by K. T. Tomb
“Have a look, sir.” Franco motioned to the small diving pod, remote underwater camera and deep-sea gear tied securely to the edge of the deck, the brand new diving suits stood alongside the equipment. This had been one of the main selling points for the expedition; new experimental material, allowing a deep sea diver to experience more dexterity while simultaneously reducing the effects of decompression sickness. The officer eyed the equipment. Franco guessed that the man did not know much about diving, being mostly an ‘above the surface’ type of seafarer. But it was clear that he wanted to put on a good show.
“I’ll also need to see the ship’s roster,” said the officer.
“Of course,” Franco glanced behind him. The ship’s captain came down the stairs from the outlook, his full, white head of hair blazing in the sunlight, offsetting the salt and pepper beard. Captain Martin squinted at Franco and the officer with a clear look of annoyance on his face. In his hand, he held the ship’s manifest and a listing of the crew’s names and functions aboard the ship. He approached and handed the roster to the uniformed man. Captain Martin looked at Franco and tossed the list of names over to Franco giving him a stern look that bordered between parental consternation and boredom. Franco handed the list to the officer. Neither Franco nor the captain wanted the Coast Guard to find out about the wanted criminal hiding below deck.
“It’s all there. Lisa Noye, ship’s medic. Nick Moore, second diver. Captain Jonathan Martin, and myself, officer and diver Franco Michaels. Now if you don’t mind, sir, we only have a small window of time with good light. We need to get this operation underway.”
“There’s no one else on the ship?” the officer asked.
“No, sir.”
The man shuffled through the papers, flipping to the end page and verifying the set of signatures there. After a moment he closed the pages and thrust them back toward Franco, letting out a subtle exhale.
“Anything else I can do, sir?” Franco said, for good measure.
“Nope, everything seems to be on the up and up. Be careful out there,” The Coast Guardsman turned toward the open sea, stretching out blue and wild before them. “She’s a fickle beast.”
“That she is, officer,” Franco said, turning his eyes to the sea. “That she is.”
The officer climbed back down the ladder, giving the crew of the Diamond a small wave as he jumped over to the steps of his own ship, the other crew waiting to guide him back on board. Franco watched as the boat turned and faced back toward the craggy shoreline of Newfoundland and the ship’s harbor.
“Nice going, Michaels.”
The voice behind him belonged to Nick Moore, his associate and friend. They had worked together many times before on a variety of previous jobs, but this one held a bit more of a risk factor. Franco turned toward Nick, who scratched absently at his face, vacant eyes looking out to sea. Part of the reason Franco had invited Nick on this job was because he had known Nick had fallen off the wagon again. His friend had managed to gain his degree in Aquatic Sciences with a minor in Russian language, but he had a penchant for addiction. Nick was a smart kid despite everything. Franco felt the need to watch out for him. Having known him both in and out of rehab, the only thing Franco had ever experienced that brought Nick back to himself was the dive. Nick had promised to go clean, but Franco could see he still suffered from the last stages of detox. Despite all of it though, he was one of the best divers Franco had ever known and he needed good divers for this job. Nick had been his first recommendation for this expedition.
“Where’s Harper?” Franco said.
“Below deck,” Nick answered, “and quiet as a mouse.”
“Good, let’s hope he stays that way,”
The captain gave the two a glance, climbing back to the outlook now that the coast guard had left them. The presence of Harper had been a sore spot for Captain Martin. He had no desire to house a wanted criminal aboard his ship. In the end the influence of the client and the promised payout swayed the man to turn a blind eye to much of what would occur on this trip.
“That was close,” Nick said. “How worried were you? What with the wanted criminal just below deck?”
“Above deck too, if you will recall,” Franco said. “I knew I could handle the Coast Guard. And let’s keep the disparaging remarks about Harper to a minimum. After all, our lives are in his hands once we reach the dive site.”
“And don’t forget it, either.” Harper’s lazy, relaxed voice greeted them as he climbed up from the galley. Franco turned to look at the man, whom he had only just met when they’d picked up the equipment. Prior to this job, Franco had not known James Harper, but Harper knew the equipment and was therefore a vital member of the expedition. The young man climbing out of the galley wore jeans and a worn, black T-shirt. His red hair sprouted around his head in thick dreadlocks falling just past his shoulders. Franco remained suspicious of him from the beginning, despite Harper’s relaxed manner and easy smile. He reminded Franco of a sly fox.
“So what is this job?” Harper asked, planting himself on the starboard bench. “They gave me a price. Quite a good one, I might add, that’s why I’m here. But what’s the story on this? Who are we working for?”
Franco wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to give him any details yet. Leo Matvei, the man behind the job, had hired Franco directly. Harper, however, had been brought on through a third party, so he knew less about the details. Harper had a dangerous reputation and Franco was certain that Leo had wanted to keep some distance between himself and the man.
“We’re looking for diamonds,” Franco said, keeping his voice even.
Nick danced his feet in an impromptu jig repeating ‘Diamonds! Diamonds! Diamonds!’ in a cartoon-like falsetto. Harper rolled his eyes, but continued to smile.
Franco continued.
