Deep Fathom

13 Trade Secrets

Just after midnight, a knock interrupted Lawrence Nafe’s meeting with a trio of Democratic senators, three stubborn holdouts on his West Coast disaster-relief bill. The bill would be voted on in the morning, and his entire staff was working through the night to ensure they had the votes needed to pass. The door to the Oval Office opened and his personal aide stepped inside.

Nafe had finally learned the boy’s name. “What is it, Marcus?”

“Sir, Mr. Wellington is here to—”

His Chief of Staff pushed past the young man. “Excuse the interruption, Mr. President, but I have an urgent matter to bring to your attention.”

Nafe noticed the hard set to the man’s eyes and lips. William Wellington, from a rich Georgian family, usually exuded a gentile charm. Something was wrong. Nafe stood. “Thank you, gentlemen. That’ll be all.”

The senator from Arizona opened his mouth as if to complain, but Nafe stared him down. If Jacobson wanted his support in next year’s election for the Arizona seat, he had better tow the line. On this bill, he would brook no defectors in his own party’s ranks. The man closed his mouth. The others mumbled their thanks and departed with his aide.

Nafe turned his attention to his Chief of Staff. “What is it, Bill?”

Wellington spoke formally, strained. “Mr. President, you’re needed in the Situation Room.”

“What’s happened?”

“The Chinese, sir. Their air and naval forces have made a strike against Taiwan.”

Nafe almost fell back into his chair. “What? When? It’s the goddamn middle of the night.”

“It’s midday in the Far East. They struck just before noon Taiwan time.”

Nafe was stunned. He had not thought the Chinese would be so bold. Nicolas Ruzickov had assured him that the Chinese Premier would bow to Washington’s accusations, paving the way to garner stiffer concessions from the People’s Republic. Nafe wanted answers for this mistake. “Where’s Nick Ruzickov?”

“In the Situation Room. The National Security Council and Cabinet are already gathering.” William Wellington backed toward the door. “Sir, we must get going. An immediate response will be necessary.”

Nafe nodded and headed toward the door. The Joint Chiefs had better have a contingency plan in place. With the Chief of Staff at his side, he strode through the West Wing, trailed by his Secret Service men. In short order, Nafe pushed angrily into the White House’s inner sanctum.

The agitation and noise in the Situation Room quieted at his entrance.

Around the long table, a score of uniformed men and women stood at his arrival: the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Secretary of the Navy, the U.S. Army Chief of Staff, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and other military heads. Nafe’s own Cabinet members stood to either side of the table.

On the far side of the room a wall-sized monitor displayed a complicated map of the Philippine Sea. Forces were highlighted in blues, reds, and yellows.

Scowling, Nafe crossed to the head of the table. He would make sure the U.S. answered this display of Chinese aggression. There would be no diplomacy. If necessary, he would wipe the Chinese navy from the seas.

He sat down. Those members who had seats returned to their own chairs. The others remained standing.

“So where are we?” Nafe asked.

No one spoke. No one would even meet his gaze.

“I want answers and a plan for an aggressive response,” Nafe said angrily.

Nicolas Ruzickov stood. “Mr. President, it’s too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fighting is already over. Taiwan conceded.”

Nafe struggled to understand. “How could that be? Are you saying during the time it took me to cross from the Oval Office, the Chinese have taken Taiwan?”

Ruzickov bowed his head. “With their island in shambles from the recent quakes, the Taiwanese could offer no resistance. Before we could respond, their government had agreed to rescind their independence, accepting Chinese hegemony in exchange for both aid and an end to hostilities. Chinese forces have already landed. Taiwan is once again a Chinese province.”

Nafe was too stunned to speak. It had happened so fast.

The Secretary of Defense spoke up. “We can’t just accept this. We have forces on the island…in the area.”

The Chief of Naval Operations answered, “We cannot act without a request from the Taiwanese government. And we won’t get it. We’ve been in touch with their embassy. They do not want to be caught between our two warring forces, fearing in their current state that it would lead to the annihilation of their island. In fact, we’ve just received word that their government has demanded that our forces evacuate their waters.”

Nafe felt the heat rising in his face. Less than two weeks in office, and he was losing Taiwan to the Chinese. He clenched his fists. “I do not accept this. I will not see the spread of communism while I’m in charge.”

“Sir—” Ruzickov cautioned.

Nafe slammed his fist against the table. “It’s time to stop coddling China. It will stop here. Now.”

“Sir, what do you propose?”

“With the cowardly assassination of President Bishop and this newest aggression, I see no other choice.” Nafe stared down the heads of the United States fighting forces. “I will demand a declaration of war from Congress.”

Forgetting how much he hated airline travel — the stale air, the cramped seats, the crying children — Jack was glad when the jet’s tires finally touched down and he was freed from the belly of this beast. Though, in truth, his annoyance did not entirely arise from the usual discomforts of flight, but from his memory of Air Force One’s crash. The flight here had been in the same class of jet, a Boeing 747. Jack had spent much of the journey staring out the window, studying every wing seam, bolt, and flap.

But after three days since making the decision to travel here, he had finally reached Okinawa. The journey had taken so long because the closest airport was on Kwajalein Atoll, a day’s sail in the Deep Fathom. And once there, he had been forced to fly standby, killing another half day waiting for a seat to open up. But at least the journey was finally over.

Free of the plane now, Jack crossed through the con-course to the customs area. His only luggage, a single backpack, was hooked over his shoulders. He stepped up to the Japanese customs agent and slapped down his passport. The officer gestured him to open his bag.

As Jack obeyed, the man studied his passport and spoke to him in English. “Welcome to Okinawa, Mr. Kirkland. If you’ll step over to the right.”

