Chapter 18

Spinney’s face went beet red the moment he heard about the airplane sliding into the abyss. He’d already issued his grandiose press release to media outlets around the world, and in an effort to save face, he made Watanabe repeat himself four times. He even went so far as to question each diver independently as to what they saw, which naturally did nothing to change the outcome. Amelia Earhart’s plane was gone once again, and with it Spinney’s dreams. Perhaps it was still gliding to the bottom of the ocean as they spoke, but regardless, it would end up well beyond the range of any salvage technology Spinney had access to.

He stomped around the beach, pacing like a caged tiger, imploring his men as they prepared to haul their gear back to camp for the last time.

“We still found it!” Spinney bellowed after them. “It’s not like we don’t have proof. We know where it is!”

No one answered him.

“What about the artifacts from this dive? I see the crate.” He pointed to the box Maddock and Bones had just set down in the soft sand. “Anything else?”

The two divers who had been inside the plane with Maddock and Bones stepped forward and wordlessly handed Spinney their bags containing the odds and ends they had recovered from Earhart’s plane.

“Steve, let’s get a workup going on this new stuff and see what we have. We’ll also have to send a follow-up on the press release…”

“We just lost a man…”

“He’s gone. Nothing we can do about it.” Spinney continued blathering on about his next steps as the team began trooping back to camp in a single file line along the beach path. One of the divers pushed the wheelbarrow filled with dive gear. Spinney and Carlson led the way up front, while Maddock and Bones brought up the rear with the new crate. They had improvised a simple carry rig for it out of two tree branches left over from the raft construction. They set the old crate in the middle of the two branches, spaced about two feet apart, and then each picked up one end, with Bones leading. George Taylor walked alongside them for a stretch, snapping pictures of them carrying the box while giving them a wink in between shots before falling back in line ahead of them.

Maddock’s mind was spinning as Spinney chattered on up ahead about research plans and media kits and television appearances….What would they do if the crate they now carried was opened and it contained something of value to their military objectives? For Spinney’s team just to see something like that, even if Maddock and Bones appropriated the items afterward, would be less than optimal with regard to their mission. And no doubt, after the press conference, the explosion, and now this, the little atoll was about to be overrun with authorities. He knew Bones was aware that today was the day they had to make their escape, but he had no idea how soon their opportunity would arise.

Maddock was jarred from his strategic thoughts by a sharp rise in the volume of conversation by the team members walking ahead of them. Bugsy was yelling at the back of Spinney’s head.

“Don, maybe you haven’t noticed, but Scotty’s dead! He’s not ever coming back from that tunnel down there! I know you’re upset about the airplane, but couldn’t you show the least bit of sympathy?”

Spinney said something in a lower voice Maddock couldn’t distinguish.

“What’s that, you bastard?” Bugsy stepped out of the line and walked around Carlson, butting up to Spinney.

“Say it again. I said say it again, old man!”

Apparently Spinney repeated whatever it was he had said, because the next thing everybody knew, Bugsy swung a roundhouse right to his jaw and Spinney stumbled backward over a tree root, Bugsy jumping on top of him.

The divers, Taylor, and Carlson all crowded around the two grappling men, shouting for them to stop. Maddock quickly scanned their surroundings while he and Bones stood frozen in place, each holding one end of the poles with the crate balanced in the middle. They were at the foot of the jungle trail that led into the overgrown heart of the island. Neither Spinney nor Bugsy had responded to the shouted requests to knock it off, so the divers now got down and tousled with them, attempting to separate the two fighting men.

Maddock raised his eyebrows at Bones and cocked his head toward the trail head. Bones glanced that way and nodded. Then the two of them silently moved off onto the new path, rounded a clump of foliage and moved as quickly as they dared into the jungle.

They had gone about twenty feet when Maddock tripped over a protruding knob of coral and he went sprawling, dropping his end of the sticks. With Bones holding up his end only, the box slid down the branch rails until it hit the ground and tipped over. The large Cherokee’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he stared at the upended crate.

Maddock gently righted the container and they reloaded it onto the supports. They quickly got moving again.

“Where to?” Bones wanted to know.

“To the cave!”

A few seconds after that they heard their cover names being called from over on the beach path. Their absence, and no doubt that of the crate, had been noticed.

