by Steven Moore
“And their plane?”
“Yes, the seaplane too,” said the young man, his thick beard laced with ginger and his hair hidden beneath an unseasonal beanie.
“Will do, sir. I understand. They will not make it across the ocean, you have my word.”
“Be sure they don’t,” said the voice down the line, this one a much older man. He spoke with chilling authority. “You know the consequences if they make it. How does a watery grave for three sound?”
“I won’t let you down, sir. You can count on me.”
The older man ended the call, and the younger guy put the phone in his pocket.
Then he followed Ryan Bodean and Megan Simons in for dinner.
20
Voyagers
And true to George’s word, two days later R.B. and Megan, as well as R.B’s seaplane Gidget, were safely aboard the huge freighter and heading into untold mystery and danger across the vast expanses of the Atlantic Ocean.
“I guess I just didn’t realize it would take so long, that’s all.” Megan curled up in bed and pulled the sheets over her head. It was three in the afternoon on only the third day, and Megan already felt agitated.
“Well, not wanting to state the obvious,” said R.B., though he did anyway, “the Atlantic Ocean is pretty damned big. Hey, let’s hit the deck and see if we can spot a bunch more whales, like we did yesterday. Sound good?”
The previous day they’d enjoyed a tranquil afternoon in the sunshine on deck. They’d found a couple of old deckchairs and positioned them between two stacks of shipping containers. R.B. had brought on board a few bottles of liquor, and after pouring them both a few shots they’d relaxed into each other’s company, feeling safe, secure, and on the start of a great adventure. They laughed and joked, and anybody who witnessed it might have thought the pair were already a couple. But they weren’t.
“Hey, did you see that?” exclaimed Megan.
“See what?” asked R.B. He hadn’t seen anything.
“There, it’s a whale I think, or at least a big dolphin.” She pointed, and then R.B. spotted it.
“Oh yeah, I see it. Over there, too, a load more fins. I think they’re whales. Hey, you should know ... isn’t that your job?”
“It was my job. Have you forgotten I’m now the senior partner at B and S Salvage Incorporated?”
“How could I ever forget that. Anyway, what kind of whales are they?”
Megan didn’t need a second invitation to speak about one of her greatest passions, marine animals. She was considered a bit of an expert on the subject when she worked at the Marine Biology Museum, but lately her love of searching for and salvaging shipwrecks had occupied most of her time.
R.B. loved to see Megan in this exuberant mood. It meant she was happy, and that she felt safe and in control of her life. He hadn’t seen her like this anywhere near enough lately, but he knew that was partly his fault. They’d gotten into financial strife because between them they hadn’t been able to make the business profitable. But for now she was happy, and it was a pleasure to witness.
R.B. also couldn’t help noticing Megan’s figure. It was a hot day, and she had stripped down to a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops, and a sheer linen shirt that barely covered a crimson bikini top. And despite himself, R.B. couldn’t deny Megan Simons was a beautiful young woman.
He had barely acknowledged that fact to himself these last twelve months, trying hard to keep their relationship strictly professional. Of course they were good friends too, and were each other’s most trusted ally. But R.B. had made the mistake of falling for a work colleague before, and although he and Megan were more equal partners than simply colleagues, he’d thought better than to make a move and risk the trust they shared.
Still, there was nothing wrong with admiring the view, even if he didn’t share his thoughts with Megan herself.
He loved how animated and passionate she was about wildlife, and wanted to keep the conversation going, asking Megan question after question about whales, dolphins, and all manner of other sea creatures, including one surprising species.
“So, do the people who were once supposed to inhabit Atlantis count as sea creatures? I mean, what were they, humans? Atlanteans? Atlantehumans? Humanteans?”
Megan chuckled. But then her smile faded a little. “Listen R.B. ... I know you’re excited. I am too. But, well, I’m still not really convinced there’s anything to find out there. There’s every chance it’s all just a myth, like most people think, that it really is as Plato suggested in his stories.”
