Devil's Gate (NUMA Files 9)

“Do you know what a superconductor is?”

“The basics,” Kurt said, not actually sure that he knew the basics. “They’re materials that conduct electricity without any resistance. I always hear that they’re going to end up being used in magnetically levitated trains and things like that someday.”

Captain Haynes took over for the moment, and Kurt got the distinct feeling the two men had already discussed the subject, perhaps not alone.

“Superconductors do all that and more,” Haynes began. “Their properties make them perfect for any electronic application. From operating a computer to powering a magnetically levitated train to electrical motors for cars that get the equivalent of five hundred miles per gallon. According to one study, replacing the U.S. electrical grid with superconducting wires would reduce the amount of power needed to light the country by forty percent. You could immediately shut down five hundred coal-burning power plants at least.”

“Didn’t know you were such an expert, Captain.”

“I wasn’t three hours ago,” the captain replied. “Been talking with the admiral here and the folks back at NUMA all day.”

“I see,” Kurt said. “So these superconductors might do something for global warming. Especially if extrapolated to the rest of the world. What’s the holdup?”

“Most superconductors only work at incredibly low temperatures,” the captain explained. “Usually one has to chill them with liquid nitrogen or something similar to create the superconducting effect.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t going to work for the grid,” Kurt said.

“It doesn’t work for any standard application,” Captain Haynes explained.

“So why are we talking about it?”

Admiral Sienna took over. “Because, Senhor Austin, what you and your friend may have discovered is a superconducting alloy that works at almost room temperature.”

Now it made sense. No samples. No close approaches. The Portuguese sailors that had been placed on the Argo, the patrol boat that had shadowed the site since they returned.

“If that’s what we have down there,” Captain Haynes explained, “it could be worth hundreds of billions once it is analyzed and synthesized and mass-produced.”

That made sense to Kurt, but even a superconductor had to have a source of power. “So where does the juice come from?” he asked.

“This is a former volcanic archipelago,” Admiral Sienna reminded everyone. “You must realize, there could be a trillion metric tons of magma oozing around underneath the caldera — some of which may be comprised of liquid metal — and such movement can create a magnetic field of its own. Our experts assure us that it’s possible for such forces to be quite large.”

“And you’re thinking the magnetism pulled these ships and airplanes to the bottom of the sea?” Kurt asked.

“In truth, we don’t know,” the admiral said. “These waters have quite a reputation, similar to your Bermuda Triangle. We don’t know what has occurred here, but the theory we’re going with is that the ships and containers and aircraft you see went down in the waters to the northwest of the caldera. There is a strong current that funnels along a diagonal route between two low chains of submerged mountains. As the funnel tightens, the strength of the current increases, right up until it drops over the edge of the caldera.”

Everything they’d seen on the bottom — the sunken ships, the aircraft, the containers and other junk — all of it lay on the northwest side of the rock tower.

“So you’re saying, add the current and the magnetism together and you have enough power to pull the junk in?”

The admiral nodded, and Kurt found himself thinking that it might almost make sense. “So what do you want from us?”

“Well,” Admiral Sienna said, “we are in a rather difficult situation. These waters are disputed between my country and Spain. They have been contested since the time of Columbus, over five hundred years. Since the caldera is more than twelve miles from the closest Azorean landmass, it falls into this disputed zone. For the most part, fishing and other things are regulated under a patchwork of different agreements. We even have one that covers the discovery of any oil.”

Kurt did not like where this was heading.

“But there is nothing to cover underwater mining or the discovery of new alloys,” the admiral added.

“So you’re arguing over it already,” he said.

“We are… discussing,” the admiral said. “But my nation is inclined to send one of its finest warships — the Corte Real, a Vasco da Gama — class frigate — to this very spot. The Spanish want to send a ship of their own. Perhaps not as nice or as impressive, but a presence nevertheless. You see where this will go.”

“Okay, so we’ll clear out,” Kurt said. “Let me know when you’ve figured out the details. I’m sure you’ll be able to reach me at the retirement home by then.”

The admiral looked upset.

“Tiburones, ” Joe reminded him under his breath.

“Yes,” the admiral said, “it