“The diamonds allegedly disappeared aboard the RMS Titanic and belong to the family of the man who hired us.”
Nick jumped in, interrupting. “Check this out. Apparently the guy’s great-aunt or something went down with the ship and she’d been carrying the diamonds at the time. According to all the records, they’re aboard that ship somewhere.”
Nick jaunted over to the dive suits, standing like disembodied mannequins in the clear containment units against the wall of the engine room. “Thanks to these babies, we’re going to walk right in and get them. Just pick them up with our hands. Easy peasy!”
“Lemon squeezy,” Harper concluded. “So what if we fail? What if we don’t find the diamonds?”
“We won’t fail,” Franco said, still staring out to sea as they propelled across the surface of the water.
“We could,” Harper said. “I mean, the Titanic, that’s no small potatoes. That thing’s been underwater for over a hundred years. Our equipment is experimental and all kinds of things could go wrong down there, you know. Did the man who hired us have a plan if we don’t recover the diamonds? Do we still get paid?”
“You.” Franco turned to look Harper directly in the eye. “I’ve been led to believe that you are the best at what you do. Is that correct?”
Harper’s grin widened.
“I hate to brag, but, yeah.”
“You can run this equipment, walk us through the dive and bring us safely back to the surface?” Franco jutted his head toward the dive suits.
“Of course,” Harper said.
“Good,” Franco said. “As long as all those things happen, let us worry about finding the diamonds. You’ll get your fee in the end.”
He turned his face back to the rush of the air as they sped toward the dive zone. Behind them the distant shores faded into the sea horizon.
Chapter Two
April 10th, 1912
The RMS Titanic, room 108
Darya and Stephan laughed as they stumbled in through the door of their opulent first class suite. The anteroom was decorated with more splendor than either of them had ever seen before. Darya set down her carpet bag and gazed at the oriental ca
rpets, polished oak tables and gleaming lamps along the walls. Behind them in the hall, other passengers laughed and chatted loudly as they made their way to their prospective suites. Many ran back to the deck to witness the Titanic set sail from the vantage point of the bow.
“Oh, Stephan,” Darya gasped at the opulence before her. “How did you afford...”
“Don’t worry about that. I had nothing left for me here, and I could not have my beloved traveling in anything less than luxury.”
Darya turned to look at him.
“I don’t need luxury,” she said. “Luxury is what I’m leaving behind. All I need is you.”
She threw her arms around his neck with abandon and let herself be swept away by his kiss.
“Let’s go back to the deck,” Stephan suggested after the embrace. “Don’t you want to see the Ship of Dreams embark on her maiden voyage?”
“Let’s stay here,” Darya said with a sly grin. “I can think of much more interesting ways to celebrate the maiden voyage.”
She reached behind her and carefully closed the door.
***
June 17, 2014
Approaching Latitude 41° 43’ 57” North, longitude 49° 56’ 49” West
“Explain it to me again,” Nick said. “How’re we not going to implode like raw eggs in a hot tub?”
Nick stood with Harper, Franco and Lisa looking at the dive suits, disembodied shells that resembled space suits in their complexity.
“The suits are made of an experimental fabric which allows for deep sea penetration,” Lisa replied.
Nick giggled.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said in a mock-suggestive voice.
“Grow up, Nick,” Lisa continued. “As I was saying, when a human being traverses into the ocean several things happen; on the one hand, at depths of more than one hundred feet, a diver may experience nitrogen narcosis, a phenomenon in which the pressure causes the gases in one’s blood stream to become toxic. This causes the diver to experience a number of symptoms ranging from numbness to vision impairment, and sometimes even hallucinations.”
Nick responded to the word with an enthusiastic fist pump into the air, exclaiming, “Yes!”
Lisa responded with a sidelong glare. She did not consider dive-related sicknesses a laughing matter.
“It’s important,” she continued, “that divers are aware of the effects so that they know how to remedy it should they begin to experience symptoms during the dive. At first, a diver may feel a sense of euphoria and extreme confidence, causing them to think that not only is nothing wrong, but that everything is going masterfully. It is important to notice this, as it is perhaps the most misleading harbinger of the sickness.”
Franco, who had been listening intently asked, “What happens if someone gets it? Is there a treatment or long term consequences?”
“Quite simply,” Lisa replied, “ascend back to a shallower depth. The symptoms will dissipate immediately.”
“All of the rush, none of the crush.” Nick said approvingly.
“Not quite,” Lisa said. “One of the other dangers of deep sea diving involves ascending too fast. This results in decompression sickness.”
“The bends,” Franco said.
“No good,” Nick added for good measure.
“This happens when the nitrogen in your body decompresses, causing bubbles to form and a build up of nitrogen in the bloodstream. As the diver descends into the water, the nitrogen bubbles decompress and have to find a way to escape. The pressure forces them into the body, causing bubbles to be present in the joints and muscles of the diver. To alleviate the symptoms the diver must ascend slowly, allowing the gases to escape from the body tissues. This is also called ‘off-gassing’.”
Nick suppressed a giggle. Franco gave him a stern look. Lisa walked toward Nick, placing herself firmly in front of him, feet planted, arms crossed.