R.B. was disappointed in the change of direction the conversation was taking, but he did want Megan to keep talking. The blank look on his face after she’d mentioned Plato convinced her to continue.
“Really, it's likely all just a fairy tale made up by Plato. Kind of an allegory about prideful nations and so-called utopian states. We probably shouldn’t raise our hopes too high, because there’s a very real possibility Atlantis never existed at all.”
R.B. nodded. He knew that, knew they may be on yet another wild goose chase like the one last year, when they were convinced they’d located legendary explorer and aviation hero Amelia Earhart’s lost plane, The Canary. In truth, what they’d found was a downed Cuban drone, and it had nearly cost them their lives. But still, where there was hope there was possibility. He pulled the carved digit from his pocket.
“So, what’s this then? Why did old man Quinn give me this artifact, and the map, and just a few days later he gets murdered? I mean, you can’t deny there’s something very strange about all this?”
“I don’t know. It could be nothing. It could just be an odd trinket from a pawn shop, even a kid’s toy.” But it could be something else entirely, she thought, something amazing. But didn’t say any more.
Megan sighed deeply. She couldn’t deny it. It was all a little too mysterious for her gut instincts not to believe there was something to all of this.
And now, as she curled up in the cabin on the third afternoon, not feeling enough energy to have even left for lunch, R.B. realized, and hoped, that it was a fear of disappointment keeping Megan’s contagious, effervescent mood from the first two days of the voyage under wraps.
21
Competition
“Hey. Meg?” R.B. glanced across the small cabin to the pile of covers on Megan’s bed. She wasn’t there, and a momentary wave of fear struck him. But it soon passed. They were aboard a large container freighter in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. No one could hurt them here.
He crawled out of bed and flicked on the light. Glancing at his watch he was surprised to see it was still only six forty-five in the morning, and that tiny knot of apprehension returned. He pulled on his jeans, shirt, and his flip flops, and left the cabin to investigate.
It didn’t take long for R.B. to ascend to the main deck, and he was mightily relieved to spot Megan jogging a circuit around the deck, just disappearing out of view past where he’d emerged outside. She hadn’t seen him. He took up a position against the rail and breathed in the fresh ocean air. It wasn’t especially warm, but the cooler dawn air was refreshing. He relaxed against the rail and waited for Megan to make her circuit, and just five minutes later she passed by at quite a clip, once more not seeing him. R.B. grinned.
The next time she passed he called out to her and waved, and she spotted him and waved back, though she didn’t stop to chat. R.B. watched on as she once more disappeared out of sight along the deck of the vast freighter.
“Your girlfriend is really hot, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
R.B. turned, surprised to see a young kid, clearly a greenhorn no older than eighteen, who promptly introduced himself as Nathan Callahan. “But my friends call me Nate. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand, and R.B. took it.
“My name’s Ryan, but folks call me R.B. And she is hot, that’s for sure, but she ain’t my girlfriend. Just don’t tell her I said she’s hot, okay?”
The kid’s eyes open
ed wide in surprise, but then he chuckled. “Well, I’m sorry mister, I just thought, what with the way she looks at you and all, that she must be your girl, maybe even your wife.”
“No, we’re ... we’re not together.”
“More’s the shame, sir. But uh, well, if she’s not your girlfriend, would you mind if I asked her out? On a date?”
R.B. chuckled, until he realized the kid was serious. And despite himself, he felt a moment of jealousy. “Well, uh, okay. I mean, I guess you can, if you ... well, if you want to,” he stammered, blushing slightly.
The kid noticed how uncomfortable R.B. was. “Nah, it’s totally cool, man. I get it. You guys are just waiting for the right time to tell each other how you feel, am I right?”
R.B. didn’t answer that. He couldn’t answer that. Nate took that as a sign he was right.
“Well, R.B. Nice meeting ya, and good luck.” He walked off, and when a few yards away, he turned and winked at R.B., who stood stunned.