Jack turned and saw a second agent carrying a metal-detecting wand.

The first man spoke as he sifted through Jack’s backpack, picking through his underwear and toiletries. “Extra security,” the officer explained, “because of China’s attack.”

Jack nodded. Over the plane’s intercom, the pilot had described the short skirmish and Taiwan’s concession. The strong were always eating the weak.

Jack stepped over to the second agent, who waved a metal detector over his legs and up his body. The detector buzzed at his wrist. He pulled back his sleeve to expose his watch. The officer continued his sweep. The detector sang out again as it passed over his heart. The officer looked up at him.

Frowning, Jack patted his jacket. There was a small bulge in the inner pocket. He opened his jacket and reached inside, remembering David Spangler’s parting gift as he pulled out a tiny, ribbon-wrapped box. With all the commotion, he’d forgotten about it.

“You’ll have to open that,” the first agent said.

Jack nodded and moved back to the customs table. He tugged the ribbon free. Leave it to David to cause trouble from half a world away. He popped open the tiny ring box.

Inside, resting on its velvet-lined interior, lay a small piece of circuitry. A couple of blue wires stuck out of it.

“What is that?” the agent asked, tweezing it between his fingers.

Jack had no idea, but he knew some explanation was needed. He thought fast. “It…It’s for a repair job. An expensive and critical component. I’m a computer consultant.”

“So you gift-wrapped it?” the man asked, studying the tiny piece of electronics, searching for some threat.

“It’s a joke between—” He struggled to remember the name of the computer scientist helping the anthropologist. “—Professor Nakano and myself.”

The customs officer nodded. “I’ve heard of her. The university’s computer expert. Smart woman. Nobel Prize winner.” He replaced the circuit, snapped the ring box closed, and passed it back. “She taught my nephew.”

Jack shoved the box into his backpack.

Behind him, a loud Portuguese family aimed for the customs station. A large woman was arguing with her husband. Both dragged gigantic suitcases.

The agent glanced at them and sighed in exasperation. “You’re free to go.” He waved Jack off.

Jack zipped his bag and proceeded through the gates into the main terminal. The airport was in a tumult, with masses of travelers leaving. Clearly, the Chinese attack had made everyone nervous. Taiwan was too close for comfort, just south of the Ryukyu chain of islands, of which Okinawa was a part.

Jack’s eyes drifted over the crowd. The terminal was so busy he failed to notice the woman trying to get his attention until she called out his name.

“Mr. Kirkland!”

Jack stumbled to a stop, glancing to his left.

The woman hurried over. She had been waiting at the customs gate. She stopped and held out her hand. “I’m Karen Grace.”

Jack blinked stupidly at her for a second. “The…the professor?” He had not expected her to be so young.

She smiled. “I know you told us you would call once you were settled in your hotel, but…well…” A blush brightened her cheeks. “Miyuki hacked into the airport’s computers and downloaded your itinerary. I figured you could stay at my apartment rather than a hotel. It’ll make things easier.” She began to stammer, clearly realizing she might be stepping over a line. “That is…if you’d like.”

Jack rescued her from further embarrassment. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer. I hate hotels.”

“Good…good…We’ll get a taxi.”

She turned and led the way. Jack watched her. For just a moment as the woman had rushed up to him, Jennifer’s memory had flashed before him. Not that the two women looked anything alike. Except for the blond hair, the professor bore no resemblance to Jennifer. Karen was taller, her hair cropped shorter, her eyes green. She carried herself differently, too. Striding sternly, no sway in her step.

Still, Jack recognized a similar energy coming from this professor. She practically glowed with it, a light that shone past the superficial differences.

“So you’re that astronaut,” Karen said when he caught up to her. “I remember the news stories. The hero. God, I’d love to go up there sometime.”

“I can’t say I enjoyed it much.”

Karen stumbled to a stop. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. The accident. You lost friends up there. What was I thinking?”

“It’s ancient history,” he mumbled, wanting to end the conversation.

She stared up at him with an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry.”

Jack turned the conversation in another direction as they moved off again. “So you’re American?”

“Canadian actually. A visiting professor. I have an apartment near the university…faculty housing.”

“Sounds good. After I clean up, I’d like to get to work as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

Exiting the terminal, Karen pushed forward through the throng. At the curb, she raised a hand to hail a cab. One zipped to a stop at the curb. Stepping forward, she pulled open the door. “C’mon. I want to get to the bank before it closes.”

Jack ducked inside the small car as Karen spoke rapidly to the driver in Japanese. Then she slid in next to him. “If you want to work this afternoon, I’ll need to collect something from my safe deposit box first.”

“What’s that?”

“The crystal.”

“You have it at the bank?”

As the taxi wove into highway traffic, aiming for the city, she looked at him, studying him. In her eyes, Jack saw her weighing something in her mind. Finally, she said, “You don’t have any tattoos, do you?”

“Why?”

She just stared, waiting for him to answer.

“Okay, I do. I was with the SEALs.”

“Could I see them?”

“Not unless you want me to moon the driver.”

She blushed again.

Jack fought down a grin. He was growing to like this reaction.

“Um, that won’t be necessary,” she mumbled. “How about snake tattoos? Any of those?”

“No. Why?”

She chewed her lower lip, then spoke. “We’ve had some trouble with a group trying to steal the crystal artifact. They bear these snake tattoos on their forearms. That’s why I insisted on meeting you in person. We need to be cautious.”

Jack pushed back his jacket’s sleeves, baring his forearms. “No snakes. Anywhere. I swear.”

She grinned at him, settling back into her seat. “I believe you.”

After a short drive, they exited the highway. Signs for the university were written in both Japanese and English.

