Found at Sea

by Anne Marie Duquette

  She’d also wrestled with guilt. Her friends and family would be frantic.

  By now, Jordan should know the whole story. She wished he was at her side. Then she shoved away those thoughts. Only a selfish idiot would endanger anyone else. Aurora forced her eyes to remain dry. She’d made her choice. It’s too late to back out now.

  Aurora lifted the lid of one of the ship’s compartments to pull out another bottled water. Her hand froze midair. She dropped the lid as the sound of an engine caught her attention. She grabbed Neil’s binoculars instead and focused them on the silhouette in the distance. It was the Mako.

  Aurora wrapped the neck strap around the binoculars and replaced them in their case. She hurried to close the zipper of her wet suit and fasten on a leg sheath. By the time she was topside again, the Mako had pulled within easy sight of her craft. She slipped a dive knife into the strap on her leg, then picked up the radio mike on the main deck, all the while keeping her eye on the approaching vessel.

  The Mako radioed her. “Mako to off-port ship. Identify yourself, please.”

  “This is Aurora Collins of the Dealer Ship.”

  “You go through quite a few boats, madam.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said in a sharp voice. “You have Gerald? I want to see him.”

  “Prepare for us to come alongside. Are you alone?” Flores asked.

  I’ve always been alone—my choice. Until now. “Yes,” she replied.

  “Stand by.”

  The release of her brother-in-law happened quickly. In minutes Gerald had left the Mako in a small dinghy and climbed aboard the Dealer Ship. He and Aurora hugged each other on the deck. Aurora hungrily took in his appearance as they broke apart. Gerald’s hair was longer, he’d lost weight and his clothes needed washing, but all told, Gerald looked good. Unlike his wife, Gerald’s health and strength seemed intact. And unlike Jordan, he’d survived his kidnapping unscathed.

  “How’re Dorian and Tanya?” he immediately asked.

  Aurora filled him in, concluding with, “Tanya’s back at your home with Jordan and Roberto. Dori’s in the hospital holding her own. I only have a few minutes, so listen carefully. Here’s the plan.”

  Gerald listened in shocked amazement. “I can’t let you trade yourself for me.”

  “You can, and you will. I’m going to lead them on a wild-goose chase underwater while you get help,” she said. Gerald wasn’t a professional boater, but he was experienced enough. “Tell Tanya to meet you at Mission Bay, and both of you head for Mission San Diego de Alcala.”

  “The Mission. Why?”

  “For sanctuary.”

  “Sanctuary? Is that even legal anymore?”

  “I know it sounds medieval—I even wondered myself—but according to Jordan, they still provide safety to those in need. You two will be okay there.”

  “I sure won’t leave you here in danger!”

  “Lower your voice, please,” Aurora hissed. “Listen to me. You don’t have a choice. Don’t worry about me—Jordan and Donna know what’s going on by now. Dorian and I need you alive. That’s not going to happen if you don’t get out of here. I need you safely gone before I can give these guys the slip.”

  “Rory—if anything happens to you—”

  “It won’t. It won’t.” She hoped she was right.

  Gerald hugged her one last time, then reluctantly released her. Aurora transferred to the Mako, her heart in her throat as she watched Gerald wave at her, then motor away.

  “A touching farewell, Captain Collins. The San Rafael coordinates now, if you please,” Flores demanded.

  Aurora’s eyes narrowed. I’ll see you in Davy Jones’s locker first.

  * * *

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Aurora, Flores and one of his thugs—the one she thought of as “Dick”—prepared to go over the side. Aurora had ordered the Mako positioned far enough from the San Rafael so that they shouldn’t be able to find it. Even Jordan hadn’t managed to find it when he was anchored directly over its camouflaging kelp beds. Still, she was close enough that she’d be able to locate the guidelines hidden in the kelp and rocks. No one could descend into those currents without it.

  That guide wire was her escape route and she wasn’t sharing it. Jordan would show up soon. All she had to do was lose Flores and his thugs and wait for rescue.

