by Matt Lincoln
22
It’d been a while since I rode in a submersible as small as the four-person personal craft in the back of Wraith. Even the arm attachment was tiny, but it served Header well.
“We call it the ‘Bug’ because it’s small, cute, and green,” Header told us. “The name also bugs a member of my crew.” He toggled the attachment, which made a little whir. “This little grabber has snagged some important… er… things for us,” he said with a grin as he closed the spherical canopy.
Tessa took what photos she could before darkness enveloped the sub. Header hovered near the caverns and shined the sub’s powerful spotlight onto the more impressive stalactites so she could use her low-light settings to get photos without her flash.
“I want to come back someday and shoot this place properly,” Tessa told us in a wistful tone.
She had a long way to go before she was ready, but I wasn’t about to remind her of that in front of the other two. Until she got a handle on her fears, it wouldn’t be safe for her to dive in open water period.
Header used the light to track the wall as we descended. The Hole formed tens of thousands of years earlier when the supporting limestone structure of a dry land area gave way and collapsed. Silt formed from the reef and Atlantic drops like avalanches or waterfalls, sliding down to the bottom and leaving deposits along the way. The lower we went, the more evidence there was of the silt.
“H2S layer,” Header announced.
He played the light across the cloudy level that marked the zone where almost no life could survive. I’d been cenote diving before and had seen the clouds before, but this layer went on and on, with nothing else visible even when we turned the light away from the wall.
The descent through the hydrogen sulfide layer felt like driving through heavy fog. The reading on the depth gauge gave us our only indication that we were still moving downwards. I tried to imagine Dare and Bridget Lemon diving through the layer, relying only on the gauges on their wrists. Hundreds of feet below the surface, far from help, the Lemons had only themselves to get each other out of trouble.
It occurred to me that we had no one on the surface anywhere close to the Hole. I glanced at Header. Maybe that wasn’t so. That yacht we saw was likely in the area. Once the thought hit me, I watched and noticed that every few minutes, he clicked a button on a cord that led to an earbud that I hadn’t noticed earlier. Those were subtle mic checks.
At least if we got into trouble, his crew knew where to find us. Probably not in time, but it was the thought that counted.
We broke through below the cloudy layer into a midnight-dark zone with some of the clearest visibility I’d ever seen. At the bottom, there were dead conchs with their shells.
“Look at that,” Tessa said in wonder. “You can see where those conchs fell in and tried to get out.”
The conical shell had come to rest at the end of a long, sliding line. About two or three feet away was the scalloped trail from where it likely landed from the original fall that brought it into the oxygenless layer. I saw photos like this from the Branson expedition, but it was cool to see it in person.
Header followed the line from the conch toward the wall but stopped before the rocky wall. He played the light across the silt and then up and down. The conch had gone up a steep incline far before the wall before tumbling again, and there, I could see a cylindrical shaped beneath the silt.
“What do you make of that?” he asked. “It could be a stalactite that fell a while back, but the topline seems a little too even.”
“You might be right.” I leaned forward. “Robbie, Tessa?”
Tessa used her zoom lens and got a photo for us to look at. She capped the lens, pulled the image up on the display screen on the back of her camera body, and examined what she found.
“There!” She pointed at something on her little screen. “I seriously doubt anything thing down here is supposed to be neon green.”
Tessa handed the camera up to me and pointed to a few specks where the silt layer thinned out. I showed it to Header and Holm, as well. Tessa took her camera back as Header scanned the nearby area with the spotlight.
“Holy shit.”
His whisper echoed my thoughts as the light uncovered a pile of neon green barrels about fifteen feet away.
“Guys? Guys!”
Tessa’s strained yelp snapped my attention back to her. I twisted in my seat to see her hold up the radiation detector from Sedin Disposal. The reading showed the high side of safe, but the number was going up.
“Jake, get away from that barrel,” I barked.
“I know, I know.” He moved the little submersible away until her detector went back to normal. “God, that’s messed up.”
“This could be the one that broke open,” Holm said. “Think about it, Sedin dumps too close to the drop-off, one of the barrels hits rock and bursts open. Bam! Radioactive shit goes everywhere.”
“Sedin?” Header echoed. “Isn’t that the place you checked out in Tampa?”
“Yeah.” I met his eye. “CGIS arrested Tim Sedin at the scene, but it doesn’t feel right. Something’s not right.”
“All the evidence points to him, Ethan,” Holm insisted. “This is just a formality, and you know it.”
“Are you sure?” I shook my head. “We need to see this through, and that’s why we’re here.” I turned to Header. “There should be markings on those barrels to show where they’re from. All of them look sealed,” I added for Tessa’s sake.
“You didn’t tell me they arrested someone.” Header’s frown didn’t bode well for me if I didn't convince him of my side. “If they have the bastard, why am I here?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t think Sedin did it.” I pointed in the direction of the barrel pile, which was now hidden by the darkness. “Robbie, Sedin Disposal doesn’t use green barrels.”
“I think you’re right,” Tessa said. “Give me a sec. I took photos of the storage area… Here.” She held up the camera display for everyone to get a look. “They had yellow and black. No green.”