Karen leaned forward and again spoke to the driver, who bobbed his head. She pointed at the next corner, to a large Bank of Tokyo sign. The taxi squealed to a halt. “I’ll be right back.” She hopped out.

Jack sat in the steaming heat. With the car stopped, there was not even a breeze through the window to move the air. His thoughts drifted back to the professor. She smelled vaguely of jasmine. Her scent remained in the cab. He could not help smiling. Perhaps this trip wasn’t such a bad idea.

Then Karen was climbing into the cab again. “Got it. Here.” She handed him a small leather satchel.

He took it — and almost dropped it. Its weight caught him by surprise.

“Heavy, isn’t it?”

“This is the crystal?”

“See for yourself.”

Jack fingered loose the leather straps and tugged the satchel open. At the bottom lay a crystal star, smaller than his outstretched hand. Even in the shadowed light of the cab, he appreciated its brilliance. He also recognized the distinct appearance: translucent crystal veined with azure and ruby whorls. “It’s the same.”

“What?”

He reached in and pulled out the crystal. “I’d swear this is the same type of crystal that I found at the crash site.”

“The crystal obelisk with the inscription on it?”

“Exactly.” Jack held the artifact up to the direct sunlight. Its facets burst with brilliance.

“Notice anything odd about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re holding it up with one hand.”

“Yeah, so.”

Karen pulled out a black handkerchief and tossed it over the crystal. Jack’s arm dropped. It was as if the handkerchief weighed ten pounds. “What the hell?”

“The crystal’s weight is dependant upon light exposure. The stronger the light, the less it weighs.”

Jack whisked off the bit of cloth, exposing the crystal again. It was lighter. “My God!”

Karen took the crystal and lowered it back into her satchel.

“My geologist would sell his soul to see this.”

“We’ve already arranged to have it studied. Next Monday, in fact, when the university’s geology staff returns. I’ll pass the data on to your friend.”

Jack knew this would hardly satisfy Charlie. He wished he had collected a sample of the crystal pillar himself.

“Now it’s your turn,” Karen said. “You said you would bring a copy of the obelisk’s inscription.”

He patted his own bag. “I have it.”

“May I see?”

Shrugging, Jack bent over and fished through his backpack for his notebook. Pulling it free, he handed it to her.

Karen opened the book. The first page was covered with the tiny hieroglyphics. A small gasp escaped her throat. “Rongorongo.”

“Excuse me?”

Karen flipped through the remainder of the notebook. There were forty pages of glyphs. The book trembled in her fingers as she mumbled, “There has never been a discovery of this length before.”

“Discovery of what?”

She closed the book and gave him a quick lesson on the history of the etchings found on Easter Island. “Over the centuries,” she finished, “no one has been able to translate them. This may hold the final clue.”

“I hope it helps,” Jack said lamely as his mind spun. If the language was from Easter Island, what was it doing inscribed on a crystal spire six hundred meters underwater? He struggled to incorporate this newest bit of information. Could this have anything to do with the crash of Air Force One?

Before flying here, he had not mentioned to Karen his own agenda in meeting with her — to tie the strange crystal to the downing of Air Force One. It seemed too far-fetched to admit to a stranger. “Do you think you’ll be able to translate what’s on the pillar?”

Karen clutched the notebook in her lap. She stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts. “I don’t know.”

Within a few minutes they reached her apartment: a second-floor town house, two bedrooms, neat and wonderfully cool. Karen apologized for the drab furnishings, all beige and browns. “It came prefurnished.”

But Jack noted small personal touches. On a mantel rested a collection of stone statues and fetishes from Micronesia. In a corner were four carefully tended bonsai plants. And stuck on the apartment’s refrigerator were scores of pictures — family, friends, old vacation photos — affixed by an equally colorful assortment of kitchen magnets.

Jack followed Karen toward the bedroom area. As his host passed the decorated refrigerator, all the magnets suddenly clattered to the floor, the pictures fluttering after them.

Startled, Karen jumped away.

Jack glanced from the refrigerator to Karen. She stood with the satchel clutched to her chest. “It think it’s the crystal. It’s demonstrated strange magnetic effects before.”

As proof, he waved her away. When she moved off a few steps, he collected one of the magnets and put it back on the refrigerator. It stuck again.

“That is so weird,” Karen said. “No wonder the looters thought the crystal was cursed.”

Jack frowned. “Cursed?”

She matched his frown with a nod to the single magnet. “It seems both of us have been holding back a little. Let’s get you settled and then head over to the lab. We have much to discuss.”

Jack slowly nodded.

He showered, shaved, and changed into a pair of loose khakis and a light short-sleeve shirt. He repacked his backpack: camera, notebooks, pens, cellular phone. He felt worlds better as he left Karen’s apartment. It was only a short walk to the university.

“I already called Miyuki,” Karen said. “She’s waiting for us at her lab.”

Jack nudged his pack higher on his shoulder. “You mean Professor Nakano?”

Karen nodded. “She has a program to decrypt the language.”

As they walked an awkward silence descended. Jack sought to break it. “So tell me where you found the crystal.”

Karen sighed. “That’s a long story.” But she gave Jack a quick sketch: the risen pyramids, the ambush, the escape through an underwater passage.

As the story unfolded, Jack’s respect for the two women grew. “And these looters were the same ones who broke into Professor Nakano’s office?”

Karen nodded.

“How could they possibly know about the crystal within the pyramid?”

“I’m not sure they did. They just know we found something. Something they think is cursed.”

Jack thought about the crash of Air Force One, wondering if these men’s warning might hold a kernel of truth. “Definitely strange,” he mumbled.

“Here we are,” Karen pointed to a building just ahead. She led the way. Inside, she flashed her credentials, and a guard escorted them to the elevators.

