Deep Fathom (48 page)

Their flaring passion was not love, nor even lust. It was something more. Two people needing to prove they lived. In the warmth of lips, the touch of skin, they celebrated life in all its physical needs, sensations, and wonder.

He pressed against her, urgent and hungry. She squeezed
him harder, arms trembling.

Finally, he broke away from her. “We…we…not now, not this way. Not enough time.” He sagged back, one hand vaguely waving up. “We need to find a way topside.”

Karen grabbed his wrist. “Follow me.” She brusquely guided him to the ladder. Climbing, she still felt the heat of his touch on her skin, a gentle warmth that spread through her limbs. Reaching the topmost tier, she helped him off the ladder.

“I was given a safety briefing when I first arrived,” she explained. “There's a built-in emergency evacuation system.” She hurried to a panel marked with large warning labels and pulled the door open. A large red T-handle lay snugly in place. “Help me with this.”

Jack moved to her side, his shoulders brushing hers. “What is it?”

“The upper tier acts as an emergency lifeboat, sort of like the sub's evacuation system. This lever pops and separates the top level from the other two. Then, according to the specs, the positive buoyancy will float the tier to the surface. Ready?”

Jack nodded. Together they yanked the handle. A muffled explosion sounded, rattling the floor underfoot. The wall lamps blinked off as the tier separated from the main generators.

Karen found Jack's hand in the dark. In moments red emergency lights flickered on.

The floor swayed, then tilted. Karen tumbled into Jack's arms.

He held her snugly. “We're free. We're floating up.”

After a moment he turned to her, eyes bright in the weak light. “How long till we breach the surface?”

Karen recognized the hunger in his voice. She matched it with her own. “Thirty or forty minutes,” she said huskily.
She slipped from his embrace and reached to her blouse. Freeing the top buttons, she stepped back toward the sleeping quarters. Her eyes never left his. “It seems I never did give you a proper tour, did I?”

He followed her, step for step. His hand reached to the zipper of his dive suit, tugging it down. “No. And I think it's long overdue.”

Seven hours later, out on the open deck, Jack and the others sat around a makeshift dining table. Jack had broken out the champagne and pulled the last of the Porterhouse steaks from the freezer. It was to be a sunset dinner to celebrate their survival and the secret shared by the nine people gathered here.

Only they knew what had truly transpired.

Earlier, they had broken into teams to discover how the rest of the world had fared. Charlie discovered that this time around, with the pillar destroyed, the world had been spared the Pacificwide devastation. “Not even a tremor.”

George, in the meantime, investigated if there was another
Deep Fathom
sailing the seas, the old timeline counterparts. There wasn't. “It was as if we were plucked from where we were and placed here.” The historian also confirmed from the Hawaiian news wires that the Neptune sea base had vanished from its dock in the waters off of Wailea. He read aloud the news report with a smile. “ ‘The head of the experimental project, Dr. Ferdinand Cortez, spoke to authorities, expressing his dismay and bafflement at the theft.' ”

Karen was especially relieved. “He survived?”

Charlie answered, “I guess the currents must have dragged his body beyond the zone around the pillar. When the flux occurred, he simply popped back into the old timeline, a timeline where he never came out here, never died.”

“And he has no memory of what happened?”

Charlie shrugged. “I doubt it. Maybe somewhere deep inside.
Something unspoken. More an odd feeling.”

“But what about Lieutenant Rolfe? His body is still down there.”

“Exactly. He remained within the zone. So he stays dead. I bet if you checked on him you'd find him missing from the real world, plucked out of the timeline just like the
Fathom
and the sea base had been.”

Intrigued, Jack had taken it upon himself to check this angle. He had dialed Admiral Houston and found him still in San Diego. The admiral had been thrilled to hear from him after so many years. “Goddamn if I wasn't just thinking about you today, Jack. During the eclipse.”

