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Authors: Brian Keene

Pressure (6 page)

BOOK: Pressure
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Carrie finished her seventh glass of water to keep herself from responding.

“Obviously,” Paolo continued, “you have your reasons for wanting to go back down there. Judging by the fact that you haven't informed our employers and have apparently enlisted Abhi and sworn him to secrecy, I have to assume it's important. If you want to guarantee my silence, all you have to do is let me come along with you.”

Carrie nearly spit her water out. “W-what?”

Paolo grinned. “Exactly what I said. I want to accompany you.”

“Well, that's an interesting offer, but as it happens, I've already got a sidekick.”

“Abhi?” Paolo laughed. “Oh, Carrie. I like him, too. But you know as well as I do that you'll need a diving partner. That's one of the first rules of free diving. Always have a partner—a partner who understands the intricacies and special challenges that can occur. Peter was a good diver, but he was not a free diver, and he wasn't nearly as experienced as you. You barely survived, and Peter is … gone. And while Abhi might be clever and capable, and can work miracles with a wrench and a roll of duct tape, he can't help you if you run into trouble down there again.”

“And you can?”

“Of course, I can. I am better than Peter is … was. You and I both know that. But you made this personal. You played politics, to get back at me. Had it not been for that, I would have been your dive partner, rather than him, and things might be very different now.”

Carrie gripped the edge of the table. She wanted to shout at him for implying that she was somehow responsible for Peter's death, but worse, she wanted to shout at herself out of fear that Paolo might be right.

“So,” Paolo continued after a moment, “with that in mind, I'm going along this time. I'll spot you, and ensure no other accidents occur.”

Carrie considered his offer. “Why do you care, Paolo?”

“It's not just your reputation that's on the line here, Carrie. You may have been picked as the lead on this expedition, but my name was attached to this, too. Maybe you can fall back on your celebrity, but my name in this field is all I have. This research mission already has too many black marks against it in the public eye. If another mishap occurs, it might render all of our reputations unsalvageable.”

“So, your interest in this is purely self-preservation?”

“No. It's also scientific, the same as you. And, to be perfectly honest, I'd rather not hear tomorrow that you've died, too.”

The waiter returned with the check. Carrie paid cash, leaving it on the table, and rose up from her chair. Paolo followed, walking her to the door. She caught a whiff of his cologne. Apparently, he'd changed scents since they'd dated. She preferred this new smell. It didn't come with memories or wistful nostalgia.

They stepped out onto the street. After having been inside the resort's air-conditioned comfort, the heat struck Carrie like a wave. She had a brief moment of dizziness, but quickly concealed it from Paolo. A car horn honked from the curb, loud enough to startle her.

“Are you okay?” Paolo asked.

Carrie nodded as they walked out onto the sidewalk. “I'm fine, thanks. Just a little tired, still.”

“You should get some rest.”

“And miss all this?” She gestured at the sweltering, bustling street. “Besides, you know me. I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

“That's what I'm worried about,” Paolo smiled. “So, when are we diving?”

“I haven't agreed to your terms.”

His smile vanished. “Then, I'm very sorry. You leave me with no choice but to inform our superiors at Alpinus, for both our sakes. I do not imagine they will react favorably, nor will the broader scientific community. Our peers…”

He trailed off, shrugged, and made a sad, pitying expression.

Carrie clenched her fists at her side. “Goddamn it … okay. I'd planned on going tonight, if the press has cleared off by then.”

“They won't be. Tomorrow would be better.”

“Why?”

“Because you're exhausted. You just said so yourself. You know how dangerous it is to dive when tired. Plus, if you wait until tomorrow, then you can have more to eat today.”

Although she was frustrated, Carrie couldn't help but laugh at this.

“Tomorrow,” Paolo repeated. “Then you'll have more light.”

“I can work without light. I can't work with reporters following our every move and getting in the way.”

“It's not just them you have to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” Carrie asked.

“You'll need a different, lower profile craft. And tell Abhi he can't leave straight from the Novak. He'll need to go elsewhere first.”

