Havana Storm
A Dirk Pitt Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
Dirk Pitt returns in Havana Storm, the thrilling new novel from the grand master of adventure and No.1 New York Times bestselling author, Clive Cussler.
While investigating a toxic outbreak in the Caribbean Sea that may ultimately threaten the United...
While investigating a toxic outbreak in the Caribbean Sea that may ultimately threaten the United...
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Dirk Pitt returns in Havana Storm, the thrilling new novel from the grand master of adventure and No.1 New York Times bestselling author, Clive Cussler.While investigating a toxic outbreak in the Caribbean Sea that may ultimately threaten the United States, Pitt unwittingly becomes involved in something even more dangerous - a post-Castro power struggle for the control of Cuba.
Meanwhile, Pitt's children, marine engineer Dirk and oceanographer Summer, are on an investigation of their own, chasing an Aztec stone that may reveal the whereabouts of a vast historical Aztec treasure. The problem is, that stone was believed to have been destroyed on the battleship Maine in Havana Harbor in 1898, which brings the pair both to Cuba as well - and squarely into harm's way.
Pitt father, son and daughter have been in desperate situations before ... but perhaps never quite as dire as the one facing them now.
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FEBRUARY 15, 1898
Sweat flowed down the exhausted man's face, cascading in heavy drops off his unshaven cheeks. Pulling a pair of thick wooden oars toward his chest, he tilted his head and rubbed a soiled sleeve across his forehead. He ignored the pain in his limbs and resumed a slow but steady stroke.
The exertion alone didn't account for his perspiration, nor did the muggy tropical climate. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, and the still air hanging over Havana Harbor was cool and damp. It was the strain of pursuit that kept his pulse rapid. With vacant eyes, he stared across the water, gesturing with his head to the man behind him in the boat.
It had been nearly two weeks since the Spanish militia first tried to appropriate his discovery, forcing him to flee. Three of his comrades had already died defending the relic. The Spaniards had no qualms about killing and would gladly murder him to get what they wanted. He would have been killed already, except for a chance encounter with a ragtag band of armed Cuban rebels, who provided him safe passage to the outskirts of Havana.
He glanced over his shoulder at a pair of warships moored near the harbor's commercial anchorage.
"Al estribor," he rasped. "To the right."
"Sí," replied the squat Cuban seated behind, wielding his own set of oars. He was similarly attired in torn and soiled clothes, his face shaded by a weathered straw hat.
Together, they maneuvered the leaky longboat toward the modern steel warships. The old man scoured the harbor for threats, but he seemed to have finally eluded his pursuers. A safe haven was within his grasp.
They rowed slowly past the smaller warship, which carried a Spanish flag hung from its stern mast, and approached the second vessel. An armored cruiser, it featured twin gun turrets that protruded awkwardly over either side rail. The deck and topsides were painted a straw yellow, offset against a clean white hull. With lanterns still aglow in the dawn's
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light,the ship sparkled like an amber diamond.
Several sentries patrolled fore and aft, watching over the ship in a high state of readiness. An officer in a dark uniform appeared on a superstructure walkway and eyed the approaching longboat.
He raised a megaphone. "Halt and state your business."
"I'm Dr. Ellsworth Boyd of Yale University," the old man said in a shaky voice. "The American Consulate in Havana has arranged for my refuge aboard your vessel."
"Stand by, please."
The officer disappeared into the bridge. A few minutes later, he appeared on deck with several sailors. A rope ladder was lowered over the side and the longboat waved to approach. When the boat scraped against the warship's hull, Boyd stood and threw a line to one of the sailors.
"I have a crate that must accompany me. It is very important."
Boyd kicked away some palm fronds that concealed a thick wooden crate lodged between the benches. As the sailors lowered additional ropes, Boyd surveyed the surrounding waters. Satisfied as to their safety, Boyd and his assistant secured the ropes to the crate and watched as it was hoisted aboard.
"That will have to remain on deck," the officer said as a pair of sailors muscled the heavy box to a ventilator and tied it down.
Boyd handed his rowing partner a gold coin, shook hands in farewell, then climbed up the rope ladder. Just north of fifty, Boyd was in strapping condition for his age and acclimated to the humidity of the tropics from working in the Caribbean each winter season. But he was no longer young, a fact he was loath to accept. He ignored the nagging pains in his joints and the constant fatigue he couldn't seem to shake as he climbed onto the deck.
"I'm Lieutenant Holman," the officer said. "We've been expecting you, Dr. Boyd. Let me show you to a guest cabin, where you can get cleaned up. Due to security concerns, I'll have to ask that you rema
Several sentries patrolled fore and aft, watching over the ship in a high state of readiness. An officer in a dark uniform appeared on a superstructure walkway and eyed the approaching longboat.
He raised a megaphone. "Halt and state your business."
"I'm Dr. Ellsworth Boyd of Yale University," the old man said in a shaky voice. "The American Consulate in Havana has arranged for my refuge aboard your vessel."
"Stand by, please."
The officer disappeared into the bridge. A few minutes later, he appeared on deck with several sailors. A rope ladder was lowered over the side and the longboat waved to approach. When the boat scraped against the warship's hull, Boyd stood and threw a line to one of the sailors.
"I have a crate that must accompany me. It is very important."
Boyd kicked away some palm fronds that concealed a thick wooden crate lodged between the benches. As the sailors lowered additional ropes, Boyd surveyed the surrounding waters. Satisfied as to their safety, Boyd and his assistant secured the ropes to the crate and watched as it was hoisted aboard.
"That will have to remain on deck," the officer said as a pair of sailors muscled the heavy box to a ventilator and tied it down.
Boyd handed his rowing partner a gold coin, shook hands in farewell, then climbed up the rope ladder. Just north of fifty, Boyd was in strapping condition for his age and acclimated to the humidity of the tropics from working in the Caribbean each winter season. But he was no longer young, a fact he was loath to accept. He ignored the nagging pains in his joints and the constant fatigue he couldn't seem to shake as he climbed onto the deck.
"I'm Lieutenant Holman," the officer said. "We've been expecting you, Dr. Boyd. Let me show you to a guest cabin, where you can get cleaned up. Due to security concerns, I'll have to ask that you rema
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Bibliographische Angaben
- Autoren: Clive Cussler , Dirk Cussler
- 2015, 464 Seiten, Maße: 10,6 x 17,2 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Berkley
- ISBN-10: 110198807X
- ISBN-13: 9781101988077
- Erscheinungsdatum: 03.11.2015
Sprache:
Englisch
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