The reverse side of the plate appeared as if it had been once part of a large industrial food container, now cut and flattened to fit flush against the bulkhead. Conner turned the plate back around. Faint marks were visible on its dull surface. "It looks like hen scratching. Somebody's idea of a joke?"

"It's not hen scratching." She took the tin plate out and laid it on the floor. "And I don't think it was a joke."

In the illumination of the work lights, Hannah could see that the plate was covered with an intricate pattern of symbols and geometric shapes.

"Triangles, circles, and squares, oh my," Conner murmured.

"And I thought we were going to get through this job without a Wizard of Oz reference from you," Hannah said. Her hand traced the markings. Triangles seemed to be the dominant figure, joined by thin straight lines to the other shapes. There were eight vertical columns of figures, each ending with a single-digit numeral.

"Conner…"

As was often the case on their jobs together, it was as if he had read her mind. He had already begun to unfasten the other two plates. "You've seen this kind of stuff before? What is it?"

"I saw something like it in one of the captain's books. I'm not sure if it's the same thing."

"So what do we do with it? Turn it over to the museum?"

She nodded. "It's almost midnight, or I'd call them now. I'll contact them tomorrow morning and ask them if they want it sent to the lab or if they'd rather we just replace it where we found it. Until they decide, we document the discovery, photograph it, and add it to the schematic."

"Got you." He finished detaching the other two plates and placed them on the floor next to the first one. They featured the same distinctive arrangement of numbers and symbols.

Hannah pointed to the second two plates. "Look, the handwriting gets more and more erratic. By the time we get to the bottom of the third plate, the symbols are very difficult to read."

"In this light, most of these hen scratchings are impossible to read. The markings are too shallow." He grabbed his camera and took a few shots before shaking his head. "No, I'll need stronger lights. Maybe if I brush some phosphorous powder over the surface and photograph it under an ultraviolet light…"

"Then do it." Hannah went to the table where she'd set her laptop. "I'll do the initial journal entry. You can do the entire expanded report later."

"I knew I wasn't going to get off with taking a few photos." Conner sighed. "I think you should have to do the paperwork since I made this historic discovery."

"You called it hen scratchings. Now it's historic?"

"Historic hen scratchings," he said firmly. "And you should do all the paperwork."

"We'll talk about it after I notify the museum." Her gaze returned to the computer screen. "And after you get us some decent photos to accompany the report."

"I'm on it." He propped one of the panels against the chair and studied it in the viewfinder. "Not clear enough. I'll have to go back to the van and get the lights."

"I'll do it." She pressed SAVE and stood up. "I need to call Bradworth and tell him about the find anyway. I can't get good reception on my cell in here."

"Yeah, I know. I always have to go out on the pier to talk to Cathy. Why don't you wait until tomorrow and call Bradworth at the same time you call the museum?"

"He said he was at our disposal day or night, and we might as well take him at his word. Your hen scratchings could be important, if not historic, and I'm shifting the responsibility onto his shoulders."

"Good idea." He took another picture and then changed the position of the plate and backed away from it. "Bring my other camera too."

"That's right, load me up like a pack mule." She headed for the ladder. "You're just trying to punish me for making you do the report."

He grinned at her over his shoulder. "How did you guess? Maybe you could bring the tripod, the heavy one, and the video camera, and a-"

"No way. You want anything more than those lights and you go after them yourself," she said as she opened the hatch. "And if you manage to get the photos without those monster lights before I get back, I'll break your neck."

"Abuse and threats. It's a wonder I put up with you."

"Ditto."

Her smile faded as she jumped down on the pier. The call to Bradworth might be totally unnecessary, but she was uneasy and curious. The plates had clearly been hidden, and the marks on their surface done hurriedly and by hand. Why?

Well, it wasn't her concern. It was an interesting anomaly that she should ignore and get on with her work. After she turned the panels over to Bradworth or the museum, they could do what they wanted with them.

She was dialing Bradworth's number as she walked down the pier. She quickly filled him in as she opened the back door of the van and started to pull the strobe light out. "That's the story. It's up to you whether you want to notify the museum tonight. I'm going back to the sub to finish taking the photos and make the report and you can let me know tomorrow what I should do with-"

"Markings? What kind of markings?"

"Conner calls them hen scratchings, but that's only because they're pretty crude. They could be some kind of formula or maybe navigational code. I saw something like it in one of Captain Vladzar's books."

Silence. "You did? You're sure?"

"I didn't say I was sure. I said it was similar. I can't be certain until I get clear photos and can compare them. And the book was in Russian, so I couldn't really make heads or tails of that either. Are you going to call the museum tonight?" Bradworth didn't answer, and she said impatiently, "Look, I have to get these lights back to the sub. Conner is waiting for them. You do what you want about-"

"No," Bradworth said sharply. "Don't go back to the sub. Get the hell out of there."

She stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you should forget about the damn plates and get-Hold on, my other phone's ringing. Don't hang up. I have to take this call." She heard his muffled voice on the other line. "Yes, she's on the phone now. I'll take care of it. Screw you. I'm doing the best I can." He came back on the line. "Hannah, I'm going to call my agent stationed on the dock and get him down to the submarine on the double."

"Why? What's happening?"

But he was gone, and he was cursing when he came back on the line. "I can't make contact. No response." His words came fast and urgently. "Listen to me. Don't ask questions. I can't waste any more time. I have to call someone else. Get out of there. Now! "

"The hell I won't ask questions." Her hand clenched on the phone. "Tell me why I should do what-"

"Because if you don't, you'll be dead." He hung up.

Dead?

Crazy, she thought numbly. Bradworth was nuts, and so was the panic that was starting to soar within her. Yet Bradworth had frightened her because he'd been frightened. His tone had been deadly serious.

Deadly. That word again.

What if he wasn't crazy? What if there was a reason to-

Don't go back to the sub.

But Conner was still in the sub.

Conner!

Kirov didn't answer when Bradworth called him back. Was the bastard making his move?

Bradworth hung up the phone and jumped to his feet.

He had to get down there. No time. He'd have to call the rest of his team while he was on the way.

Damn, he wished Kirov had answered.

Hannah whirled and started to run down the dock toward the pier. Christ, her heart was beating so hard it hurt. Stupid to be so frightened. It had to be a false alarm. It made no sense. There had been no reason to-

She reached the pier.

The hatch of the submarine was closing.

"No!"

She tore down the pier. "Conner!"