Maddock began to swim for the surface while he responded, helping Bones drag the lift-bag. “It all went over the edge, Bugsy.”
“Everybody to the reef for decompression, that’s an order!”
“Copy that.” Maddock and Bones led the way to the shallow reef where they used nearly all of their remaining air supply to decompress. They were joined by Bugsy and the two other surviving divers. They sat in a circle formation facing outward in case the pilot whale decided to return, but a few minutes later when they were ready to swim up to the raft, it had still not shown itself. Maddock wondered aloud if it could have been knocked unconscious in the blast and drowned, sinking into the depths along with Earhart’s plane. Everyone said they hoped so.
Amazingly, Maddock noticed, each of the two divers who had been in the airplane with them still carried bags of artifacts they’d collected.
At the raft, Watanabe helped Maddock and Bones gingerly load the crate onto the improvised transport. They repeatedly insisted that he be extremely careful with it. After all they’d been through, the very last thing they needed was to give everyone smallpox by knocking the crate around too hard and releasing the virus, if it was there. They told Watanabe they were highly concerned about whatever artifacts were inside since they now represented the last of whatever they would be able to recover. The boat pilot thanked them for their careful work.
The row back to shore was somber, the men not talking, with the exception of Watanabe, who had the unenviable job of reporting the events of the dive to Spinney. The expedition leader was there on the beach with Carlson and Taylor when the raft arrived, its crew exhausted, shaken and solemn. Taylor snapped off multiple pictures of the returning raft and the divers. Spinney was already calling out to the team before any of them had stepped ashore, asking if the airplane was okay.
No one was in the mood to respond.
Chapter 18
Spinney’s face went beet red the moment he heard about the airplane sliding into the abyss. He’d already issued his grandiose press release to media outlets around the world, and in an effort to save face, he made Watanabe repeat himself four times. He even went so far as to question each diver independently as to what they saw, which naturally did nothing to change the outcome. Amelia Earhart’s plane was gone once again, and with it Spinney’s dreams. Perhaps it was still gliding to the bottom of the ocean as they spoke, but regardless, it would end up well beyond the range of any salvage technology Spinney had access to.
He stomped around the beach, pacing like a caged tiger, imploring his men as they prepared to haul their gear back to camp for the last time.
“We still found it!” Spinney bellowed after them. “It’s not like we don’t have proof. We know where it is!”
No one answered him.
“What about the artifacts from this dive? I see the crate.” He pointed to the box Maddock and Bones had just set down in the soft sand. “Anything else?”
The two divers who had been inside the plane with Maddock and Bones stepped forward and wordlessly handed Spinney their bags containing the odds and ends they had recovered from Earhart’s plane.
“Steve, let’s get a workup going on this new stuff and see what we have. We’ll also have to send a follow-up on the press release…”
“We just lost a man…”
“He’s gone. Nothing we can do about it.” Spinney continued blathering on about his next steps as the team began trooping back to camp in a single file line along the beach path. One of the divers pushed the wheelbarrow filled with dive gear. Spinney and Carlson led the way up front, while Maddock and Bones brought up the rear with the new crate. They had improvised a simple carry rig for it out of two tree branches left over from the raft construction. They set the old crate in the middle of the two branches, spaced about two feet apart, and then each picked up one end, with Bones leading. George Taylor walked alongside them for a stretch, snapping pictures of them carrying the box while giving them a wink in between shots before falling back in line ahead of them.
Maddock’s mind was spinning as Spinney chattered on up ahead about research plans and media kits and television appearances….What would they do if the crate they now carried was opened and it contained something of value to their military objectives? For Spinney’s team just to see something like that, even if Maddock and Bones appropriated the items afterward, would be less than optimal with regard to their mission. And no doubt, after the press conference, the explosion, and now this, the little atoll was about to be overrun with authorities. He knew Bones was aware that today was the day they had to make their escape, but he had no idea how soon their opportunity would arise.
Maddock was jarred from his strategic thoughts by a sharp rise in the volume of conversation by the team members walking ahead of them. Bugsy was yelling at the back of Spinney’s head.
“Don, maybe you haven’t noticed, but Scotty’s dead! He’s not ever coming back from that tunnel down there! I know you’re upset about the airplane, but couldn’t you show the least bit of sympathy?”
Spinney said something in a lower voice Maddock couldn’t distinguish.
“What’s that, you bastard?” Bugsy stepped out of the line and walked around Carlson, butting up to Spinney.
“Say it again. I said say it again, old man!”
Apparently Spinney repeated whatever it was he had said, because the next thing everybody knew, Bugsy swung a roundhouse right to his jaw and Spinney stumbled backward over a tree root, Bugsy jumping on top of him.
The divers, Taylor, and Carlson all crowded around the two grappling men, shouting for them to stop. Maddock quickly scanned their surroundings while he and Bones stood frozen in place, each holding one end of the poles with the crate balanced in the middle. They were at the foot of the jungle trail that led into the overgrown heart of the island. Neither Spinney nor Bugsy had responded to the shouted requests to knock it off, so the divers now got down and tousled with them, attempting to separate the two fighting men.
Maddock raised his eyebrows at Bones and cocked his head toward the trail head. Bones glanced that way and nodded. Then the two of them silently moved off onto the new path, rounded a clump of foliage and moved as quickly as they dared into the jungle.
They had gone about twenty feet when Maddock tripped over a protruding knob of coral and he went sprawling, dropping his end of the sticks. With Bones holding up his end only, the box slid down the branch rails until it hit the ground and tipped over. The large Cherokee’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he stared at the upended crate.
Maddock gently righted the container and they reloaded it onto the supports. They quickly got moving again.
“Where to?” Bones wanted to know.
“To the cave!”
A few seconds after that they heard their cover names being called from over on the beach path. Their absence, and no doubt that of the crate, had been noticed.
They increased their awkward gait as they moved into the jungle proper after the footpath ended. Maddock asked Bones to stop and set the poles down so he could consult his compass. He took a bearing and then they headed off toward the cave entrance.
When they reached it they set the crate down at the foot of the opening in the jumble of rocks. They couldn’t hear any signs of a pursuit, but knew it wouldn’t be long. After all, with the boat and the seaplane destroyed, there was nowhere they could have gone.
“It’s going to be a bitch getting this thing up there.” Bones breathed heavily while he looked up at the opening into the cave system. Scrambling up the haphazard array of boulders while not carrying anything was easy enough, but with a weighty box possibly containing a deadly bio-weapon, the task became anything but simple. Nevertheless, they needed a hiding place, and a good one.