering the seven-hour time difference between Boston and Corfu.

  “You’ve either been up all night, my friend,” he chided as he put Ted on the suite’s speakerphone, “—or you’re one hell of an early riser.”

  Ted gave a weary chuckle. “A bit of both, actually.”

  “Didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. We were just about to take our re-vamped equipment out for a test run.”

  “After what I have to tell you, I suspect that may no longer even be necessary.”

  “How so?”

  “There’s a very good possibility that what you guys are looking for has already been found. There’s no need to take notes, by the way. I’m going to be transmitting you copies of all I have. Is everybody there?”

  David flicked his narrowed eyes to Elizabeth and the rest.

  “All here. What’ve you got?”

  Ted cleared his throat.

  “To begin with, my people were finally able to hack into and acquire some of the OAO-Rus blueprints showing what was done to the Varna over its lengthy stint in Novorossiysk shipyard. Wasn’t at all what we expected to find. The only way I can adequately describe it is by first asking you a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Ever heard of a ship called the Glomar Explorer?”

  David’s eyes narrowed even further.

  “Yes. I take it you’re referring to the one secretly built by Howard Hughes back in the late seventies for the American government. Right?”

  “That’s the one. Basically, it was a high-tech recovery vessel designed to employ a unique system of deep water lifting cradles, all of which were hidden from view within its hull. Its sole purpose was to covertly raise a sunken Soviet missile submarine that went down in the deep waters of the Pacific a decade earlier. Due primarily to the great depth, the attempt was only partially successful, but that’s not important. The point is, as cloaked as she was, no one observing the ship from the outside had any inkling of what she was actually doing. The only clue was the fact that she held a constant position for literally weeks on end.”

  “You’re saying the Varna was given similar capabilities?”

  “Not nearly on such a grand scale, but yes. We don’t know how else to interpret the drawings. Study them yourself. I’m going to send them shortly.”

  David sighed, absorbing the significance of all this information. If Ted was right this would also explain why no effort was made to clean and repaint the hull during all that refurbishing. Its outward appearance was intentionally maintained as camouflage. If the ship was doing what Ted inferred, it was no wonder someone aboard the freighter decided it was time to sabotage them. Simply put, the Argos IV was getting too damn close . . .

  “When can we get a look at those prints?”

  “I’ll send everything I have right away.”

  “You’ve gone above and beyond, my friend,” said David in appreciation. “Our thanks to everyone involved. Get some sleep. This is going to take serious digesting on our part.”

  A slight pause on the line.

  “Actually, David, there’s something more. I don’t know what it’s worth, but you suggested I do some digging on that Alexei Talanov fellow. Getting any hard information on him seems next to impossible, even for my team, I’m afraid. Russia’s current batch of oligarch billionaires is an incredibly secretive bunch. However, I did come up with something he wasn’t able to conceal. Turns out his purchase of an island in the Ionian Sea is more than a mere rumor. He did so several years ago, his stated intention was to build a summer home there at some point in the future. On the surface, this may not be all that significant except for two things. Firstly, the island he bought from the Greek government isn’t simply somewhere out there in the Ionian Sea. It’s located less than six nautical miles southwest of where the freighter s presently anchored. Within spitting distance, as they say.”

  David took a breath.

  “And the second?” he asked.

  “It’s the date he made the purchase proposal. It was on the nineteenth of July, two thousand and eight—which got me to thinking. If I remember correctly from what you and Nick told me when I was in Corfu, wasn’t this only a matter of days after that young fisherman, Ilias Sanna, mysteriously disappeared off his fishing trawler?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was past mid-afternoon when Omar and Lana finally took a break from studying the complex material forwarded by Ted. Putting it all together in some semblance of order had proven mentally exhausting. With Jake to accompany them, they returned to the Argos IV to perform the postponed test on the re-configured cable. Among other things, this gave David the opportunity to place an overdue call to his colleague in Salonika. Nick should be brought up to speed with all these developments.

  Needless to say, his friend was as much taken aback by everything that transpired over the past several days as were David and Elizabeth. When he asked what the next move should be, David could honestly provide no real answer. Though the hacked drawings on the Varna showed the ship had been cleverly altered by OAO-Rus for one purpose only, this was hardly proof positive the vessel was plundering the very same ancient wreck site they were seeking; and despite the fragmentary evidence linking this vessel to their mutual acquaintance Alexei Talanov’s involvement was still unsubstantiated speculation.

  The hard evidence simply didn’t yet exist.

  As David had told Ted earlier, he needed time to digest all the implications.

  After replacing the phone, he stood staring out through the sliding glass doors toward the shimmering sea beyond the Potamaki Hotel’s wide beach. Watching him, Elizabeth said nothing. Long experience taught her the wisdom of letting him work things out on his own.

