"No," the lama said, shaking his head. "He will be cremated in four days, but his ashes will not remain in the compound. He did not carry the spirit of Sakyamuni in his heart," he said, referring to the historical Buddha. The old lama turned back toward Pitt and Giordino. "My heart tells me that you are men of honor. Travel in wisdom and strength of spirit and you shall find what you seek."
The lama bowed deeply, and Pitt and Giordino returned the gesture before climbing into the truck. The driver, an old Mongolian with several missing front teeth, smiled broadly, then started the truck and drove slowly out of the compound. The lama stood motionless, his head down, until the truck was out of sight, its settled trail of dust coating the old man's robe and sandals.
Pitt and Giordino sat silently as the truck bounced over the desert, both reflecting the parting words of the lama. It seemed as if the wizened old man knew what they were after, and had given them the green light.
"We have to go back," Pitt finally muttered.
"To Xanadu?" Giordino asked.
"To Xanadu."
Part Three
Tremors
-33-
THE BLUE-SPOTTED GROUPER cast a steely eye at the large figure swimming toward him. It moved too slowly to be a shark, and the neon-blue skin was too dazzling to be a dolphin. And it propelled itself in an odd manner by yellow appendages where the tail should be. Deciding the figure was neither friend nor foe, the grouper eased out of the way and headed for another section of the reef to scour for food. Summer Pitt paid scant attention to the big fish as it darted into the blue murk. Her focus was on a yellow nylon line stretched across the seafloor that she followed like a marked trail. Her lithe body moved gracefully through the water at a steady pace, skimming just a foot or two above the gnarled heads of the coral reef. A digital video camera was clasped in her hands, capturing the colorful images of the reef on either side of the yellow line.
Summer was documenting the reef as part of a NUMA project assessing the health of coral reefs in the Hawaiian Islands. Sedimentation, overfishing, and algae outbreaks due to pollution and global warming had wreaked a slow and steady degradation of coral reefs around the world. Though the reefs of Hawaii had mostly been spared, there was no guarantee they would not succumb to the severe bleaching and mass mortality that had been witnessed in reefs surrounding Australia, Okinawa, and Micronesia. By monitoring the health of the reefs, the influence of man-made activities could be detected and addressed proactively.
The methodology was remarkably simple. Video frames from a surveyed reef were compared with sample images taken months or years earlier at the same locale. A count of the fish and "benthic," or seafloor, organisms provided a scientific snapshot of the reef's relative health. Dozens of reefs around the islands were targeted by the NUMA project to provide an assessment of the entire region's waters.
Summer kicked lazily along the track line until reaching the end point in a sand gully, marked by a stainless steel pin driven into the seafloor. A plastic card marked in grease pen was attached to the pin. Summer reached down and turned the card toward the camera, filming the designated line and waypoint before turning the camera off. As she let go of the placard, something in a nearby burrow of sand caught her eye. Kicking her yellow fins in short scissors kicks, she glided over to a cluster of small rocks. A small octopus was sliding about the rocks, puffing its body up and down as it d
rew water through its gills. Summer watched the intelligent invertebrate as it changed color, turning nearly translucent as it expanded its mantle before squirming away toward the reef. Gazing back at the rocks, she noticed a small round object protruding from the nearby sand. A miniature face seemed to smile up at Summer, as if happy to be discovered. Summer fanned away a light layer of sand, then plucked up the object and held it in front of her mask.
It was a tiny porcelain figurine of a maiden, wearing a flowing red robe, her black hair rolled high in a bun. The statuette's plump cheeks were tinged with red like a cherub while the narrow eyes were unmistakably Asian. The artistic handiwork was somewhat crude, and there was an ancient look to the dress and pose. Just to assure herself, Summer flipped the figurine over, but found no made in Hong Kong stamp on the bottom. Sifting her free hand through the soft sand, she found no other buried objects nearby.
A few yards away, the silvery air bubbles from another diver caught her attention. It was a man, kneeling on the edge of the reef taking a sediment sample. Summer swam over and hovered in front of the other diver, then held up the porcelain figure.
The bright green eyes of her brother Dirk glistened in curiosity as he studied the object. Lean and tall like the father he shared names with, Dirk secured the sediment sample in a dive bag, then stretched out his legs and motioned for Summer to show him where she found it. She led him away from the reef and across the sandbar to the gravelly patch where she had spotted the smiling face. Dirk pulled alongside, and the two of them swam in a wide circle around the sandbar, gliding a few feet off the bottom. The undulating field of sand abruptly ended in a gnarled bed of lava as they circled toward the shore. Moving away from the shoreline, the sand bed dropped away in a steep incline that didn't reach bottom for another fifteen thousand feet. A small patch of coral appeared in the middle of the sand field, which Dirk swam down to examine.
The coral stretched in a linear path for ten feet before disappearing under the sand. Dirk noticed the sand appeared darker along a continuing line before meeting the lava wall. Summer swam toward a small round clump that rose from the bottom, then waved Dirk over to take a look. Dirk kicked over to what appeared to be a large rectangular stone nearly six feet across. He dove down and felt its hard growth-encrusted edge with a gloved hand, then probed along its surface. The hardness gave way as his fingers pressed into a dense growth of sea urchins at its center. Nodding his head with interest, Summer moved in with her video camera and filmed a close-up shot of the object. The two divers then abandoned the item and completed their circular sweep, finding no other objects. Reaching a drop line near where they started, they kicked to the rippling surface thirty feet above.
Their heads bobbed up in the sapphire blue waters of a large cove near Keliuli Bay on the southwest shore of Hawaii's Big Island. A few hundred yards away, the surf crashed into a rocky shoreline, which rose steeply to encircle the cove in high cliffs of black lava. The crash of the waves striking the rocks reverberated off the steep walls in a thunderous roar as a ring of white foam settled on the surface.
Dirk swam over to a small inflatable boat tethered to the drop line and bellied himself over the side. Unfastening his tank and weight belt, he reached over the side and helped pull his sister aboard. Summer spat out her regulator, barely catching her breath.
"What do you make of that coral outcropping in the middle of the sandbar?" she asked.
"It showed some linearity."
"I thought so, too. I'd like to excavate some of the sand around its fringes and see if there's anything there not devoured by the coral."
She pulled the porcelain figurine from her dive bag and studied it under the sunlight.
"You think you've got a shipwreck in the coral, eh?" Dirk chided, releasing the bowline and starting a small outboard motor.
"This had to come from somewhere," she said, holding up the figurine. "How old do you think it might be?"
"I haven't a clue," Dirk replied. "For my money, the rectangle stone is much more intriguing."
"You have a theory?"
"I do," he said, "but I don't think I'll make any outlandish claims until I've had a chance to peruse the ship's research computers."
Dirk gunned the throttle and the small boat leaped over the waves toward a ship moored in the distance. The NUMA research vessel was painted a bright turquoise blue, and as they approached from the stern the black-lettered MARIANA EXPLORER could be read on the transom. Dirk idled the boat to the port side, drifting beneath a small crane that hung over the water dangling a strand of cables. As Dirk and Summer attached the cable ends to D hooks mounted to the rubber boat, a man's torso leaned over the rail. With a muscular build, thick mustache, and steely blue eyes, the man could have been the incarnate of Wyatt Earp, reborn with a Texas accent.