  Aurora held on to her face mask, stepped off the side of the boat and splashed into the water to float on top. “Dick” and Flores joined her, also floating. The Pacific felt cold and hostile, which only heightened her uneasiness— especially since “Dick” carried a harpoon, and Flores had confiscated her dive knife the moment she’d stepped aboard his deck.

  They plan to kill me—but they’ll have to catch me first. I know these kelp forests and the currents. They don’t. Another point in my favor.

  Kelp could grow almost a hundred feet tall, easily the depth of the waters around the rocks. Thick, strong and fibrous, almost impossible to break by hand, it wasn’t even easy to slice with a knife.

  “You’re going to need lights,” she said to Flores. “We have to dive deep and we’ll lose most of our sun around thirty feet. Forty if we’re lucky.”

  “I don’t need luck,” Flores said, “but I’ll take your advice.” He signaled to “Tom” on deck, who moved to the side to hand them underwater lanterns.

  You’ll need lots of luck if I have anything to say about it.

  “Take us down,” Flores ordered after clipping the lantern to his belt. “I want to see my ship.”

  It’ll never be your ship. I’ll die before I turn it over to the likes of you.

  Aurora shoved the hair away from her cheeks, then pulled down her face mask for an airtight seal. Even a single strand of hair could ruin that seal. She automatically checked her watch, noting the exact time her double tanks would run out. She should have more than two hours of air—plenty of time to lose the men—as long as she didn’t spend too long at the greater depth. If she did, then she’d need decompression time while ascending.

  The last thing she needed was a case of the bends.

  “Follow me,” she ordered. Her fins kicked her downward at an easy pace. The light quickly dimmed as she descended. She checked her weight belt, making sure the lantern and digging scoop, which she’d found aboard the Dealer Ship, were secure.

  The kelp beds soon closed around the three divers with claustrophobic thickness. With the skill born of practice, Aurora thrust both hands in front to part them before each leg kick to negotiate the maze. At a slower pace, Flores and his thug clumsily copied her motions, like trapped flies in the thickest of spider silk.

  Good. They’re coral-reef and open-water divers. One more point in my favor... Oh, Jordan, where are you?

  * * *

  TIGHTLY BELTED IN, Jordan and Donna sat in the backseat of the cruise-ship helicopter. The pilot and Neil occupied the front. The remaining seats were empty except for cargo and dive gear. The chopper rode high above the ocean while tracking due south at maximum speed. Via his headset, the pilot had just relayed Gerald’s message. Gerald now waited aboard the Dealer Ship for them, following Aurora’s plan to the letter.

  “I can’t believe Aurora would do something so foolhardy,” Jordan said into his mike.

  Neil turned around in his seat with an expression that exactly matched Donna’s. “You don’t know her like we do,” he said, the words barely audible above the sound of the chopper.

  “Tell me about it,” Donna seconded. “Rory hasn’t listened to anyone in years. Decades.”

  “How far are we from Gerald’s coordinates?” Jordan asked the pilot.

  “Maybe fifteen flight-time minutes,” the pilot replied.

  “That’s at least forty-five to the San Rafael by boat,” Jordan groaned.

  “So how does this work again?” the pilot asked.

  Jordan repeated Aurora’s plan with his own variations. “You stop at the Dealer Ship to drop off Donna and pick up Gerald. Donna’s volunteered to h
ead toward the San Rafael coordinates. You fly Neil and Gerald back to San Diego.”

  “What about you?” the pilot asked Jordan.

  “You find the Mako, drop me directly into the water near it, then return to the cruise ship with your captain.”

  “I don’t think that’s what Ms. Collins said earlier.” The pilot hesitated.

  “It isn’t,” Neil confirmed. “Castillo here has altered the plan. Now I’m doing the same.”

  “You’re going with Donna?” Jordan asked.

  “Nope.”

  “What do you want me to do, Captain?” The pilot looked to Neil for confirmation.

  “Everything he said,” Neil ordered, “except that I get dropped off in the water with him.” Neil swiveled around to face Jordan in the backseat. “With you.”

  “No one’s asking you to come along.”

  “I’m coming anyway. You got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got too many captains telling me what to do. But if you insist...”

  Donna reached for Neil’s hand. “Bring her back, guys. Bring her back alive.”