I didn’t need to look to know I was right. “If it was Sedin, maybe he paints some barrels to disguise them, but why bother? The bottom hardly ever gets visitors. The Lemons’ dive was a fluke.”
“It was pretty easy to trace those materials to Sedin,” Holm said thoughtfully. “On the off-chance of this happening, I wouldn’t want anything to be traceable.”
“You think someone is framing him?” Tessa asked.
“Sounds like a setup to me,” Header muttered. “I know a few things about that. Make the perp look so guilty that nobody thinks otherwise.”
By the look on Header’s face, the idea hit close to home. I hadn’t heard of anything other than the vigilante charges. Maybe I’d ask about it later. Maybe not.
“Jake, is there anything close to the hot barrel?” I wondered. “I’m thinking this one broke open and spilled all that waste.”
“You and me both,” Header answered. Within seconds of maneuvering the sub around, a humorless laugh escaped his lips. “That’s the shit that killed my brother. Look.”
Silt-covered lumps spread outward in an arc from the covered barrel, as if it spun on the way down. Like the moon’s airless environment, the floor here had no circulation other than movement caused by silt falls and human visitors. The last human visitors had been the Lemons, and Dare Lemon had left his mark. A short message was drawn in the silt.
“Dare was here.”
Header made a slight choking sound and sniffed before clearing his throat.
“You can see where he poked through the silt to see what made the lumps.” He pointed at spots where Dare had brushed silt aside. “I still can’t tell what it is.”
“Radiation,” Tessa warned. “Position us so I can get some shots real quick.”
Header did as asked and allowed Tessa a minute to get her photos. We moved close to the barrel pile with no rise in radiation levels. He shined the light across the barr
els but found no labels of any kind.
“I see radiation symbols, but that’s it,” Holm said. “No identifying marks.”
Tessa took a series of photos from different angles Header provided by repositioning the sub.
“We have to ascend,” Header announced. “I hope you got enough photos, Tessa.”
“I think so.” She scrolled through the images she’d taken and shook her head. “Ethan, I think you’re right. Tim Sedin would be stupid to leave traceable stuff inside these barrels. He was anything but stupid yesterday.”
“Yeah, things aren’t adding up.” I watched the bottom disappear into the dark as we ascended. “Sedin told us to look at MediWaste, but nobody there is licensed to handle radioactive materials. That’s why they subcontract.”
“So what if no one there is licensed?” Header spoke as he concentrated on the controls and gauges. “That doesn’t mean that they weren’t before. Look at whether anyone there has a history of working with radiation.”
“MediWaste employs thousands of people,” Tessa pointed out.
Holm leaned back and crossed his arms. “Guess we better start narrowing it down.” He looked at me. “Like who had access to information about Sedin Disposal.”
“And who would have the knowledge to make a bunch of radioactive trash a hell of a lot stronger than it should be.” I shook my head. “The other question we need to answer is who benefits from making a bunch of used medical supplies more radioactive.”
“Oh my God,” Tessa gasped. “Wait, are you suggesting…?”
“That someone’s trying to weaponize it?” I ventured. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
23
When I was an active SEAL, I got a lot more battle experience than I care to think about. One of the things that saved my ass more than a few times was when the hairs on my neck prickled just before a surprise attack, kind of like the quiet before a storm.
I started feeling it a few feet before we surfaced. Holm and Header tensed at the same time. The battle sense never left some guys.
“I’m gonna open the hatch first,” Header told us through a clenched jaw. “Something ain’t right, and I don’t wanna screw around when we get up to her.”
“Agreed,” Holm and I said together.
“What’s going on?” Tessa squeaked as she looked around for the unseen threat. “I don’t see anything.”
“Don’t have to see it to know it’s there,” Header growled.
Some people might argue that there’s no such thing as a sixth sense, that a person is picking up on subconscious cues. I never cared as long as it worked. All three of us had the feeling, and with as clear as the water was, we had to pray that nobody had spotted us.
Wraith’s hatch lowered above us almost perfectly aligned with where we were stationed beneath her. Header took us above water, and I threw the canopy open. I jumped out onto the open hatch and grabbed Tessa's hand. While Holm got out, I scanned the water and sky for threats. As Header climbed over the passenger seat, I felt the concussion of a rocket-propelled grenade before the blast slammed into Wraith's starboard side. The impact stood us on the left hydrofoil, and then we slammed down. The hatch door landed on the Bug and shattered the canopy.
"Jake!" I called out, but I didn't see him anywhere.
As I started to lean out, bullets plinked off Wraith's front and starboard side. Holm searched through the cabin for anything he could use as a weapon while Tessa hunkered down between the seating bench and pilot's seat.
"I'm going after Header," I told them as I kicked off my shoes. "He hasn't surfaced yet."
I didn't wait for them to answer. We needed him. Even if he wasn't my friend, we still needed him to run his boat. I slipped into the water on the port side and swam under the boat's body. Header wasn't there. I resurfaced toward the hatch and half expected to see him in the cabin, but a look in showed me only Holm and Tessa.
