Authors: Chuck Barrett
"
C
hrista
, what just happened?" Regan noticed the large drop in water temperature.
"Stay calm, Ashley. Nothing happened. Everything is fine."
"No. Why did the temperature drop so fast?" As soon as she submerged Regan noticed how different it was breathing underwater. It wasn't difficult just different. Uncomfortably different. The underwater communication system allowed them to speak to each other, which was helpful, but at times it was troublesome to understand what Christa was saying.
"It's called a thermocline. It's where the water temperature drops faster below the line than above it."
"Is that normal?"
"Yes, perfectly fine. Just means it's going to get a lot colder before we get to the bottom. The good news is we should only have to deal with one thermocline. There might be another one deeper in the lake."
She looked at Christa who was descending down the line attached to the grave marker below. Attached to Christa's BCD was a five-pound mallet. Regan carried the adjustable wrench.
Regan had never been exposed to the underwater world, at least not in a lake. She and Sam Connors had snorkeled in the Keys a few times and once on a reef in Jamaica when they went to the Sandals Resort in Ocho Rios. She'd never been farther than a breath underwater. She was never a strong swimmer, and although adventurous on land, she was skittish in the water.
She kept descending, keeping the same distance above Christa. Every few feet, she cleared her ears as the water pressure built against her eardrums.
Last night Christa showed her several techniques to equalize the pressure in her ears while underwater. She suggested she try flexing her jaw first. If that didn't work then try either the Valsalva or Toynbee methods—pinch and blow or pinch and swallow—Christa's tried and true methods. Or she could simply tilt her head back while looking up. That was the method Regan preferred.
She looked up and noticed the bottom of the boat bobbing in the water against another boat's wake. The world above her seemed so bright in contrast to the darkness below.
A tree appeared a few feet from where the rope attached to the marker, its limbs cut short and trunk covered in a brown muck. She imagined it was the same tree the old man described with the rope swing attached when he was young.
Seconds later, she hit bottom.
Christa removed the mallet and placed it on the metal capstone. With her gloved hand she waved the silt from the plate. "Ashley, hand me the wrench and let's get to work."
Regan stared at the grave. A metal capstone bolted to a concrete vault. The muddy bottom had receded over time revealing the top six inches of the vault. "These bolts haven't been touched for a long time. Metal to metal, in the water, they're probably fused together. We might be able to loosen the grip by banging on the bolts first with the mallet."
"Let me try my luck with the wrench first." Christa insisted.
"Remember, I'm the one who knows how to work on cars. I think you're just being stubborn." Regan said. "But go ahead, knock yourself out."
Regan snickered as she watched Christa fumble with the adjustable plumbers wrench. "You may have to take your gloves off to tighten it." Regan said.
Christa struggled with the wrench for a few more seconds then looked up at Regan. "Alright, Ashley, you win. You do it."
Regan started at one corner and worked her way clockwise around the metal plate attempting to loosen the bond between the metal bolts and the steel plate. Each strike of the mallet sent shock waves through her fingers and up her arm. The sound thundered in her ears.
"Did you know sound waves travel 4.3 times faster in water than in air?" Said Christa. "It's something crazy like 3300 miles per hour."
"Next time the subject comes up I'll try to remember."
She methodically moved from bolt to bolt giving each one ten sharp raps. "Let's give it a try." Regan pointed to one of the bolts.
Christa slipped the wrench over the bolt, ensuring the clamp was snug and gave it a tug.
Nothing.
"Maybe we should use the mallet," said Christa.
"Flip the wrench over then."
"What for?"
"If you hit the wrench in the opposite direction from the open end, you'll just knock the wrench off. Always strike toward the opening." Regan explained.
"And you know this how?"
"From busting my knuckles more than once when a wrench popped off a stubborn bolt." Regan put out her hand. "Let me show you."
After her demonstration of what not to do, she showed Christa how to keep the wrench from coming off the bolt. Regan pounded the mallet against the wrench until her arms ached.
"Is it moving at all?" Christa asked.