After exchanging pleasantries and a promise to get together, Jack hurriedly explained how he wanted to check into a friend's whereabouts—Lieutenant Ken Rolfe. After a couple hours, the admiral had called back, suspicious. “Jack, do you know something you're not telling me? A report came in an hour ago from Turkey. It says your friend went missing during a special ops mission at the Iraq border—along with another old friend of yours.”

“An old friend?”

“David Spangler.”

Jack had to cover his surprise and talk his way off the phone. Once free, he sat quietly for several moments. So David had stayed dead, probably still in the belly of the giant squid. The great beast must have nested close to the pillar. Jack felt a twinge of regret. Alive and free, he allowed himself the luxury of pity for the man. David had been warped by his upbringing, his father's unspoken abuses. So where did the true blame lie? Jack knew such answers were beyond him.

Later, as the afternoon had worn on, Lisa suggested the special dinner, to toast their survival. It was heartily agreed upon by all.

Now, with the sun sinking into the western ocean, Jack settled to the table and the celebration. From across the way, Kendall McMillan caught his eye. The accountant wore shorts and a loose pullover, extremely casual for the man.

“Captain,” Kendall said, “I have a request to make.”

“What is it?”

He cleared his throat and spoke firmly. “I'd like to officially join your crew.”

This news surprised him. Kendall had always maintained an officious distance from the others. Jack frowned. “I don't know if we have the need for a full-time accountant.”

Kendall glanced to his plate and mumbled, “You will when you're all millionaires.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked around the table, then spoke loudly. “I'm talking about the
Kochi Maru
. If Mr. Mollier is correct in his assessment that there were no quakes this time around, there is a good chance the previous volcanic eruption that swallowed the treasure ship may not have occurred. The ship may still be down there.”

Jack's brows rose and his eyes widened. He remembered the ship's hold full of gold bricks.
At least a hundred tons
. Jack stood and reached across the table. He took the accountant's hand and pumped it vigorously. “Welcome to the crew of the
Deep Fathom
, Mr. McMillan. For that timely observation, you just earned yourself a tenth of the haul.”

Kendall grinned like a schoolboy.

Jack lifted a glass of champagne. “We'll share equally. Everyone. That includes our newest shipmates: Karen, Miyuki, and Mwahu.”

Kendall looked down the table. “But you said a tenth. There are only
nine
of us here?”

Jack patted the tabletop. The old German shepherd, squatting at his feet, jumped up, his paws on the table. He ruffled the dog's thick mane. “Anyone object to Elvis getting his fair share? After all, he did save all your asses from being blown to Kingdom come.”

Kendall was the first on his feet, raising his glass. “To Elvis!”

The others followed suit. The old dog barked loudly.

Jack sat back down, smiling.

Slowly, as dinner became dessert, people began to wander away into private groups to discuss the day and their futures, all happy to still have one. Jack spotted Karen by the
starboard rail. She stared into the sun's last glow.

He pushed to his feet, feeling slightly tipsy from the champagne. He crossed to the rail and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. As he did, he saw she held the broken shards of the crystal star in her palms.

She spoke, her voice melancholy. “With the revelations of these past days, my research is over. My great-grandfather was right. There
was
a lost continent. I now know the ancients truly existed.” She looked up at him sadly. “But if we are to keep the secret of the dark matter hidden, then none must ever know the truth. Look how close we came to destroying ourselves with the mere power of the
atom
. Can you imagine what we'd do with the power of an entire
planet?”

Leaning over, she tumbled the bright crystal shards into the dark sea. “Like the ancients themselves, we're not ready for such power.”

Jack took her palms, cradling them in his own. “Don't worry. There are other mysteries yet to be discovered.” Leaning down, he stared deeply into her eyes, his lips brushing hers, his voice low. “You just need to know where to look.”

Hours after the eclipse, Doreen McCloud left her office building. She stared down Market Street. The sun was a mere glow on the western horizon. As she stared skyward, she felt a surge of inexplicable joy. She didn't understand this sudden emotion. She had lost a critical client today, and the senior partners had scheduled an early morning meeting with her to discuss the loss. Where normally such a thought would fill her with dread, this evening all she felt was a simple appreciation of the cool San Francisco breeze.

