by Alex Archer
“And what happened?”
“It ended up destroying them.”
Annja nodded. “Another powerful lesson, I suppose.”
“It would seem,” Spier said. “But one never knows exactly what may have transpired to destroy their civilization.” He grabbed at his glass and downed the remainder of the schnapps. “The pearl next shows up in the Moros history as belonging to a certain Queen Esmeralda. It was a gift given to her by one of her subjects who was enamored of the woman. Driven to prove his love and worth, he reportedly dove into the sea, swam underwater for seven days and, on the seventh day, emerged from the surf bearing the pearl.”
“Well, that would, of course, be impossible,” Annja said.
“Unless he grew gills,” Spier said with a laugh. “And I certainly don’t think he really did that. But the story is interesting.”
“Did he get his woman?” Annja asked.
Spier shrugged. “Actually, the queen, upon receiving the pearl, is said to have undergone some sort of transformation. Instead of rewarding her suitor, she had him executed.”
“Tough love,” Annja said.
“Indeed.” Spier sighed. “But the pearl did not stay in possession of Queen Esmeralda for very long. It seems that bad luck was destined for the Moros as the Spanish soon started visiting the Philippines.”
Annja nodded. “I’ve read something of their conquests here.”
“Then you know they battled the Moros and had a tough time of it in the thick jungles.”
“Yes.”
“But not being ones to give up, such as they were, the Spaniards eventually succeeded in wresting control of the region from the Moros. And Queen Esmeralda was taken hostage by the invaders.”
“I assume she was meant to be a slave?”
“Perhaps, or a bride for some lucky Spaniard,” Spier said. “Whatever the case, she bought back her freedom.”
“With the pearl?”
“Of course. When the leader of the Spanish heard her pleas for freedom and learned how she intended to buy her way out of captivity, he could scarcely conceal his greed at the thought of possessing the pearl.”
“She gave it to him?”
“Queen Esmeralda ordered her subjects to bring the pearl to the Spanish. In exchange, she was to be freed.” Spier smiled. “But in a cruel ironic twist, Esmeralda herself was betrayed by the Spanish and, instead of freeing her, they refused to let her go. After all, they now had the pearl and the queen.”
“Nasty business,” Annja said.
Spier continued. “Esmeralda was distraught and managed to free herself from the chains that held her belowdecks. She made her way to the top of the main mast and threw herself overboard. But before she did, she cursed the entire Spanish flotilla. Then she dove into the sea, never to be seen again.”
“So the pearl made its way to Spain?”
Spier shook his head. “No, as soon as Esmeralda dove into the sea, the ocean grew violent. Dark clouds surged overhead while the waves pounded the fleet on all sides. As the sun vanished, the fleet was thrown into chaos. Two of the ships ran into each other, others were dashed on an unseen reef that tore their hulls wide open. As thunder and lightning crashed across the sky, the entire fleet was destroyed in the space of only a few minutes.”
“Incredible,” Annja said.
“When the clouds parted, the sea was like glass. There was no trace of the Spanish fleet. No survivors bobbed in the water on pieces of wreckage. It was almost as if they had never even been there at all.”
“But surely their ships would have come to rest underwater.”
Spier shrugged. “There have never been any found that could be attributed to the story.”
“So, it would seem that the story itself is rather suspect,” Annja said. “After all, reports of shipwrecks would mean the potential for something salvageable underwater.”
“Only if you knew exactly where the ships were supposed to have gone aground. Otherwise, how could you possibly say?”
Annja smiled. “And you think you know where they are?”
Spier grinned. “I might have an idea.”
“So what happened to the pearl, then? It was lost, too?”
“Legend has it that it returned to its proper owner—the very civilization that created it in the first place.”
“The civilization that no longer existed. Supposedly.”
“Yes.”
Annja sighed. “That’s an awful lot of supposed history right there, Herr Spier. I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t fall for it hook, line and sinker.”
He chuckled. “I would have been disappointed in you if you had, Annja. I know you are a woman of facts, yet you are also a woman who can’t help but be intrigued by legends and myths.”
“I’m a romantic at heart,” Annja said. “What can I say?”
Spier eyed her. “Say that you’ll come diving with us. Say that you’ll help us find the pearl.”
“You’re serious about going after it?”
“Absolutely.”
“And the warning signs in your story? They don’t bother you at all?”
“What—that whoever possesses the pearl seems to come to an unfortunate end?”
“Yes.”
Spier spread his arms and laughed some more. “My dear, I am eighty years old. In some ways, I feel as though I were as young and strapping as Hans here. But I am not. Eighty is much closer to the grave than it is to the womb. And so, if the legends are true, then I will not go reluctantly should my time come to pass sooner than I expect. And even if it does, I should pass from this world to the next knowing that I had a hand in retrieving a truly wondrous relic.” He pointed his empty glass at Annja. “What could be better than that?”