  It took patience on her part.

  Above all, she trusted his innate instincts when it came to analyzing difficult situations, his methodology for accomplishing this invariably the same. It was a system she’d seen him employ innumerable times in the past. Thus it came as no surprise when he eventually turned and pulled a legal-size notepad from his briefcase and sat jotting down points as if randomly plucking them from the air.

  To be as unobtrusive as possible, she silently retreated to their bedroom for the duration, giving him the necessary privacy he required. When finished he’d need someone to act as a sounding board to test the validity of his final conclusions. But that time hadn’t yet arrived. When it did, she was prepared to be there for him.

  It was over an hour later when she eventually emerged, noting that he’d poured himself a scotch and soda and was now slowly pacing the floor. It was always a good sign. Half a dozen sheets were clipped together on the end table, apparently having served their purpose.

  Time to play her role.

  “So what does your gut tell you?” she asked, curling up on the couch.
<
br />   “About Talanov?”

  “That’s a good place to start.”

  “Oh, he’s guilty as hell, unquestionably. The evidence is too overwhelming to drop it at anyone else’s door. True, the really hard evidence may be lacking, but the long string of coincidences is simply too much to deny. Besides, who else could afford that renovation work on the Varna—and all of it done in a Russian port, no less?”

  Elizabeth moved on.

  “Which leads me to the big question,” she said. “What’s the likelihood his people are using that freighter to plunder the wreck we’ve been seeking—the source of the marble arm brought up by the young fisherman?”

  David didn’t hesitate in his response.

  “About a hundred percent, I’m sorry to say. And they’ve been at it for a solid two months according to Ted’s retrieved satellite images. Thus it’s fairly clear what was down there must have been considerable, it’s historical and monetary value probably beyond estimation.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “But Talanov knew all this going in, of course, prepared to make this a continuous and worthwhile operation, all completely for his own benefit. And he figured he’d have all the time in the world to pull it off. Unlike us, no hunting for it was necessary because he’d learned years ago exactly where that wreck lay.”

  “From the young fisherman, right?”

  David nodded.

  “I’ve no doubt Ilias Sanna was abducted off his trawler, then forced by one means or another to reveal the location. Once the site was confirmed, it was just a matter of body disposal.”

  “Talanov murdered him?”

  “More likely ordered it—but essentially yes. Again, there’s probably no way of ever proving it.”

  Elizabeth thought for a moment.

  “What about the accumulated circumstantial evidence?” she asked. “Surely, David, the fact that he bought that nearby island out here only days after Sanna’s disappearance must account for something!”

  “Damn little, I’m afraid.”

  “But when it’s revealed his ship has been—”

  He stopped her with a firm shake of his head.

  “That’s just one of several problems I’ve been struggling with, hon. All of this presents a much more difficult situation than first meets the eye. Even with all the information Ted’s so far gathered about OAO-Rus, there’s really nothing to tie him to direct ownership of that company—or the Varna, for that matter. There may never be. And as for the island he purchased back in 2008, I’m now convinced it’s no longer even relevant. It might’ve once played a role in his early plans, but no longer. Near as we know, no work of any sort was ever done to it. I suspect that when he found out the true magnitude of Sanna’s chance find, his ambitions expanded a thousand fold—hence the small fortune he invested in reconfiguring the Varna into a vessel capable of gathering and transporting all of his ill-gotten treasure to literally anywhere of his choosing. If I have to guess, I’d say he plans to take it somewhere back to Russia.”

  “So how do we stop him?”

  David emptied his glass and set it aside.

  “Well, that’s an area where things get a bit dicey,” he said. “Despite the fact I’m now totally persuaded the Varna is busy plundering ancient artifacts, there’s really precious little we can offer the authorities beyond the strength of a calculated hunch.”

  Elizabeth looked dismayed.

  “But shouldn’t all this by itself be enough for the Greek government to at least come in and check it out?”

  “Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you. But it’s not quite that simple. Without acceptable facts to back up our allegations it could all backfire on us in ways we haven’t anticipated—particularly if and when the name Alexei Talanov pops up.”

  “Why should that make a difference?”

  David gave a tight-lipped smile.

  “Oh, it will, hon! Trust me. Think about it from their point of view. You have only to recall the enormous financial contributions made by the oligarch over the past several years to various government institutions. With all of Greece’s current financial woes, he’s been a veritable godsend to the country. I somehow doubt anyone’s going to rush forward to make negative inferences on the mere strength of our unsupported theories.”

  Elizabeth considered the logic, finding it made sense.