  * * *

  THE LIGHT GREW even dimmer as Aurora and her dive partners descended past the seventy-foot mark. Above her loomed the remains of the collapsed San Rafael, still camouflaged in the kelp. Aurora deliberately waited until she was below it before flipping on her lantern. She pointed the illuminated face directly downward. The deeper area below splayed out like a series of rough, rocky steps, with the galleon on the second-highest tier above her head, and the three more tiers below her position.

  Some of the San Rafael’s armaments had fallen onto the lower tiers; she’d noticed it on her very first dive. She’d show them—give them a taste, but nothing more.

  Very little exposed wood would have survived these strong currents, but on her previous dives she’d seen that some objects, man-made shapes, probably old cannonballs or cannon barrels, hadn’t been destroyed by the relentless currents. Because the waves bashed constantly against the rocks, there was a more open thatch of stalks here, and she could actually swim without pushing kelp out of her way. Since it rarely anchored or thrived below one hundred feet, in some spots she could even see exposed parts of the rocky tiers. Aurora kept her eyes open for the artillery masses. Ammunition was like a blazing neon sign that pinpointed promising areas for salvaging. Even corroded and misshapen, the metal objects would still be recognizable to any experienced salvager. Aurora was counting on this as a major part of her escape plan.

  The moment I find those artillery pieces again, the moment these two get caught up in the excitement—that’s when I make my escape. All I have to do is stay alive until Jordan finds me.

  * * *

  JORDAN AND NEIL STOOD at the open door of the helicopter, looking down at the anchored Mako. Donna had been dropped at the Dealer Ship. Now their own headsets and mikes were off, forcing them to yell in order to be heard.

  “This won’t be as easy as Donna’s drop was earlier,” Neil shouted as he focused his binoculars on the Mako. “At least one of them is armed. Probably both.”

  “We aren’t jumping here,” Jordan shouted back. “Aurora didn’t take them to the galleon’s location. They won’t be able to catch us before we dive, not with their boat or their guns.”

  Neil let the binoculars fall, then stowed them on a hook. “Give me the location. I’ll tell my pilot.”

  “I already have,” Jordan yelled back.

  Neil nodded. “You ever done this before?”

  “Dived the site? Once.”

  “No, I mean jump off a helicopter in full diving gear. I’ve got military training. You?”

  “Sorry—I’m new to this.”

  The rotor chop drowned out Neil’s laughter. “I’d better tell the pilot to lower this bird as far as he can. You are one insane man, Castillo.” Neil grinned. “You gonna marry our Rory?”

  “If I survive. If she’ll still have me. Better give me some jumping pointers.” Jordan gestured to the visible outcropping of rocks amid miles and miles of ocean surface. “We’re here.”

  * * *

  AURORA CONTINUED her slow, laborious descent. A quick check of her gauges showed one tank was two-thirds empty. She was as close to the artillery wreckage as she dared to get. Any farther, and she’d be leaving the protective clumps of kelp. Time to act.

  She pointed downward, gesturing toward both men with large sweeps of her arm. “Dick” looked around without spotting anything, but Flores immediately recognized the artillery shapes. Aurora could see his excitement in his body language and watched Flores motion toward the rocky ledge “Dick” still couldn’t see and lowered the point of his speargun while trying to follow the movement of Flores’s hand.

  Now’s my chance. Aurora kicked hard and swam at top speed for the coverage of the kelp forest just as “Dick” pointed the speargun at her back and fired.

  * * *

  JORDAN HELD TIGHT to the safety bar beside the door as the chopper lowered itself to the waters just off the rocks, leaving them a safe margin to miss the exposed granite and the churning currents that ran around and beneath them.

  “Ready?” Neil asked.

  “No. But let’s do it. Aurora’s waiting.”

  “On three,” Neil shouted. Jordan gave him a thumbs-up signal as the other man yelled, “One, two, three.”

  Both men soared out into the air and plunged into the chopper-frothed waters of the Pacific. Jordan hit the water a split second after Neil. Before they could even adjust their face masks and start to descend, the hidden lattice of kelp and wood that was once the San Rafael trembled violently. The churning of the water did what years of decomposition, gravity and pounding currents hadn’t. It finally moved the immobile galleon. With an unearthly groan, the whole mass fell away from the wall of rock to slide down the tiers—directly onto the heads of the three divers below.

