Deep Fathom

Taking a deep breath, she ducked out the door and crept along the wall toward the open office. Despite her warnings, Miyuki followed. Karen glanced at her friend, but Miyuki waved her on.

Readying her pistol, Karen slid along the wall. She could see a light skittering around inside the office. A flashlight. The intruder had not been scared off by the alarm. Her heart thundered in her ears. She swallowed hard and continued on.

At the doorway, she paused. She could hear two men arguing inside, but didn’t recognize the language. There was a loud crack of splintering wood. She squeezed the grip of her pistol, tensed for a breath, then leaped into the entryway.

“Freeze!” she yelled.

Inside, two men glanced up at her with shocked expressions. They had dark complexions, clearly South Pacific Islanders. One held a crowbar, which he’d just used to break into Miyuki’s desk. The other held a pistol. He made a move in her direction.

Karen fired—a warning shot. Plaster puffed from the wall behind the armed man’s head. He froze.

“Drop the weapons or you’re dead!” she screamed. She did not know if the men knew English, but the single warning shot crossed all language barriers.

The thief paused, then tossed his pistol to the side, a sour look on his dark face. The other dropped his crowbar.

Her adrenaline surging, her senses were acute. From the corner of her eyes she saw the ramshackle condition of Miyuki’s office. In the short time, they had torn through the filing cabinets. The drawers of the desk had been pulled and dumped. With relief, she noted that the wall safe hidden behind Miyuki’s doctoral diploma had not been discovered.

“Raise your hands,” she said, motioning with her pistol.

They obeyed. Karen kept her gun raised. The building security should be arriving in the next few moments. She just had to keep these thieves at bay.

As the men stood with their hands up, Karen noticed their bare arms. The serpent tattoo was visible even in the dim light. Recognizing the symbol, her breath caught in her chest. They were the looters from the pyramids!

Momentarily confused and shocked, she was a few seconds too slow in realizing the hidden threat. They had been attacked at the pyramids by three men. Only two were here. Where was the third?

To her right, Miyuki gasped. She was posted in the shadow of the door. Karen glanced her way. Miyuki was staring down the hall, past Karen’s shoulder. Karen swung around.

The third thief stepped into the hall from the stairwell, a rifle at his shoulder. Clearly their lookout.

The man fired, the blast deafening.

But Karen and Miyuki were no longer there. Both women had leaped through the door into the office. The wooden door frame burst into shards behind them.

Inside, one of the men lunged for the fallen pistol. Karen fired. The man’s hand blew back in a spray of blood. Moaning, he rolled away from the discarded weapon, his bloody fist clutched to his chest.

Karen darted farther into the room, giving her space to cover both men and the doorway.

The last man kept his hands raised, unmoving. It was not fear that kept him steady. Karen saw it in his eyes. His calmness was almost unnerving. He backed a step, then sidled along the wall, clearly offering no threat. He kicked his wounded companion and barked something in his foreign tongue. The bloodied man crawled across the floor, in the direction of the door.

Karen’s pistol followed them. She did not shoot. Not in cold blood. If they were leaving, then let them. Hopefully, university security would capture them on the way out. But the reason for her restraint was not solely because the others were unarmed. The first man’s eyes did not leave hers. In his gaze, she continued to see a calmness that belied their situation.

Then the rifleman appeared in the doorway. Before he could swing on them, the first man knocked his companion’s gun barrel aside. He eyed Karen and Miyuki, and spoke rapidly in Japanese, his accent thick. Then the trio left, the un-injured two helping their wounded companion.

Karen did not lower her pistol, even after their footsteps faded away. “What did he say?” Karen asked Miyuki.

“H-He said that we do not know what we have discovered. It was never supposed to be unearthed.” Miyuki glanced at the hidden wall safe, then back at Karen. “It is a curse upon us all.”

10:34 P.M., USS Gibraltar, Central Pacific

David Spangler led his team across the wet deck, sticking to shadows. The storms had grown worse by nightfall. Thunder boomed like distant mortar fire, while spats of lightning turned night to day for flickering seconds. Nearby, waves smashed against the flanks of the carrier, washing as high as the deck itself.

After the evening meal, the NTSB investigators had retreated to their own bunks, many seasick, abandoning the wreckage until the storm abated. Additionally, David had declared the hangar deck to be unsafe for personnel with the ship heaving to and fro, especially with all the loose pieces of wreckage. He had ordered the hangar deserted until the storm died down. Green-faced and holding their stomachs, none of the NTSB personnel had argued. Afterward, David assigned his men to guard the abandoned hangar’s entry points.

With the night complete and the storm in full rage, David had chosen this moment to proceed with their plan. Sheltering for a moment in the lee of the giant superstructure, he spotted the two men guarding the entrance to the hangar ramp tunnel. One of the pair lifted a flashlight high, signaling it was all clear, then doused the light.

Diving into the sweeps of rain, David hurried forward, shielding a thick case against his chest. Behind him the other three men, laden with their own satchels, kept pace, moving with confident skill across the pitching deck.

David slid into the tunnel entrance and crouched beside the pair of guards. “All clear?”

“Yes, sir,” his second-in-command reported. “The last of them left half an hour ago.”

David nodded, satisfied. He turned to the others. “You know your duties. Keep up your guard. Handel and Rolfe with me.”

The two men collected the equipment satchels. David kept his own case. He led them into the tunnel entrance.

It grew darker as they proceeded down. At the bottom there were no lights. Pausing, David slipped on his night vision goggles and switched on his UV lantern. The stacks of wreckage appeared out of the gloom, limned in dark purple and white. He waved the others to follow.

Striding briskly, he moved down the central corridor of the makeshift warehouse. No one spoke. David flashed his ultraviolet light along the numbered side aisles. At last he found number 22. Pausing, he cast his light around. There was no sign of anyone else here, but the boom of thunder and the rattle of rain muffled even their own footsteps. It set David’s teeth on edge. When he worked, he depended on the full use of all his senses.