Dead Asleep (14 page)

“Maybe it's her drugs that's creating the sleep.”

“If it's not, then I'm really worried.”

“Why is that?” Emma said.

“Because the official said that his other theory would be a virus. And if that's it, then we would already be into pandemic-level numbers.”

“What virus causes one to sleep?”

“I asked him that question as well. He didn't have an answer. And that worried me more than anything else.”

D
espite Randiger's ominous news, Emma drove down the hill with a feeling of lightness. She was eager to get off the island, even if only for a day and a night. She needed a break from the strangeness.

The day was perfect for a sail: shining sun, soft breeze, and a smooth, blue ocean. She grabbed her messenger bag from the front seat and headed to the
Siren's Song
. When she got there, she saw Carrow on deck along with Oz. Marwell was there as well, checking the pressures on a row of scuba tanks. He looked grim. Oz waved to her.

“Mind if I come along?” he asked. “Richard says he'll be diving with you and someone needs to stay topside. And I have this.” He held up a metal device.

“That looks like—”

“A sextant,” Oz said.

“Actually, I was going to say a protractor,” she said.

He pointed it at her. “Well, you're not far off. Both are used for calculating angles, but this one will calculate the angle of the sun from the horizon.”

Emma squinted at him. “And we need that why?”

“To do some celestial navigation. I'm going to plot a course to the blue holes using only the sun and stars for guidance.”

Carrow walked up and gave Oz an amused look. “The boat has a GPS system and radar, mate. I don't think we'll need the sextant.”

Marwell looked up from the tanks. “Never know when you'll need to navigate by the stars. Most long-distance yachtsmen can do it.”

“Can you?” Carrow asked.

Marwell nodded. “I worked for the British Merchant Navy before coming to Terra Cay. It's still a required course.”

Oz looked impressed. “I'm an avid astronomer. Didn't I tell you that?” he said to Carrow, who took a swallow of his energy drink.

“No, but let me just state for the record that I'm not surprised.” He raised an eyebrow at Emma.

“All I knew is that you're great at computers,” she said to Oz.

“Computers or just about anything electronic, sure, but I love astronomy second. I've always loved it, even as a kid. I spent hours poring over reproductions of old charts that the ancient mariners used. When we studied Christopher Columbus in eighth grade I prepared a paper explaining how he navigated to the new world.”

“I spent eighth grade getting high,” Carrow said.

Emma snorted. “Eighth grade? Isn't that a bit young?”

Carrow shook his head. “As I recall, it was just the perfect age.”

Emma waved him off and focused on Oz, who never failed to surprise her. He had a genius IQ and brain power to spare, yet remained an easygoing, friendly man with a quick smile and sweet manner. He told her that as a young man his genius was a curse, because it intimidated most kids his age and as a result he had few friends.

“Didn't Columbus land somewhere around here?” Emma said.

Oz nodded. “Yep. Should be fun to see how close I get with my calculations versus the computer.”

Carrow got a dubious look on his face and then shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy. Ready?” He headed back to the fishing boat and Emma followed.

Marwell stopped fiddling with the scuba tanks long enough to help her on board.

“Thanks for setting us up,” Emma said. He frowned.

“I still don't think any of you should be going out there—the place is dangerous—but if you do go, I want you to have functioning equipment. Is there anything I can say to talk you out of it?”

Emma laid a hand on his arm. “I appreciate your help and your concern.”

He inhaled and then shook his head. “All right. Look here. This is your wet suit, belt, and tanks, and everything else that I thought you might need. I assume you don't intend to go deep?”

“No. My understanding is that the opening of the first cave is forty meters deep and lined with the mineral that I need. I'm just going to scrape it, collect it, and go.”

“Agreed. You have four regular tanks, but these”—he pointed to a second row of tanks—“have mixed gases. The other one is for Carrow and the third for Oz, though he says he won't be diving. Here's your ascent line”—Marwell showed her a bright yellow rope—“to keep you on track with the boat. I've added some food and drinks in that cooler.” He pointed to a large cooler strapped to one side of the boat. “There's more below. This boat is always well stocked. The radio works well and there's a GPS tracker and satellite phone. I'll be only a call away. Anything happens, you contact me.”

“Aye aye, sir,” she said. As she had hoped, his face softened a bit. Not quite a smile, but almost.

