Deep Fathom (31 page)

“Jack?” Karen placed a hand on his shoulder.

He slowly lowered the receiver into its cradle. “I…I think someone just blew up my ship.”

“It's done,” Gregor Handel said. “I'm reading nothing from the
Deep Fathom
. Not even a mayday. She's tits up, sir.”

“Perfect.” David lowered the headset from his ears. Earlier, Rolfe had succeeded in breaking the
Fathom
's Globalstar code, allowing them to tap into the transmitted call. Using the headphones, David had eavesdropped on the final phone conversation between Jack and his ship. He placed the headset on the table. “What could be better?” he said. “Jack knew it was me. He heard his fucking ship explode. And he knows his crew was still on board.”

Rolfe spoke from his station. “I've got the port authority of Kwajalein. Do you want me to send a helicopter to confirm?”

“Wait about an hour. Ideally, we don't want any survivors.”

Handel made a scoffing noise. “With that much C-4, almost a pound, there's a kill zone of a good hundred yards. Nothing could've survived.”

David's grin grew wider. “Well done, men.” He reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. He raised the bottle. “To the perfect execution of this mission.”

“Execution is right,” Rolfe said with a smirk of satisfaction.

David stood and twisted the cork free of the bottle. It popped and shot across the cabin. As the champagne frothed over the neck, he lifted the bottle high. “And this is only the first step in bringing Kirkland down.”

Karen sat in the spacious cabin of the private Learjet as it taxied across the tarmac of Pohnpei's airport. Outside, a fine misty rain drizzled down, muting the views of the jungle-draped peaks of the South Pacific island. As the plane turned, the island's most prominent feature came into view: Sokehs Rock, a towering volcanic plug overlooking Kolonia harbor, nicknamed the “Diamond Head of Micronesia.”

“It's beautiful,” Miyuki said beside her, leaning closer. Her friend, clearly exhausted, had slept most of the way, only awakening as the plane began to land.

Karen, however, had not been able to sleep. Neither had Jack. She stared across the cabin. He still sat stiff in his seat, barely noticing the passing scenery. Mwahu sat slumped beside him, snoring.

Earlier, after boarding the plane, Jack had spent a few frantic hours trying to discover the fate of his ship. By the time he reached someone in authority who would listen, he was informed that a search helicopter had already been sent
out to investigate. So they were forced to wait. Jack had paced up and down the cabin, clenching and unclenching his fists. When the report finally came in, it was not good.

Lit by a burning pool of oil, the debris from the ship had been easy to spot.

After the news, Jack had not spoken a word. He'd crossed to the cabin's bar, poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey, downed it, and repeated it two more times until Karen coaxed him back to his seat. And there he had sat, just staring, unblinking. At first she had tried to engage him in conversation, but his only response was cold and savage: “I'm going to kill that bastard.” So she returned to her seat, watching the world pass beneath her.

It had been a monotonous journey until they reached their destination. Before landing, the jet circled the island. Pohnpei was roughly thirteen miles across, encircled by a protective ring of coral reefs, creating an island of lagoons and mangrove swamps. Inland, its mountainous interior was all rain forests, streams, waterfalls, and steep cliffs.

Studying the circular island from above, Karen had hoped to spot Pohnpei's other well-known feature—the seaside ruins of Nan Madol—but the mists had been too thick on the southeast side of the island.

Miyuki settled back in her seat as the jet taxied toward the terminal. She nodded toward Jack. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It'll take time, I think.” Karen knew Jack bore a lot of guilt. It was etched in the lines on his face and the hollowness in his eyes.

As the plane rolled to a stop, Miyuki unbuckled her seat belt. “Let's get him moving. Try to get his mind off what happened.”

Karen nodded, though she doubted it would help. Jack's brooding went beyond simple distraction.

Across the cabin, Mwahu stretched. “We here?”

“Yes,” Karen said, freeing herself from her seat. Jack had still not moved.

Fresh sunlight entered as the aft door cracked open. Karen crossed the cabin as Mwahu and Miyuki moved toward
the exit. She sat down and touched Jack's arm. “Are you all right?”

He remained silent for a few moments, then spoke, his voice numb: “It was all my fault…again. First the
Atlantis
, now the
Fathom
.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

He didn't seem to hear her. “I should never have left. If I'd been there, I could've defused the bomb.”

