Deep Fathom (34 page)

Adding to this effect was the courtyard's central altar: a massive hewn block of prismatic basalt. At four meters in length and a meter high, she guessed that it weighed several tons. They were all drawn to it as it glowed and sparked in the last rays of the afternoon sun. None of them could keep their hands from touching its surface.

Mwahu dropped to his knees.

Karen noted that the spot where he knelt was worn into the rock. How many generations of his people had made the pilgrimage here? she wondered, moving beside him. “Is this the gravestone of your ancient teacher?” she asked.

He nodded, head bowed.

Jack circled the great block. “I don't seen any writing. No clues.”

Mwahu stood and indicated that Karen should give respect and kneel. She nodded, not wanting to offend, dropped her pack and knelt. Mwahu pointed toward the stone.

She stared, not sure if she was supposed to bow, recite a prayer, or perform some other act of respect. As she looked at where Mwahu pointed, however, she had her answer. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Jack said. Miyuki stepped to her other side.

“Come see.” Karen stood and returned to the stone. She brushed the block's surface with the palm of her hand. It was no optical illusion. “I'm not surprised you missed it. You can only see it if you're kneeling.”

“See what?”

She tugged Jack down by an arm so he could look across the stone's surface. She traced a finger. “There.”

Jack's jaw dropped. “A star!”

“Carved so thinly, or simply worn faint by time, that the only way to see it is from an extreme angle.”

He straightened. “But what does it mean?”

Miyuki took a peek, too, then answered from under her umbrella, “It's like back at the pyramid. We need the crystal.”

Karen nodded and tugged open her pack.

Jack still looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

Karen hadn't told him about how she'd used the crystal star, and now she tugged out a black cloth bag and shook it out. Behind her, Mwahu gasped with awe. She crossed to the stone as the others gathered around her, carefully placing the artifact atop the thin carving. It was an exact match. She held her breath, not knowing what to expect. Nothing happened.

Disappointed, Karen stepped back. “The crystal star must act as a key, but how?”

Miyuki, leaning over the stone, said, “Remember back at the pyramid—darkness was the final key.”

Karen slowly nodded. It had taken perfect
darkness
for the crystal star to function as the key to release them from the heart of the Chatan pyramid.

“So what do we do?” Jack asked. “Wait until nightfall?”

Miyuki looked sick at this suggestion.

“I don't know….” Karen studied the stone. Something didn't sit right with her. Then it struck her. She recalled the symmetry and balance of the Chatan pyramids. The yin and the yang. “Of course!”

“What?” Jack moved to her side.

“It's not darkness we need!” She waved Miyuki away from the stone. Her friend's umbrella had been casting a shadow over the crystal. As Miyuki stepped back, raw sunlight bathed the crystal. The star burst with radiant brilliance. “It's
light
!”

A loud crack sounded from the stone. The others moved
back a few steps but Karen stood her ground.

A hidden seam appeared around the solid block. It outlined a four-inch-thick lid resting squarely atop the stone block.

Karen stepped forward.

“Be careful,” Jack warned.

She touched the block's lid and pushed. The slab of basalt shifted, moving as easily as if it were Styrofoam. “It hardly weighs a thing!”

Jack moved beside her, his gaze fixed on the crystal star. He shadowed his hand over it. “Try pushing now.”

She did. The lid wouldn't budge.

Jack removed his hand, exposing the crystal to sunlight again, and using a single finger, he moved the slab of stone to the side. “The star has somehow extended its weight-altering properties to the basalt.”

Karen was stunned. “Amazing. This must be how the magical ancients ‘floated' the stones in the past.”

“It looks downright magical enough to me, that's for damn sure.”

Miyuki, beside them, pointed into the block's interior.

Karen leaned over as Jack pushed the stone lid back farther.

Inside the altar there was a carved alcove, lined by a shiny metal. Karen touched it. “Platinum.”

Jack nodded. “Like your story. The platinum coffins the Japanese divers discovered underwater during World War Two.”

Karen nodded. “But
this
coffin isn't empty.”

Resting inside were the bones of a human skeleton.

Mwahu spoke at Karen's shoulder, a whisper. “Horon-ko.”