They increased their awkward gait as they moved into the jungle proper after the footpath ended. Maddock asked Bones to stop and set the poles down so he could consult his compass. He took a bearing and then they headed off toward the cave entrance.

When they reached it they set the crate down at the foot of the opening in the jumble of rocks. They couldn’t hear any signs of a pursuit, but knew it wouldn’t be long. After all, with the boat and the seaplane destroyed, there was nowhere they could have gone.

“It’s going to be a bitch getting this thing up there.” Bones breathed heavily while he looked up at the opening into the cave system. Scrambling up the haphazard array of boulders while not carrying anything was easy enough, but with a weighty box possibly containing a deadly bio-weapon, the task became anything but simple. Nevertheless, they needed a hiding place, and a good one.

“We’ve probably got a thirty-minute grace period from now while they think we just went somewhere else to avoid the confrontation of the fight,” Maddock hypothesized.

“But after that they’ll turn this little patch of coral upside down looking for us.”

“Let’s get a move on.”

They spent a couple of precious minutes eyeballing the best route for them to take up to the cave — handholds, footholds, resting points. They decided not to use the poles and hid them in the brush. They also took care to disguise any trampled vegetation or other signs of their passage.

That done, they both put their hands on the crate and began to take it up the rocky incline. Fifteen minutes later, they slid the mysterious box up into the cave. They looked down over the jungle, double-checking for anything that would give away their presence to someone who passed through here searching for them. Satisfied they had left behind no obvious signs, Maddock and Bones turned their attention back to the crate and the cave.

Bones gauged the distance to the back wall where passages went left and right. “Not really looking forward to lugging this thing all the way to the room back there,” he said, referencing the chamber filled with evidence of human activity.

“Let’s open it here and see what’s in it. That way we can keep an eye on what’s happening out there.” He looked out over the jungle.

Bones nodded. “Plus if it doesn’t have anything that has to do with our mission we can just get rid of it.” He unsheathed his dive knife while Maddock provided extra illumination with his flashlight. After crushing off the marine growth, Bones was able to pry up the lid. Maddock lifted it off the container and they looked inside.

Maddock and Bones remained quiet as they stared into the crate. They were looking at a plastic tray of off-white, ceramic spheres. Each bore a black skull-and-crossbones label. A second tray of the same was visible underneath the top layer.

“Rows of four by four, so sixteen on top, sixteen on bottom for thirty-two total,” Maddock calculated.

“I’m just looking to see if any are cracked.” Bones stared intently into the box.

“It doesn’t look like any of these top ones are. We should check the ones underneath, though.”

Bones exhaled heavily. “Why the skull-and-crossbones and not the biohazard symbol?”

“I don’t think that was in use until later.”

“So how are we going to do this?” Bones eyed the crate’s contents dubiously.

Maddock ran a finger lightly over one of the trays. “I think the supports are plastic, so I don’t think we need to worry about them crumbling if we lift it out.”

“They had plastic in 1937?”

“Yeah. I don’t think they had so many different kinds like they do now, but they had it.”

“Are you sure? Because if this stuff turns to dust and one of those ceramic things breaks…”

Maddock lightly traced a finger along the framework in which the bio-weapons were nestled.

“It’s plastic, Bones. C’mon, we’ve either been infected already or we haven’t. Let’s lift out this top tray and find out.” Maddock balanced his dive light on a shelf of rock so that it shone on the box, freeing both hands.

“At least we had the vaccine. Remind me to get that nurse’s number when we go back for the debriefing…”

“Bones. Stay on track. The whole island is looking for us and we still have a lot to do.”

“Okay. You’re not about to have any kind of muscle spasm or anything, right?” Bones flexed his fingers as Maddock felt around the tray for a place from which to lift it.

“I’ll be okay. How about if I lift it out with two hands, and you cup your hands underneath to catch one of these globes in case it falls through.”

“Where are you going to set the tray down after you lift it out?”

Maddock looked at the ground next to them and pointed. “Right there.”

Bones used his knife to rake the spot clean and even, making sure there were no rocks just beneath the dirt waiting to crack the ceramic spheres.

Maddock gripped the tray and began to lift.

Загрузка...