“The lifts are working again?” she asked as the doors opened.

The guard nodded. He joined them in the small space.

Karen caught Jack’s inquisitive look at their escort. “Pre-cautions because of the break-in last week.”

The elevator ascended swiftly. When the doors opened, Jack found a small Japanese woman waiting for them, pacing anxiously.

Stepping forward, Karen introduced them. Miyuki bowed slightly but offered no hand. Jack nodded in greeting. Asian customs involved little physical contact. “Professor Nakano, thank you for your help.”

“Please call me Miyuki,” she said shyly.

“Let’s go,” Karen said as the guard returned to the elevator. “I want to enter Jack’s data as soon as possible.” Karen hurried forward, waving for Jack and Miyuki to follow.

Jack leaned over to Miyuki. “Is she always like this?”

Miyuki rolled her eyes. “Always,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

Once at the office, Miyuki stepped forward and keyed open the lock. Karen was first through the door. “Miyuki maintains a clean room for her computers,” she explained as Jack entered. She pointed to a row of starched coveralls hanging on the wall. “You’ll need to wear one of those.”

“I don’t know if I have a suit that’ll fit him,” Miyuki said. She sifted through the coveralls. “This might do.” She passed him a large suit.

Jack took it and placed his backpack on a bench by the wall.

Karen was already zipping into her own coverall. “Jack, while you dress, may I show Miyuki your notebook?”

He nodded and nudged his pack in her direction, then applied himself to forcing his large frame into the tight suit.

“Miyuki, come see this.” She tugged free his notebook. As she did, something tumbled from his backpack and rolled across the floor.

Miyuki bent to pick it up.

As Jack struggled to work both shoulders into the coveralls, he saw that Miyuki held David Spangler’s gift box, and an idea dawned on him. “Open it,” he said to Miyuki. “I could use your expert opinion.”

She pulled back the lid. Her eyes narrowed as she peered at its contents.

“What do you think it is?” Jack asked.

Miyuki leaned closer. “It’s an inexpensive switching circuit.” She closed the box with a snap. “Worthless really.”

Jack frowned. What was David’s scam here? The circuitry must contain some veiled insult, but what?

Miyuki handed the box back to Karen. “It’s just an obsolete Chinese design.”

Her words struck Jack in the stomach. He suddenly felt ill. “Chinese? Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Jack’s mind fought for any other explanation. His first suspicion couldn’t possibly be true. But he remembered George’s question a few days back: What if the explosion had been staged? A frame-up? Jack ran various scenarios through his mind, but only one rang true: Spangler had faked the explosion.

“That bastard!” he spat out. Even the little “gift” was David’s way of rubbing his nose in this fact, knowing he couldn’t do a thing about it. Washington had wanted this explanation for the tragedy, and David had handed it to them. No one would listen to anything contradictory.

Bile rose in Jack’s throat. The stupendous gall of the murderous bastard! And how far up did this treachery go? he wondered. Was it just a frame job, or had David played a role in the jet’s downing, too? Jack swore under his breath and clenched his fists, sharpening his resolve. He would discover the truth behind the crash — or die trying!

“What’s wrong?” Karen asked.

Jack finally noticed the two women gaping at him. He sat down, his legs suddenly weak as his anger faded. “It seems I also have a long story to share.”

“About what?” Karen sat down next to him.

“About the crash of Air Force One.”

On his belly in the submersible, David Spangler ascended through the depths of the sea, rising in a slow spiral toward the surface. Over the past three days the Navy’s new prototype sub, the Perseus, had been functioning far better than the estimates from the drawing board.

David lay sprawled on his stomach within the sub’s inner shell, a torpedo-shaped chamber molded of two-inch-thick Lexan glass. Except for the clear nose cone, where his head and shoulders protruded, the rest of the Lexan cubicle was encased in the sub’s outer shell, a top-secret ceramic composite that was lighter and stronger than titanium. Within this outer shell were housed all the ship’s mechanical, electrical, and propulsion systems. This dual shell system was designed for safety. In case of emergency, the entire outer shell could be jettisoned with manual pyrotechnics, freeing the inner Lexan pod to rise to the surface under its own buoyancy.

“Perseus,” a voice said in his ear, “we have you locked in. If you’d like to switch to autopilot, we’ll guide you into the docking bay.”

David answered the topside technician, “I’ll take her in myself.” This was his sixth dive in the Perseus, and he felt comfortable enough with her controls now to do this manually. With his thumb, he flicked a switch, and a heads-up display appeared superimposed over the nose cone’s glass. His trajectory to the bay of the Navy’s salvage ship, the Maggie Chouest, was delineated in red. It was simply a matter of guiding his sub along the designated approach, not unlike a flight simulator.

“I’m hooked into the tracking computer,” he radioed. “I’ll be at the bay in three minutes.”

“Aye, sir. See you topside.”

Slowing the thrusters, David eased the sub upward. Around him, as he neared the surface, the dark waters began to lighten. As he aligned his sub he could not escape the sensation of true flight. On his belly, it was as if he and the ship were one. The sub’s hand controls were as responsive as his own thoughts. The telescoping wings to either side were like the fins of a creature born to the sea, twisting and tucking to guide the vessel.

But this was no creature of the sea. Under its belly a pair of titanium manipulator arms were folded and stored, capable of crushing granite, and atop the sub, protruding like a shark’s dorsal fin, stood a stacked array of minitorpedoes, on a pivoting dolly for ease of targeting. Though small, each missile was tipped with a powerful warhead, able to pierce an armored submarine. They were nicknamed “sub-busters” by the Perseus’s support team, the Navy’s Deep Submergence Unit. The weapons gave the tiny rescue sub an extra advantage in hostile waters.

