“So much for my incredible powers of persuasion,” Austin said. “Since you appear to have your mind made up, maybe I can convince you to accompany me on a tour of Istanbul at night, Topkapi Palace is a must-see, and there are some great shops around the Sulemaniye Mosque where you can pick up some gifts for the folks back home, We can wrap up the evening with dinner on board one of the Lufer boats.”

“Another four-star chef.”

“Not quite, but the scenery is special.”

“I'm staying at the Marmara Hotel on Taksim Square.”

“I know where it is, How about seven o'clock the day we dock?”

“I'll be looking forward to it,” Austin saw little of Kaela the rest of the trip, She was busy with her two colleagues interviewing the captain and crew or working on background for Noah, He contacted NUMA headquarters and filed a report on the Russian incident and spent the rest of the time trying to piece the Gooney back together. The Argo made good time, and before long they were making their passage past the villages and old forts along the Bosporus.

THE TWO-HOUR PASSAGE through the Bosporus was never dull. The narrow seventeen-mile waterway is considered the world's most dangerous strait. Captain At- wood threaded the Argo around tankers, ferries and passenger boats as he made the twelve course changes necessary during the final leg of the voyage. The strong current that ran from the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara made life even more interesting. Those on board let out a collective sigh of relief as the survey ship passed the ferry terminals and cruise-ship docks to tie alongside a pier near the Galata Bridge.

From the ship, Austin watched the television crew stuff its gear into a cab. Kaela waved good-bye, and the cab headed away from the waterfront. He walked around the deck, taking in the view of the bridge guarding the mouth of the Golden Horn, and the sprawling Topkapi Palace built for Sultan Mehmet II in the 1400s. In the distance he could see the minarets of the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.

He went back to his cabin and caught up on paperwork, then showered and exchanged his shorts and sweatshirt for casual slacks and a light cotton sweater. Near dinnertime, he walked down the gangway and made his way to the street to look for a cab. A taxi pulled up beside him. It was a vintage Chevrolet, circa 1950s. There were passengers in the car, which identified it as a dolmus, meaning “stuffed” in Turkish. Unlike the regular cabs, these taxis crammed in as many passengers as they could fit.