“And maybe you would've been killed with them. Then this Spangler fellow would have truly won. If what you say is right—that he planted the bomb amidst the wreckage aboard the
Gibraltar
—then you're the only one who knows the truth. All hope of exposing him would be lost if you were killed.”

“What does the truth matter? It's not worth this cost.” Jack finally looked directly at her.

Karen was shocked at the pain in those blue eyes. She had an urge to pull him to her chest, to envelope him, to hold him until the pain went away, but knew any true solace could not come from her. He would have to find his own way past this tragedy. “If you want justice for your friends,” she said softly but firmly, “you're gonna have to win it. You're not gonna get it by killing Spangler.”

Rage flickered through his pain. “Then how?”

She faced his anger and matched it. “By exposing the goddamn bastard, Jack. That's how you'll win!” She touched his knee. “And I'll help you. You're not alone in this, Jack. You have to understand that.”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and after a few moments opened them again. The pain was still there, but it was not all-consuming anymore. She saw a glimmer of the Jack she had met in the Okinawa airport. “Maybe you're right,” he said. “There's too much at stake. David needs to be brought down, but the only way to do it is to discover the truth about Air Force One. I won't let him win.”

“We'll do it together.”

Jack nodded, almost reluctantly.

Karen sensed a critical moment had passed between
them…. that the ex-SEAL seldom allowed anyone to share his grief or his guilt.

Turning in his seat, Jack took her hand from his knee and raised it to his lips. The brief touch on her skin sent an electric thrill through her. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Shocked at the sudden intimacy, Karen could not move.

Jack lowered her hand. In his eyes, she saw a twinge of bewilderment, as if the impulsive act had surprised him as much as it had her.

Miyuki called from the doorway with a wave, “We need to go.”

The two stared at each other for a silent moment.

“Let's go,” Karen finally said. “We have a lot to plan.”

David stood near the stern of the research vessel. Behind him the last of his team's gear was being loaded into the helicopter. The journey to Pohnpei Island would take seven hours. With Ruzickov's help, the U.S. embassy on the island had been alerted and expected his arrival.

“Commander Spangler.”

David swung around. He had been so lost in his own plans that he hadn't heard the approach of the paunchy Mexican leader of the research group. “What is it, Cortez?”

“You asked that I inform you when we were ready to evacuate the water from Neptune base.”

David cleared his throat. “Of course. Are you prepared?”

“Yes, sir. If you'll join us in the command center, you can oversee the process.”

David gestured the man to lead. Cortez crossed to the ship's superstructure and wound toward the main monitoring station on the second level. The ex-wardroom was now a jumble of computers, monitors, and other equipment. Four other scientists were crowded into the small room but they made space for David, moving out of his way with nervous glances.

Cortez motioned David to join him before a console of monitors. He tapped two of the screens. “Here we have feeds from the two ROV robots. As you can see, Neptune is ready for the second stage.”

David studied the assembled base. It was a stack of three doughnuts, one atop the other, sitting on a four-legged frame. Power cables and other lines wound from its top shell toward the surface. He watched as one of the robots positioned another of the site's “lamp poles.” Each illumination pole was six meters, surmounted by a sealed halogen spotlight. Twelve in all, the poles were positioned around the base. The dark seabed had become a well-lit parking lot.

In the bright lights, David watched the
Perseus
, piloted by Lieutenant Brentley, slowly circle the large sea base. Now assembled, the structure contained almost four thousand square feet of living space.

Cortez sat down at the console. “Watch the three center monitors; I'm going to bring up the inner cameras. One for each level of the complex.”

Murky images appeared on the screens, watery views of dim rooms. Little detail could be discerned. The only light filtered through tiny portholes along the curved walls.

“What am I looking at?” David asked.

Cortez tapped the first monitor. “The lowest level is solely for docking the submersibles. The middle level houses the labs; the top level, living quarters.” He glanced over his shoulder at David. “We chose this arrangement so, in case of emergency, the top level could be freed manually and rise to the surface on its own. There are multiple redundant safety features built throughout the complex.”

David sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Fine. Are you ready to drain the complex or not?”

“Certainly. We've triple-checked everything.”

“Then let's get this done. I'm due to leave within the hour.” Off to the side, David caught the relieved smile pass between the two technicians. It seemed his team's absence would not be missed.