Karen studied the remains. Clinging to the bones were a few scraps of dusty cloth, but what had captured her eye was a book, bound in platinum, clutched in the bony grip of the coffin's occupant.

Carefully, she reached inside.

“No!” Mwahu cried.

Karen could not resist. She gripped the book and lifted it.

Disturbed, the bones of the fingers fell away to dust. Then, like toppling dominoes, the degradation of the bones spread. The rib cage collapsed, the femurs and pelvis disintegrated, the skull caved in. Soon the form was no longer recognizable.

“Ashes to ashes,” Jack mumbled.

Karen held the platinum book in her fingers, stunned by her thoughtless act of desecration.

Mwahu began to weep behind her. “Doomed,” he moaned.

As if hearing him, the first bullet struck the basalt altar, stinging Karen's face with a spray of rocky shards.

Admiral Mark Houston climbed the five levels to the bridge of the USS
Gibraltar
. They were under full steam from Guam, where two days ago they had offloaded the civilian NTSB team along with the crated wreckage of Air Force One. In Guam, the
Gibraltar
had also reacquired its normal complement of aircraft—forty-two helicopters, both Sea Knights and Cobras, and five Harrier II fighter/bombers—along with its usual complement of LCAC amphibious landing craft. All to land the ship's Marine detachment safely on Okinawa and bolster the island's defense.

Reports coming from the region were growing worse by the hour. Apparently, the Chinese naval and air forces were merciless in their determination not to surrender Taiwan.

Passing through a cipher-locked hatch, Houston shook his head.
It's folly. Let the Chinese have the damn island
. He had read the intelligence reports on the agreement signed between the leaders in Taipei and Beijing. It was not all that different from China's assumption of control in Hong Kong and Macau. It would be business as usual. As they did in Hong Kong, the Chinese had no intention of weakening Taiwan's economic base.

Still, he could understand the administration's position. President Bishop had been murdered. Whether the upper levels in Beijing knew of the plot or not, the crime could not go unanswered.

Upon hearing of the escalating conflict, Houston had offered his services to remain on board and proceed to the beleaguered front. Calmer heads were needed out there. He was to oversee the situation and report his recommendations to the Joint Chiefs.

He climbed the last ladder, his knees protesting, and entered the bridge of the
Gibraltar
. The navigational equipment, map table, and communication station were all manned and busy.

“Admiral on the bridge!” an ensign called out.

All eyes turned in his direction. He waved them back to their duties. A groggy-eyed Captain Brenning pushed from his day cabin into the main bridge. He looked like he'd had less than an hour's sleep in the past three days. “Sir, how can I help you?”

“I apologize for disturbing you. Just coming topside to stretch my legs. How are things faring?”

“Fine, sir. We're thirty-six hours out and ready.”

“Very good.”

The C.O. nodded aft. “Sir, the Marine commander is over in debark control. I can let him know you're here.”

“No need.” Houston stared out the green-tinted windows of the bridge. Rain sluiced across the glass. All day long a thin rain had been falling and a misty haze obscured the horizon. Having been holed up in his cabin since morning, conferring with Washington, he had primarily come up here to see the sun. He had thought a climb up to the bridge would do him some good, cheer him up. But instead he felt a heaviness grow in his chest. How many would die these next few days?

At the communication station, a lieutenant pulled headphones from his ears and turned to his captain. “Sir, I have an encrypted call from the Pentagon. They're asking for Admiral Houston.”

Captain Brenning nodded to his day cabin. “Admiral, if
you'd like, you could take the call in my cabin.”

Houston shook his head. “That's no longer my place, Captain. I'll take it out here.” He crossed and picked up a handset. “Admiral Houston here.”

As he listened, the cold of the island's superstructure crept into his bones. He could not believe what he was hearing, but he had no choice. “Yes. I understand.” He handed the receiver back to the lieutenant.

The others must have sensed his dismay. The bridge grew quiet.

“Sir?” Captain Brenning stepped toward him.

Houston blinked a few times, stunned. “Maybe I'll take you up on your offer to borrow your day cabin.” He turned and walked toward the door, indicating that Brenning should follow.

Once inside, he closed the door and turned to the C.O. “John, I've just received new orders and a new objective.”

