by Steven Moore
30
Setback
And then yet another disastrous setback struck them.
They had watched as Gidget was skillfully lowered onto the dock, her first time on Spanish soil—Cadiz to be precise, and quickly climbed up to the dock themselves after snagging their minimal luggage from their cabins. It felt a little unusual to be standing on solid ground for the first time in eleven days, and R.B.'s notoriously weak stomach made him nauseous for a few minutes. But those feelings soon passed, and keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of threat, they set about arranging for Gidget to be lowered into the water.
But first R.B. had to run a couple of final checks, which is when disaster struck. He knew the fuel line was repaired, so when he turned the key in the ignition and she didn't start, his heart sunk. What now?
There was literally no life in the old girl at all, not even a whimper from the engine. It's as though the entire engine had actually been removed, which he knew was impossible. Wasn't it? A quick check showed the engine was in place. "Goddammit!"
Standing just twenty yards away at the doors to a mechanic shop, a young man in oily coveralls watched, sensing an opportunity. He took his chance and approached R.B., flashing a bright smile on his heavily-tanned face.
"Hola señor. Your seaplane, it is broken?"
R.B. turned to see the young mechanic beaming at him, his wide brown eyes shining as if everyday was the greatest day of his life. The smile was infectious, and R.B.'s anger simmered into his own smile. "Hola to you too," he said. "Habla usted Inglés?"
"Si señor, I speak a little English. I can fix the plane."
"But you don't know what's wrong with her. Hell, neither do I."
"It is okay señor, Santiago can fix everything."
"Your name is Santiago?"
"Si señor. Y tu?"
"My name's Ryan, and this is Megan," he added as Megan walked over."
"Mucho gusto," she said. Nice to meet you.
"Mucho gusto Ryan and Megan," replied Santiago.
"Call me R.B.," said R.B.
"Okay seńor," said Santiago, ignoring the offer of informality. "It is true. I am young, but I am best mechanic at Navantia. I can fix it."
And with no reason to doubt the confident, handsome kid, and the fact his workshop was less than fifty feet from where Gidget was parked, they agreed to let him have a shot.
Santiago soon had Gidget towed into the large workshop, and R.B. and Megan followed inside. And then R.B.'s jaw dropped. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. Parked at the rear of the warehouse was another seaplane, but this one made Gidget look like a relic, despite her recent overhaul and shiny new paint job. Megan too thought the new plane was beautiful.
"I can rent you this plane if you need it now?" offered Santiago. "She is very rapido."
With a wistful sigh, R.B. turned to Santiago and Megan. "It's true, she's a looker, and I bet she goes like a bullet. Can't deny she's a beaut. But you can't beat Gidget for a classic seaplane. Nothing quite like the old girl for a smooth ride."
"When she's working," Megan teased, and R.B. remembered why they were there.
"Well, there is that. Listen Santiago, when can you start working on Gidget?"
"Gidget? What is Gidget?"
R.B. slapped his once trusted seaplane on her skid, with a little more force than he wanted, as if to scold her for letting him down again. "This, sunshine, is Gidget," R.B. said proudly, "and we've been through many adventures together. When can you start?"
"I will start work right now, seńor. She will be ready in the morning."
"Okay then. Gracias, Santiago. Hey, do you know a place we can stay nearby?"
"Si. My mother has a guesthouse just up the hill a little. It is nice, and she is the best cook in town. I know there is a room available for you both."
"We will need two rooms," cut in Megan, as she looked sharply at R.B., though she winked as she said it.
Santiago looked momentarily confused, but was shrewd enough not to comment. "I will call my mother and tell her you are coming. There is a nice view to the north."
And with that, they thanked Santiago for his help and left the warehouse, making their way up the hill towards Santiago's mother's guesthouse and to what had been promised was the best breakfast in all of Cadiz.