David ran a finger over the torpedoes’ activation control. Earlier that day he had been informed of the loss of Taiwan to the Chinese. The news had kept him agitated all day. How had they lost the island to the goddamn Communists? It was an embarrassment and a black eye to all of America. If only he could have taken part in the fighting…

The technician came on the line. “Sir, one of your men is here. He says it’s urgent he speak with you.”

“Put him on.”

A short pause, then Rolfe’s voice came over the radio. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you told us to let you know if there were…um, any change in your secondary objective.”

David frowned. Secondary objective? He had been so focused on the timetable here and on the growing drums of war that he had momentarily forgotten about Jack Kirkland. “What is it?”

“The target has vacated the zone.”

David bit back a long curse. Kirkland had gone missing. He knew any further details and explanations could not be discussed over an open radio. “I’ll be topside in two minutes. Meet me in my cabin and brief me then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Grimacing, David shoved aside his concerns about Kirkland. Right now he had work to finish. He swept the sub around on a wingtip, aligning its trajectory into the proper approach. He checked the sub’s clock. He had been underwater for almost six hours. After he surfaced, the Perseus would be checked over and reoutfitted for the day’s third dive. An alternate Navy pilot would take the submersible down to the work site on the seabed floor. Then, in another seven hours, it would be David’s shift all over again.

But the two pilots were not the only ones with tough schedules. Since the arrival of the research team and barges from Maui, the entire crew had been working around the clock. Aided by the researcher’s submersible and robots, the sea base’s support framework had already been bolted to the bottom. Starting this afternoon, the three-tiered living units and labs would be sunk to the bottom and assembled. Barring any mishaps, David expected the entire base to be established within the next forty-eight hours and manned soon afterward.

He had been ordered to get this base up in four days, and he would not disappoint, even if it meant cracking the whip. In fact, earlier in the day, when the research team’s leader, a geophysicist named Ferdinand Cortez, objected to the strenuous pace, David encouraged him to call Washington. It had given David great pleasure to see the Mexican browbeaten by Nicolas Ruzickov over the satellite phone. Even from a step away David had heard Ruzickov screaming at the scientist. Afterward, though tensions remained acute, no one questioned his orders nor his schedule again.

He was in sole control of this operation, and he would not let anyone or anything delay its completion — not the embarrassing loss of Taiwan, nor the mysterious disappearance of Jack Kirkland. He would not fail.

Ahead, out of the gloom, the submerged docking bay appeared. David angled the sub with deft skill, gliding her skids onto the submerged platform. He settled the sub between the self-locking clamps. As he released the controls, the sub’s wings retracted and two C-clamps snugged against the vessel’s ceramic sides. “Locked and loaded,” he called topside.

“Locked and loaded,” the technician acknowledged. “Pulling you up.”

Through the Perseus’s hydrophones, David heard the whine of the hydraulics as the captured submersible was drawn to the surface. Around him the seas grew brighter until, at last, he surfaced. Saltwater sluiced over the nose cone and small waves crashed against the sub’s side, but the vessel did not move. And after a few seconds even the waves were no threat. The Perseus and its pilot were hauled up out of the ocean and craned onto the stern deck of the Maggie Chouest.

As soon as the platform settled to the deck, the sub’s five-man maintenance crew swarmed over the vessel. The nose cone’s O-ring was unscrewed and the glass bubble dropped open. David slid like a beaching seal onto the deck. One of the crewmen offered him a hand. After six hours on his belly in the cramped space, his limbs were un-trustworthy.

Once on his feet, David unzipped his wet suit and stretched the kinks from his muscles. Behind him the maintenance crew was already at work: checking seals, blowing the carbon dioxide scavengers, piping fresh oxygen into the two flank tanks. They reminded David of an Indy 500 pit crew. Fast, efficient, and coordinated.

David turned his back on them and found Cortez aiming his way across the deck. Groaning, David straightened. Right now all he wanted was a hot shower and his bunk. He did not want to deal with the geophysicist. He set his face to a hard scowl as the man stopped before him. “What is it, Professor?”

From the dark circles under his eyes, the man had slept little. Even his clothes, khakis and a flannel shirt, were wrinkled and worn. “A request, Commander.”

“What?”

“On this next dive, I was wondering if Lieutenant Brentley could take a few moments and scout closer to the crystalline formation. From the video feed of the previous dives, we’ve spotted some scratches on its surface. They appear too regular to be natural. We think its some form of writing.”

David shook his head. “Any such investigation will have to wait. My first priority is to get that base built and manned. After that, you and your scientists can begin your own investigation.”

“But it would only take a few—”

“My orders stand, Professor.” David spat out the last word as if it were an insult. “Stay clear of the crystal until the station is built. That pillar radiates a strong magnetic signature, creating glitches and communication problems. I will not risk the Perseus just to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Though the researcher backed down, David spotted the contempt in the man’s eyes. He did not care. The Mexican was under his command. He would do what he was told.

Across the deck, near the aft hatch, one of David’s subordinates was on guard. He stalked up to the man. “Where’s Lieutenant Rolfe?”

“In your cabin, sir.”

David nodded and ducked through the hatch. He climbed two flights up to the ship’s flag deck. He had commandeered this level’s cabins for his men. Ahead he saw his room’s door was ajar. Another of his men patrolled the passageway. He nodded and pushed into his cabin.

Inside, Rolfe stood up.

David closed the door and began stripping off his wet suit. “So what happened to Kirkland? Did you lose his ship?”

“No, sir.” Rolfe cleared his throat. “We’ve been monitoring the location of the Deep Fathom continually. It still circles the Kwajalein Atoll.”