“And there's one more thing. Over here.” Marwell stepped to a long, low, dark plastic toolbox. He unhooked the clasps and opened it. A rifle with a telescopic site rested in the case. She looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“What's that for?”

His expression turned grim again. “To shoot whatever grabs the boat and hangs on.”

Emma didn't know what to say, but his words sent doubt through her. That Marwell was so certain they'd meet up with some creature that he'd arranged for a weapon made the danger all that more real. She shook off the feeling. She had one hundred people depending on her back at the lab to collect the mineral, and she didn't believe for a moment that a sea monster lived in the blue holes. Whatever was there was physical and quantifiable and she expected it to be explained by science. Nonetheless, she wouldn't scoff at Marwell. The world was filled with wonder, and even the things that science explained often awed her.

“Do you know how to shoot a rifle?” he asked.

“I do,” she said. He gave her a considering look and then nodded with approval.

“Somehow I suspected as much. Mr. Richard,” Marwell called to Carrow, “I'm off.” Carrow stepped over and shook Marwell's hand. Emma noticed that Carrow had slight bags under his eyes, but nothing extreme. He seemed to have energy in abundance.

“Thanks for setting us up,” he said.

“Keep your wits about you. All of you,” Marwell said.

“Will do.”

Marwell untied the ropes from the dock threw them to Oz, who caught them. Carrow started the engines and the boat moved off. He drove slowly until free of the harbor and then accelerated. Emma opened the cooler, pulled out an iced tea in a glass bottle. She uncapped it and went over to offer it to Oz, who sat in the companion chair. He flashed her a smile. Carrow already had an energy drink in his cup holder. He wore aviator sunglasses and kept his attention on the sea in front of them.

Emma grabbed her own drink and watched the island behind them grow smaller as they cruised away.

O
ver three hours later both the color and luminosity of the sea began to change. Emma worked her way up to Carrow at the helm.

“We're getting close, aren't we?” she said.

“Yep. Can you see the difference in the color?”

“It's beautiful.”

“See any monsters?” Oz spoke in a mild voice, but Emma thought he seemed a bit nervous. Carrow grinned.

“Relax. We're not close enough yet.” He checked a gauge on the dash. “About thirty more minutes, give or take, and we'll be right over them. You should know that the opening is dead center of the questionable area. Should anything occur, we'll need at least twenty minutes to get to the edge and away.”

“You sound like you're leaving the option open for something to happen,” Oz said. Carrow took a sip of his energy drink.

“I don't believe in sea monsters, if that's what you're asking. Do you?”

Oz was quiet a moment. Carrow gave him a glance and then shot a questioning look at Emma. She shrugged and waited. She'd learned that Oz usually thought before he spoke.

“It could be a large sea creature. That, I could believe, or some sort of phenomenon. The ocean is just so vast that I don't think we've learned everything there is to know.”

Carrow seemed to consider Oz's answer. “But attacking a boat and pulling it down? I mean, how much strength does it take to yank a several ton cruiser underwater?”

“A lot,” Oz said.

“I just can't imagine it happening. However, if it does . . .” Carrow pointed to the gun case. “Shoot the bastard.”

“That's Emma's job,” Oz said.

“Have no fear,” Emma said. “A large tentacle curls out of the ocean at me and I'll empty an entire clip into it if I have to.” Carrow laughed.

“Deal.” He held up his energy drink can and Oz tapped it with the neck of his bottle.

The ocean became bluer and more illuminated with every passing moment. Emma watched the churning wake and calculated the amount of product she'd need for her tests. She figured if she could get enough to fill ten gallon-sized hefty bags she could use one to run some initial tests at Terra Cay and send the rest to Miami. They traveled a bit more, and then Carrow cut the engines. The ensuing silence was welcome. The boat bobbed on the waves. Emma leaned over the side and scanned the water directly below them.

“Searching for a monster?” Carrow said with a smile.

“Actually, a shark,” she replied.

Carrow groaned. “Thanks for that lovely thought.”

“Statistically the shark is not very likely,” Oz said. “You're thirty times more likely to get hit by lightning.”

Carrow downed the rest of his drink and tossed the can into a garbage bag.

“That's what I like to hear,” he said. “Death by shark versus death by lightning.” He gazed around all sides of the boat. “Marwell was right, it's beautiful here. Can you see any of the caves?”

“No. Blue as it is, it's still too dark down there. Let's suit up?”

