Treasure of Khan by Clive Cussler

nowhere near enough time for the dilapidated fishing boat to reach safe haven. Staring at its black hull skimming low in the water, he knew that the old boat had no chance. With a gnawing sense of dread, Giordino realized he might have just given his old friend a death warrant by dropping him to her decks below.
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    P ITT CLUNG to the mast cross-member momentarily, eyeing a pair of worn GPS and radio antennas sprouting just inches from his face. Once Giordino pulled the helicopter away and the air deluge from its rotors subsided, he casually slid down the mast, using his feet as brakes to slow his descent. Grabbing his duffel bag, he stepped across the wheelhouse roof and down a stepladder at its stern edge. Dropping to the deck, he turned and faced the group of shocked people staring at him with open mouths.
    â€œPrivet.” He grinned disarmingly. “Anyone here speak English?”
    â€œAll of us but the captain,” Theresa replied, surprised like the others that Pitt was not Russian.
    â€œWhat is the meaning of this intrusion?” Tatiana demanded tersely. Her dark eyes surveyed Pitt with a look of distrust. Behind her, the fishing boat’s captain stood in the wheelhouse door and launched an equally contemptuous tirade in his native tongue.
    â€œComrade, tell your captain that if he ever wants to hoist another vodka, he had better get this tub turned toward Listvyanka at full speed and right now,” Pitt replied in a commanding tone.
    â€œWhat’s the trouble?” Theresa asked, trying to thaw the tension.
    â€œAn underwater landslide has triggered a large freak wave near Olkhon Island. A thirty-foot wall of water is bearing down on us as we speak. Emergency radio broadcasts were issued across the lake, but your good captain was incapable of hearing the warning.”
    Tatiana had an ashen look on her face as she spoke rapidly to the captain in a hushed tone. The captain nodded without saying a word, then climbed into the wheelhouse. A second later, the boat’s old motor whined in protest as the throttle was pushed to its stops and the bow eased around toward Listvyanka. On the stern deck, Roy and Wofford were already yanking in their survey gear as the boat slowly accelerated.
    Pitt looked up and was disturbed to find that Giordino had flown away from the fishing boat, the silver helicopter now skimming west rapidly toward the horizon. If the boat couldn’t outrun the wave to safety, which was a certainty, then he wanted Giordino standing by above them. Silently, he cursed himself for not bringing a handheld radio with him.
    â€œThank you for flying out to warn us,” Theresa said, approaching Pitt with a nervous smile and a handshake. “That was a dangerous way to come aboard.” She had a warm honesty that reminded Pitt of his wife Loren and he decided that he liked the Dutch woman immediately.
    â€œYes, we are grateful for the alert,” Tatiana said, apologizing for the earlier inquisition in a slightly warmer tone. Making quick introductions, she asked, “You are from the Limnological Institute research ship, no?”
    â€œYes. They’re headed to Listvyanka, along with the other vessels at this end of the lake. Yours was the only one we couldn’t alert by radio.”
    â€œI told you there was something wrong with this boat,” Wofford whispered to Roy.
    â€œSomething wrong with the captain, too,” Roy replied with a shake of the head.
    â€œMr. Pitt, it appears that we will be riding the wave out together. How much time do we have before it will reach us?” Tatiana asked.
    Pitt glanced at his orange-faced Doxa dive watch. “Less than fifteen minutes, based on the rate it was traveling when I left the Vereshchagin. ”
    â€œWe’ll never make it to Listvyanka,” Tatiana quietly assessed.
    â€œThe lake broadens at the southern end, which will dissipate the wave toward the west. The closer we get to Listvyanka,