“So then what went wrong?”

“Earlier this morning, Lieutenant Jeffreys got suspicious about why the ship was remaining in the area for so long. So he did a little checking and found Jack Kirkland’s name on a Quantas passenger list leaving the atoll.”

David kicked out of his wet suit and stood naked. “Dammit! When did he leave?”

“Two days ago. From the itinerary, it appears he traveled to Okinawa.”

David scowled. What was the bastard doing in Okinawa? He stalked to his cabin’s bathroom and twisted on the shower nozzle. “Do we know exactly where he went?”

“No, sir. He had reservations at the local Sheraton, but he never showed up. However, he did book a round-trip ticket. He’s due back in two days.”

David’s face darkened. Two more days. He had been looking forward to completing this little side objective much sooner. Still, he was impressed by his own team’s resourcefulness. Kirkland would not escape him. As busy as he was here, he could wait out another two days.

“Very good, Mr. Rolfe. But I want to know as soon as we have confirmation that Kirkland’s back on his boat.”

“Yes, sir.”

David tested the shower. The small bathroom was filling with steam.

“Sir, we have another problem.” The lieutenant’s voice was pained.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if we have two days to wait. According to Handel, the transmitting signal has been deteriorating. He estimates a day or two until we lose contact.”

David swung around, angry. “I told Handel to make sure the bomb remained functioning for at least two weeks.”

“He knows, sir. He believes one of the bomb’s electrical circuits may be faulty. He says that Chink crap is not reliable.”

David stood there, almost shaking in frustration. Refusing to admit defeat, he pondered other options and angles. He knew no plan was as foolproof as on paper. Improvisation was the key to a mission’s final success. As he thought about it, a new strategy formed. “Fine. Then if Kirkland’s not back in time, we blow his ship anyway.”

“Sir?”

“Destroying his boat and killing his crew will be only our first steps in bringing Kirkland down.” As David stood in the steamy bathroom, he warmed to his new plan.

Slowly torturing Jack Kirkland did have its appeal.

8:15 P.M., Ryukyu University, Okinawa Prefecture, Japan

“Anyone for dinner?” Karen asked, stretching her neck. Her eyes were blurry from studying the computer screens. “I can’t take any more of this.”

To her left, the tall American sat crouched over his terminal. He seemed not to have heard her. “Gabriel, let’s move on to symbols Forty A and B.”

“Certainly, Mr. Kirkland.”

On the far side of the American, Miyuki remained lost in her own work, busily scanning in the final few pages from the notebook. Processing the data had turned out to be a slow and tedious chore. It had become necessary for the computer to compare each glyph to the set already catalogued.

Karen glanced at Jack’s workstation. Two figures appeared on his screen: one from his notebook and one from their own collection of glyphs.

The American’s notebook contained only a handwritten copy of the pillar’s inscription, drawn by the historian aboard his boat. This led to a certain level of ambiguity at times. Like now. Were the two figures the same glyph, Karen wondered, or were the subtle differences just minor discrepancies on the part of the transcriber?

During this process, Gabriel had learned to compare over two hundred loci sites on each corresponding glyph. As long as there was at least a ninety percent match, it was decided that the two symbols were the same. A match ranking less than fifty percent was considered unique enough to be classified as a new symbol. This resulted in a gray zone between fifty and ninety. And so far, there were three hundred paired symbols falling into this category. Each of these required visual inspection by the trio of humans.

“Figures Forty A and Forty B,” Gabriel explained, “are a match at fifty-two percent. Will we classify A as the same or different from B?”

Jack leaned closer to the screen. “It’s like that old children’s puzzle. What’s different between these two pictures?”

Miyuki piped in as she finished the last scan and leaned back, “The first figure has an eye drawn on it, the other doesn’t.”

Jack nodded. “And the first figure is holding up two balls, the other only one.” He glanced at Karen.

Again she was struck at what a brilliant blue the man’s eyes were. They had to be contact lenses. No one had eyes that blue. “The rest looks the same,” she said, clearing her throat.

Jack asked, “So what’s the verdict, folks? Are they different enough from one another to be two separate symbols?”

Karen shifted closer to the monitor, brushing her shoulder against Jack’s. He did not move away. Instead he bowed his head beside hers, both concentrating on the screen. “I’m gonna dismiss the eyes as being insignificant,” Karen said. “But not the differences in the number of items in the figure’s raised hand. I think this discrepancy is significant enough to be unique. Over the past few days, we’ve discovered other symbols with counting icons built into them: the number of legs on a starfish, the number of fish in a pelican’s mouth. I think this is one of those counting icons. Though similar to one another, they are ultimately unique.”

Jack nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Gabriel, please classify Figure Forty A and Figure Forty B as separate icons.”

“Done. Shall we proceed to Figures 41A and 41B?”

Karen groaned. “I don’t know about the both of you, but I’m starved and my eyes are aching. How about a couple hours rest break?”

“I guess I could use a little dinner myself,” Jack said. “All I’ve eaten for the past twenty-four hours has been airplane food.”

As Jack stretched, Karen tried not to notice the breadth of his shoulders or the way his neck muscles corded up. “I know a restaurant only a few blocks away. They serve the best Thai food around.”

“Sounds good. The spicier the better.”

“It’s tongue-blistering. Guaranteed.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Standing, Miyuki shooed them. “You two go on by yourselves. There’s something I’d like to try with Gabriel.”

“Are you sure?” Karen asked.

Miyuki nodded, but her eyes traveled up the tall man as he stood. Once Jack’s back was fully turned, she winked at Karen. “I’m sure,” she said to Karen with a small smile.

Karen blushed. Was her attraction to Jack so obvious? She scolded Miyuki with a consternated expression, but this only widened her friend’s smile.