“Where do they want us to go?”

“Taiwan.”

The captain blanched.

“Word has come down from the Hill,” Houston finished. “We're officially at war with China.”

“Get down!” Jack yelled. He pulled Karen to her knees. Bullets sprayed the courtyard. Jack quickly assessed the situation as the four of them took shelter behind the basalt crypt.
Rifle fire. From two locations
. He tried to spot the snipers along the walls, but the suppressing gunfire was too intense.

He studied the others. Blood dribbled down Karen's cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Eyes wide, she nodded, then touched her cheek. “Rock shards.” The momentary shock faded from her eyes. She crammed the crypt's platinum book into her pack.

Jack, suspicious, eyed Mwahu. “Do you know anything about this?”

The islander shook his head vigorously.

Jack leaned back against the stone. He thought quickly. None of them had been shot. Why? They had been sitting ducks. They should not have survived the surprise assault. Beyond the stone, the rifle fire faded. “They're pinning us
down here,” he said aloud. “They want something from us or they would've killed us by now.”

“What do they want?” Miyuki asked angrily.

“The crystal,” Karen said. “That's what everyone seems to want.”

Jack nodded. He crept to the edge of the crypt. The crystal star still rested atop the block's lid. “It's just out of reach. I'm going to need a distraction in case I'm wrong.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Miyuki…”

The professor nodded as Jack told her his plan, then slid to the opposite end of the basalt coffin.

“On my count,” Jack whispered. “One…Two…
three
!”

Miyuki shoved her umbrella into the air, opening it and waving it about.

Rifle fire blasted, ripping and shredding the umbrella's cloth. Miyuki gasped, cringing, but held tight.

Jack listened. Both guns were firing. Good. He burst from his end of the crypt, grabbed the crystal star, and dove back into cover. Hunching, he clutched the artifact to his chest.

“You're bleeding,” Karen said.

Jack glanced down. A trail of red dribbled across the crystal. He hadn't felt the bullet that grazed the edge of his hand. The snipers were damn fast, he realized. He had better not underestimate them. “I'm okay. It's just a scratch.”

Karen crawled to his side and wrapped his hand in her handkerchief, tugging it tight.

“Ow!” he said.

“Oh, quit complaining, you baby.”

Even in their predicament, Jack couldn't help but grin.

The rifle fire again quieted as the targets remained hidden.

“What now?” Miyuki asked.

“They're holding us here. Which means others are on the way.”

Mwahu moved nearer. “I know a secret way out of Forbidden City. But we must get back there.” He pointed toward the dark hall into the central keep.

Jack stared, biting his lower lip, thinking. It was only ten yards away—but it might as well have been a hundred. They would be exposed to the snipers for too long. “Too risky.”

Karen grabbed her pack and tugged a side pouch open. “I have an idea.” She pulled out a package of Trident gum.

“Good,” Jack said. “I was worried about my dental hygiene right now.”

She smirked at him. “Put the crystal down.” When Jack complied, she flipped the star over and unwrapped a piece of gum. She popped it in her mouth, chewed it for a couple seconds, then stuck the wad on the back of the crystal.

“What are you—”

She nodded toward the lid, and Jack understood. “Let me help you.” He grabbed a few pieces of gum and chewed them vigorously.

Miyuki stared at them as if they'd gone crazy.

Jack smeared a sticky chunk of gum on the crystal's underside, then held it up.

Karen eyed the star. “That should be enough gum.”

“Do I have to return the star to the exact spot?” he asked.

“I don't know. Just make sure it's in the sunlight.”

Jack grabbed the crystal star, gummy side up. Taking a deep breath, he reached up and slapped the crystal down upon the nearest edge of the stone lid. He pressed hard, twisting it to ensure the gum stuck well. He yanked his hand back as gunfire spat again, sparking off the stone. He checked his hand, then held it toward Karen. “Look, Ma, no cavities.”

“Very funny. Test the lid.”

From the safety of the shelter, Jack reached out to the underside of the lid's protruding edge. He pushed up on it. Rock scraped on rock as the lid rose an inch. “Light as a feather.”

“Then let's get our asses out of here.”