“Why?”

“Because the Novak is under surveillance.”

“What? By who? Reporters?”

“No, it's not the press. This is something … different. I'm not sure who they are, to be honest. Spies from an intelligence service, or perhaps a rival corporation. Those seem to be the most likely suspects.”

“How do you know this? How do you know it's under surveillance?”

“Because when my father ran afoul of Pinochet, he taught my entire family anti-surveillance techniques that I never forgot. Sometimes they come in quite handy.”

“Maybe so. But they also make you sound paranoid.”

“Perhaps. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. And I'm not.”

He said it in his brief, off-handed way that, at different times in her life, Carrie had seen as alternatingly smug, sexy, infuriating, or endearing. Now, she saw it as simply annoying. But despite her annoyance, Carrie was secretly relieved at Paolo's relative cooperation, and the prospect of having him along below the surface.

She still wasn't sure what she had seen on her last dive, but she knew that whatever it was, she didn't want to be down there alone.

 

FOUR

Carrie arrived at the wharf the next morning. It was located in a less-trafficked, disused section of the harbor, surrounded by leaning tin shacks, vacant storage buildings whose outer walls were covered with graffiti and gray-black mildew, and decrepit marinas that looked ready to fall into the sea. It was a depressing, unwholesome sight, but it was also far away from the research flotilla, for which she was grateful. There was no chance of a reporter finding them here. Most of the press corps had indeed moved on to other parts of the world and other stories, leaving behind only a few stringers, all of whom were spending their time on the island, rather than at sea. Mindful of Paolo's paranoid warning, she'd paid attention to her surroundings, making sure she wasn't followed. Doing so had been disconcerting—but also exciting, like being in a spy movie.

A warm wind blew in from the water, bringing with it the smell of rotten fish and salt. Sunlight reflected off the sea in brilliant red, orange, and yellow hues. Carrie sighed, trying to ignore the stench and enjoy the simple breeze on her skin. She watched the colors stretch across the water, marveling at them. Even here, in this desolate armpit of a wharf, there was beauty. Carrie could almost pretend she was staring at a New England woodland in autumn rather than the Indian Ocean.

Then she thought about how dark the waters were below the surface, and how the colors wouldn't reach there, and her momentary joy vanished.

Paolo and Abhi were already waiting for her when she arrived at the dock. The two men stood on the docks next to a few storage containers and a small boat. Abhi waved enthusiastically, and Paolo nodded a greeting. Waving back, Carrie paused to study the boat Abhi had obtained for them. It was a fourteen-foot zinc affair that looked weather-beaten and barely seaworthy. Abhi looked right at home next to the aged vessel, dressed in threadbare, faded cutoff shorts with a missing back pocket, and a blue and white Hawaiian shirt that barely covered his belly. Salt and pepper curls of chest hair stuck out from between the shirt's buttons. Atop his head was a dirty ball cap emblazoned with a logo for Mercury Optimax motors. Paolo towered over the shorter man, and was dressed much like the day before, but this time his leather shoes had been replaced with open-toed sandals. Both men smiled as she approached. Abhi's expression was broad and delighted, while Paolo's was subdued and reserved.

“There she is,” Abhi exclaimed. “You are looking well, Carrie. That hospital stay must have agreed with you.”

“Thanks.” Carrie smiled. “Although that was not exactly the vacation I had in mind.”

Abhi shrugged. “Any time off is still time off. Some of us had to work while you were laying around in the hospital.”

“You work?” Carrie gave him a quick hug. “That's new. I didn't think you knew how to work.”

“Nonsense. The whole thing would fall apart without me.”

“Were you followed?” Paolo asked, interrupting their banter.

“No,” Carrie said. “I don't think so. I took all the necessary precautions, just like you said. I still don't understand why we'd be under surveillance though, or by who.”

“I would like to know that, as well,” Abhi agreed. “And I would also like to know why we're meeting in secret, and just what you intend to do, Carrie. What have you gotten me into?”

“Nothing illegal, Abhi.”

