kiDNApped (A Tara Shores Thriller) (15 page)

“I’m going with you.” Kristen said, pulling the Avon back over to the yacht. Both men protested, but there was no stopping her. After telling her brother to stay with the Avon, she leapt onto the wrecked ship.

Soon she was clinging to Dave’s arm in the center of the deck, rainwater sluicing past her feet down the varnished teak. Dave and Kristen tiptoed their way to Tara at the cabin entrance. Tara produced a mini mag-light and aimed it at the door to the cabin.

One of the double doors had fallen open, due to the angle of the listing deck. Tara shined the powerful beam through, playing the light off the walls of the once luxurious main salon. They could hear water sloshing somewhere deep inside. Even more disconcerting, a foul odor wafted out from within. They took a few moments to let their eyes adjust to the dim interior.

Then they descended the ladder-like steps into the dank cabin.

…TTAG
28
TTGC …

11:30 A.M.

Tara gasped as the birds flew past them, towards the light. A flutter of feathers brushed against her skin as her arm went to cover her face. Then they were gone, and she felt the floor shake as Dave and Kristen dropped off the ladder into the cabin. Tara registered the smell before she uncovered her eyes.

A rank mixture of mold—and something else. She wasn’t sure what, but the mold dominated. When she opened her eyes, after orienting herself to the odd angle of the floor, what surprised her most was the sheer size of the room they were in.

A large table and seating area occupied the right side of the salon, whose former opulence was testimony to Dr. William Archer’s success. Behind them and to the right was the galley. Framed paintings and photographs—seascapes and island scenes—still graced the walls. Tara found it odd that they still hung perfectly straight, but then realized it was because on a boat, everything was bolted into place.

It became apparent as Tara played the light beam across the salon that the boat had been here for some time. Green, mossy growth covered much of the walls and ceiling. Leafy tendrils invaded through broken skylights. Bird droppings were everywhere. The yacht was being claimed by the jungle, from above...and from below, the trio realized as they heard water splashing from the far end of the salon.

Slowly, cautiously, they walked deeper into the room. Kristen looked back to the galley and wondered if the rank odor could be rotting food. Whatever was in the refrigerator must still be in there. The cabinets were neatly shut, as was the microwave. No dishes occupied the sink. The only thing even slightly out of order, Kristen noticed, was a knife block which had been overturned, some of its cutlery toppling onto the counter.

Dave shouted something incomprehensible as a dark, slender form scurried over his feet and disappeared into a dim corner. Tara followed it with the light. Dave shook his head, laughing.

“Mongoose,” he said. “One of Hawaii’s worst invasive pest species. Brought here on ships in the 1800’s to control rats, but they ended up eating everything, including rats, but also bird eggs, insects, rare plants, you name it.”

They continued through the salon. Kristen called their attention to the table. The only thing on it was a chessboard, once a diversion to pass long stretches at sea. Due to the sailboat’s resting angle, all of its pieces had slid onto the floor. Tara shone her light underneath the table and they saw the white king, marred by bird droppings.

Staring at the pieces, Kristen knew that she’d seen them before. Their elaborate pewter forms were unmistakable. She recalled how her father had taught her the game as a child on this very set.
Never bring your queen out early.
For some reason this piece of wisdom came to her now. She felt a pang of sadness at seeing the pieces in such disarray.

They continued on, reaching the passageway which led down into the belly of the yacht to the staterooms. The sound of gurgling water was loud here. Tara shone the light down the passageway, illuminating a hallway below with staterooms off to either side.

They descended the stairs. Tara's foot made a squishing sound as it pressed into the carpet below. Soaked. Two doors were set on either side of the hall about halfway down its length.

Tara opened the door on the right.

She sucked in her breath as she peered inside. Water everywhere. It was clear that the yacht’s hull had been severely punctured, perhaps even sheared away. Only the shallow depth of the river kept the craft from completely sinking.

“Is it possible that the
Tropic Sequence
sailed all the way up here for some reason and hit a rock?
”
While she wished it to be true, Kristen knew that it was not.

