Black Sun dl-2

by Graham Brown

  “The problem is they tend to swim in packs,” she said.

  The sharks were cruising near the surface, moving methodically, almost lazily out toward the limit of her vision. She nudged the throttle and began to ease forward.

  “What are you doing?” Hawker asked.

  “I just want to see where they’re going,” she said.

  “How about we just let them go there,” he suggested.

  That would have been fine by her. But the problem was she didn’t think they were going anywhere. She had a sneaking suspicion that they might be moving out beyond visual range and turning back toward the two human swimmers.

  She continued the slow pursuit until she could see them more clearly. The sharks had changed course, but not back toward her and Hawker; they’d banked left, turning due south. She wanted to follow farther, but even though the sharks were swimming at a leisurely pace, there was no way to keep up with them short of gunning the throttles on the DPVs, and that didn’t seem wise, since she knew that sharks are acutely aware of vibrations.

  “Danielle,” Hawker said, “you might want to turn around.”

  She released the throttle and turned in Hawker’s direction. More sharks were headed their way. Not one or two or five, this time, but twenty or thirty or fifty, strung out in a long line two and three wide, like rush hour drivers on some underwater highway.

  Like her, Hawker was sinking noiselessly toward the bottom. It seemed like a prudent idea. They touched down in the sand. From there Danielle had a better view. Looking upward, with the sharks backlit by the sunlight, she followed their progress. She could see what they were doing now, swimming in a half-mile-wide circle. Slowly meandering along, turning and swimming and turning and swimming, the way fish in circular aquariums do.

  “Not that I wouldn’t rather be watching this from a submarine,” Hawker said, “but this is pretty cool.”

  “I’ve heard they can gather in groups of hundreds,” she said, “but I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “How many do you think there are?”

  It was impossible to count, but as she watched them circle, she guessed there were more than a hundred of them, maybe close to two hundred. The larger ones swam out on their own, in the outside lane so to speak. The smaller ones, seven- and eight-footers, stuck closer together in tight groupings on the inside of the circular track.

  As she tried to take in the whole scene, she gazed across the seafloor toward what would have been the center of the shark circle. There a ridge of coral and what looked like an outcropping of stone rose from the silt.

  And suddenly it made sense to her. Sharks, hammerheads in particular, had sensitive organs in their snouts that detected electromagnetic pulses. The small organs were called the ampullae of Lorenzini, and were basically bundles of nerve fibers that reacted to changes in electromagnetic waves.

  If they were right about the possibility of another stone being present in this area, then perhaps the sharks sensed that energy and it was drawing them in, similar to what had happened with Yuri on the boat moments before.

  Only, for the sharks, there were no restrictions to hold them back and their desire to be here resulted in this endless circling pattern. The same way moths flicker in circles around candlelight, thinking it’s the moon. They can never quite reach it, but they can’t leave it, either.

  As she stared at the sharks, slowly turning above them, she found the scene almost hypnotic. Slightly dizzy, she looked away, toward the coral-covered outcropping across from them.

  A few deep breaths cleared her head and she spoke.

  “I think we should go over to that coral rise. It’s in the right place. If one of the stones is down here, then I’m guessing that’s where we’ll find it.”

  Moving slowly and keeping an eye on the sharks above, they swam up to the outcropping of rock. Peeking out from beneath a coral blanket were great stones cut and laid in precise diagonal blocks, interlocking and supporting one another.

  Danielle swam around the side, finding an exposed corner and the line of an edge.

  “It looks pretty much intact,” she said.

  Hawker was examining the fit of the stones. “If the exterior is secure, the interior might be as well.”

  “Just like McCarter said: hard to find, but impossible to lose,” she said.

  “And well defended,” he noted, nodding to the sharks. “Just like the temple in Brazil.”

  Danielle examined the edges of the structure. She could see designs in the stonework. They weren’t hieroglyphic but they were similar to other Mayan designs McCarter had shown her. Warrior figures and the outline of the Witz Monster, a Mayan representation connected to the rain god. In this case the mouth had a pair of serpents suspended within it.

  The discovery sent a wave of adrenaline through her body. In fact she felt positively rapturous. “Let’s see if there is a way to get inside.”

  They glided across the top of the structure, with one eye on the sharks, then they dropped down on the other side.

  Danielle arrived at the bottom, beside a hollow-looking area in the web of coral. She aimed her flashlight inside.

  “A tunnel.”

  It was narrow and cramped with jagged outcroppings of coral growing along the walls, but she felt it was worth a try.

  Hawker grabbed her arm. “You’ll fit but your tanks won’t.”

  In her excitement she’d almost forgotten. The double tanks on her back were bulky and their cross section was actually wider than her hips. She slipped them off.

  “Don’t,” Hawker said.

  “I’m just taking a look.”

  She disconnected her regulator, dropped her tanks, and kicked her way forward. After easing into the tunnel for fifteen feet or so it began to narrow around her. She moved back outside and connected to the regulator for a moment.

  Hawker was staring at her as if she were crazy.

  “Relax,” she said, confidently. “I’m skinny and you’re worrying for nothing.”

