rock.
To the side, Miyuki spoke rapidly to another officer. He had her identification in his hand. He finally nodded, turned to the man holding Karen and waved him off.
Karen stepped away from the wall. “They got Gabriel’s warning over the teletype about the looters and were just under way when they heard the explosion,” Miyuki told her. “By the time they got here, the looters had already taken off. There was no sign of them, so they staked out this second pyramid, meaning to protect it.”
“And they found us crawling out and thought
Miyuki nodded. “Luckily, Gabriel had transmitted our names, saying we were in danger.” Miyuki put away her identification. “We’ll have questions to answer, but there’ll be no charges.”
Karen took a deep breath. “Answers? I have more questions than answers.” She pictured the looter’s tattoo, a pale winding snake against his dark skin. Another serpent. In the light of the day, it seemed too much of a coincidence.
Karen wandered to the corner of the pyramid so she could see the other Dragon. Miyuki followed. Across the hundred meters, the Dragon’s summit was a cratered ruin. Smoke curled into the sky, a man-made volcano.
Why had their attackers done that? It made no sense.
And where had they gone?
“What’s wrong?” Miyuki asked. “We’re safe.”
“I don’t know.” Karen could not escape the feeling that the true danger was just beginning. “But let’s go back to the university. I think it’s time we tried to put a few pieces of this mystery together.”
“No argument from me.”
They turned away from the smoking pyramid and crossed back to the officers. The white and blue police motorboat waited in the water below, its lights blinking.
Karen sighed with shaky relief. “Remind me I owe Gabriel a great big hug.”
“And you owe me a new pair of Ferragamos.” With a tired grin, Miyuki swiped her hair from her damp forehead. “After all this, I’m holding you to your promise!”
Ensconced in the ship’s geology lab, Jack and the others sat staring at the frozen video image of the inscribed obelisk: metallic symbols etched crudely into the crystal’s surface. “Who could have done this?” he asked.
George took off his bifocals. “I’ve never seen anything like it. But I’m going to get on-line and post some questions to various archaeology websites. See if I get any bites.” He picked up a legal pad with a handwritten copy of the writing. “But it would help if we had more data.” The historian glanced meaningfully at Jack.
Charlie clicked off the monitor. “I agree with the professor. We need more information.”
Jack found all eyes on him.
George spoke first. “You’ve got to go back down there.”
“I…I haven’t made a decision on that yet.” He was in no hurry to return to the deep-sea graveyard.
Lisa added her support. “We should just take the money and run. We’ve met our obligation to the Navy. We’re not required to haul pieces of the plane to the surface…and I don’t like what happened when Jack was near that pillar.”
George crinkled his brow. “What do you mean? What happened?”
Lisa turned to Jack, allowing him to explain, but he remained silent. He felt foolish discussing his vague misgivings while down there.
“The
Charlie offered a more plausible explanation. “If the sub’s batteries were malfunctioning, the thrusters might have become misaligned, tremoring the vessel.” He looked at Jack. “Or maybe you were picking up vibrations from the slight seismic readings. They occurred the same time as the blackout.”
Jack, embarrassed, felt heat rising to his cheeks. “No, it was not vibrations from the ship. It felt…I don’t know, more electric…”
“Then a short in a system somewhere?” Charlie persisted.
Lisa shook her head. “I found no evidence of any electrical problems.”
George pocketed his paper. “So what are you saying?”
By now Jack’s face was red. He could not meet the others’ gazes. “It was the pillar. I can’t explain how I know this, but it was. The crystal was giving off some type of…I don’t know…harmonics, vibrations, emanations.”
George and Charlie stared at Jack. He recognized the doubt in their eyes. Charlie spoke first. “If you’re right, it’s even more of a reason to go down and do a little private snooping.”
George nodded. “And if there’s more writing, I’d like a complete copy.”
A firm knock on the door saved Jack from having to answer. “It’s Robert,” the marine biologist called from beyond the door.
“What is it?” Jack asked, relieved at turning aside more questions from the others.
“Word has come over from the
Jack unlocked the door. He hoped some concrete answer had been discovered, something that would dismiss the need to go back down.
Robert stood outside. He waved them all out. “They’re faxing over a copy of the cockpit voice recorder.”
“Then let’s go,” Jack said.
The marine biologist, excited, continued his explanation. “Whatever they found, it has everyone in a buzz. I saw the admiral’s face when he was informed over a scrambled line. He did not look happy. He insisted that a full copy of the cockpit’s final conversation be faxed over to him.”
Jack hurried, climbing the stairs to the main deck, then up the steps to the pilothouse. As he opened the door, he found Houston’s two personal aides inside, in uniform, armed, standing stiffly. They were twin bulldogs, old Navy.
Nearby, the
“Where’s the admiral?” Jack asked.
Kendall McMillan pointed toward the closed door to the radio and satellite system. “He’s in there. He told us to wait for him.”
Jack frowned at the closed door. This was his ship. He did not like someone closing him out of his own ship’s heart — even an admiral. He moved to the door, but the two burly aides blocked him, hands on holstered pistols.
Before any confrontation could flare, the door swung open. The first one out was Jack’s dog. Elvis padded from the radio room, tail sweeping back and forth. The admiral followed him. Jack opened his mouth, about to scold the old man, but when he saw the pallor to Mark Houston’s face, he remained silent. Deep wrinkles etched the admiral’s forehead.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
Houston glanced around. The entire ship’s crew was now crammed into the small pilothouse. “Is there a place to get a drink around here?”
Jack waved the others away and turned to his old friend. “Follow me. I have a bottle of twenty-year-old scotch in my stateroom.”
“Just what the doctor ordered.” The admiral smiled, but it came out sickly.
Jack led the way down to the main deck and to his stateroom. He held the door open for the old man.
Once both were inside, Houston nodded back at the door. “Lock it.”
Jack did as ordered. He pointed toward a pair of leather chairs in front of his shelves of nautical memorabilia. Houston crossed to the shelves, touching an ancient sextant. “Is this the one I gave you?”
“After I was accepted to the shuttle mission, yep.”
Huston turned and sank into one of the chairs with a long sigh. For the first time, Jack saw the man’s age. He looked sunken, defeated. The admiral pointed back at the sextant. “So you haven’t completely tossed away your past.”
Jack moved to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Not the important things.”
Houston nodded. He was silent for several moments. “Jack, have you made a decision yet on helping us