  * * *

  ARTIFICIAL CURRENTS FROM helicopter concussions and the splash of the two jumping men combined into one powerful force. The sliding galleon and anchoring kelp fell everywhere, deflecting the aim of “Dick’s” speargun. The deadly spear missed her. The falling galleon did not. Aurora was thrown, tossed, buffeted. One fin was ripped off her foot, while her mouthpiece flew out of her mouth as she screamed in pain when her other leg smashed against rock with a bone-snapping crunch.

  What’s happening?

  * * *

  TOPSIDE, JORDAN SAW the massive movement below, and his blood ran colder than the ocean he swam in. “Get away!” he screamed to the helicopter above him, frantically gesturing with one arm. “Get away!”

  Neil turned his way, not recognizing the disaster occurring beneath. “What happened?”

  Jordan’s face paled, and he tried to speak. The words wouldn’t come out.

  I think I just killed the woman I love.

  * * *

  AURORA SHOVED her regulator back into her mouth, pressed the purge valve to blow out the excess water and assessed the situation, forcing herself to breathe calmly. Calmness didn’t come easily, particularly with the agony of her leg. She couldn’t see Flores, but she did spot his hired thug, minus speargun. He lay facedown on the ocean floor. A huge cannon barrel from above had rolled down the tiers and fallen across him. No air bubbles came out of his regulator. If he isn’t dead now, he soon will be, she thought with horror. Trapped, she couldn’t help him. Even if he was one of the men who had nearly drowned Jordan Castillo, and tried to kill her as well, she couldn’t leave a human being in distress.

  Now what do I do? Rotting wood and cargo had fallen directly onto her because of the helicopter’s reverberations. The kelp that had provided a makeshift lattice had collapsed on top of her in a tangled heap. Carefully, cautiously, she worked at freeing herself. By yanking her uninjured foot out of her fin, she’d managed to pull her right leg from the wreckage. The same strategy didn’t succeed with her left. Her first attempt almost caused her to pass out from pain.

  A l
oad of debris held her broken ankle firmly trapped between it and a pile of rocks. She might be able to free herself—if she had enough air left. If she could find some kind of lever. If the wreckage wasn’t too heavy...

  A dim glow from beneath the rubbish showed that her light had somehow miraculously survived the assault. She followed the beam and dug it out. Her triumph at recovering it faded as she got a clear view of the wreckage trapping her.

  I may end up in Davy Jones’s locker yet. Where are you, Jordan?

  A slight movement caught her eyes, but it wasn’t Jordan. She watched Flores dig himself out of the rubble on a tier just below her. Judging by the way he moved as he pushed aside broken strands of kelp and pieces of rotten wood, he seemed unharmed. Aurora immediately snapped off the lantern and watched him check his dive gauges, then look around. She remained perfectly still, holding her breath so that her bubbles wouldn’t give her away.

  I can’t hold my breath forever. What if he sees me? What if he still has his knife?

  Flores continued to swim in her direction. He came closer, closer...until his eyes caught the motionless form of “Dick.” After a quick glance, he ignored the fallen man and ran his hands almost reverently over the shape of the cannon barrel. He seemed so engrossed that Aurora chanced a few breaths. Her air came in rapid gasps, and she deliberately slowed her breathing. Panic would just waste her air—or give her away.

  At least he doesn’t have his lantern, she thought. Or the speargun.

  Flores started searching through the rubble, his trail gradually leading him away from her. Go ahead, look for treasure all you want. It’ll buy me some time to get out of here. She again chanced turning on her lantern.

  Aurora carefully twisted around to stare at the largest piece trapping her. It wasn’t a cannon, but it was heavy—a long, thick beam that had to be part of the hull frame, judging by its size and weight. Other flimsier wreckage had cushioned its fall enough to prevent the outright crushing of Aurora’s leg. That was something to be thankful for.

  Unfortunately, she discovered that she was unable to bend her trapped knee. Trying to push the beam away with her arms and uninjured leg proved fruitless.