Tara shook her head while using her flashlight to probe the dark depths of the room she had just opened. “Someone hid the
Tropic Sequence
. No one would ever deliberately take a yacht this huge all the way up here, which must have been difficult. Not to mention that this location was not part of your father’s meticulously planned itinerary.”

Neither Kristen nor Dave had a reply. They were staring with fascination past the door Tara had opened.

The room was almost completely submerged. With the angle of the ship, it would be easy to jump right in, like stepping into a swimming pool. The yacht’s bulk had created a placid pond next to the river bank. They could see all the way to the bottom.

At first Tara thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. She could see lab benches and chemistry equipment—some of it still intact—computers.
A flooded lab.

“This stateroom was converted to the ship's lab,” Kristen confirmed, recalling a diagram of the
Tropic Sequence
from the magazine article.

They gazed beneath the shimmering surface into the room below. The ambient light was muted by the thick jungle above and by the boat itself, so Tara shined her flashlight into the watery pit. Large piles of debris occupied the bottom of the tilted room, in between the rows of fixed lab benches. Tara played the beam along the lines of the room. None of them knew exactly what they were looking for. Just a clue as to what happened here, Tara thought, as the light reflected off of a broken computer monitor.
Something that will tell me where to look next.

She had just finished another sweep of the room’s length, starting from the bottom back up to the surface, when an anomaly caught her eye. A splash of color where none should be.

“See that?” Tara said, pointing to what was now the lower right corner of the submerged space. Kristen squinted as she focused into the dim confines of her father’s former lab.

Her eyes followed the path of Tara's finger to a twinkling of green. As she watched, the luminosity weakened. She asked Tara to shine her beam on the unknown light source.

When she did, her mag-light reflected off of something metal, gold in color.

“It’s the lid of a jar,” Dave announced.

“A jar?”

“Yeah, like one of those big mason jars with the screw-on tops that hold pickles. But it’s weird, because it looks empty.”

“Do me a favor and turn the light off for a few seconds,” Kristen said.

Tara killed the light. They peered eagerly into the water.

The green particles danced again inside the jar.

“Bioluminescence,” Kristen said.

“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Dave asked.

“Because it’s out of context. As a marine biologist, you know that bioluminescence is a light given off by living cells in response to stimuli. You’re used to seeing it at night, when water is disturbed, like in a boat wake, or sometimes even in waves breaking on the beach. But we’re looking into a lab that’s been flooded by freshwater, so you didn’t think of it. These phosphorescent cells seem to be stimulated by the presence of a light source. Did you know there are at least nine species of marine bacteria that bioluminesce?”

“I knew some did,” Dave said, “but not how many. But you said marine bacteria. Are there any freshwater species that give off light?”

“Bioluminescence is almost exclusively a marine phenomenon, although there are a few exceptions. But seeing as we’re looking at a lab from a marine sampling expedition, I’d wager it’s a seawater sample contained within the jar. That’s why the jar looks empty until the cells fluoresce—it contains water, and it’s underwater.”

Tara cut in. “Can we save the biology lecture for later, please?” Tara said. “My light's getting dimmer.”

Dave reached into his backpack and pulled out a small waterproof flashlight—a dive light. He switched the light on and shined it down toward the jar.

“Would you like to know for sure?” he asked Kristen.

Kristen gave him a look. Tara began to wonder if, despite their five-year age difference, there was a growing attraction between the two marine scientists.

“If I got you the jar, you could find out what microorganism it is that’s bioluminescing,” Dave offered.

“Yeah, that would be good, but how?”

Dave bent to his backpack and opened it. He removed a set of simple snorkeling gear — mask, fins and snorkel.

Kristen’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, no way. You’ve got to be kidding.”

“It’ll just take a minute. I’ll dive down, grab the jar, and shoot right back up.”

Kristen shook her head. “Dave, I can’t let you do it. I’d feel responsible—I’d
be
responsible, legally, if anything happened to you, since technically, you’re working for me.”

