The Minoan Cipher (A Matinicus “Matt” Hawkins Adventure Book 2) by Paul Kemprecos Page B

morning, the Sancho Panza eased from its slip in the gray light of dawn and chugged through the steamy mists rising from the Bay of Cadiz, trailing a creamy wake in the mirror-flat waters. As the boat cleared the harbor Captain Santiago goosed the throttle, ramped up the speed to a steady twenty knots and pointed the bow southwesterly into the Atlantic.
    The soft pinkish-gold light from the rising sun fell on the flags fluttering from the mast. Topmost was the horizontally-striped red and orange banner of Spain. Hanging below the Spanish pennant was the blue and white flag of Greece, dominated by its white cross. On the bottom was the familiar Stars and Stripes.
    Hawkins wore a Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution T-shirt emblazoned with the picture of a sailing ship, a WHOI baseball cap, tan cargo shorts and high-topped work boots. Hawkins called the look, “Woods Hole chic,” because it was the standard uniform around the world-famous ocean studies center. Kalliste had on white shorts and a sky-blue T-shirt that had a drawing on the front of an ancient square-rigged ship and the word, AEGEO , the name of a Greek research vessel she had worked on.
    Nearing the destination, it was easy to spot the buoy that the Spanish coast guard had used to mark the wreck. The captain used the GPS to hone in on the orange foam sphere bobbing in the waves. Cutting power, the boat plowed to a halt and the anchor splashed into the dark green water with a rattle of chain.
    “Right on target,” the captain said. “The rest is up to you, my friends.”
    Hawkins said, “Thanks, Captain Santiago. We can start as soon as Dr. Kalchis gives the word.”
    “We can start immediately as far as I’m concerned,” Kalliste said. “But we are guests in Spanish waters, and it is Senor Rodriguez, as his country’s official observer, who has the final say.”
    Rodriguez had been standing behind the captain, a mug of coffee in his hand. He was a short, pudgy man with several receding chins and a completely bald head partially covered by an ill-fitting toupee. He was dressed in a shiny dark suit and tie. He smiled and in a soft voice, said, “I am here as a colleague who wishes to help, not hinder.” Setting the mug down, he pulled a notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket. “Since I am also the official government record keeper, could you tell me what your survey will entail?”
    “Dr. Kalchis and I will dive together in the manned submersible, take a look at what’s on the bottom and try to confirm the initial Coast Guard assessment,” Hawkins said.
    Rodriguez repeated what he had made clear a number of times since boarding the boat that morning. “My main job on this expedition is to guarantee that the wreck is not disturbed, and to make sure no artifacts are removed.”
    Hawkins nodded. “We’ll hover at a safe distance. The only thing we plan on taking is video and photographs to study later.”
    Rodriguez licked his lips. “It is my job to see that protocol is followed. If you don’t mind, I will have to make a call to ask for final permission.”
    “We hope that will not take long,” Kalliste said. “Your government has given me permission for this survey. You must know, as a fellow archaeologist, that I would hardly risk damaging my reputation by allowing a physical inspection of an ancient site without first carefully mapping every detail.”
    “I am aware of that, Dr. Kalchis, but I must follow my instructions to the letter.”
    He jotted something down in his notebook and strolled off.
    “Sanctimonious self-important little piglet,” Kalliste said. “It drives me crazy the way he wets his lips with his tongue. Ugh.”
    Hawkins smiled, but his narrowed eyes watched Rodriguez go to the stern where he stopped to take out a phone and turned his back to them. Three tours of duty as a Navy SEAL in Afghanistan had honed Hawkins’s observational skills. Something wasn’t quite right. The guy was as slippery as an eel. Hawkins