“Do you find this amusing?” she said without a trace of humor in her voice.
Nick smothered his laughter, trying to regain an air of solemnity.
“No, of course not,” he said.
Lisa Noye’s military background began to peek through her already icy facade.
“You are about to suit up and embark on a journey that has never been attempted before; putting a human being into a scenario which has never been attempted before on this planet. It would be in your best interest to pay attention, since it’s going to be you who is making that journey. Are you prepared, Diver Moore?”
The medic’s voice had risen to a sharp staccato mirroring that of a drill sergeant. She had inched her face closer to Nick’s. With her last statement she held her position, her eyes boring into his. He glanced away, unable to meet her gaze.
“Of course, Lisa,” he stammered at last. “I’m taking it seriously. Relax.”
“Now,” Lisa continued, turning to pace slowly along the deck, tracing a path between the divers and the suits. “There are two common types of decompression sickness. Type one and type two. Type one is not serious, but could be a warning of more dangerous symptoms. The initial indications include a red rash, which is the capillaries, tiny blood vessels close to the skin, bursting because of the escaping nitrogen bubbles. This is accompanied by joint pain, chest pain and muscle pain. The discomfort permeates the diver’s entire body who feels this pain down to the very bone marrow. When the illness was first discovered, the divers would be in so much pain as to cause them to collapse and bend at the waist to try to alleviate the pressure. This is where it got the name ‘the bends’.”
Harper, who had been listening intently from the bench, elbows resting on his knees with hands clasped loosely before him, let out a deep, slow breath.
“This is only the beginning,” Lisa continued. “Type two decompression sickness happens when the nervous system is affected. It manifests first as tingling in the extremities, as if your hand or leg has fallen asleep. This escalates quickly into inhibited breathing, paralysis and can lead to embolism and eventually death. Not a pleasant way to go.”
She stopped in front of the dive suits letting her eyes roam over the alien-looking attire. Her words struck a chord, as they would with any diver. The sound of the water rushing past the small ship accented the silence that hung over the men that stood behind her ruminating on the descriptions she had given. She turned, meeting the gaze of James Harper who was watching her intently.
“Mr. Harper,” she said. “We are about to attempt to submerge two human beings without a diving vessel to a depth of over ten thousand feet. Would you care to explain to us how these suits are going to keep our men safe and prevent everything that I have just described?”
Harper stood, rubbing his hands on the top of his jeans and approached the suits. As Lisa stepped aside, he looked over the gear.
“These suits are going to take you down to the Titanic,” he began. “Each one is fitted with several devices which work together to ensure communication with the support vessel and with each other. No human has submerged to this depth before. Today we are breaking a record.”
“Too bad we are also breaking the law,” Nick muttered.
“We do what needs to be done,” Franco interjected. “For the price that people pay, I, for one, am not in it for record-breaking recognition. Continue.” He gestured to Harper.
“These suits help to regulate the nitrogen in your body through the use of something called Total Liquid Ventilation. A gel-like liquid is filled into the diver’s lungs. This allows the body to maintain the pressure of the surrounding liquid, combating the effects of the high pressure atmosphere of deep sea diving. The liquid allows for ventilation on a level comparable to that of breathing the gaseous atmosphere as our bodies are used to doing. TLV has been attempted before, but the results were disappointing. This new technique uses a higher concentration of combinations on the molecular level to ensure saturation with the blood flow.”
Harper stopped and turned toward Nick and Franco.
“At first the initial adjustment to having one’s lungs filled with liquid can be a bit... disconcerting. But once the body equalizes, which does not take more than a few seconds, you will experience oxygen intake just as you would if breathing air. Once the final depth is reached, divers will experience full equilibrium to the water around you and be completely protected from the surrounding water pressure.”
Captain Martin had made his way down from the steering room at the top of the deck and circled slowly around behind the divers, listening to the explanations. He shook his head and gave a snort of derision, which gained everyone’s attention. Harper raised his eyebrows toward the captain who then began to speak.
“You think the worst thing that can happen to you is diving sickness? You newbies get me every time. There’s more down there than you can even begin to understand.”
He chuckled and began to walk away.
“Captain,” Franco called after him, “we have a job to do. We will find those diamonds.”
The captain turned to face Franco.
“You go ahead,” he said. “Go on down there and look for those pretty rocks. Hell, you might even come back, clutching them right in your hand. But I can assure you, I have made this run a thousand times, and no one comes back to the surface the same as when they go down.”
“Really,” Franco said. “You think that’s so?”
“I know it’s so,” Captain Martin said with an even tone.
“Have you ever seen the Titanic?” Franco said, the challenge in his voice evident.
“No. My diving days were long over when they found that ship,” Martin replied. “But I have seen the faces of those who’ve been down there.”
Franco remained wordless as the captain turned and walked back to the galley. The North Atlantic wind blew across the faces of the two divers who waited for the next step.
Lisa spoke first.
“Gentlemen,” she said. “Are we ready to suit up?”
Nick let out a loud, high-pitched, “Yeeeeooooow!!” breaking the tension, the sound echoing over the surface of the water. Harper grinned and Franco stepped forward with a slight smirk on his face.