“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Tara asked. “Why do you want the jar so bad?”

“If Dave doesn’t want to get it, then I’m not going to worry about it. But if it was a sample collected by my father, I’d like to take a look at it. I may even be able to narrow down the ship’s location based on the type of bugs contained in the sample. Longshot, but still, if Dave is willing…”

“Kristen,” Dave said, “if this will help you, I want to do it. It won’t be hard.”

“Your work for Johnson turned out to be dangerous enough, didn’t it?” Kristen said.

No arguments there. Tara also remained silent as she considered the ramifications of Dave penetrating the sunken lab. On the one hand, he’d be disturbing a crime scene. But on the other, he’d be retrieving possible evidence in the case that, according to Kristen’s expert opinion, could prove useful from an investigative standpoint. And who knew what else he might find down there? Tara decided she would leave it up to Dave and Kristen.

“It’s not just the snorkeling itself,” Kristen continued. I know you can dive down there—what is it, fifteen feet?”

“I’d say twenty—tops. I’ve done seventy-five free diving to spear fish.”

“I know you can do the dive. But this was a chemistry lab. Who knows what you’d be diving into?”

“The river would have carried anything away by now. I know it looks calm, but the water is flowing through here.” He grabbed a leaf off the soggy floor and tossed it into the flooded chamber. It sailed off to the left, out through a hole in the lab’s wall. “See?”

Kristen’s eyes darted back to the jar, which was glowing green again.

Dave began pulling on his fins, which were not bulky scuba flippers but small, stubby fins typically used for body boarding. “Look, if I don’t feel comfortable at any point, I’ll come right back up.”

Tara cautioned him to touch as little as possible, both for safety’s sake as well as for preservation of evidence.
 

12:01 P.M.

A minute later, light in hand, Dave slipped into the water. He gripped the edge of the yacht’s hallway with one hand while he adjusted his mask. Then, after carefully aiming his beam and taking a series of rapid breaths followed by one deep one to hyperventilate, Dave bent at the waist and swam straight down through the cool river water.

He passed between two lab benches, taking great care to avoid hitting the water faucets and other fixtures as he descended. He kept his beam aimed at what he thought was still the green jar. He passed an open cabinet, glanced inside and saw stacks of iron ring stands for holding glassware, as well as some Bunsen burners and rubber tubing, before continuing his way to the bottom of the lab.

After what seemed like a long time but was only about thirty seconds, Dave reached the pile of debris at the end of the row of benches, which was the bottom of the room. Up close, he could see that there were mounds of shattered glassware, microscopes, computers and electronic lab equipment he wasn’t familiar with. Careful not to touch any of it, he skirted over the pile to where he had seen the jar.

Reaching the end of another lab bench, he began to worry when he still hadn’t seen the jar. He flicked his light off, looked around.

Dave was relieved to spot the green glitter. He flipped his light back on and fixed the jar’s position in the beam. He swam to it. Picked it up. Began his ascent. He was careful not to hit his head on anything on the way up.

And then he was at the surface, gulping a large breath through his snorkel, placing the big jar in Tara’s outstretched hands.

Kristen examined the container while Dave pulled himself back into the hall. The jar’s seal was tight. Whatever sample was inside would have remained uncontaminated.

Dave flipped his dive light off as he removed his snorkel gear. Kristen and Tara watched as the green particles came to life within the jar.

Did Kristen’s father collect these microbes because of their bioluminescent characteristics? Kristen suspected that there were potential commercial applications for bio-lights, to which her father would have been attracted.

Perhaps he had already worked with these very microbes
?

Tara took a photo of the jar before handing it back over to Kristen.

12:04 P.M.

“Let’s see what’s behind door number two, shall we?” Tara said, turning to face the door opposite the lab.

“It ought to be dry,” Kristen remarked. The room on this side of the ship was higher out of the water. If the hallway they stood in was dry, then the laws of gravity said that this room had to be.