Regan shook her head. "Hard to tell, maybe a quarter of a turn."
"It'll get easier, right?"
"Normally I'd say yes. But this has been underwater for almost sixty years. It might be like this until it's out. Every bolt, too."
"This is going to take a lot longer than we figured, isn't it?" Christa asked.
"At this rate we'll be lucky to remove two bolts on each dive. After that we still have to contend with moving that heavy piece of steel."
She swapped with Christa, letting her friend take a turn. The bolt had turned one full revolution when Christa stopped. She looked at her computer then her air gauge. "My air is under 500 pounds. We need to go up now. How's your air holding up?"
"Look like about 450. Is that okay?"
"That's good. Let's go."
"Can we leave the tools here?"
"Well, I'm sure as Hell not hauling them up and down each time. Just leave them on top of the plate, they'll be here when we get back."
Regan followed Christa up the same line they came down. At twenty feet, they did a precautionary five-minute safety stop to allow extra time for absorbed nitrogen from the compressed air to be released by their bodies. After the five minute interval, they headed for the surface. Her mask broke the surface. The woman and her deck boat were gone. She was startled by what she saw next. The fisherman who had been next to them in the cove was sitting on the deck of their Bayliner, his bass boat anchored next to hers.
She swam over to the platform and the man extended his arm in assistance. "Who the hell are you?"
"Hey, you're the guy from the
Pizza Place
last night." Christa shouted.
"That's right. My name is Jake Pendleton."
"Well, Jake Pendleton, what the hell are you doing on my boat?" Regan shouted.
After Christa said it, Regan recognized the man from the restaurant. She looked up at the man, early to mid thirties, dirty blond hair, well built, and handsome. He had captivating blue eyes and gentleman's demeanor. She extended her arm and allowed him to help her onboard.
"Ms. Regan, Ms. Barnett, we need to talk."
J
ake helped
Ashley Regan out of the water and extended an arm to Christa Barnett. "Why don't you take those dry suits off before we talk?" He noticed Regan give him a funny look. "Or don't. But I guarantee you'll overheat."
"Why are you here?" She demanded. "And how do you know our names?"
He helped Barnett onboard and walked from the swim platform to the deck. "Your lives are in danger."
"What the hell are you talking about, mister?" Barnett was almost yelling. "No one's trying to kill us…except maybe you. What are you, some kind of stalker? Have you been following us since last night?"
"You saw the woman on the deck boat earlier?"
"The one who went swimming?" Regan said. "What about her?"
"She and I are here for the same reason. The big difference is I won't kill you to get it."
"Won't kill me to get what?"
"The book."
Regan felt dizzy when he mentioned the book. How could anyone possibly know about it? "What book?" She asked.
"The book you found in the glacier." Jake noticed Barnett move.
The small woman charged at Jake with a boat hook. "Get him, Ashley." She yelled.
He sidestepped her approach, grabbed the boat hook with one hand and threw her overboard with the other. He looked back at Regan. "Don't even try it," he warned. He pointed his finger at Barnett while she swam back to the swim platform. "You can come back onboard if you can behave yourself, otherwise stay in the water." He turned back to Regan and pointed to a deck chair. "Take that suit off and sit down."
She did as he instructed. Barnett crawled back on the swim platform and pulled off her dry suit. She took a seat beside Regan.
"While you two were in the water, that woman swam over here and rummaged through your boat." He studied Regan's face as he spoke. Not a flinch. A good poker face, he thought. "So if the book was on this boat, it isn't anymore."
Still nothing.
"Where is the book, Ms. Regan?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted.
"Okay. We can play this game all day but that won't get you any closer to Norman Reese Jr.'s casket. Eight bolts holding a steel plate to a cement vault." He noticed Regan look at him. "Yeah, I know. I've already checked it out and I know why you're here and what you're after."
"We don't know what you're talking about. Do we, Ashley?" Barnett said.
Jake pointed his finger at Barnett. "Tell you what. You don't say another word unless you want to go swimming again." He turned to Regan and put out his hand. "The book."
