Poseidon's Arrow (Dirk Pitt Adventure)
Clive Cussler, Dirk Cussler
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It is the greatest advance in American defense technology in decades—an attack submarine capable of incredible underwater speeds. There is only one problem: A key element of the prototype is missing—and the man who developed it is dead.
At the same time, ships have started vanishing mid-ocean, usually never to be found again, but when they are, sometimes bodies are found aboard…burned to a crisp. What is going on? And what does it have to do with an Italian submarine that vanished in 1943? Or did it?
It is up to NUMA director Dirk Pitt and his team, aided by a beautiful NCIS agent and by Pitt’s children, Dirk, Jr., and Summer, to go on a desperate international chase to find the truth. But what they discover is a much, much greater threat than even they imagined…
operation.” They joined him at the table, where Pitt described his abduction and the operation at Bolcke’s hidden facility. “We’ve pulled the Habsburg’s company transit records and have found an odd pattern of canal crossings,” Madrid said. “Their ships enter at one end,” Pitt said, “and don’t exit the other until days later.” “Exactly correct.” “They are delivering purchased or stolen raw ore at the facility and then shipping out the refined product.” Madrid nodded
“The basics. She was built in Korea in 2005. At a length of five hundred and ten feet and a capacity of fifty-four thousand deadweight tons, she’s classified as a Handymax dry bulk carrier. She was fitted with five holds, two cranes, and a self-dispensing conveyor system.” “Which can make for a nice stairwell,” Pitt noted. “She’s owned by a Japanese shipping company named Sendai, and has seen steady service in the Pacific, primarily as an ore carrier. On her last voyage she was
decorated with the nautical motif befitting a retired admiral, showcasing several antique oil paintings of long-forgotten clipper ships battling the high seas. Though right on time, Pitt walked into a meeting in progress. Two men and a woman sat in wingback chairs around a coffee table, listening to the Vice President, who paced the lush carpet while clenching a large cigar. “Dirk, there you are.” He zipped across the room to shake Pitt’s hand. “Come, take a seat.” Though diminutive in
tufts of fur. Zhou ordered a baijiu, a grain alcohol that was the locals’ favorite, and slid onto a corner chair to study the clientele. Cloistered in groups of two or three, most were well on their way to numbing themselves from the day’s labor. He scanned from face to hardened face, searching for a suitable target. He found one a few tables away, a brash, loudmouthed young man, talking the ears off his silent, towering partner. Zhou waited until the talker had nearly drained his shot
coat pocket and stretched his legs away from the others while the trucks were refueled. The trucks moved off slowly, fighting their way through the thickening city traffic. They looped around the west side of Beijing to avoid the worst of the congestion and continued southeast. It took the better part of two hours before they reached the port city of Tianjin. Xao led the trucks through a maze of streets to the center of the large commercial docks. They reached an old dockside warehouse