Just then Megan came running into view and passed Nate, who waved. Megan waved back and smiled, then slowed to a stop beside R.B. Glancing at her Fitbit, she smiled with satisfaction. “Not bad. That’s ten miles before breakfast. But now I’m starving.”
“Ten miles? If I needed to go ten miles I’d jump in Gidget and fly myself.” He pointed over at his seaplane, looking lovely and shiny in the morning glow. “But ten miles? That’s impressive. I doubt I could even walk ten miles these days.” R.B. patted his burgeoning stomach for good measure. “I am ready for breakfast, though I’m not eating with you until you’ve showered.”
Megan glanced down at her running clothes, drenched in sweat, despite the coolness of the early morning. “You mean this? You don’t like a little sweat, Bodean?” She grabbed his hands and pulled him closer. “C’mere, and give Megan a huggy wuggy.” R.B. pulled away and trotted off, Megan in swift pursuit until she caught up to him over by Gidget. She grabbed his arms again and spun him around, pulling him into a close hug, laughing as she did.
After realizing Megan wasn’t letting go, he leaned back, as if edging out of her reach. “Wow,” was all he could say, and Megan looked up at his face. He stared down at her, fixing her gaze. “Wow,” he simply repeated, a grin creeping onto his face.
That brief moment of intimacy was not what Megan had planned, but it’s definitely what happened, and it left her a little flustered. “I uh ... what is it? Are you okay?”
“Well, no, I’m not okay.”
Megan looked horrified for a second, as if she’d crossed an invisible boundary. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
R.B. made a show of wiping down his clothes. “Well, now I have to take a shower too,” he said, and hugged Megan again.
22
Voyeur
“Impossible to believe we’re alone in the universe, isn’t it?”
“Alone?” asked R.B.
“Yeah, I mean, not just humans and animals. There are literally billions of stars and planets out there, right, so what makes us so confident that aliens don’t exist?”
“Ah, the old alien argument. Well, I for one,” said R.B., waving his arms towards the star-filled night sky, “believe that we’re not alone. I’ve always thought there must be other life out there beyond this one tiny planet we call home. Which is why I’m so confident now about Atlantis. It was probably built by visitors from other worlds, and the Atlanteans were hybrids, part human, part alien.”
Megan sighed. She so badly wanted to believe in Atlantis, desperate for there to be something more to the myth than just empty stories. But aliens? That was taking it a little far. But Megan enjoyed it when R.B. went on one of his excitable tangents, and she didn’t want him to stop now. Besides, it was a beautifully warm and clear evening on the deck, and with no one else around, and thousands of miles from the nearest land, and with millions of stars twinkling above and the moon casting a magnificent glow across the ink-black sea, it was as peaceful a moment as she’d known in a long time. She didn’t want it to end. “Didn’t you once tell me you knew a little about the solar system?”
“Well, darlin’, yes I did tell you that, though I’m not sure you believed me.” He grinned. R.B. was in his element. He wasn’t the world’s smartest guy, but when he did find an interest in something, he learned everything he could about it. Thus, he was well-read on stars and the planets, and he loved to talk about it, especially to a woman he considered beautiful. It was his time to shine.
“Do you see that particularly bright star over there, at about two o’clock, based on where the moon is?” R.B. pointed to what he knew was the planet Venus.
“Uh, no. Why, what is it?”
“Look, it’s right there. It’s Venus, and as I’m sure you know, in Greek mythology Venus was the goddess of love. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“But I still don’t see it. I can’t see any one star shining any brighter than the others.”
R.B. squeezed a little closer to Megan, and leaned in, grabbing her arm and extending it, pointing with his finger to Venus.
“Yes, I see it now. You’re right, it’s much brighter.” It was a little chilly now on the deck, and Megan relished the warmth of R.B. being so close to her.
“Much brighter,” said R.B., “and very beautiful,” he added as their cheeks brushed together.
For a moment Megan held the pose, but when she realized what was happening she felt herself flushing, and eased away from R.B., who turned to face her, seeing Megan’s face aglow beneath the light of the full moon. And for the very first time, Ryan Bodean realized just how beautiful Megan really was. He was about to tell her, when Megan yawned. He didn’t know it was faked.