“Besides, I just had Thai food,” Miyuki said louder. “But I know how many months it’s been for you.”

The double meaning was not lost on Karen. Her blush darkened. She glared at her friend as Jack called from the doorway, “Is there anything you’d like us to bring back for you, Miyuki?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m not the hungry one here, but you’d better get something into Karen right away.”

“Will do!” Then he was out the door.

Karen playfully swatted at Miyuki. “You are so wicked.”

“And you are so smitten. Go on. Make a move. I already checked him out. No ring, not even a girlfriend. And I think he sort of likes you, too.”

“He does not. He never even looked twice at me.”

Miyuki rolled her eyes. “Not when you would notice. It was like watching two teenagers, both of you sizing each up when the other’s back was turned.”

“He was not checking me out.”

Miyuki shrugged and turned back to her computer.

Karen touched her shoulder. “Was he really?”

“Like a lovesick puppy. Now go on. Give that puppy’s belly a rub and leave me alone for a few hours.”

“We’re only going to dinner.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re both professionals, colleagues in this matter.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s only going to be here for a couple more days.”

“Uh-huh.”

Karen grew frustrated and stormed away. “It’s only dinner!” she called back to Miyuki.

As she exited, Miyuki’s answer followed her. “Uh-huh.”

As they walked back from the Lucky Thai Restaurant, Jack bellowed out a laugh that had the smaller Japanese pedestrians glancing in his direction. Embarrassed, he leaned closer to Karen. “You’ve got to be kidding! You told the president of the British Anthropology Society to pull his head out of his ass?”

Karen shrugged. “He ticked me off. Him and his stick-in-the-mud ideas. What does he know about the South Pacific? My great-grandfather had traveled South Pacific islands for decades before that man was in diapers. What right did that pompous ass have in claiming my ancestor was a crackpot?”

“Oh, and I’ll bet your response set him straight. He must think your entire family is nuts. No wonder you had to come all the way to Japan to teach.”

Karen glared up at him, but Jack could tell her anger was feigned. “I wasn’t exactly expelled from Canada’s shores. I chose to come here for my own research. Colonel Churchward, my mother’s grandfather, may have jumped to some ridiculous conclusions about a lost continent in the middle of the Pacific, but I came out here to prove that much of the accepted historical dogma of this region is wrong. And with what we both have been uncovering here, I’m beginning to think my ancestor’s claims may not have been so off base.”

“A lost continent?” he scoffed.

“C’mon, Jack, think about it. Off the coast of Chatan an ancient city rises from the sea. And if Gabriel’s translation of the star chamber’s calendar is correct, it dates the construction around twelve thousand years ago. During that era, the seas were about three hundred feet lower than they are now. Who knows how many other landmasses and cities might be hidden in these waters? And what of your own pillar? Are you saying this lost race could dive to the ocean bottom and carve letters on a crystal pyramid?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying. But after all you’ve shown me today, I’m learning to see things with a more open mind.”

Karen nodded, as if satisfied. “You really should see the ancient city and pyramids. That would help convince you.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t mind a trip out there.”

“If we have time, I’ll take you. It’s only a couple hours by boat.”

“I…I’d like that. It’s a date.”

A long awkward moment arose between them. They continued in silence through the university’s grounds. The scent of lavender and hibiscus colored the garden paths, but all Jack could smell was Karen’s jasmine perfume. What was so captivating about this woman? Back on the Deep Fathom, Lisa had twice the physical attributes. Still, there was something exciting about Karen’s passion and boldness.

During dinner, Jack discovered Karen was also her own woman. Her wit was as sharp as a knife blade, while her eyes shone with constant mischief. Her crooked smile both mocked and enchanted. Over dessert he had stopped seeing Jennifer and saw only Karen…and he wasn’t disappointed.

“We’re almost to the computer building,” Karen said quietly, breaking the silence.

Was there a trace of regret in her voice? Jack knew he felt it in his own heart. He longed to spend more than a few snatched hours with her in private. He found his steps inadvertently slowing.

She matched his pace. At the bottom of the stairs to the building, she stopped and turned to him. “Thanks for dinner. I had a nice time.”

“It’s the least I could do for your putting me up for the night.”

They stood too close together, but neither moved.

“We should see if Miyuki has discovered anything new,” Karen said, half raising an arm to point toward the building. She climbed the first step.

Her face was now even with his. Their eyes met and held each other for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Jack leaned closer to her. It was foolish, inappropriate, juvenile…but he could not stop. He was not sure if she shared any of his feelings, so he moved slowly. If she pulled away, he would have his answer.

But she maintained his gaze. Only her lids lowered imperceptibly.

He began to reach his arms around her when a voice barked from the doorway. The pair were speared by a flashlight’s beam.

Karen coughed in surprise and backed up a step, retreating.

The man called out to them in Japanese.

Half turning into the flashlight’s glare, Karen answered in the same language.

As the light was turned aside, Jack saw it was one of the security men from the building. “What did he want?” he asked as the guard swung away.

Karen turned to him. “Miyuki warned him to watch out for us. She has news.” Karen led the way up the steps. Her voice grew excited, drowning away the passion from a moment ago. “Let’s go!”

Jack followed, both disappointed and relieved. It was ridiculous to start anything with this woman, especially since he was leaving in two days. Not that he had any rule against one-night stands. Though his heart was guarded, he had physical needs like any other man, and seldom had problems finding a willing partner during port calls. But in this case he knew any brief dalliance with Karen would hardly satisfy him. In fact, it would make matters worse.

He climbed the steps and passed through the doorway. Maybe for all concerned, he thought, it was best to leave their passions at the bottom of the stairs.

