Thorpe's Candle

THE AZTEC PRINCESS

Candice Stevens lay on the cool sheets, her mind drifting at the edge of sleep. She could feel the warmth of Matt Skyler beside her. From his breathing, she knew he was awake, probably staring at the dark ceiling of the stateroom. The scent of their lovemaking still lingered in the air. She felt a tingle of arousal as she considered turning over and making love again. How many times that night had she moaned with pleasure when he slid inside her and they moved as one in the darkness. She could not get enough of him. But he had so much on his mind. Candice smiled, knowing there would be many other nights.

That evening, she and Skyler had boarded the Aztec Princess for the last leg of their vacation. After he spent two days helping Paco Cruz find the San Paulo, she couldn’t wait to get him back in her arms. At dinner, they had had one of their many discussions on why neither was ready to make a long-term commitment to their relationship.

They had met in Egypt three years ago. Candice had just finished photographing the layout for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. She was invited to a lavish reception in honor of the President of Egypt at the Hotel Luxor near the banks of the Nile. As she stood talking to a group of international magazine editors, her gaze was drawn to a man standing alone in the middle of the crowd. He was tall and almost handsome — he would later describe himself as having a lot of rough edges. His skin was the color of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors, and he needed a shave. Despite it being a semi-formal affair, he dressed in a suede sports jacket, jeans, boat shoes, no socks, and an open-collared, checkered shirt. She felt an instant attraction as she observed him. While the conversation rambled on with her friends, she watched him watching everyone else. His eyes moved from person to person with what appeared to be a sincere interest in each. When he noticed her stare, he returned it with a smile that made her feel she had known him forever.

“Who's the fashion statement?” she asked her friends.

“Matt Skyler, Director of OceanQuest,” said the National Geographic science editor. “That's the guy that raised the Soviet sub off Bermuda. Helped to close a chapter from the last days of the Cold War. Received an accommodation from the Presidents of the United States and Russia. Among other things, he's one of the world's leading authorities on undersea military salvage. Been an adviser to National Geographic for years.”

“What's he doing here?” Candice asked.

“I understand OceanQuest located an ancient Roman warship on the bottom of the Nile a few miles from here,” the science editor said. “Skyler supervised the operation.”

Candice excused herself and wandered over to stand in front of Skyler. “How's the treasure hunting business?”

“There's still a few to find.” He smiled down at the petite photographer and offered his hand. “One in particular I'm anxious to explore. Matt Skyler, Ms. Stevens.” They shook hands.

“I'm flattered that you know me, Mr. Skyler.” She blushed not wanting to let go. “And what treasure might that be?”

“You of course. And call me Sky. All my fashion photographer friends do.”

An hour later, they stood on the deck of the OceanQuest research vessel Phoenix anchored in the middle of the Nile. As a full moon lit the ancient river, their passionate on-again off-again relationship had begun.

Tonight's discussion with Candice on the cruise ship had ended the same way all the others had over the last three years, Skyler thought. No resolution but a great deal of sex.

Now wide-awake, he slipped out of bed.

“Everything okay?” Candice asked.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Just going for some fresh air.”

He found his khaki shorts and black Polo shirt where Candice tossed them after she undressed him. Stepping into a pair of boat shoes, he ran his fingers through his thick curly hair. A moment later, he stood in the corridor outside their stateroom.

At four in the morning the ship was unusually quiet. Matt Skyler strolled along the passageways with no particular destination in mind. An elevator came into view as he rounded a corner. At the other end of the hall, Skyler saw a steward in a white jacket moving a vacuum cleaner slowly over the red and gold carpet. Skyler entered the elevator and pushed the button marked Promenade Deck. As the elevator ascended, he felt a throb in his head — a bothersome reminder of their relentless search around San Jose del Cabo for the perfect margarita. He hoped the night air would definitely do him good.

He stepped onto the windswept deck and he filled his lungs with fresh ocean air. Alone, he stared out at a moonless night. The stars washed across the heavens and glistened off the water. He thought of Candice and his unquenchable hunger for her. Yet he could never bring himself to ask her to give up her successful career. And at the same time, he just wasn't ready to settle down, start a family, stay in one place. Soon, their vacation would end and they would be off to different parts of the globe. When would he see her again? A week? A month? He missed her already.

A flash of light caught his attention. At first he wasn't sure it was there at all. He leaned forward and strained to see. A large object moved on a parallel course with the ship — it blocked out the reflected starlight. Skyler made out faint white lines of foam curling along its edge. His eyes adjusted and his pulse quickened. It was something he'd seen before on another night, another ocean. The low round profile with its slight humped back, the tall stark tower topped with antennas, and the tail fin that cut through the water like a shark's. There was no mistaking the distinctive profile of the Yankee-class Soviet nuclear submarine. It bore no markings, only a single black flag flying from the tower. Its insignia — a white skull and crossbones.

Skyler heard the clank of metal. He leaned over the rail and stared down the side of the Aztec Princess. A cargo door opened directly below him. Over the sound of the wind, he heard the buzz of an outboard motor. From the direction of the submarine, a small boat raced across the water. It maneuvered alongside the cruise ship and Skyler saw that it held two men. One kept the little boat steady while the other caught a half-dozen pieces of luggage flung from the cargo opening. One of the men yelled something that was lost to Skyler on the wind, and pointed at him. A man appeared in the cargo opening below and looked up. He waved the boat off then slammed the steel door shut.