Nothing.
"Ms. Regan, let me tell you how much trouble you're already in with the law." He glanced at Barnett. "This goes for you as well. Numerous counts of felonious grave robbery, theft, willful destruction of private property, and that's just for starters. The list goes on. But if you turn over the book, no charges will be filed and this ends here. Shall I continue?"
"Are you a cop?" Barnett asked.
"No. If I were a cop, you two would be in handcuffs and I'd be hauling your asses off to jail."
"If you're not a cop," Regan finally spoke, "then who do you work for?"
"I handle special assignments as inconspicuously as possible."
"What? Are you like some kind of spy or something?" Barnett asked.
"No. I'm not a spy. But, I do work for a company who gets its contracts from the government. I have access to the highest levels of intelligence. Here's what I know. And keep in mind that I'm one of the good guys. Ms. Regan, you and your roommate Samantha Connors were hiking in Southern Germany when you found the remains of a soldier from World War II inside an ice cavern in a glacier. You also found a book he had with him when he disappeared in 1946. I'll spare you the details of the contents of the book, you already know because your friend here is well versed in German and translated it for you."
The two women looked at each other.
"After you robbed the cemetery in your home town of Charleston, we captured you on a traffic cam video, including the license plate of your rented Impala and two perfect infrared mug shots. I went to Charleston, to your house, but someone had already been there. Someone who was obviously looking for something and didn't find it. Your house was ransacked. No sign of Ashley Regan or Samantha Connors."
"My house was broken into?"
Jake nodded.
"Sam?"
Jake recognized the concern. "You don't know where she is?"
Nothing.
"Dammit. This is no time for games. These people play for keeps. Her life might already be in jeopardy."
Regan started crying.
"Where is the book? Did the woman get it?"
Regan shook her head then held her palms to her face.
"Is it at the Crooked Moose Lodge in Banner Elk?"
She looked up at him. He saw the surprise in her eyes. "No," she said, "it's safe."
"Tell me where it is. I can protect you." He looked at Barnett. "Both of you."
She wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her shoulders back. "No. Not until Christa and I get what we came for," Regan said. "Help us get into this casket, and I'll give you the book."
"No deal. Give me the book so I can get both of you out of here and into protective custody."
"You help us open the casket and you can have the book." Her tone indicated her desire to negotiate. "No criminal charges. We get to keep what's inside. And you leave us alone."
"Something you need to know about the woman who was here. She's a hired assassin. I don't know where she went, but you can bet if she doesn't have the book she's coming back." Jake explained. "When she does, she will kill you." He paused to let his words sink in. "She might not be alone either."
"More the reason we need your help. We can't get the bolts loose. You're stronger. You can do it faster." Regan said. "With your help, we can open the casket, get what we came for, and be out of here before she gets back."
"And if she shows up?" Jake questioned. "With reinforcements?"
Regan shrugged her shoulders but said nothing.
"We're all dead. That's what happens. And she'll have your treasure…and the book."
"Then you can't let that happen, can you?" Regain said. "We need to get back down there now and get back to work."
He studied the two women for a
tell.
Anything that might giveaway the location of the book. A pat of the hand or a glance of the eyes. A shrug or a slight nod. Anything. But neither woman gave anything away. Their poker faces were on.
Together, Regan and Barnett's resolve was strong. He knew he could haul them in and try to force them to talk, but that was another delay. A delay his gut told him he couldn't afford. Instinctively he knew there were larger, more important issues at stake than just Ashley Regan and the contents of Norman Reese's grave. Issues that affected President Rebecca Rudd.
Jake knew what was in the casket and so did Regan. Neither Wiley nor Rudd wanted criminal charges filed against the women, and probably could care less about what happened to the casket's contents, as long as Jake contained the situation.
"I don't like it. I think we're putting ourselves in unnecessary danger, but I'll do it your way. However, you don't get what's in the casket until the book is in my possession. Understood?"
"Deal."