Across the lobby, Karen waved to him from beside the elevator bay. He stretched his stride to reach her just as the doors opened. With the guard escorting them, neither one spoke. Each stood in a cocoon of privacy.

When the doors whooshed open, they hurried down the hall. As they neared the door to the lab, it cracked open and Miyuki gestured them to hurry, saying, “It worked! Come see! I have all the glyphs catalogued.”

“All of them?” Karen said.

Jack understood her surprise. It had taken them hours to reach number forty in a list of discrepancies that numbered over three hundred. How had the computer scientist accomplished so much in so little time?

Miyuki didn’t respond. Instead, when they had accompanied her into the lab and to her computer station, she pointed to the screen. Symbols were flashing past. “Gabriel is rechecking his data,” Miyuki said. “It will take another hour to double-check everything for accuracy, then he’ll try decoding the various inscriptions.”

Karen just stood there shaking her head. “How? How did you do it?”

“As I mentioned before, Gabriel is an artificial intelligence program. He can learn from experience. While you were at dinner I had him study the first forty pairs of glyphs and incorporate why the three of us rejected or accepted various symbols as unique or not, then apply those parameters to the remaining couple hundred.” Grinning, Miyuki said, “He was able to do it! He learned from our examples!”

“But he’s a computer,” Karen said. Jack noticed how she whispered these words as if somehow afraid of hurting Gabriel’s feelings. “How can we trust that his decisions were correct?”

Instead of her words dampening Miyuki’s glee, she grew more excited. “Because after completing this exercise, he’s been able to expand his rudimentary understanding of these people’s lunar calendar and dating system.”

“What do you mean?” Karen asked, still skeptical. “What has he learned?”

“Buried in the text are hidden references to a specific site in the Pacific.”

“What site? I don’t understand.”

“I’ll let Gabriel explain, because frankly even I have trouble understanding it.” Miyuki glanced to the side, speaking to their invisible partner. “Gabriel, please explain your calculations.”

“Yes, Professor Nakano. From the celestial map and my understanding of their lunar calendar, I discovered a reference to a specific location, triangulated by the position of the moon, the sun, and the north star in the text.”

Jack was stunned by this revelation. “And you’re able to do this even though you can’t translate the language yet?”

“It’s all astronomy and mathematics,” Miyuki explained. “Numbers and the movement of the stars are really a cosmic language. Such information is the easiest to translate since it is a relative constant across cultures. In fact, when archaeologists first attempted to decipher the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt, the first thing they understood were the Egyptians’ mathematics and celestial designations.” Miyuki pointed to the scrolling glyphs. “The same is true here.”

“So what did you find?” Karen asked, impatient.

“In the pyramid’s inscription,” Miyuki said, “there are two references. Each mentions the same site in the Pacific. Gabriel, bring up the map on the second monitor, and highlight the location for us.”

A map of the Pacific appeared on the small screen. Jack had a flash of déjà vu. It reminded him of a similar discussion aboard his own ship, when George had related the mysteries of the Dragon’s Triangle. Jack assumed the mysterious site from the inscription was going to be the location of the crystal pillar — but instead a small red blinking dot bloomed farther south on the map, just north of the equator.

“Gabriel, zoom in on the location. Three hundred times normal.”

The map swelled, sweeping deep into the South Pacific. Islands, once so tiny they could not be seen, grew in size until names could be read: Satawal, Chuuk, Pulusuk, Mortlock. They were all islands of Micronesia. The red dot was positioned at the southeastern tip of one of them.

It was Pohnpei, the capital of the Federated States of Micronesia.

Karen sat up straighter. “Gabriel, can you pinpoint the location in any finer detail?”

Though Jack had known Karen less than a day, he sensed that she was on to something.

The other islands of Micronesia faded off the screen as the outline of Pohnpei filled the monitor. Individual villages and towns grew clearer. The blinking red marker hovered near the island’s southeast coastline.

Jack leaned toward the screen. He could just make out a name written beside the red marker. “What does that say?”

Karen remained stiff in her seat. She was hardly looking at the screen. “It’s Nan Madol.”

Jack glanced over at her. “A village?”

“Ruins,” she answered. “One of the most spectacular set of megalithic ruins in all the South Pacific. The site covers eleven square miles of coastline, an engineering marvel of canals and basalt buildings.” She turned toward him. “To this day no one knows for sure who built them.”

Jack sat back and nodded to the neighboring screen, where the glyphs continued to scroll. “Maybe now we do.”

“I have to know more!” Karen said, grabbing Miyuki’s sleeve.

The computer scientist frowned. “I’m sorry. That’s all I have. After Gabriel double-checks his own work, it’ll still take at least a day to begin any significant decoding. With these new additions, the total number of individual glyphs is now over five hundred, and the list of compound glyphs has grown into the range of ten thousand. This is no easy language.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Karen asked, breathless.

“Try me late tomorrow afternoon,” Miyuki said. “I might — and I repeat might—have something then.”

“A whole day,” Karen groaned. “What am I going to do for a whole day?”

Jack knew the anthropologist needed something on which to focus her energy. “How about your promise to me?”

Karen’s brows bunched up, not understanding.

“The ancient city off the coast of Chatan. You promised to tour me through there.”

She brightened, but not for the reason Jack had hoped. “You’re right. If the ruins of Nan Madol are referenced, some other clues may still be hidden out at Chatan. It’s worth investigating again.”

“And this time out, you’ll have better company than me,” Miyuki added. “A strong man to guard your back.”

Karen looked at Jack, as if finally seeing him again. “Oh.”

In her green eyes, Jack recognized her burning passion for this newest mystery. He searched for something more…but came up empty.

He smiled weakly. So much for romance.