Deep Fathom

Page 21

The dinghy suddenly rocked under Jack’s feet. He grabbed the back of the pilot’s seat to keep his footing. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the NTSB man haul himself over the leeward pontoon. Jack stumbled over to assist the man into the dinghy, but by the time he got there the man had rolled aboard and was hauling one of the float bags inside.
“Let me help you,” Jack said, leaning over the side and grabbing the edge of the other float bag.
Jack found himself hip-checked and knocked onto his rear. “Leave it!” the man ordered. His words were harsh and carried a tone of command.
Jack pushed to his feet, his cheeks red, his blood up. No one shoved him around his own boat. He stepped nearer. “Who the hell do you think—”
The big man turned, ripped away his mask and pulled back the hood of his wet suit.
Jack gasped as he recognized the diver. It could not be. He had not seen his former teammate in over a decade. “David?”
The tall blond man’s face was twisted with hatred. Before Jack could move, a fist flew toward his face. Hard knuckles struck his lower jaw and threw him backward. Sparks of light danced across his vision as he hit the floor.
Charlie was instantly there, stepping between the attacker and his captain. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, mon?”
Jack sat up. “Stay out of it, Charlie.” He pushed himself to his feet, tasted blood on his tongue. The tall Jamaican moved back a half step, ready to defend his friend if necessary.
David Spangler’s thin lips sneered at Jack. “That was for Jen!” he spat.
Jack rubbed his jaw. He had no answer for that. In fact, he couldn’t blame David for his reaction. “What are you doing here?” he simply asked, leaning back against a chair.
“I’ve been assigned to the investigation by the new President.”
“What’s the CIA have to do with this?”
David’s right eye twitched.
“Yeah, I heard about your transfer,” Jack said, tired. “It seems you’ve moved up in the world.”
“And you should have stayed gone from it,” David said. He turned and hauled the second float bag into the dinghy.
“It wasn’t my idea to come here.”
“Let me guess,” David said harshly. “Admiral Houston called you in.”
Jack shrugged.
David dumped the second black box into the boat, none too gently. “Houston always had a hard-on for you, Kirkland.”
Jack’s voice grew gruff. “He was a friend of Jennifer’s, too.”
“Yeah, and look what it got her.”
Jack nudged Charlie toward the wheel. “Get us out of here.” Jack stared David down. In the other man’s blue eyes, Jack saw all the blame he felt in his own heart. “I’m sorry about Jennifer—” he started.
“Fuck your apology,” David spat back. “I have my job, you have yours. Just stay out of my way.”
Jack knew no words would ever settle this old score. David would never forgive him for his sister’s death. The chasm between them was unbridgeable. Giving up, Jack crossed to the stern to make sure the mooring lines remained clear of the motor. As he moved past the former SEAL, the man leaned close to him, his breath hot on Jack’s face.
David’s eyes shone with rancor and malice. It was like looking into the eyes of a rabid animal. He whispered so his words were heard only by Jack: “This isn’t over, Kirkland.”
Off the coast of Yonaguni Island, Okinawa Prefecture
“Get back!” Karen pulled Miyuki to her knees. Flames filled the narrow crawlway and spread rapidly along the trail of kerosene. On hands and knees the two fled behind the altar.
At the crawlway, flames swept into their hiding place, accompanied by a blast of searing heat and stinging smoke. Miyuki cupped her arm across her mouth, her eyes tearing.
Karen joined her, suppressing a choking cough, afraid to alert the looters outside. What were they to do? In the brightness of the flames, Karen’s watery eyes were drawn to the sharp glint from the snake sculpture wrapped around the altar. Its twin eyes glowed at her, reflecting the fire. Rubies.
“Karen…?” Miyuki reached out a hand to her.
Karen took it, and the women clung to one another. The wall of flames blocked escape, and the air grew smokier with each breath.
“I’m sorry,” Karen mumbled.
“Could there be another way out?” Miyuki asked. “A secret passage.”
Karen bit her lower lip, straining to think past her panic. “I don’t know. If there was, it would probably be near the altar.” Her eyes were again drawn to the altar’s snake carving. Something had been bothering her about it, nagging for her attention. Her gaze caught again on the snake’s ruby eyes. With her free hand, Karen touched the stone carving. Then she saw it, reflected in the firelight—a defect. One of the ruby eyes shone much brighter than the other. It was almost as if a hollow space lay behind it. Using a finger, she pressed against the faceted eye.
“What are you doing?” Miyuki asked.
