The Danger

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chris Reardon was horrified. “He accused you of murder?”

Cutter sat back in his chair in the small office space Poseidon had assigned to the team from California. “Pretty much. He said the sub was sabotaged, and that’s what killed Braden and got the girl bent. I think — I hope — I convinced him we didn’t do it.”

The bearded man shuddered. “English! I wouldn’t want to have that guy mad at me.”

“We already do,” Cutter said morosely. “He’s figured out what we’re doing here. For some reason, he’s keeping his mouth shut, or Poseidon would have bounced us by now.”

“He probably doesn’t talk to Gallagher,” Reardon observed. “Either that or he knows we haven’t found one red cent in that lousy wreck.”

Marina breezed into the office, waving a videocassette. “Hey, guys, ready for movie night?”

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” grumbled Reardon.

“What’s that?” asked Cutter.

Marina flashed all thirty-two perfect teeth. “Nothing much — just a copy of the tape from Deep Scout’s onboard camera.”

Reardon was astonished. “How’d you get that?”

“The chief engineer in charge of the investigation — turns out he likes me.” She favored her two partners with a supermodel smile. “You want to know what Braden and the kids were looking for? If they found it, it’s on here.”

Cutter snatched the tape from her hand and popped it into the VCR on the desk. “Shut the door.”

The three treasure hunters huddled around the small TV screen. Deep Scout’s camera was triggered automatically as soon as the sub was in water. The monitor showed a steady descent from pale turquoise water, teeming with fish, to depths beyond the reach of the sun’s rays. It recorded the instant when the sub’s floodlights came on, and even the reaction of a startled octopus.

A counter on the top right kept track of elapsed time on the dive. Below that was a depth readout. By following the numbers, they could see that the descent to three hundred feet was quick and direct. But then the sub leveled off and began what appeared to be track lines along the sloped ocean floor.

“They’re looking for something,” Reardon murmured.

“This must be just past the excavation,” Cutter decided, “where the shoal drops off.”

They watched the sub’s lights play back and forth over the sandy incline for a few minutes. Marina hit FAST FORWARD, and they began to scan the tape at greater speed. The search continued for quite a while, and suddenly Cutter hit PAUSE.

“Look at that!”

All three stared. It was badly corroded and half buried in the sand, but it was easily identified: a cannon barrel.

“Keep going,” ordered Marina. “Let’s see what else there is.”

The Californians watched in awe as the ocean bottom gave up its secrets before their very eyes. Beyond the cannon, a vast debris field opened up, stretching hundreds of feet down the gradient.

The silence in the room was total, because none of the three was breathing.

“That’s impossible!” Reardon blurted finally. “The wreck is on the reef, under tons of coral! How did this stuff get all the way down here to” — he checked the readout — “five hundred feet?”

“Deeper,” amended Marina, her eyes glued to the monitor. “Look.”

It was true. Not only did the debris continue down the slope, but there seemed to be more of it the farther the sub descended.

“This is unreal!” Cutter exclaimed, more as a complaint than anything else. “I’m looking right at it, but I can’t believe my eyes.”

And then came a full view of what Deep Scout’s occupants had seen before the accident. Far below the surface, lodged on a muddy shelf at 703 feet, the debris field came to an abrupt end in the remains of a ship.

To three trained treasure hunters, the sight was unmistakable. Even some of the wooden ribs of the old hull were visible, packed in the wet sand.

“Another ship?” Reardon exclaimed in consternation. “That’s impossible!”

“Which one is Nuestra Señora?” asked Cutter.

“Who cares?” snapped Marina. “The treasure’s not up on the reef. It stands to reason that it must be down there.”

Reardon stared at her. “Are you going to dive to seven hundred feet?”

“There are ways,” Marina reminded him.

“There’s a time factor here, too,” the team leader pointed out. “We’re just finding out about this. The kids have known for a week.”

“The kids wouldn’t dare,” said Reardon. “After what happened to them, they won’t even be stepping in puddles, let alone diving.”

“Maybe not,” said the team leader, “but they can still talk. Braden may be gone, but there are plenty of other people on this island who could find a use for a billion dollars.”

Marina hit STOP, and the screen went blank. “Speaking of poor Braden, some of the locals are putting on a memorial service on the beach tonight. We can’t miss it.”

Cutter turned pale. “Are you crazy? I can’t go to that! English thinks I killed the guy!”

“All the more reason why we have to be there,” she argued. “We’ve come so far, and we’re so close. Let’s not lose sight of the prize just when it’s in our reach.”