What the hell was going on? Skyler thought. He rushed back to the elevator, but before he reached for the button, the doors opened. The steward he'd seen earlier stood inside, a club in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other.

“We're going to collide with a submarine!” Skyler said and started to take a step forward. He had captained his boxing team at the Naval Academy and always felt he was ready for any punch. He never saw this one coming. The first blow slammed into his stomach. He doubled over, dropping to his knees. The second came down on the back of his head.

“Mr. Skyler?” It was a woman's voice. “Mr. Skyler, can you hear me?” It came from far away. He tried to move, to sit up. The back of his skull throbbed.

“Just relax,” she said.

He opened his eyes. Everything hurt. “What happened?”

“You had a bad fall and hit your head. You may be dizzy for a while.”

The room was white like the woman's clothes.

Then his memory started to return. “How long have I been out?”

“A few hours. Now I told you, relax.”

“I need to speak to someone in charge.” He tried to get up but the pain and dizziness stopped him.

The door to the small infirmary opened and a man dressed in a uniform entered. “How is your patient, Nurse Gomez?”

“He would be much better, Captain, if he listened to me and didn't try to move around.”

“Captain?” Skyler said.

“Captain Santos, at your service.”

“Are you aware that this ship came within a hundred meters of a submarine last night?”

“A submarine?” Santos chuckled, turning to Nurse Gomez. “Your patient has quite a sense of humor.”

“I don't see anything funny in what I just said.” Skyler held his head. “It would have taken only a tiny course change to have a major collision, Captain. You know the rules of distance between commercial vessels. Endangering your passengers is a serious matter.”

“Mr. Skyler, you've had an accident. We're going to make every effort to treat your injury.”

“Perhaps Mexican Customs authorities would be interested in knowing what your crewmen were off-loading to that submarine?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Skyler.”

“So you're not aware that this morning, a submarine ran a parallel course with this ship and came within a hundred meters of your port side? A clear violation of international commercial steerage regulations?”

Santos gave Skyler a blank stare.

“I suppose you have no knowledge of the six pieces of luggage that were off-loaded to a small boat that pulled alongside? Check with your first officer, Captain. There's no way he could have missed it.”

“You seem to know a great deal about ships, Mr. Skyler. Those are serious accusations. Let me try and get you some answers.” He reached for a phone on the wall. “This is Santos. I want a report of any vessels that have come within fifty miles of this ship. Yes, midnight until seven this morning. I'm in the clinic.” He hung up, turning back to Skyler. “I'm sure you believe what you're telling me, Mr. Skyler, but considering we found you unconscious, I must weigh the possibility that you were delirious. Perhaps you had a little too much to drink last night, passed out on the deck and hit your head?”

“Delirious? I know exactly what I saw. And when I went to report it, one of your crew attacked me. Then I woke up here.”

“I can't imagine why any of my crew would attack you, sir.”

The door opened.

“Matt, what happened?” Candice rushed to his side. She wore a purple jogging outfit. A sweatband held her dark brown hair in place.

“I'm Captain Santos,” he said and stepped forward.

“Candice Stevens.” She gave him a concerned look. Then she turned back to Skyler. “Are you all right?”

“I've been better.”

“Your friend fell and injured his head,” Nurse Gomez said.

“He's still a little confused,” Santos added. “We recommend that he have x-rays as soon as we arrive in San Carlos Bay.”

“Of course,” Candice said.

“Nurse Gomez will be glad to give you the name of a clinic on shore if you like.” The phone rang and Santos answered. He listened for a moment then hung up. “I think I can put your mind to rest, Mr. Skyler. Since midnight, we have come in contact with five vessels. The Puerto Vallarta to San Lucas ferry, another cruise ship, an oil tanker, what appeared to be a private ocean-going yacht, and a freighter who identified itself as Iberian registry. Of the five, the tanker was the closest — six-point-two kilometers.”

“That's it?” Skyler sat up and swung his legs over the side of the examination table.

“Yes.” Santos smiled broadly. “Now, I'm sure that answers all your questions. Please let Nurse Gomez know if there is anything else we can do for you.”

Skyler started to say something but thought better of it.

Candice took his arm and they walked out of the infirmary. “What was that all about?”

“Something strange is going on, Candy.” Still a little woozy, he leaned on her for support.

“They said you slipped and fell.”

“I didn't slip. I saw something I shouldn't have and somebody knocked me out. Captain Santos knows what’s going on. He's covering up the whole event. Besides, you can't miss a full-blown nuclear missile submarine.”

“Missile submarine? What in the world are you talking about?”

“Not here.” His words brought stares from a group heading to morning brunch. Back in their stateroom, he sat on the bed, rubbing his head. “It just doesn't make any sense.”

“You've got to admit, Matt, a submarine is a little hard to believe.”

“I know a Yankee-class when I see one.”

“Then we have to report it.”

“I did. You heard what the captain said.”

“What if he's right?”

“Candy!”

“Okay, okay. It's just that you did hit your head.”

“No, somebody hit my head.”

“Calm down, honey, I believe you. But there is a chance that—”

“That I imagined it all? I didn't imagine anything and I didn't have too much to drink.”

“How about all the margaritas?”

“I wasn't drunk. Either Santos is blind or he knows everything I've said is true. There's tons of electronic gear on this ship. No way could they miss that sub. What I need is some proof.”

“Matt, relax. This is our vacation. You've told them everything. When we go ashore at the next port, you can make a full report to the authorities if you want. Until then, can't you just let it go?”

“I can't relax, I can't let it go. I've got to find out what was in those suitcases.”