Jack slid the lid to their side of the crypt, then stood, tilting the top between him and the snipers, like a stone shield. Bullets rang off the rock.

“Oof!” Jack felt the impacts all the way to his shoulders,
but the shield held. Backing up, he dragged the makeshift shield off the crypt, tilting the lid vertically so the others could crouch in its shadow. “Okay, time to vamoose.”

Shuffling backward, he kept them all covered. Only his fingers were exposed on the far side. He prayed the riflemen were not good enough shots to take off one of his fingers.

“Keep the crystal in the light,” Karen urged. “We're almost there.”

Rifle fire continued to pelt the stone lid. Jack's hands began to slip, jarred by the force of the continued rifle blasts.

“Almost…” Karen said.

Jack stepped into darkness. He took another step and the stone lid's weight suddenly returned. Caught off guard, he couldn't hold it. “Back!” he yelled as it came toppling toward him.

From behind, someone grabbed his belt and yanked him clear. He stumbled and fell hard on his rear end. The lid crashed to the ground, barely missing his toes. Jack hoisted himself up to a crouch. Karen had also fallen to her knees. She dusted off her hands, standing up.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Grab the crystal.” She motioned to the cracked lid.

Jack snatched the star, peeling it off the basalt. He passed it to Karen, who shoved it in her pack. Rifle blasts continued to abrade the hall's entrance, but the group was far enough down the passage to be out of the direct line of fire. “Keep moving. It won't be safe much longer.”

“This way,” Mwahu hissed from farther down the tunnel. “Hurry. Someone comes.”

Jack and Karen joined the other two at the edge of the cavernous central chamber. Across the room, Jack spotted a shaft of light flaring from the opposite hall. They were cut off from the exit.

“This way,” Mwahu whispered, slinking along the wall to the left.

In the deep gloom, the group slid close to the walls. Jack reached behind and took Miyuki's hand. The professor's fingers
shook in his grip. He squeezed reassuringly. Together they followed Mwahu to a corner of the large chamber. By now hushed voices echoed from the opposite hall. No words could be made out, but from the angry tone, Jack suspected that the snipers' failure to hold the captives had been radioed. The light quickly grew.

Hurry
, he silently urged Mwahu.

A flashlight's beam speared across the chamber as someone entered.

Jack pushed Miyuki behind him.

A hiss drew Jack's attention around. In the deep shadows, he barely saw Mwahu crouched beside a thin crevice in the wall. It was no higher than Jack's knee and narrower than his shoulders. Karen was already crawling inside, pack shoved in front of her. Mwahu stared with fear toward the men stepping into the chamber.

Jack was sure they would be caught.

He pushed Miyuki toward the opening, and, without any hesitation, her small form vanished down the tunnel's throat. Jack indicated Mwahu should go next. He was the only one who knew where the tunnel led.

The islander dove into the hole.

Behind Jack a new light bloomed. Crouching, he spun around. It came from the hall leading to the courtyard. Shadowy figures entered.
The snipers
. The two parties signaled each other with their lights. Jack saw one of the beams flash in his direction.

He dropped to the floor, flattening himself. The light passed over where he had been standing. It did not pause.

Crawling on hands and knees, he slithered across the floor and into the crevice. It was a tight fit. Holding his breath, he crooked his shoulders and shoved himself inside. Crouching lower on his elbows and scrabbling with his fingers, he worked deeper into the chute, sure at any moment that lights would flare up around him. But finally he pulled his feet fully into the tunnel. He paused, suppressing a sigh of relief, he stared ahead—and saw nothing. The tunnel was pitch-black. The only evidence of the others was the occasional furtive scuffling.

Squeezing his large form along the chute, Jack listened for the noises as he followed the turns and twists of the tunnel. He scraped his shoulders and tore his fingernails on the rough surface as he went. In the dark, blind, his exertions seemed compounded. How long was this tunnel?

Finally, he was able to make out the dim form of Mwahu crawling a few yards ahead and he heard echoed whispers.

“I see the end,” Miyuki said distantly.

Jack prayed they remained cautious. He increased his pace, scraping his elbows and knees. Soon he, too, saw the end of the passage. A square of bright sunlight. “Careful,” he whispered ahead.