“Then I am disappointed. Illegal is always more fun.”

“Is that why you make that illegal rotgut hooch?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Abhi said, feigning mock protest. “I make deck cleaner and paint thinner. I am not responsible for what happens if someone drinks it.”

“Did you have any trouble getting all the equipment I asked for?”

Abhi shrugged. “Not much. We've got nothing electronic, just like you asked, except for some underwater communicators, and of course, the boat's emergency radio and the engine components. Other than those, it's all analog. Some of it wasn't easy to get with such short notice. I had to call in a few favors. Make a few deals. Oh, and I may have borrowed a few items from the Novak, but I don't think anyone will miss them. I'm hoping one of you will reimburse me for the boat, though?”

“I'll make sure you get reimbursed.” Carrie eyed it skeptically. “Although, I hope you didn't pay too much for it. This thing looks like it's ready to sink.”

“I have to agree,” Paolo said. “Are you sure it's safe?”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Abhi grinned, flashing tobacco and coffee-stained teeth. “It may be old, but it is sturdy. Like me. More importantly, it won't attract attention.”

“Also like you,” Carrie quipped.

“The bends look good on you,” he teased, not missing a beat. “That rash is a particularly lovely color. It matches your eyes.”

“Ouch, Abhi!” Carrie said pretending to be offended.

Paolo remained unconvinced regarding the boat's condition. “That outboard motor looks ready to … how do you say it? Give up the ghost? How do we know it's not going to break down and leave us stranded out there?”

“That long-tail diesel may be worn,” Abhi said, “but it is solid. Trust me on that. I tested it myself. Took it apart and put it back together. It's old and tough, like me. And besides, the boat also has a set of oars, just in case. Nothing electronic in those, for sure.”

“We might need them,” Carrie admitted.

“I'm telling you this motor is sound.”

“I believe you, Abhi. But so was the equipment on board the Novak, and we saw how well that worked.”

“Yeah, that's true. So that's what's with all this analog stuff you had me get?”

Carrie nodded.

“Maybe it's time you told us what you know, Carrie,” Paolo suggested.

“Okay,” Carrie agreed, “but I want to check our gear first.”

She opened the storage crates and took inventory of their contents—the underwater radios Abhi had mentioned, a toolbox, specimen scoops and sealed containers, two sealed wetsuits, dive weights, flippers, simple masks (in lieu of the analytical HUD helmet Carrie had dove with before), equipment belts, arm clips, two lengthy coils of dive line, two buoys, waterproof tape, a full case of phosphorescent torches, sunscreen, a case of bottled water, a large cooler packed with ice, two full twenty-gallon cans of diesel fuel for the motor, a first aid kit, a machete, and a Sudoku book. She frowned upon spying the last two items, and gave Abhi a quizzical look.

“That's for me.” He shrugged. “I need something to do while the two of you go for a swim. I read in a magazine that people my age should do things like this to keep the dementia away. And I never cared for the Word Jumble.”

“And the machete?”

Abhi shrugged again. “You never know. Better to have one and not need it than to need one and not have it.”

Carrie smiled. “I think you've seen
Jaws
one too many times, Abhi.”

“Perhaps you are right. But if Quint had done Sudoku, things would have ended much better for them, I'll bet.”

They began to load the gear onto the small boat. The sun had risen higher and the day was starting to heat up. The stench of rotten fish and mildew that seemed to hang over the wharf grew stronger, but did nothing to dampen their spirits. Their laughter soon faded, however, as Carrie began to brief them on her theory.

“I saw something down there,” she said. “I don't know what it was and I don't know how to describe it. The water was dark, of course. But this … thing … was darker. I think Peter saw it, too, before he…”

Pausing, she stared out at the water, unable to find the right words to explain what she had seen. “It's okay.” Abhi nodded in encouragement. “Go on.”

“I don't know what it was, but I know it was real. It wasn't my imagination. All I remember is a dark shape. But I think I know what's ruining our electronics. There was some weird effect in the water, below about eighty meters.”

BOOK: Pressure
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