31
Philosophy by Bodean
After meeting Santiago's mother Rosa at her guesthouse, who had greeted them with hugs as if they were old friends—Santiago had obviously called ahead—and after devouring what truly was a magnificent Spanish breakfast with bowls of bread and fruit, and an urn of super-strong coffee, they were shown to their delightful room. Like Santiago, Rosa had assumed they were a couple, and neither had the desire to tell her otherwise. "For security," R.B. had said to Megan, adding a wink, and she had simply smirked in reply. After a quick shower, and feeling relatively safe from the outside world, at least for now, they got comfy on the terrace and settled in for a relaxing morning waiting for Gidget to be repaired.
The view was as good as Santiago had promised. They could see the freighter still down in the vast shipyard slightly south of their location, and under a clear blue sky to the west the Atlantic Ocean shimmered as far as their eyes could see. The ancient port town of Cadiz looked resplendent below them in all directions. With dozens of sixteenth-century watchtowers and cathedral spires punctuating the skyline, and with the terracotta tiled roofs seemingly ablaze beneath the hot midday sun, it was a vista to behold.
They sat in silence for a while, both Megan and R.B. contemplating what had happened and what they might still have to face. They had been lucky to have made it off the ship in one piece, that was clear, but now they were ensconced in what appeared to be the relative and anonymous safety of Rosa's guesthouse. They at last began to relax a little.
After an hour simply chilling and doing nothing other than gathering their thoughts, Megan finally asked R.B. a question. It startled him out of his doze. "What do you really think we'll find out there? If anything."
R.B. pursed his lips, considering the question. "Listen, people have been searching for Atlantis for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. Yet no one has ever found anythin’. Some people think Plato’s words were meant as an allegory for the hubris of people and governments. Let's be honest, that sounds more logical, especially with the way today’s shady governments operate. So perhaps it's not actually a lost city, at least not in the physical sense. Perhaps it's more like a warning, some kind of code warning humanity to change its ways or risk losing everything."
Megan gazed at R.B., somewhat surprised by his philosophical speech. But she'd been thinking along those same lines. After all these years, and all those well-funded missions to find Atlantis, not one group had found one shred of empirical evidence it had ever existed at all. And yet…
"But," R.B. continued, "I'm confident we'll find something, and that it'll be amazing. Just imagine if the skeptics and scientists are wrong. What if we did find something, some evidence of the ruins of a lost city, artifacts from a long-lost civilization? Can you even imagine how exciting that would be?"
She couldn't. Megan simply could not fathom just how extraordinary it would be if they were the first people to uncover some evidence of Atlantis, whether it be an ancient submerged building, perhaps a temple, or even some kind of artifact, like pottery, or coins. Anything. Anything at all that proved once and for all that there really did once exist some archaic race of people who'd left behind reminders of their great civilization. It was an unbelievable fantasy at best, and at worst it was an adventure that might get them killed. And on that sobering thought, Megan changed the subject.
"Why don't you call Santiago, see if he has any news on Gidget?"
"Good idea. I'll do it now." R.B. slipped into the room from the terrace and grabbed his cellphone from his backpack. He punched in the number Santiago had given him, and the mechanic picked up on the first ring. After a brief chat, R.B. returned to the terrac
e.
"How'd it go," Megan asked, but then spotted R.B.'s expression. "Oh dear. How bad?"
"Bad. It's the damned fuel line again. They must have cut it right before they left the ship after docking. Bastards." R.B. shook his head in dismay.
"Can he fix it, though?"
"You want the good news or the bad news?"
"The good news."
"Yeah, he can fix it. Like he said, Santiago can fix anything."
"And the bad?”
"He doesn't have the fuel line connector. He can order it, he said, but it'll take at least two or three days for the component to arrive." R.B. slumped down in his chair, shoving his hands on his head in resignation. "We're really up against some serious scumbaggery here, aren't we?"
"Yes, we are. Look, maybe the part will arrive sooner than he thinks. Let's stay positive. We can just stay here until it's fixed, and in the meantime we can research the area. It's not all bad, R.B." Megan smiled. It was her turn to try and raise the mood. "Listen, we'll head out this afternoon and buy a bottle or two of some nice local wine. Then we'll come back here and enjoy Rosa's amazing cooking, and after dinner come to this terrace, drink some wine, and plan our next move. Sound good?"
