Blue Gold (NUMA Files 2)

“Not much chance of that,” Austin said. “Gogstad no longer has its leader, its scientific expertise, and the powerful men who were the engine powering this thing. People around the world have realized what they almost lost and are reclaiming their sovereignty over their water rights.”

Jim Contos had been listening to the exchange with interest. “Thanks for inviting me along. At least I know that my two submersibles were deep-sixed for a worthy cause.”

“Glad you brought that up. Joe?”

Zavala smiled, extracted a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket, and unfolded it. “This is only a preliminary sketch,” he said, “but it will give you an idea of what we’ve got in the works.”

Contos’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Hell, it’s beautiful.”

Zavala grimaced. “I wouldn’t go that far. It looks like a deformed guppy, but it will go deeper and faster and carry more instrumentation and mechanical functions than any submersible in the sea. It’s going to require extensive testing.”

“When do we start?” Contos replied.

“The preliminary work has already begun. I’ve got a date with the Smithsonian. They’re planning a memorial to the last pilots of the flying wing, and they’ve asked me to do a few fly-bys to publicize the campaign. But after that I’ll be free to help plan the tests.”

“What are we waiting for?” Gamay said.

“That’s a good question,” Austin said. “Francesca’s process is going to turn this sand pit into a garden, but it’s no place for a bunch of ocean scientists.” He started walking toward a turquoise-blue helicopter with “NUMA” printed in black on its side.

“Hey, Kurt, where are you headed?” Zavala said.

Austin turned. “C’mon,” he said with a wide grin on his bronzed features. “Let’s go someplace where we can get our feet wet.”