Annja smiled. As much as she hated to admit it, Spier had intrigued her with his tale. And while she was supposed to be here enjoying her rest and relaxation, she’d already found she missed the excitement of exploration. The visit to the reef today had shown that she always needed a sense of some sort of adventure in her life. Wasn’t that why she’d gone against the dive master’s advice and went diving alone?
Spier watched her. “I may have only just met you, Annja, but I know people. And after eighty years on this planet, I think I have the ability to see some people better than they perhaps know themselves. You and I are alike in many ways. You have the thirst for adventure flowing deep within your very soul. And as much as you might want to fight against it from time to time, you know full well it will never relinquish its hold upon you or your heart.”
Annja grinned. “Not until I’m dead, I suppose.”
Spier nodded. “Exactly.”
“And what will you do with the pearl if you are actually able to locate it?” Annja asked.
“It’s my hope that we would present it to the world together,” Spier said. “That others might learn much from it. How it was made, what properties it possesses.”
“I’m interested in knowing how this ancient civilization was able to make a pearl at all, considering that we weren’t able to manufacture artificial pearls, per se, until quite recently.”
“Perhaps that old civilization was a lot more advanced than we would give them credit for,” Spier said. “Or perhaps they had access to a species of giant oysters that gave them such objects on a routine basis. Who can tell?”
Annja smiled. “Well, I suppose we won’t know for sure unless we manage to find it.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“How big is the pearl supposed to be?”
“Roughly the size of a child’s ball. Perhaps ten inches across.”
Annja sat back. “That would be massive for a pearl.”
“Absolutely.”
“And that would mean that if it came from an oyster, it would also have to have been huge.”
“Beyond measure almost,” Spier said.
Annja nodded. “Okay.”
Spier leaned forward. “Really?”
Annja smile
d at him and then looked at Hans, who had remained silent throughout the story. “Well, it just so happens that I don’t have all that much going on aside from recovering from a mild concussion. So maybe a little excursion would be a good thing for me.”
“I assure you it will be,” Spier said. “The search for the pearl will prove to be a fantastic adventure, I’m certain of it.”
“Maybe we’ll even find it,” Annja said with a laugh.
Spier called for another round of drinks and then winked at Annja. “I’m almost positive that we will. Now that you have joined our expedition.”
6
Spier and the rest of the men excused themselves after they’d had another round of drinks. Annja nursed her glass of wine as Hans stayed behind, as well. Part of her was happy about that, but part of her suspected something else might be going on. Just before Spier had left the table, he’d exchanged a knowing look with Hans.
Annja was comfortable with the decision she’d made to join the expedition, but she wanted to make sure that Hans didn’t have any misconceptions about the nature of their relationship.
They waited in comfortable silence until the pavilion had pretty much cleared out. One of the resort’s boats was taking a big group over to a neighboring island where they had a nightclub. Annja had no interest in going.
“Joachim is very pleased that you’ve decided to accompany us on this expedition,” Hans said.
Annja looked him over. He was smiling at her and seemed brimming with confidence. “How did you get that scar?” she asked.
He touched his face self-consciously. Annja grinned. “I didn’t mean to imply that it’s horrible or anything. I was just curious.”
Hans smiled. “Doesn’t the discussion of scars and how we got them usually take place after we’ve slept together? Isn’t that what people like us do in the afterglow of orgasm?”
“People like us?” Annja sputtered, surprised by the man’s blunt statement. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You can’t deny it, Annja. I knew it from the moment I looked at you. You’re a warrior.”
Annja raised an eyebrow. “So does that mean you’re one, too?”
“I was,” he said. “Once.”
Hans got a faraway look in his eyes and Annja frowned. She knew what it was like to have dark memories. Sometimes the demons that you’d killed stayed away for a while. But sometimes they came back.
“Military?” she guessed.
Hans nodded. “I was a paratrooper. In Afghanistan. Working with the coalition forces at the time. Such as they were.”
“I didn’t think Germany had much of an official presence over there.”
Hans sighed. “We had a few units. Some of whom disgraced themselves. Public opinion caused the chancellor to resign. Germany pulled out most of its units. But you know that doesn’t stop the shadow governments that work despite the best interests of the people they’re elected to supposedly protect.” He finished off the remainder of his drink and slapped the glass back down on the table. “An arrangement was reached with the United States. Germany would supply a small unit of commandos—specialists trained in mountain warfare—for long-range reconnaissance patrols. Our task, as it was set forth, was to locate high-value Taliban targets.”
“So you were special operations.”
Hans nodded. “Don’t hold it against me, all right?”
Annja smiled. “I won’t.”
Hans looked out at the frothy black sea. “We were dispatched to a high mountain pass in the Helmand province. Do you know it?”
“In the southwestern part of the country, isn’t it? But I thought it was mostly desert.”
“Helmand is the main source of opium in the country. It produces more than the entire country of Burma. Intelligence suggested that the Taliban was funneling fighters mixed in with opium shipments. But rather than venture south through the desert toward the Balochistan area of Pakistan, they instead chose to journey north toward the Helmand River.”