Jack watched the professor slide from the tunnel—and vanish. The others followed. He crawled after them, reached the tunnel's exit and peered out. Below, the others were crouched in a meter-wide channel of stagnant water, waist-deep. He realized then where they were, recalled the thin artificial creek bisecting the plaza. Head hanging out, he surveyed the situation. The stone bridge lay twenty yards away. He listened for voices and heard none.

Jack wormed out of the chute and lowered himself into the creek. After the exertion, the water felt wonderfully cool, but the saltwater stung his cuts and abrasions.

Karen nodded to the tunnel. “Drainage system,” she said softly.

He nodded. Nothing like crawling through a sewage pipe. He eyed Mwahu, silently asking the islander where to go next.

Before Mwahu could direct them, however, a loud voice cracked across the open plaza behind them. “Kirkland! If you want the others to live, show yourself!”

Jack froze. He knew that strident voice.
Spangler
. His fists clenched.

Karen touched his shoulder and shook her head. She pointed to Mwahu, who was half swimming down the artificial creek away from them.

Miyuki followed. Karen went next. Jack unclenched his fists. He knew it was not the time to confront David. Not yet.
Not when others were in harm's way. Lowering himself into the water, he silently glided after the others.

He heard the tromp of boots on stone…coming their way. He hissed at the others, pointing a thumb up.

Mwahu ducked under the bridge and twisted around. He motioned the others to join him. Jack and the two women were soon at his side. The bridge was so low that only their heads were above water.

The tread of boots, now running, aimed right for their hiding place. Two men.

Jack bit his lip. With the sun so low, the channel was thick with shadows. Under the bridge it was even darker. Still, if they thought to flash a light…

The pair hit the bridge and stopped. Their shadows could be seen on the far wall of the canal.

“Any sign?” Spangler asked harshly.

“No, sir. We're still combing the building. They won't get away. With the island under surveillance, they won't be able to leave here without being spotted.”

“Good.”

“Sir, I'm getting a report from Rolfe over the radio.” A pause, then the man's voice grew more excited. “He found a tunnel!”

“Goddamn it! Why didn't someone spot this earlier? C'mon. Have Rolfe ready with the grenades.”

“Yes, sir.” The echo of boot steps retreated from the bridge and headed back toward the large structure.

Jack did not wait. He thumbed for Mwahu to continue.

One after the other the group swam toward the distant fortifications. No one breathed. All of them clung to the deepest shadows of the channel. As they neared the wall, Jack spotted where the creek ended. He saw no way forward.

Mwahu waited for them to gather. Once Jack was near enough, the islander made a diving motion with his hand. Then, to demonstrate, he sank under the water and vanished.

Karen whispered to Jack, “The creek must connect to the canals, or the channel would have dried out.” But she eyed the wall of stacked basalt logs with concern.

“You can do it,” he said.

Karen nodded, unhooking her backpack so it was loose in her hands. “I'll go next.” Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the stagnant water. With a kick, she vanished into the underwater tunnel.

Miyuki looked too frightened to move. Jack slid beside her. “We'll go together.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “I'm not the strongest swimmer.” But she held out her hand, her eyes determined. He took it.

“On three,” he said.

“On three,” she repeated.

Jack counted it off, and they both dove under. He found the passage easily. It was quite large. Kicking off the nearby creek wall, he led Miyuki through the tunnel. It was no longer than two yards. Light filtered ahead.

Jack popped out and found himself in one of the surrounding canals. Miyuki surfaced beside him, wiping back her wet hair. The group was hidden in an overhang of ferns.

Jack heard a vague whining. The noise grew as he listened. “Shit.”

“What?” Karen asked.

“How long can everyone hold their breath?”

Karen shrugged. “As long as we need to.”

The whining was now a high-pitched screaming. It came from just around the corner.

“What is—” Karen started to ask.

“Take each other's hands,” Jack said. “Duck underwater until I signal you.”

They obeyed, and their heads vanished. Holding his breath, Jack sank until only his eyes were above the water. Peering between the fern fronds, he watched a sleek black jet ski turn the corner with a roar. It angled down the canal toward them, sweeping back and forth, lightly bumping the walls to either side. Jack pressed himself against the stones.