  She took a series of deep breaths, trying to hyperoxygenate her body as free divers do. With a little luck she’d have three or four minutes of air. It was a risk, but she felt certain that what they were looking for was right around the corner. McCarter’s translation and calculations, Yuri’s reaction, the sharks — it all made sense. The second stone was inside. It had to be there. And she had the power to go get it.

  She disconnected the regulator for a second time and swam back into the tunnel. Kicking her legs smoothly, she followed the tunnel down to the spot where it narrowed. Bits of coral stuck out on one side but she squirmed past.

  “Be careful,” Hawker warned.

  She couldn’t reply, because it would use up her air, but she wondered when he’d become such a nag.

  And then the coral snagged her in the ribs. She tried to pull away from it but there was no room in the tunnel and she began to be concerned. Time to back out.

  Using her hands she pushed, but the wedges of coral that had let her slip forward now jammed into her back. She couldn’t turn around and she couldn’t back up. She twisted and pushed harder. She felt her heart pounding, heard the coral snapping off as she writhed against it.

  “Hold on,” Hawker said.

  She glanced back, hearing a sudden rush of bubbles as he disconnected his tanks and came in after her. She felt a hand on her leg, pulling her, but the coral was gouging her now; she could feel it cutting her skin.

  “Wait!” she grunted.

  Her head was spinning. She wanted him to pull her free but the coral would surely cut her and blood in the water would be the end of them both.

  She twisted over, looking upward now. Her chest felt as if it were being crushed from the outside and exploding from inside all at the same time.

  Hawker had her leg again, his hands gripping her calf.

  She exhaled a small amount to let some of the pressure off and the bubbles raced upward … and then popped.

  Hawker pulled and s
he slid backward a few feet.

  “Let go,” she said, barely getting the words out.

  “No!”

  “Please, let go.” The words squeaked from her throat. She had no more air, she was close to blacking out, but she had realized something: Safety lay ahead and not behind.

  She kicked him and kicked again, felt her foot slamming into his chest. She pulled free of his grasp, and then pushed upward to where she’d seen the bubbles burst. But before she could reach the spot, her eyes rolled and all she found was blackness.

  * * *

  Hawker fell backward through the water, one of Danielle’s fins in his hand. He tossed it aside and tried to move forward, but his weight belt snagged on something. He broke it free but he could go no farther; his own lungs were screaming. He stretched his arms forward into the darkness, grabbing blindly for her.

  Finding nothing, he pushed back out of the cave, grabbed Danielle’s tanks, and snapped the regulator into place on his mask. He took deep, fast breaths and then swam back into the cave, pushing the tanks ahead of him. They jammed on something and he pulled them back and slammed them forward angrily, using them like a battering ram, breaking off large chunks of coral on both sides.

  “Danielle!” he shouted into the radio. “Can you hear me?”

  He took a deep breath, pulled the knife from its sheath on his leg, and cut the air hose. An explosion of bubbles burst forth and Hawker pushed the tanks forward, past the downslope and through to the far side. They settled to the bottom of the tunnel, bubbles flowing up toward the roof of the tunnel, where Danielle had disappeared.

  He had no doubts as to Danielle’s consciousness, but without her tanks, her vest gave her positive buoyancy. She would float upward, rolling over to be faceup like a person in a life vest and banging against the ceiling of the cave, however high above her it was.

  Hawker couldn’t hope to get to her quickly, and unconscious she couldn’t attach her regulator, but if she was lucky, the air pouring from the ruptured hose would fill the highest point of the cave. It would create an air pocket that she could breathe in, granting her life until he could smash his way through the tunnel and reach her.

  He found himself getting light-headed, backed out, and grabbed his own tanks again. Then he swam back and attacked the coral with his knife.

  Large chunks broke away beneath his assault and soon he could fit through to the bottom of the tunnel where it bent upward again.

  He swam down and found Danielle’s tanks still venting gas from the ruptured hose.

  He passed through them and swam upward, feeling around for Danielle in the darkness. He broke into the air pocket he’d created and frantically reached in all directions. His hands found the ceiling and the walls on every side.

  It was impossible. Danielle wasn’t there.

  CHAPTER 31

  The dockside agent for Gulf Boat Rental had his feet up, radio on, and the brim of his baseball hat tilted just enough to keep the sun out of his eyes. He heard the sound of people walking toward him on the wooden dock and looked up.

  To his surprise he saw several Chinese men in slacks and dark shirts. They didn’t look dressed for a fishing trip.

  “Hola,” he said.

  The largest of the three men pushed his way into the small booth. The rest of the group stood out in a defensive formation.

  “You rented a boat earlier,” the Chinese man said to him. “To some Americans.”

  “We rent out to many Americans,” the agent replied.

  “You’d remember these ones,” he was told. “Two men, one white and one black. Plus a beautiful woman and a young boy who doesn’t look like he belongs to them.”

  “Right.” The agent nodded.

  The questioner seemed surprised but pleased. He produced a wad of bills, handing a couple of twenties to the agent.

  “Do you know if they had any weapons with them?”

  “Maybe a speargun or two,” the agent said.

  “Where did they go?”

