The Bermudez rocked lazily in the mild swells of the azure sea, tugging at her anchor chain like an overexcited dog on a short leash. The ninety-six-foot steel-hulled expedition boat was more stable than most vessels her size, and she gave the appearance of a commercial fishing trawler rather than a marine archaeology ship. A small red-and-white dive flag bobbed thirty-five yards off her stern.
Bubbles frothed to the surface near the oversize aft dive platform as Remi Fargo emerged from the deep. Water coursed from her black wet suit as she hauled herself up the partially submerged ladder. She pushed her dive mask up on top of her head and reveled in the warmth of the summer sun on her face. Dropping back into the water, she slipped out of her buoyancy control system vest. Sam Fargo padded across the deck and down the steps to her position, pausing for a moment to appreciate her beauty before offering a grin and reaching out to help with her fins and gear.
“And who might this vision of loveliness from the sea be? A mermaid, perhaps? A siren?” he asked playfully.
She eyed him with skepticism and swatted his bare chest. “Are you getting fresh with me?”
He shrugged. “I figured flattery was never a bad option.”
“You’ll go far, young man. You have a bright future.”
Sam lifted the BC harness with a strong, slightly sunburned arm, the rigid lines of muscle barely strained by the forty-pound rig. “You find anything more?”
“Nope. I think we’ve cataloged everything.” More bubbles disturbed the surface, and then another head popped out of the water. “I see Dominic’s arrived.”
The second diver pulled himself onto the platform and shed his tank and gear. Closely cropped black hair slightly fringed with gray topped his lean, swarthy face. He smiled at them and gave a thumbs-up.
“I think we’re done, no?” he asked, more a statement than a question. As captain of the ship and the leader of the Spanish team of divers chartered by the University of Seville to explore the shipwreck a hundred thirty-five feet below, it was Dominic’s call. He deferred out of courtesy to his two American colleagues, who were renowned treasure hunters. They had originally discovered the wreck and reported it to the Spanish Department of Maritime History. Sam and Remi’s research had concluded that it was probably a seventeenth-century merchant ship that had sunk in a winter storm. It was lying buried in the silt on a ledge, beyond which the seafloor dropped off sharply. The shipwreck had turned out to be the type of vessel in question, and a group of divers and marine archaeologists had been dispatched, with the Fargos assisting in exploring the ship to determine its historical significance.
“Sure looks like we’re finished,” Remi agreed as she ran her fingers through her hair, faint bronze highlights shimmering as it began to dry. She unzipped the front of the wet suit and her hand unconsciously moved to the tiny gold scarab suspended from a leather thong around her neck. It was a new good-luck charm Dominic had presented to her in an elaborate display when they’d arrived. And good luck it had indeed brought — in spite of the depth, the dive had been a relatively easy one: a week in an idyllic location, doing what they loved. The captain was charming and the crew courteous and efficient. If only all of their adventures were so low-key, she thought, and turned to Sam. “Where can a girl freshen up around here?”
“Your cabin awaits. The champagne is on ice, the chocolates on the pillow,” Sam said with a small bow.
“Knowing you, you drank the champagne and wolfed down the candy,” she teased.
“I’m an open book to you, aren’t I? What was the giveaway?”
“The brown smear on your chin.”
The low rumble of powerful diesel engines reached them from across the water, and they turned to watch a large white private yacht cut its power as it neared to within two hundred yards. Remi peered at the transom, but the name and home port were blocked by a long row of dive tanks in a custom-made rack.
“Any closer and we’d be buying each other jewelry,” Sam said as they continued to observe the vessel.
“Big, isn’t it?” Remi remarked.
“Probably a hundred fifty feet at least.”
“Lot of tanks. Looks like they’re serious about their diving.”
A crew member moved to the bow of the opulent craft and, moments later, the anchor dropped, its long chain rattling as it lowered into the sea. Two and a half miles away, the rugged coastline jutted into the summer sky; nearer was the Isla de Las Palomas, with its fleet of pleasure boaters and small yachts out for day trips from the nearby marinas. A polar-white cruise ship inched into the Cartagena harbor, a popular port for many Mediterranean cruises.
“Doesn’t it strike you as strange, Dominic, that a boat would anchor this close to the shipwreck?” Sam asked.
“Not necessarily,” Dominic said. “A lot of boats here like to overnight within sight of others, in case they need assistance of some kind.”
“Still, we’re a long way from the beaten path, don’t you think?” Remi said.
“Maybe they’re just as curious about what we’re doing here,” Sam reasoned. “After all, we’ve been anchored for a week, and the dive flag’s very visible.”
“That’s probably it. Human nature,” Dominic said, apparently unconcerned.
Remi held her hand up, shielding her eyes as she watched the ship play out more anchor chain. “I just hope they don’t discover the shipwreck and disturb any artifacts before the government authorities get here.”
“I wouldn’t be too worried about it,” Dominic assured her. “Most divers know better than to go inside a shipwreck that’s mostly buried like this one. Nobody wants to get trapped. A death sentence—”
“You’re probably right.” Remi tilted her face up to the late-morning sun and closed her eyes, then opened them and looked at Sam. “Weren’t you in the process of wooing me with chocolates and champagne?”
“It was more of a veiled threat.”
“You should know I don’t scare easily, veils or otherwise.”
They made their way to their stateroom after putting away their gear. Their quarters were large by marine standards, paneled in dark hardwood, the mahogany dulled by the years but still retaining a warm richness. Sam took a seat at the small built-in table near one of the cabin’s two portholes as Remi entered the bathroom, and soon the shower was steaming forth a luxuriant stream.
“You buy that the boat’s harmless?” Remi called from the stall.
“No reason to believe it isn’t.”
“There’s a lot of very valuable statuary in that shipwreck,” Remi reminded him. The merchant vessel had gone down with all hands, and had been rumored to be smuggling priceless antiquities from Greece to Britain, where there had been a large market for them among the royals and the upper class. Their careful inventory of the wreck had confirmed the centuries-old suspicion, and there were untold millions of dollars’ worth of never-before-seen Greek relics in its hold — a different kind of treasure, to be sure, than the usual gold and jewels, but treasure nonetheless.
The hope had been to keep the remarkable discovery quiet until the government could arrange to retrieve the statuary from the sea, and it was always a concern that mercenary treasure hunters could intrude, damaging the site as they attempted to pilfer it, although the likelihood was low.
“There is indeed,” Sam conceded. “I’m sure the people of Spain wouldn’t want anyone to try to make off with their property.” Sam and Remi had agreed that anything they discovered would be turned over to the government — a policy of theirs that had made them welcome additions to many of the most interesting expeditions around the world. They were in the game for the thrill of discovery, not for the money, Sam’s fortune having been long solidified by the sale of his company to a conglomerate years before.
“Dominic didn’t seem too concerned. And he knows these waters well.” The shower shut off and the door swung open. Remi emerged and wrapped herself in a thick towel and dried her hair with another in front of the bathroom vanity as Sam tapped at the laptop computer in front of him.
“True.”
“I think we should keep an eye on that boat.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper.” Sam’s gaze drifted from the computer screen to the bathroom doorway, where he could make out half of Remi as she brushed the tangles from her auburn mane. “Have I mentioned that you look fabulous?”
“Not nearly enough. Now, where are the champagne and chocolates?”
“I might have exaggerated to lure you belowdecks.”
“It worked. I hope you have a suitable alternative in mind.”
Sam powered down the laptop and closed the screen.
“I have a few ideas …”