“Well, I’m tired. Think I want an early night, you know, so I can get another ten mile run done early before it gets too hot.”
R.B. was disappointed, but he didn’t let it show. “Sure thing, darlin’. Good idea.”
“Good evening, folks.” Both R.B. and Megan were startled by the sudden and surprising voice so close behind them, and turned to see the ship’s captain standing there. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump. Hey, listen. Me and some of my crew are about to break open some rum and enjoy a few Cuban cigars below decks if you guys are interested. Mister Wyatt tells me you both like to drink.” The captain winked, but it was friendly, and the offer to join them was genuine. “What do you say?”
R.B. turned to Megan. “Fancy a nightcap, darlin’?”
“No, thanks, and thanks, Captain. But I’m going to turn in ... it’s been a long day. You should go though,” she said, nodding at R.B. “Go on, have some fun. I’ll see you back in the cabin.”
“Alright, if you’re sure,” he said, and a moment later the captain was leading R.B. below decks.
Just fifty yards away, a shadowy figure watched on and listened, the voices carrying on the clear night. He was out of sight, and confident no one suspected who he really was. Being dressed in the gear of a crew hand on a ship with several dozen other crew meant he went largely unnoticed. But he was always careful, as he was trained to be.
After watching the captain and the man called Bodean disappear through a door and descend steps to the lower decks, he watched on a few more moments as the girl named Megan stood staring out at the sea and sky. She seemed happy, and even from this distance he could see she was smiling. It was a beautiful evening, after all. But he had a duty to perform. Anything else was trivial. At last she turned, and entered a door on the deck he knew led below to the guest cabins. He waited another thirty seconds and then followed Megan Simons, keeping a safe distance. She descended two flights of stairs, then made her way along the corridor, finally reaching her room. Once she’d stepped inside and he heard the door click shut, he raced along the corridor and checked the room number. Twenty-seven.
“Good,” he whispered to himself. “I’ll be back.”
23
Time to Die
“You know, fellas, I really thought that was the big one,” said R.B. “Yea
h, it was set to be the archaeological find of the decade, and one that would make me and my brother Troy rich.” It was barely an hour later, but, not being much of a rum drinker, R.B. was already on a roll. “I’ve never been so disappointed ... so close, and yet so very, very far. Anyway, cheers.”
The half dozen guys and the captain sitting with R.B. at the card table raised their tumblers of rum and cheered his story. The air was thick with the pungent smoke of Cuban cigars, and between them they were already on their third bottle of rum. The captain liked to keep morale and spirits high on long journeys, like this one to Europe, and he knew he could trust every one of his staff not to get too wasted. They would all be able to perform any of their important duties at the drop of a hat if needed, and he trusted them all implicitly.
“Your deal, R.B.,” said one of the crew members, a rugged, middle-aged man named Clive. “Dish ‘em out, son.” R.B. snatched up the scattered cards from the previous round, and with great difficulty he shuffled the deck, much to the amusement of the others around the table, who cracked up laughing as cards spilled this way and that from R.B’s clumsy attempts.
“Sorry fellas, not used to drinking rum ... more of a beer man myself.”
“It’s okay son, this is highly entertaining,” said Clive. “Let me get you a beer though, might sober you up a bit.” Offering a wink, Clive left the table and went to the galley kitchen, returning a minute later with an armful of beers for the group, handing them around as chasers for his buddies’ rums.
Once the cards were finally dealt and the poker game commenced, R.B. continued his tale of woe. “Yeah boys, we were all set. We’d found that old shipwreck and were certain it had a huge bounty of long-lost treasure somewhere inside. We just needed to claim it, bring it to the surface, and we were all set to retire to a tropical Caribbean island, with nothing but an endless supply of beer, a personal seafood chef on call twenty-four seven, and a bevy of beautiful beach babes to keep us company on those long, lonely tropical nights. Sounds great, don’t it?”