“Over the side!” Falco screamed, emphasizing his point by tossing Kaia into the water with one thrust of his arm. He spun around and dove at Cassius, wrapping the general in his arms, and flying overboard. They hit the water, and the combined weight of Falco’s and Cassius’s armor took them under.
Even as he sank, Falco looked up. He saw the bright sky disappear as the ash cloud swept overhead. Then he felt Cassius struggling in his arms, and he let go of the general as they both fought to get their breastplates off as they slowly sank. Both men had worn their amour almost every day of their life, so the routine was something that was ingrained. Falco’s fingers unbuckled and loosened, and in second his breastplate was off, plummeting to the bottom, He reached out and grabbed Cassius as the general got his off. Boulders hit water all around, racing by on their way to the bottom.
Looking up, he could see the sky was not as dark. Falco kicked for the surface, feeling the air in his lungs turning bad. He surfaced and gagged, as he sucked in huge lungfuls of ash-filled air. Cassius surfaced next to him and began coughing. Falco saw Kaia’s head pop up near the side of the boat, and he swam over. He could see that the wood was singed. The sky was filled with the ash that was steadily spewing out of the volcano, but the superheated death cloud had passed.
“How did you know to do that?” Kaia got out between coughs.
“It just came to me,” Falco said as he climbed into the boat and reached down to give her a hand.
Kaia got on board, and then they both helped Cassius. Kaia ripped strips of cloth from her cloak and gave them to the men. They tied these around their heads, covering their mouths, and then they resumed rowing. Behind them, the volcano was spewing a towering cloud of ash into the air, while lava flowed freely, hitting the water and turning it into steam.
As they made it into the gap, they could see the galley off to the left, protected from the direct force of the volcano by the old caldera.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dane could see a destroyer circling the perimeter below, the submersible on one side of the flight deck, already rigged to a crane, ready to be lowered. With a slight bounce, the helicopter landed, and Dane slid open the cargo bay door and got out, joined by Loomis. Foreman was waiting for them, wearing a one-piece black jumpsuit.
“I’m going with you,” Foreman said to Dane.
“But, sir—“ Loomis began, but Foreman cut him off.
“Mr. Dane thinks I always send others in harm’s way,” Foreman said. “I thought I’d show him differently.”
Dane knew that wasn’t quite true. Foreman wanted to go to the graveyard and search for his brother’s plane. Still, he felt no need to mention that in front of Loomis. Dane quickly changed into a similar black suit and rejoined Foreman on the deck. The hatches were open on the two spheres that made up the crew compartments of Deepflight, and the pilot and navigator were already on board. Dane followed Foreman up a small ladder and then down into the small sphere. The hatch was closed behind them and screwed shut.
Dane lay down on the padded bottom of the sphere, ignoring Foreman, who was checking screens and gauges as if he had a clue how the thing operated. Dane closed his eyes and allowed his mind to roam, sensing the ocean around them as the submersible was lifted off the deck and lowered into the water. There was a jolt as the crane hook was released by divers. The nose of the submersible titled forward, and they were on their way.
Dane picked up no threat in the immediate area. He closed his eyes and within a minute was asleep as Deepflight continued its long descent to the bottom of the world.
He woke with a nudge of Foreman’s foot in his chest. “We’re at the door.”
Dane looked over the CIA man’s shoulder at one of the video displays. The flat, black metal extended in all directions.
“Any sign of activity in the gate?” Dane asked.
“Nagoya is monitoring from the FLIP, and he’s picked up nothing.”
Dane could see they were moving down along the wall. “How deep are we?”
“Ten thousand, five hundred meters,” Foreman said. He tapped the screen and spoke into the headset he wore. “That’s it. Go in there.”
A dark circle was in the center of the metal, exactly as it had been in the Milwaukee Deep in the Atlantic Ocean. It grew closer as the pilot directed them toward it. Dane felt the same strange sensation of disorientation as they passed through; then they were in.
The submersible surfaced inside the huge chamber, exactly in the center. Dane waited calmly, Foreman not so relaxed, as the pilot prepared the craft to allow them to exit. Finally, the green light came on next to the hatch above their heads, and Foreman spun the handle, slowly unscrewing the hatch.
Dane followed him out, balancing on the grid that surrounded the rear sphere. For security purposes, they’d agreed that the pilot and copilot would remain secure in the forward sphere for the mission.
“My God!”
It was the most emotion Dane had ever seen Foreman express. The black beach was littered with hundreds — thousands — of planes and ships. The spectacle was overwhelming both in number and variety. A clipper ship sat next to an oil tanker, next to a cluster of Polynesian rafts, next to a rowboat, next to the Chinese junk; all in just two hundred yards of beach. What was most disconcerting was the absolute stillness of everything. There was no sign of life in the graveyard, just as there hadn’t been in the Atlantic one.
“There!” Foreman clutched Dane’s arm, his fingers digging in painfully. A cluster of planes were just above the waterline. “That’s my flight. The tail numbers match. And the nose painting. That’s my brother’s plane.”
Foreman was already giving orders over the intercom for the pilot to head that way. Dane was looking about, not certain what he was searching for — something out of place, like the etching on the sail of the Scorpion or the Atlantean ship he had found in the other graveyard.
Deepflight slowly moved through the water toward the shore where the planes were. Dane saw a Russian submarine in mint condition except where the power plant had been; the deck plates had been sliced off, and the reactor was gone. A modern Japanese destroyer rested on the black beach, slightly canted because of its keel. Numerous dried blood trails were all over the side of it, ending abruptly where the waterline must have been.
There were several Flying Fortresses, lined up wingtip to wingtip, their silver skin gleaming. Dane startled when he read the name scripted on the nose of one of the planes: Enola Gay.
“Foreman,” Dane tapped the other man.
“What?”
Dane simply pointed at the plane.
Foreman shrugged. “Yeah. I knew about that. It’s in the files, classified top secret, Q-clearance. The first Enola Gay disappeared on the initial mission to drop the bomb. Lucky they had three bombs, not two, like history books have recorded. You can bet there were some scared people in the White House when they got that report. They covered it up pretty well, don’t you think?”
It was almost as if Foreman was telling him the sky was blue.
“And still, even after that,” Foreman’s voice took on an edge now,” they didn’t want to believe the gates were a threat. Lost in flight, cause unknown was the official determination for the first Enola Gay. You know how many lost in flights, or lost at sea, cause unknowns are on file?”