“You were ordered to intercept them?”
Hans nodded. “We set up our observation post atop one of the higher mountains in Nawzad. We were able to use small unmanned vehicles to keep track of all the entry points in the region.” He shook his head. “It was exhausting work, sitting in that mountain range. The sun scorched us mercilessly. We had to maintain strict secrecy the entire time. The locals were all friendly to the Taliban and would have given any of us away if they had known we were there.”
“How did you manage to stay concealed for so long?”
Hans grinned. “Well, that’s what we were trained to do. My unit was sent out to live on the mountains all over the world. We went in with just enough supplies—mostly ammunition, medical and communications gear. We took some rations, but otherwise we were to live off the environment. It was a very special group of men I had volunteered to serve with. Any one of us would gladly have died for the others.”
“What happened?”
Hans paused a moment before continuing. “On the third night we were there, we got a message that one of the drones had visual contact with a drug convoy approaching our area.
“It was night, so we had a tough time trying to pick them out among the rocks down near the river, but we also had night-vision equipment. Once we switched on, we could see them clearly. One or two pickup trucks, a whole host of mules laden with large boxes of opium packed tightly for transport. And they had close to one hundred fighters with them.”
Annja leaned forward. “How many of you?”
“Four.”
“Those aren’t good odds any way you cut it.”
Hans shrugged. “We called in close air support. We had laser painters—do you know what those are?”
“It shoots an invisible laser at a target that fighters and bombers can use to guide their ordnance, right?”
Hans looked at her a second before grinning. “You seem remarkably well-versed in military terminology, Annja.”
“You’re not the first soldier I’ve met, Hans.”
“I’ll bet.”
“So, anyway…”
Hans grinned. “We directed a squadron of planes down on them and they turned the entire river basin into scorched earth. When the dust and debris cleared, the only things left behind were the smoldering hunks of what had been the pickup trucks. Everything else had been utterly destroyed.”
Annja nodded. “So, mission successful. Good stuff.”
“Ordinarily, on a mission like that, we would have been immediately extracted and moved to a different area. That’s just to protect the unit, you understand.”
“Sure. Why leave you there when the locals would have known that there must have been a unit operating in the area.”
“Exactly.” Hans sighed. “It amazes me that it seems so logical to you, and yet to my own government it was not what they did.”
“They didn’t pull you out?”
“No. They left us there. The first strike had proven so successful, they wanted us to stay in place to make sure the Taliban didn’t try to come through the region again.”
“But—”
Hans held up his hand. “I know, I know. It defies all proper sense of logic and intelligence. But bureaucrats are not warriors for good reason. They’d be dead within minutes if they ever stepped onto a battlefield.”
“That must not have gone over well with the other members of your team.”
Hans frowned. “To be honest with you, Annja, it was the first time I’d ever considered the notion of disobeying a direct order. We talked it over, though, and in the end decided we had the benefit of being a small and highly mobile unit. We knew the region and felt comfortable with the idea that if we were discovered, we could exfiltrate to the extraction site and get pulled out by helicopter.”
Annja felt a strong breeze blow over and, despite its balminess, felt a shiver run through her body.
“The Taliban were, of course, furious that one of their convoys had been so u
tterly decimated. The cost to them in terms of monetary value—along with the cost in human life—must have been quite extraordinary.”
“They wanted your unit.”
Hans nodded. “They knew, like you said, that there had to be someone operating in the area. I found out later that they had put a bounty on our heads. The equivalent of fifty thousand dollars for our capture or death. To your local Afghani, that much money was like being promised the keys to a kingdom.”
“They turned those mountains into a war zone.”
Hans nodded and kept talking. “The first indication we had that our lives were about to get really terrible was when our sentries signaled us that we had the enemy approaching. But they didn’t just come at us from one direction. We could have easily handled that.” He frowned. “They swarmed all over that mountain, creeping up through unseen crevasses we didn’t even know about. They stalked down old goat trails. Over boulders. And when they attacked, it felt like hell itself had been unleashed upon us. Bullets flew everywhere, ricocheting off rocks, splintering whatever stubby trees happened to be in the area. The sound of gunfire never wavered. We scrambled and fought back as much as we could, but they were relentless.”
Annja’s heart beat hard against her chest. “How did you ever get out of there?”
“Somehow we made our way back to our extraction site. But when the first helicopter came in to pick us up, the Taliban launched a Stinger missile—you know, the ones your CIA gave to the mujahideen to fight the Soviets way back when? Anyway, the helicopter exploded, killing everyone on board before we could even get close to it.”
“My God…”
“We asked for another rescue mission. But we were denied, told it was too hot a landing zone for them to try again. We were directed to an alternate landing zone for rescue.”
“Did you go there?”
“Not before one of our team was killed by a grenade. He threw himself on it to protect the rest of us. We would have all been killed otherwise.”