“We were just awaiting your arrival.” Cortez busied himself at one of the computers. He spoke into a microphone.
“
Perseus
, this is Topside. Clear for blowout. I repeat, clear for blowout.”

On one of the monitors the torpedo-shaped submersible banked sharply and glided away from the sea base. Lieutenant Brentley's voice scratched from a set of speakers. “Roger that. Clearing out.”

“Here we go,” Cortez said. He tapped a series of buttons on his keyboard. “Level 1…
blowing
. Level 2…
blowing
. Level 3…
blowing
.”

On the screens the view of the deep-sea station vanished in an explosion of bubbles, the visibility obscured by the roiling waters.

“Look.” Cortez pointed to the center monitors.

The interior views were clearing as the water lines dropped below the level of the camera lenses. Within a few minutes the water drained away, leaving the rooms wet but habitable. Interior lights flickered, then blazed.

“Bringing the pressure down to one atmosphere,” Cortez said. “Checking hull integrity.” He smiled up at David. “Green lights all around, Commander. Neptune is ready for company.”

David clapped the Mexican on the shoulder. As much as he hated to admit it, the man knew his job. “Good work, Cortez.”

“We can take it from here, Commander.” The research leader stood up from his console. “I know you've been ordered away for a few days, but there's no need to worry. My team won't let you down.”

“It had better not,” David said as he turned to leave, but he could not give his statement much heat. Cortez ran a tight ship.

Leaving the command center, David climbed down to the deck. As soon as he pushed out of the air-conditioned superstructure and into the heat, he was met by his second-in-command.

Rolfe was dressed in a black flight jacket. “We're loaded and ready, sir,” he said. “Jeffreys just heard from our contacts on Pohnpei. Jack Kirkland and the woman landed an hour ago. They're under surveillance as we speak.”

“Good.” Everything was going well. First the base, now this. It was as if Kirkland were trying to make his job easier, David thought. To extract the scientist and her crystal from the growing war zone around Okinawa would have been complicated. But out in the backwaters of Micronesia, on an island sympathetic to American concerns, it shouldn't be a problem. Everything was falling into perfect place.

“Sir, Jeffreys also reports that the woman has been making inquiries about hiring a boat to take them all to some ruins on the southeast side of the island.”

David nodded. Overnight he had studied topographic maps of Pohnpei. He knew the island's entire terrain by heart. “When are they planning to go out there?”

“Late afternoon.”

David thought a moment and nodded. There should just be enough time. “Get me Jeffreys. I want a boat arranged.” He zipped up his jacket. “We're going to prepare a little welcome for Mr. Kirkland and his friends.”

Jack's headache still pounded behind his eyes. And the bumpy ride along the jungle road in an old rusted Jeep Cherokee wasn't helping. Karen sat behind the wheel, squinting through the grimy window for landmarks.

“Are you sure you know where you're going?” Miyuki asked from the rear seat. A particularly large bump sent the small woman flying for the roof. She swore at Karen in her native language.

“This is the right way,” Mwahu said, also in the backseat. “Bridge to Temwen Island is not far.”

“So you've been to Nan Madol before?” Karen asked, trying to glean more information from the man.

“Sacred place. I visit with father three times.”

Karen glanced at Jack, as if to stress the coincidence.

Jack rubbed his temples, trying to grind away the headache. After landing, he had finally slept a bit, but the
pain of the last twenty-four hours could not be alleviated with a nap.

While he'd slept, Karen had hired a car and arranged for a boat to explore the ruins of Nan Madol. Because the best time to explore was at high tide, they were leaving late in the day, when boats could traverse the meter-deep canals. Otherwise, at low tide, it meant slogging through the ruins in knee-deep water and mud.

Clearing his throat, Jack sought some way to distract himself from the pounding in his skull. “Karen, you never did tell me the full story of Nan Madol. What's so special about this place?”

“There are many stories and myths surrounding this island,” she replied, “but the story of Nan Madol's origin is the most intriguing. According to the myth, two demigods, Olhosihpa and Olhosohpa, came to the island in a great ship from some lost land. With magical powers they transported the gigantic basalt logs across the island and helped the natives build the canal city. Some say the stone logs flew through the air.”

Jack shook his head. “Yeah, right.”

Karen shrugged. “Of course, who knows the truth for sure? But mysteries remain. Some of the stones weigh up to fifty tons. The entire complex of Nan Madol is composed of 250 million tons of crystalline basalt. How did it all get there?”