And to R.B. it sounded very good indeed. So that's what they did. R.B. called Santiago again and confirmed he should order the part. Then he and Megan headed out into Cadiz for a walk around the old harbor and to find some local wine. On the way back they popped in to see Santiago, who was busy working on another repair job, this time a boat. The young man was adept, that was for sure. But he did have an unwelcome surprise for them.
"Your friends came looking for you. It was two men. They looked like Hermanos ... sorry, brothers. The older one asked where Ryan Bodean and his girl were. So I was a bit confused. If they were your friends, why didn't they know Megan's name? So I was then a little suspicious, and told them I did not know where you had gone."
Megan and R.B. shared a worried look. They expected the bad guys would try and find them, but they didn't think they'd been seen with Santiago. The kid looked worried now.
"Was it the right thing to do?"
"Yes. Oh yeah, Santiago, you did well. Thanks. Look, those are bad men. I don't want to involve you in any trouble, so please be careful, okay? Don't tell them anything if they come back around here."
Santiago nodded, concern wrinkling his young face. "Okay, seńor. And seńor, call me Santi, por favor."
R.B. smiled. "I will call you Santi if you call me R.B., not seńor, okay?"
"Si, seńor," replied Santi, and they all chuckled, lightening the tense mood.
The mood wouldn't stay light for long.
32
Harbinger
Back at the guesthouse Rosa cooked up a delicious meal of traditional Spanish paella, and along with her son Santiago, joined them to eat. Chatter was jovial, and R.B. and Megan shared stories with the family of their Bodean and Simons Salvage Incorporated business, and what it was like living in Key West, Santi having to translate much of it for his mother. Inevitably though, the discussion turned to Atlantis and the guys who had visited Santiago at his mechanic workshop.
"We're sorry those guys came to your workshop today, Santi," said Megan. "We hope it doesn't happen again. But they won't hurt you, they just want to find us." Megan wished she could have said that with more conviction than she felt.
"But why do they want you? What have you done to them?"
R.B. picked up from Megan. "We haven't done anything, Santi. We’re simply looking for the same thing those guys are. Except they’re willing to—"
Megan kicked R.B. under the table, and he realized why. He’d been about to say they were willing to hurt, even kill people, to find what they wanted. No need to tell Santi and his mother that.
"They’re willing to search very hard for what they want," finished R.B. “The sooner we get Gidget airborne, the sooner we can get out of here and head north."
Sensing Santi and Rosa had more questions they might not want to answer, Megan stood up. "Muchas gracias por la comida." Thanks for the meal. "It was delicious. But I'm tired ... I think I'm going to go to the room."
R.B. took his cue and stood, thanking the family as well and bidding them both goodnight.
Back at the room, Megan unscrewed the cork from the bottle of Tintilla de Rota, a rare find from a wine shop known only to locals that Santi had guided them to. The dark, almost-black red wine was rich and delicious, and they each savored a glass on the terrace, looking out at the view over the port and beyond. For now it was still a clear evening, but R.B. sensed the weather deteriorating and that a storm might be imminent. Again, Megan didn't seem in an especially talkative mood, and said that she was going to sleep soon. She offered R.B. the bed, but as he always did, he declined the offer, more than adept at sleeping wherever he lay his head. This time it would be on a reclining chair on the deck, provided it remained dry.
He said goodnight to Megan, and headed back out onto the deck with his glass refilled and the rest of the bottle beside him. Nestling back into the recliner, he gazed out toward the north and toward Doñana National Park. It was in that park that the intersection on Megan's hand-drawn map—which also coincided with the map given to R.B. by poor old Barnaby Quinn—suggested where Atlantis might be, if it existed. Strangely, it was located in an inland marsh area that dominated the Dońana National Park. Yet something about it intrigued R.B.