  “You’re probably right,” she finally admitted. “However, once pressured, I have to believe they’ll eventually be forced to open up an investigation of some sort, won’t they?”

  “The problem is, we don’t have the luxury of waiting. It appears timing has suddenly become critical—and it’s definitely not working in our favor. If my suspicions are correct, Talanov is only a few days away from wrapping up his long and successful operation. I don’t think it was mere chance he arrived in Corfu when he did. I suspect he purposely linked that function in his honor at the Kerkira Hilton to pretty much coincide with the final work being done by the Varna under his supervision. If that’s the case, then we’ve very limited time left to gather irrefutable proof of his activities.”

  She moved her head.

  “And that’s not likely, is it?”

  “Well,” he replied, “I suppose there is perhaps one avenue we could possibly explore. But it will take some very careful planning.”

  “Which is what?”

  The ring of his cell interrupted any further expanding.

  After a short conversation—with David mostly listening—he clicked off and tossed the phone onto the couch. “That was Ted,” he said. “His news isn’t good.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Seems I was overly optimistic projecting we still had a few days left to gather evidence. It now appears we’re down to mere hours.”

  “Why?”

  “Ted’s latest satellite imagery shows the Corrina leaving the main harbor and heading south in our direction. He thought we should know.”

  Elizabeth saw David’s mind working overtime as he pulled out the Varna’s hacked layout prints.

  “You were about to tell me the possibility of a plan . . .”

  “A last resort plan, I’m afraid. It may not even be feasible. What I do know for certain is that you’re not going to like it—but I can’t really see any alternative at this point.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Following Morning. 1:12 am.

  Surreptitiously commandeering the Argos IV’s motorized twelve-foot dingy in the middle of the night proved no difficulty. Tied off on the wharf behind the parent boat, it was a simple matter for David and Omar to loosen the ropes, roll back the thin tarp, and then quietly row it well into the bay without waking Captain Vassalio.

  Fortunately, he was a sound sleeper.

  Two hundred yards out, they felt confide

  nt enough to pull in the oars and engage the console’s electric start on the 10 HP Yamaha attached on the rear transom. The finely tuned outboard caught immediately, operating with little noise. Their hastily conceived plan depended entirely on stealth. With luck the small craft would be back in place before first light, no awkward explanations required.

  Once calculating their bearings, Omar headed in the approximate direction of the freighter, hopefully to find it still anchored nine miles to the southeast. That it was a moonless night with overcast sky played favorably into their hands, an unanticipated bonus. They needed every advantage if they were to pull this off.

  Their plan was very basic, nothing elaborate—yet the inherent danger couldn’t be taken lightly. Perhaps too simplistic to succeed? Though neither spoke of it, both silently pondered if this might be the case. Yet David could conceive of no other plausible alternative under the pressing circumstances. They needed solid proof of what the mystery ship was actually doing before it weighed anchor and slipped away.

  The next few hours would tell the tale.

  Convincing Elizabeth and Lana to go along with their bold plan had proven only marginally successful, for both
considered it incredibly risky, regardless of all the rational arguments and promises to implement extreme caution throughout. Yet the men were determined. The only thing a worried Elizabeth fully concurred with was the necessity of keeping young Jake completely out of the loop. Best he knew nothing of his father’s upcoming attempt. The less he knew, the better. God willing, when the teenager awoke in the morning they would be safely returned, out of danger and with the required evidence in hand.

  At least that was the goal . . .

  The luminous dial on David’s wristwatch showed 2:05 when they finally located the dark outline of the freighter and began a stealthy approach toward the ship’s stern. It was their initial intent to kill the outboard a few hundred yards out and employ the oars to carefully maneuver the dingy alongside—but the necessity for such covertness never arose.

  The closer they got to the vessel the more obvious it became that loud internal noises generating from within the ship’s steel hull were more than adequate to mask their arrival. Though too muffled to be clearly identified from outside, it seemed to be a combination of steady hammering, raised voices, and the regular overlapping whine of power tools—all activities reinforcing David’s assumption the freighter was hurriedly preparing for a dawn departure.

  It had taken a careful study of Ted’s blueprints to formulate their plan. The knowledge they gleaned was key, providing their best chance of success. Now would be the test.

  True to the drawings, they located a grated metal platform positioned just inches above the waterline on the aft side of the stern. Apparently installed as a means to allow exterior examination of the ship’s propellers, it was probably seldom used except for emergencies. Rising above it was an attached steel ladder leading up thirty-odd-feet to the ship’s rear deck.

  This would be David’s entry point.

  Omar secured and held the dingy against the railed platform as his friend disembarked, then gave an encouraging thumbs-up, watching as David undertook the lengthy climb.