  “Fishing for wahoo,” he told them, repeating what the woman had said to him. “But they did have diving equipment with them.”

  This time a hundred came his way. He began to see how it worked.

  “Do you have any way to track them?”

  The agent shook his head. “I have only the deposit, in case they don’t bring the boat back. But they only have enough fuel for about fifty miles. Where could they go? We would just call the other docks.”

  “Which direction?” The Chinese man said, clarifing his interest.

  “Due north, once they left the harbor.”

  The Chinese man handed over one more note. “Give me what you have of theirs. And rent us two of your best boats to go find them.”

  The agent nodded and reached for the keys to the larger boats. They had pilothouses and inboard motors, designed to go for swordfish, and they were as fast as the boat the Americans had gone out in. Maybe faster.

  CHAPTER 32

  Hawker had surfaced in a dark void filled with the air from Danielle’s tanks. He flipped up his mask and shouted.

  “Danielle!”

  Grabbing the wall, he steadied himself.

  “Danielle!”

  There was noise and reverberation from the venting tanks, like being in a hot tub gone out of control. But no sign of Danielle.

  He found his LED flashlight and switched it on. The space was no more than five feet across and roughly circular. The ceiling above him was curved like the inside of a dome. He moved along the wall and found an opening.

  It was like the rim of a pool. As he sloshed around, water spilled over the side and went sliding down a ramp of some type.

  The inner chamber of the temple was dry.

  In the dim light he saw a figure lying at the bottom. He clambered over the wall and slid down. Danielle lay on her side, coughing out water and finding her way back to consciousness.

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. She was exhausted.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted. The sound echoed around them. “Are you out of your mind?”

  With great effort, she sat up. “Actually, I think I might be,” she said finally.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nitrogen narcosis,” she said. “Or more likely oxygen narcosis, since we’re using a high-oxygen blend. I had it once before, but on a longer, deeper dive.”

  “You’re the diver, the former marine biology student,” he said.

  “One of many degrees I started and then abandoned,” she said. “But anyway I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize what I was doing. I just felt like I could get in here. It was right in front of us.”

  She put a hand over her eyes, rubbing at her temples. “The problem with that type of narcosis is you don’t feel it coming on. You just feel great. It’s like the fourth stage of tequila, without all the drinking.”

  As angry as he was, Hawker had to laugh. “Bulletproof?”

  “Invincible,” she replied.

  She had seemed to be acting a little crazy ever since they’d spotted the sharks. He looked up the ramp. “Do you even remember what happened?”

  “I remember thinking I didn’t want to get cut, and that I was afraid you’d get trapped, too,” she said. “And then, when I was pulling away from you I exhaled and I saw the bubbles pop. It reminded me of a cave dive I was on a couple of years ago. I remembered the exhaust from my regulator getting trapped against the ceiling, creating a thousand little bubbles, perfectly round spheres like silver pearls. But when these bubbles popped, I realized they had to be reaching air. That’s why I kicked you. I couldn’t go back; I had to go forward.”

  She looked up the ramp.

  “I grabbed this wall as I was blacking out. I guess I hauled myself over.”

  He sat down next to her and brushed the wet hair back from her face. “I know what oxygen narcosis is, but why would you get it?”

  “It happens.”

  “On a dive thi
s short, this shallow?”

  He sensed there was something more, perhaps something she didn’t want to tell him. He waited.

  “I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said. “And they drugged me a lot in China. I don’t know what it was — truth serum, narcotics, barbiturates maybe. They kept me sedated a lot. You said I was there ten days. I remember forty-eight hours.”

  “So the drugs are still in your system,” he said.

  “Some of it might be,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about it. Didn’t want to, I guess. But I should have. Things like that can affect you when you dive, especially with nitrox.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, aiming his flashlight around. “But where the hell did it get us to, anyway? Back down the rabbit hole somewhere?”

  They were in the center of a temple of some kind, one that was sealed against the water. The tunnel, which angled down and then up, acted like an air lock. As long as the roof didn’t leak, the water could never overcome the pressure of the air. It could never push inside.

  Above them the ceiling of the room was curved and smooth like the dome of some rotunda. Seams between the blocks of stone were precise and almost invisible. No water dripped or leaked. It was an incredible work of construction.

  The beam of Hawker’s flashlight played across the smooth stone walls and stopped on what looked like a stairway covered with hieroglyphics. “McCarter would love this place.”

  “If he could get over the sharks,” she said.

  “I almost didn’t get over the sharks.” Hawker told her. His light followed the flight of the stairs. Lying prone on an altar at the top was a familiar shape. It looked like a sarcophagus of some kind.

  “Can you stand?” Hawker asked

  She reached out a hand and he pulled her up. Together they crossed the open floor and began climbing the stairs.

  * * *

  Up on the surface, McCarter sat in the fishing boat. Strangely, his feelings of paranoia had returned at almost the instant Danielle and Hawker had descended beneath the waves.

  He found himself checking the GPS every thirty seconds to make sure the wind and the current hadn’t moved him and then scanning the horizon with a pair of binoculars, fearful that there might be some miscreants coming toward their position. He hadn’t seen anything so far but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.