After several decades of out-of-control global warming, water levels had risen all over the planet. Naturally, most people tended to think of the seas and oceans when thinking about rising water levels across the globe. But it was happening inland too. Hundreds, probably thousands, of villages across the world had been submerged in recent years by rising waters; lakes where once a stream ran, ponds where once puddles lay. Of course, the construction of dams along inland waterways had created numerous new lakes and water systems, and beneath those waters the memories of those villages and their inhabitants were being lost to time. So, thought R.B., pouring himself another glass of red, just maybe something similar happened to Atlantis.
A sharp gust of cool wind snapped him from his thoughts. He stood from the chair and leaned on the railing at the edge of the terrace. There was an ominous feel in the air now, some kind of malevolent force borne on the breeze, as if a harbinger of the coming storm. He felt the first drops of rain angling in beneath the sloped roof of the terrace. The drops were cool, cooler than they should have been. Not a good sign. R.B. didn't expect they'd be flying anywhere tomorrow, based upon Santi's forecast for the arrival of the component he needed. If the storm did hit hard, then at least it would probably have passed before they hit the skies in Gidget.
But it was an ominous sign.
Ryan Bodean couldn't have known just how ominous it would turn out to be.
33
Good News/Bad News
R.B. awoke to a sore neck and a mild hangover. As he glanced at his phone he saw a text from Santi. His stiff neck was due to sleeping on the wooden floor of the room. The storm had grown to such an extent that cold bullets of rain had attacked him almost horizontally on the recliner, and he'd had to retreat into the sanctuary of the room. Megan didn't stir, so he snagged a pillow from beside her and curled up on the floor, using a cozy patchwork quilt as padding. The hangover was down to finishing off the rest of the bottle of red wine, and half of the second. He wasn't much of a wine drinker at the best of times, as his throbbing head now reminded him in no uncertain terms.
As for the text, well that was good news. Santi had sent it late in the evening after receiving an email from his supplier. The component would arrive later that day, so Santi was confident that if he worked late Gidget would be ready to depart first thing in the morning. It was the first good news they'd had since leaving the States.
"Morning," said Megan, her voice gravelly from her slumber and, thought R.B., it sounded somewhat sexy. He wouldn't tell her that.
"Good mornin' back atc
ha, darlin'. Sleep well?"
"I slept like the proverbial baby. Hey, why is that even a saying? Most of my friends who've had babies complained their babies never slept. Anyway, how about you?"
By now R.B. had risen from the floor and was stretching out the aches in his neck. He downed a large glass of water and sat on the edge of the bed. "Oh, you know, I slept pretty well, thanks," he lied. "I got some good news from Santi. The kid says the part is coming today and that Gidget will be ready in the morning. Good, huh?"
"Good? That's great. Hey, I'm hungry. Breakfast? Rosa will be waiting."
They met Rosa in the kitchen. She was busy clearing the breakfast plates away from a couple of other guests. Ten minutes later, though, she'd prepared their coffee and food and R.B. and Megan tucked in, soon polishing off a plate full of breads, pastries, and jams.
"So what'll we do today?" Megan asked.
"Well, this is a nice part of the world, and the storm has cleared a little. Let's make the most of our day and head out on a touristy tour. Reckon there's some nice things to see, and we can end up at Dońana National Park ... as per your map."
"Sounds good. What are we waiting for?"
They thanked Rosa again and headed out from the quaint guesthouse, making their way down the hill into town and the port area where most of the touristy attractions were located. R.B. suggested they first try out the famous Mercado De Abastos, a popular market in the region for fresh, locally caught fish and other seafood.
Rich with the heady smells of fresh fish, crab, and lobster, and rife with the noise of rowdy market traders and frenzied tourists, the Mercado De Abastos was alive with activity. Deep into the narrow aisles lined with market stands, busy with traders and shoppers, the noise levels rose and the crowds thickened, making it difficult to walk through the market without bumping into other people. It also made it difficult to notice if you were being followed. Which is exactly what was happening to them now.