Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt)
Clive Cussler, Dirk Cussler
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Dirk Pitt returns, in the thrilling new novel from the grand master of adventure and #1 New York Times bestselling author.
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 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 treasure.
The stone was supposedly destroyed on the battleship Maine in Havana Harbor in 1898, which brings them both to Cuba as well—and squarely into harm’s way. The three of them have been in desperate situations before…but perhaps never quite as dire as the one facing them now.
possibly a moniker for the ship’s name. We hope it’s the latter.” “It’s possible, although during that time the Spanish were more apt to name their ships after religious icons. Fortunately, the records of the early Spanish voyages are fairly stout.” “It’s the stone we’re after, so if you have any thoughts on where it may have ended up, we’d certainly be interested. It obviously has some deep significance to someone.” “Regrettably, many among us will go to unsavory lengths in pursuit of a
crate. She then headed south toward Montego Bay. Summer melted into the late-afternoon traffic. Steering down the road’s left lane, a vestige from Jamaica’s British colonial past, she drove with a focused vigilance. They motored another five minutes before Summer pulled off the road, her knuckles white. In that short span, they’d been nearly sideswiped by a moving van and rear-ended by a bread truck. “They drive like crazy here!” she blurted. “Too many potholes,” Dirk said, “or maybe just too
played out additional cable, Dirk powered toward the lights. It didn’t take long to see they didn’t come from the Starfish. The lights twinkled from the massive collecting machine that was designed to vacuum up crushed rock. The big vehicle sat idle, its bulk cutter partner nowhere in sight. Standing watch nearby was the large, square ROV, hovering a few meters off the bottom. As the NUMA probe drew near, the collecting machine rose off the bottom amid a cloud of silt. A thick pair of cables
Sargasso Sea. She was operating in the Florida Straits, about thirty miles northeast of Havana. Voice and data links have now been nonresponsive for more than twenty-four hours.” “Any distress calls or emergency beacons?” “No, sir.” “She’s captained by Malcomb Smith, isn’t she?” “That’s correct.” “He’s a good man.” “Pitt and Giordino are also aboard.” Sandecker pulled out a thick cigar, his lone vice, and lit it up. “What were they doing off of Cuba? You weren’t helping the CIA, were you?”
operations. A rescue basket, along with stacks of life preservers, was stowed in the aft fuselage, while a spooled-cable winch was mounted above the open cargo door. Pitt casually glanced at the Spanish-labeled controls on the winch, identifying a lever that raised and lowered the lifting hook. Pitt found the rest of the interior of classic military design: bare-bones, with exposed bulkheads. An ex–Air Force pilot with a keen mechanical aptitude, Pitt tracked a myriad of cables and hydraulic