Twenty minutes later Emma and Carrow were ready. They'd lowered the anchor, attached a weight to the yellow ascent line and dropped it into the water. Her equipment was excellent, Marwell had given them the best, and she had a small yellow tank as a spare, an octopus regulator should something go wrong, and they had to share a tank and a safety sausage in case they drifted and Oz needed to see them at a distance. Carrow finished preparing and came over to assist her.

“We've got to do this in forty minutes and then ascend. We'll do a safety stop at about fifteen feet, okay?” he said.

“Sounds good.” Emma checked her collection supplies and strapped on a wrist compass. She checked Carrow's wrists. “No compass?”

He reached down to a belt and showed her a compass attached to a lanyard on his dive belt. “I prefer this one.” He looked at Oz. “We have safety sausages and I have this whistle as well.” Carrow showed Oz a plastic whistle that also attached to him by a lanyard. “I don't expect us to drift too far out, but one never knows. I'll blow this first and only activate the sausage as a secondary measure.”

“You'll yank on the rope when you're there?” Oz said to Emma.

“I will.”

“Ready?” Carrow said.

Emma nodded. “Let's do this.”

Chapter 22

K
emmer steered the boat toward the blue holes. It had taken him two eighteen-hour days to get the boat outfitted and provisioned for the trip from St. Martin. An hour before he was to launch a man stepped onto the deck. About forty, with a wicked slash on his jawline, a head with hair trimmed in a close buzz and a rolling bag behind him, the man identified himself as “Joseph.”

“I'm sent by your new partner,” he'd said. “Do you have the guns on board?”

Kemmer had shown him the stash of high-powered sniper rifles, one with a bayonet attached, in a bag. “Good.” That was the last thing Joseph had said since the beginning of the trip.

Kemmer distrusted everything about the man. His instincts flared whenever Joseph's beady dark eyes fell on him. Kemmer piloted the boat and did his best to stay quiet. The Vulture had made it quite clear that he expected only Kemmer and this man on the trip to the blue holes. Kemmer wondered what Joseph intended to do once they got there. If he was a diver he'd be disappointed. Kemmer hadn't brought any dive equipment on board, and it was clear that the roller bag was far too small to contain any. Finally, as they neared the site, Kemmer's anxiety got the better of him. He needed to know what Joseph intended to do.

“Are you planning on taking water samples at the site? Photos?” Kemmer said. A camera and a collection test tube were the only two things he thought would fit in the bag. Joseph turned his head and looked at Kemmer.

“No,” he said.

“The locals think a sea monster lives there. Do you hope to catch a video or photo of it?”

Joseph gave Kemmer a look filled with derision. “Do I look like an ignorant local?”

“Not at all.” Kemmer wanted to kick himself for even starting the conversation. Conversing with this man was a mistake. Still, he couldn't help himself.

“What's in the bag, then?”

“A gun,” Joseph said.

“More? I didn't bring enough?”

“You didn't bring mine. I only fire that one.”

“And the others? The ones that I was ordered to bring? What are they for?”

“For the others.”

“What others?”

“The ones waiting at Terra Cay. That's where we're going after this.”

That was news to Kemmer. He shoved aside his irritation at the fact that he hadn't been told about any others or that they were going to use his guns.

“Terra Cay won't allow us to use their dock with guns on board,” he said.

“We're not going to use their dock. We're going to approach from the mangrove side.” Joseph kept his eyes on the ocean ahead of them.

Kemmer did his best to keep his temper in check. Landing at Terra Cay from the mangrove side was dangerous. The water became shallow, and sharp coral outcroppings made for a difficult approach.

“That's a tough approach. Lots of rocks just below the water's surface.”

Joseph shrugged. “I'll take my chances,” he said.

Kemmer couldn't help but notice that Joseph seemed to think that he was the only one taking a chance on mooring at Terra Cay. Clearly the man thought he would do exactly as he was told; a fact that was true but still irked Kemmer. He returned his attention to piloting the boat, watching the gauges and keeping an eye on the compass. He'd be happy when the trip was completed.

“Are we in the Bermuda Triangle?” Joseph asked.

Kemmer nodded. “We are. The blue holes are located there.”

“You been in the Triangle before?”

“Many times. Never a problem. The disappearances were pilot error, nothing more.”

Joseph nodded, appearing content with the answer.

Kemmer didn't comment on the disappearances due to crime. He just hoped he wouldn't become one.