As she walked toward the BART station, she noticed others glancing skyward, smiles on their faces, laughter.

Stopping atop the stairs to the station, Doreen glanced to the setting sun.

What a strangely wonderful day.

Jimmy Pomautuk climbed down the path, his malamute Nanook at his side. The noisy English trio clambered ahead of him, chattering nonstop, full of grins and jokes. Though the group had complained all the way up here, the eclipse had not failed to impress them. In fact, the sight had even touched his cynical soul:
the dark sun, the silver ocean, the brilliant borealis
.

He wished he could have shared it with his son, one generation passing a special heritage to another.

Glancing back, Jimmy watched the sun set beyond Glacial Point. For some reason, today he felt closer to his grandfather, his ancestors, even the old gods of his people.

Sighing, Jimmy patted Nanook.

“It's been a good day, boy.”

In the garden atrium of the governor's mansion, Jeffrey Hessmire stood beside the Secretary of State. Together they watched President Bishop cross the courtyard. The festivities associated with the eclipse were dying away. People were returning to their normal activities.

President Bishop stepped in front of the Chairman of the People's Republic. He bowed slightly, a show of respect, and held out his hand.

After a short pause, the Chairman lifted an arm and gripped the President's hand. Off to the side there was a flourish of camera flashes as the press documented the momentous occasion.

“I know there is still much to settle between our countries,” the President said, “but together we'll find a way to peace.”

The Chairman bowed his head in agreement.

At Jeffrey's side, Secretary Elliot snorted. “This is just gonna kill Lawrence Nafe—both him and his hawkish cronies. After today, the Vice President's political support
will dry up faster than a puddle in the Sahara. And though it may take some time for Nafe to realize it, his career just ended here today.” Elliot clapped Jeffrey on the shoulder. “All in all, I must say it's been one hell of a great day.”

Watching the ceremony, Jeffrey could not wipe the smile from his face.

No doubt about it…it was a day to remember.

No man is an island, and certainly no writer. There are so many good people and friends who have helped hone this novel. First and foremost, I wish to express my appreciation to Lyssa Keusch, my editor, and to Russ Galen, my agent.

For technical assistance, several individuals have been invaluable in the research behind the novel's science and history: Stephen R. Fischer, Ph.D., for his background in Polynesian languages; Dr. Charles Plummer of CSUS, for his knowledge of geological sciences; Vera Rubin, for her articles on astronomy; both Dr. Phil Nuytten of Nuytco Research Ltd. and the folks at Zegrahm Deep Sea Voyages, for the details of submersible dynamics; Laurel Moore, librarian of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, for her assistance in deep-sea biology; and David Childress, for his book
Ancient Micronesia,
an invaluable resource. Finally, a marked recognition must be made to two other authors whose books inspired this story: Colonel James Churchward,
Books of the Golden Age,
and Charles Berlitz,
The Dragon's Triangle.

Of course, I must never forget my posse in words who helped pick apart and polish the first draft: Chris Crowe,
Michael Gallowglas, Lee Garrett, Dennis Grayson, Penny Hill, Debra Nelson, Chris Koehler, Dave Meek, Chris Smith, Jane O'Riva, Steve and Judy Prey, Caroline Williams—and for critical analysis and a decade of friendship, Carolyn Mc-Cray.

And lastly, a special thanks to Steve Winters of Web Stew, for his internet skills, and Don Wagner, for his ardent and accomplished support.

James Rollins
is the bestselling author of five previous novels:
Subterranean, Excavation, Deep Fathom, Amazonia,
and
Ice Hunt
. He has a doctorate in veterinary medicine and his own practice in Sacramento, California. An amateur spelunker and a certified scuba enthusiast, he can often be found either underground or underwater.

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