The Bug was barely afloat, and it had drifted a good ten feet away already. More gunfire rained against Wraith's hull, and I ducked out of sight. Another boat's engine revved hard and neared Header’s boat. I took a deep breath, dove under, and kicked hard toward the little sub.
A bullet whizzed past me through the water. I pushed on. It wasn't like I'd never swum through gunfire before. I reached the Bug and didn't surface until I was on the other side. There, I found Header draped over the pontoon on the side facing away from the assault. He was barely conscious and had a nasty gash above his eye.
Another RPG boomed into the water next to Wraith, and the waves the explosion kicked up pushed us further away on the Bug. Header started to slide into the water, but I propped him back up on the pontoon. If his crew has been listening in like I'd assumed, this would've been a good time for them to show up. And yet, no one did.
I peeked around the front of the crippled sub. An offshore boat charged toward the Wraith. The bullet that had just missed me may have ricocheted or simply gone wide of its target. The shooter didn't seem to notice the sub.
"Wake up, Jake," I hissed. "Snap to."
His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned. The noise and Jake's blood were attracting attention underwater. At the first sight of dorsal fins, I ducked under and found a few reef sharks nosing around. With a little prayer, I heaved Jake up and into the cockpit which was full of shattered acrylic that used to be the canopy. Something brushed against my foot, and I damned near flew out of the water myself.
"What the…?" Jake groaned as I crawled over him to get to the controls.
The sub shuddered with an impact from below. Jake touched his wound and stared at the blood on his fingers for a moment before his glazed eyes shifted to me.
"Jake, you gotta wake up, buddy," I told him. "Wraith is under attack. We're helpless without you."
"Nah, you have voice c'mmand." Jake leaned over the side and hurled. "Didn't tell you 'coz emergency only."
"Hell of a time to find out," I grumbled. Granted, I loved the idea of piloting Header's boat, but that made things extra complicated in my role as law enforcement. "I won't need it. Let's get this smashed bit running."
I heard returning gunfire and looked up to find Holm armed and firing at the enemy. If he could hold them off, I might be able to get back intact and with Header.
The Bug started, but the engine thumped in a pulsing beat. Lucky for me, the controls were intuitive, because Header slumped into unconsciousness. I steered the floundering sub toward Wraith as Holm leaned out with his own gun and fired at the offshore boat. It swung broadside with its aft facing us. Four engines. That thing was built for speed.
Whoever was at the helm took more shots at us in the Bug and then lit out. The enemy boat was barely out of the Blue Hole’s circle when I reached the hatch. Header came to as Holm helped me get him out of the ruined sub.
“Get that bastard,” Header mumbled. “Ethan, ‘zero-one-three-Marston.’ She’ll give you limited weapons an’ tracking.”
Holm looked at me with brows raised. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Zero-one-three-Marston.”
“Identity confirmed,” a feminine computer voice said. “Limited access granted to Wraith systems.”
“Ethan, he needs a hospital,” Tessa protested.
“I know, I know.” I turned to him. “Jake, how close is your crew?”
He waved me off. “Just dizzy. I’ll be fine.” His words were a little slurred, but I got the message. He didn’t give me access just to get him to the hospital.
“Robbie, take copilot.” I guided Header to one of the bench seats. “Tessa, strap him in.”
She nodded and did as told. I slapped the six-inch button to close the hatch and then ran to the captain’s seat. Wraith’s controls went live under my touch. Holm pointed to a radar screen that showed a signal beating it out of the area.
“That’s him.”
“Any chance you saw who it was?” I asked as I pushed the throttle forward. Wraith shuddered and jolted. I pulled back.
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“Easy,” Header complained. “She takes a light touch to get going.”
This time, I nudged, and she glided forward. Steering was as responsive as the throttle, and I got the hang of it in no time. We flew over the water after the attacking vessel.
“Go over weapons,” I told Holm. “See what you have and how it works. Jake?”
“He’s out,” Tessa called up to us. “He could have anything from a concussion to a serious brain injury. We should get him to the city.”
“It’s not just about us,” I told her as we sped out of the circular atoll formation. “That boat is heavily armed. We can’t afford to let that guy put civilians in danger. Jake knows this.”
In the short moments it took to get Wraith going, the other vessel was a speck on the open water. I opened her up to fifty knots, and then sixty. Whatever that other boat had, they were fast, and we were only gaining by a little.
“I got it,” Holm announced.
He grabbed a joystick and aligned a targeting screen in the middle of the board. It was kind of like my dad’s old Atari. Holm fired, and I felt the thud-thud-thud of Wraith’s main gun through my feet. The other boat pulled hard to port. Holm compensated, and this time, a puff of smoke rose from one of the engines. The boat’s speed dropped as I saw the flash of a rocket.
“Hang on,” I yelled.
The RPG hit in front of us. The explosion of water acted as a ramp and sent us airborne for a second. The pontoons slammed back onto the water, and we raced on through six-foot swells.
“I have another line on him,” Holm reported. “Them. I see two aboard, but I can’t make out their faces.”
He narrowed his eyes and fired. It was hard to tell if anything hit until another smoke plume whooshed up from the engines. The smoke darkened and spread. Fire.
I pushed us back up to fifty, and Wraith cut through the worsening chop like nobody’s business.