The jewel pushed back into the snake’s skull, she heard a sharp click, then felt the snake’s head loosen in her grip. “It’s a lock release!” She could now swing the figure’s head back and forth. But nothing happened. What was its purpose?
The smoke, meanwhile, settled thicker in the chamber. Near the tunnel, the flames receded, the kerosene almost spent. Karen rubbed her sore eyes. Outside, she heard the attackers stir. Since their initial volley had failed to smoke them out, what might they do next?
The answer came quickly. A flaming glass bottle flew into the room and exploded against the front of the altar. A wave of fire burst up.
Karen fell backward, and Miyuki ducked farther behind the altar with a startled squawk.
“Goddamn them!” Karen swore. Ignoring the flames, she moved back to the altar. The secret release suggested the carving was more than decoration. Could there be a hidden passage? The heat burned Karen’s cheeks as she studied the stone snake. The serpent curled fully around the edge of the altar, its tail not far from its raised head. A thought occurred to her. The worm Ourbourus. The snake biting its own tail. A symbol of the infinite. Many cultures had similar mythic images. It was even in Mayan astrology.
Beyond the tunnel, Karen heard the men’s voices grow heated, argumentative, impatient. Then a bullet blasted into the chamber, ricocheting in a shower of stone shards. Ducking, Karen shoved the sculpture’s head all the way around until the tip of the serpent’s snout touched its own tail.
A loud grinding sounded under her toes, and Karen tensed.
“What’s happening?” Miyuki whispered, waving the smoke away.
Karen backed up as the altar stone lowered, dropping into the slab floor. “C’mon!” Karen took the penlight from a pocket and flashed a long beam into the inky darkness. The altar had fallen down about two meters.
She sensed that a larger chamber lay below, and leaned closer, trying to get a better look. A bullet whizzed past her left ear. She felt the heat of its passage as she dropped to her belly. “There’s no other way out of here,” she said, glancing at her friend.
Miyuki’s eyes were huge, but she gave a quick nod.
Karen popped the penlight in her mouth. “I’ll go first,” she mumbled. Swinging her legs into the pit, she probed with her toes. No footholds. With a glance below, she aimed for the top of the lowered altar and pushed off. Her feet hit hard, dropping her to one hand.
She flashed her light around the chamber. Pools of dank water dotted the floor. Pale ropes of algae hung from the roof. On the far side, a dark tunnel led away. She stood and shifted her light for a better look. No, not a tunnel—a stairway. It descended at a steep angle. Wherever it led, it was better than here.
A second shot blasted overhead, quickly followed by another.
Miyuki squeaked, laying flat.
Straightening, Karen called up. “Toss my gun and holster.”
Miyuki’s face disappeared for a moment. “Here!” She dropped the leather holster strap. The gun followed a second later. Karen caught it in one hand.
“Now you!” Karen urged.
“Not yet.” Miyuki disappeared again.
What was she doing?
Miyuki’s legs reappeared. Karen reached up and guided her friend’s ankles. “Okay. You’re clear.”
Miyuki let go, landing almost on top of Karen, who held her friend steady. “Good job.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Miyuki muttered, clutching her satchel of equipment tight to her chest. She caught Karen’s glance. “I wasn’t leaving Gabriel behind.”
Karen grinned, despite the situation. She bent and collected her pistol. It seemed each of them had their own security blanket. Holstering the gun, she tossed the strap over her shoulder. “C’mon.”
She hopped off the altar, and Miyuki followed. As soon as the petite woman left the stone table, they heard gears grinding overhead. The altar stone and its platform thrust back up, rose on a basalt pillar and jammed back into place.
“Pressure sensitive,” Karen said with awe at the keen counterbalance system. It astounded her that the mechanism functioned after being immersed for centuries in the salty sea.
Gloom settled over them. Distantly, the drip of water echoed up from the neighboring stairwell. Miyuki took a flashlight from her bag, clicked it on and shone it forward. She wore a determined expression. “You go first.”
Karen nodded, and led the way. The stair was narrow, but the ceiling high enough to walk upright. Within the passage, the echoing drip of water grew louder. Karen splayed out her light, ran a finger along the damp wall. “The stone blocks are fitted perfectly. I can barely feel the seams.”
Miyuki made a noncommittal noise. She kept glancing back over her shoulder as they moved slowly down the stairs. “Do you think they’ll follow?”
Karen directed her light forward again. “I…I don’t know. But if they do, let’s be as far away from here as possible.”